Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
HARLAN
MAY
I set Emma on her feet at the end of one of the queen beds in our room. She reached for me to try and kiss me, but I stopped her with a light shake of my head. “You’re going to let me handle it.”
“Handle what?” she spat.
“Handle you, princess. You want to choose a word?”
She screwed up her face. “For what?”
I smirked at her, and the gravity of my tone finally hit her. “You’re gonna need it. Pick one.”
“Knife. Because I have a feeling I’m going to want to stab you.”
“That’s the goal.” I chuckled as I slid her WAG jacket with my name on it off her shoulders. “You wore this so well.”
“They ran out of D’s or I would have put ‘Daddy’ across the back.”
I laughed and loved the playfulness in her eyes. I tossed her jacket over the desk chair next to me. “Everything off.”
I rested my ass on the desk, casually stroking my cock through my dress pants.
Emma’s cheeks and chest were flushed already and it was taking serious restraint to keep from throwing her back on the bed and pounding into her.
Only her underwear remained when she peered at me nervously from behind a lock of hair.
They were Rusties orange and charcoal gray. Seeing Emma bashful was unusual.
“Do you want to see the back?” she asked.
“Definitely,” I said. “Turn for me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and slowly, she spun to let me see her back.
I took the opportunity to really see her.
I loved her figure: a little muscle from how hard she worked in the kitchen, trim but not so much that you doubted whether she enjoyed the food she made.
A little extra around her hips that I had plans to hold after I played with her for a while.
Her hair cut to show the nape of her neck that I loved to kiss, her lightly muscled shoulders and elegant, strong spine, the scar in the middle of her back from where she saved me from the bus, the curve from her waist to her hips, two slight dimples at the bottom of her back, and finally, the barely there panties with my number and “Daddy” spelled out in dark studs.
But the hottest detail? There were six little studs where the thong disappeared between her luscious cheeks.
My piercings.
I stepped forward, gently cupping her ass in my hands while I kissed her neck. “You must really love me,” I hummed into her skin. Emma arched her back, accentuating her full breasts while her hand grazed the side of my neck. My fingers traced the studs on her thong. “Leave this on.”
Then I whirled her by the shoulders and pushed her back onto the bed. I loved the way her breasts bounced when she landed, the way she gasped and scrambled to sit up. She pulled on my tie with a wicked grin on her lips, towing me down to her. “You leaving your clothes on?”
“Haven’t decided yet. Which do you hate more?”
She considered that, and while she was thinking, I pushed her to her back and dropped kisses all down her bare skin. What she said as my face disappeared between her legs hit like a puck to the helmet. “I hate when I can’t touch you.”
I kissed her lower belly and sent my hand up to thread with hers. “You can touch me.”
We exchanged a smile so sweet it made my stomach tingle. I couldn’t keep it serious for long. I dipped to press chaste kisses to her pussy. “Is there anything else you hate?”
My lips grazed where her inner thighs met her ass, and Emma writhed. I licked the crease of her inner thighs and nipped the thin skin there. Her fingers threaded into my hair and pulled hard until our eyes met.
“Quit playing with me,” she groaned.
I smirked. “How many buttons can I push?”
My finger slipped between the flimsy material and her skin, moving it to the side. I blew a stream of air onto her drenched pussy.
“Harlan,” she warned, then melted when I flattened my tongue against her, giving her exactly what she wanted.
Weird, she didn’t sound annoyed anymore. I kept at it, burying my face in her, licking, tugging, popping my tongue in and out of her, all while she gripped my hand and rolled her hips against my face.
“Harlan, Harlan, Daddy, please.” Emma’s chest bowed off the bed, the soft swells of her stomach and breasts rising from my vantage point between her legs. Her inner thighs quaked against my cheeks.
Her whole body was on edge, right where I wanted her.
I rose to stand at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on hers. I folded my hands behind my back and waited.
“No, Daddy, please.” Her hands cupped her breasts and frantically flew to the apex of her thighs. I leaned forward to capture her wrists and shook my head. Her jaw dropped and her hips squirmed against nothing. “I hate you.”
I grinned, tucking my tongue into my cheek. “Music to my ears.”
I bent, pinning her wrists over her head and capturing a nipple between my teeth. Emma’s heels dug into the mattress and her knees pinched my waist. “Fuck you for this.”
I hovered my face above hers, nuzzling her nose. “You wish, princess. I want to hear more about how you hate me.”
Emma growled, and then was so quite literally spitting mad that she spit in my face. My cock throbbed as her spit ran down my cheek.
I’d never made anyone that mad in my life. I fucking loved it.
And the thing was, she wasn’t mad. Not really. Her legs shook and her nipples had never been so tight. Goosebumps made the downy blonde hairs on her stomach stand on end.
This was unmet desire at its purest. And with every squirm, every whimper, every plea, she played with her limits, how far she could be pushed, how long she could ride that sweet, torturous edge.
“You’re so beautiful, princess. Do you remember your word?”
“Fuck . . . you,” she bit out.
“I don’t think that was the word. Can you stop being a brat for two seconds and nod if you remember it?”
Emma’s face went more serious and she met my eyes with a nod.
I brushed a kiss to her lips. “I knew you were still a good girl underneath it all.” I knelt on the bed next to her and braced one hand around her throat. “You like?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She panted a whimper when I traced my fingers down the center of her body, stopping just above her pussy.
I took a long look to appreciate how ready she was for me.
I lifted my hand to my cheek, wiping off her spit and examining it on my fingers.
“Guess you thought I needed a little help getting you wet.”
My fingers grazed her slit where I found she had absolutely no issue getting wet. I hummed and applied more pressure to her clit, plunging deeper with my middle and ring fingers in her pussy.
“Fuck,” she moaned.
“Feel good?” I rocked my hand quickly, the heel of my palm on her clit and my fingers lifting up inside her.
“Oh god, it’s too much.” Her hand grasped my forearm.
“Knife?” I asked.
Her eyes were wild, almost demonic when she looked at me. “No.”
After a few more movements of my hand, I pulled it away and tucked it behind my back, only pinning her down at her throat. Emma’s legs pinched together, her hips rolling against the air. “I hate you.”
I smiled down at her. “That’s my girl. Legs open.”
Emma braced her legs wide, her toes digging into the bed. My fingers were drenched with her arousal, her pussy slick and glistening. Winding up, I slapped them against her clit. Her wetness splashed up her stomach and I longed to lick it off.
“Fuck you,” she cried, betrayed.
“You can do better than that,” I said, low and calm.
I slapped her again and this time, her cry was more of pleasure than pain, a moan mixed with a shout. “I fucking hate you!”
“One more?” I asked, and she nodded, her heels touching her ass as her knees stretched toward the end of the bed. “There you go, that’s perfect.”
I delivered the last smack, then hauled her up into my arms. I moved us to the entryway, which had a full-length mirror.
“Hands and knees,” I told her and sank to my knees behind her.
I moved her thong further to the side, stretching it as much as I could to be able to fully see her.
I dipped my head to get a taste of her and Emma whimpered, hips chasing after my mouth as I backed away.
I stared at her ass, spreading her with one hand while I smoothed some of her wetness down my shaft.
Her eyes moved over me in the mirror, her lips popped open as she watched me jerk myself. “You see this? You see how fucking hot you make me, Emma?”
“You’re killing me,” she pleaded, pressing her ass closer to me. “Please, Daddy. I’ve been good.”
I raised on my knees and shoved my pants a little more down my hips so my balls could swing free.
I lined myself up and inch by inch, piercing by piercing, I filled her. Seated in her wet heat, I had to take a moment to get it together. While I was doing that, Emma started doing the work, rocking on her knees and spreading them wider.
“You have to wait for me,” I said.
“I can’t wait anymore,” she said, her eyes pathetic in the mirror. “I need you.”
I nodded, losing myself to the way she fucked me, to the disorienting feeling of being needed, wanted, craved. I held her hips and looked down, the studded “Daddy 30” a blur with how fast she moved. I bent to fill my hand with her breast and Emma’s eyes drifted shut, ecstasy parting her lips.
“Do you still hate me, princess?”
“I hate that I don’t hate you,” she gritted out, her speech broken by her exertion. “I hate you for making me love you.”
I balanced with a hand planted behind hers on the floor. I kissed her shoulder as we continued to move together. “I could never hate the way you love me. It’s the best fucking thing.”
I pulled her back against my chest, narrowing my knees to fit between hers with her knees bracketed on the outside of my thighs. I kissed her neck and watched myself thrust up into her, a hand full of her breast with the other working circles around her clit.
“Unbutton your shirt,” she begged. “I need your skin.”
I removed my hand from her clit and tore at my shirt, the buttons flying off dramatically. Emma let out a mix of a laugh and a satisfied moan, and I had to laugh too. My gaze returned to hers in the mirror. “Christ, look at us.”
My shirt, now buttonless, hung open, and my pants were around my knees. Emma was gorgeous leaning back into me, heaving breasts, hips cocked back to take me.
“Your piercings, Harlan. It’s too good,” she panted, eyes rounded on where we joined. “Please don’t take this one from me.”
“I won’t, princess.” I tapped her clit and with an incredulous stare, we watched together as she squirted. “Fuck, Emma.”
“I didn’t know I could do that,” she squeaked. She pried my hand off her breast and brought it to her throat. “Fuck me.”
I held her firm at her throat, thrusting into her ruthlessly while my middle finger flicked over her clit.
Her jaw dropped when her orgasm hit, and I was struck by all of it: the way I was semi-dressed and she wasn’t, the mess she’d made on the floor, her unbelievable brown eyes in the mirror, and most of all, the way she trusted me so unequivocally.
Her contracting walls were the last little bit I needed, and I released into her.
I breathed hard against her shoulder, sloppy kisses covering the area as I came down.
I slipped my heels out from under myself and slumped back against the wall with her still in my lap. I wrapped my arms tight around Emma.
“Harlan?” Emma breathed, her voice sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“I hate you.”
I met her smiling eyes in the mirror with a chuckle. “I love you too.”