She makes a greedy little sound of surprise that deepens just as my fingers skirt over her pussy.
No underwear.
Wet as sin.
Christ, I think I’ve found heaven.
“You’re ready to go,” I tell her, as I quickly reach back into my pocket and pull out a condom. While I tear it open with my teeth, my other hand keeps rubbing her mercilessly before slipping two fingers deep inside her.
“Oh god,” she says again, opening her eyes to look straight into mine. They’re lazy with lust, sparking with fire. I’m going to make this so good for her.
Deftly, I take my cock out of my pants and slip the condom on just as she wraps her legs around my waist, digging her heels in.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This already feels too good.
I’m about to go into a frenzy.
I quickly push into her with one quick, brutal thrust that wrings all the air from my lungs.
She gasps, my mouth biting at her neck, my hand yanking at her neckline again, taking her nipple back in my mouth until she’s writhing, moaning.
“Fuck,” I groan, slamming her back against the lockers, my pumps becoming faster and faster, like I’m trying to impale her on the spot. We kiss and it’s messy, teeth clacking against each other, lips and tongues trying in wild desperation to win.
“Emmett,” she gasps and I think maybe I’m fucking her too hard. Her head is starting to slam back against the lockers, her nails are digging into my suit jacket.
But when I look at her, she gives me a look that ignites me.
Her wet mouth open, her blue eyes languid with lust.
“Fuck me harder,” she says. Her voice is all sex.
“Jesus,” I swear. She’s a wild one. I start grunting into her neck as my pace picks up, sweat dripping from my brow and onto her chest. The fact that anyone could walk around the corner and see us only heightens the sensations, makes me extra aware of her sexy little gasps as I slide my fingers over her clit, the hot feel of her skin.
“I’m coming,” she moans, eyes closing, head rolling to the side.
For a moment I think she’ll stifle her cries–she knows there’s a wedding reception just around the corner. But she doesn’t. She lets it all go.
“Fuck, fuck!” she yells hoarsely, her fingers holding tighter and tighter as she pulses and jerks around me. “Oh, god, Emmett.”
I can only grunt in response as I watch her. I was right. She is gorgeous when she comes.
Then my orgasm sneaks up on me, a total force of nature.
It rips through me, fast, violent, uncontrollable.
Unbelievable.
“Fucking hell, woman,” I groan into her as I feel myself empty into the condom. She’s getting every last drop out of me.
I collapse against her, sweat dripping off my brow and over my nose. I can hardly breathe but I don’t care. I’m shuddering on the inside, completely unraveled.
This sexy stranger, this prickly thing. She might just be the best lay I’ve ever had.
I can’t even think straight.
“Are you going to let me down?” she asks after a moment, wrapping her hands behind my neck for support.
“Maybe,” I tell her even though I grab her waist and she unhooks her legs from around me. I pull out, grabbing the condom by the end, then pull it off and tie it.
Meanwhile she smooths out her dress, puts her tits back in place. “Well, that was…”
“A long time coming,” I tell her as I put the condom in the trash and pull my pants back up.
She laughs dryly. “You have a strange concept of time.”
“Hey, I wanted you all night, sunshine. Looked like my dreams weren’t going to come true for a while there.”
She rolls her eyes and bends over to pick up the glass she had dropped.
“Well, now that the sexual tension is all out of the way,” she says with a smirk, “how about we go back to getting drunk.”
“Who said it was out of the way?” I ask her, pulling her into me and giving her a long, deep kiss. Fuck. She’s a great kisser. If she gave me another five minutes or so, I could go again.
She smiles against my lips and then playfully pushes me back. “Come on, you made all these promises. Fill ‘er up.”
Dutifully, I do as I’m told. I fill up her glass with Crown Royal, fill up mine and the two of us sit down on the carpet, leaning against the lockers, drinking the liquor straight.
“Cheers,” I tell her, clinking my glass against hers. “To Will and Jackie.”
“To Will and Jackie.”
“And the best two minutes of your life?”
She bursts out laughing. “And to that too.”
Chapter 5
Alyssa
There’s a landslide inside my brain.
Deafening.
Giant slabs of stone slicing off the mountains and tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each impact makes me jolt, brings an array of sharpened knives into my grey matter.
What the fuck is going on?
Boom. Boom. Boom.
It gradually turns into knock, knock, knock.
As in someone at my door.
Carla.
“Go away,” I mumble, my mouth desert dry. I try and open my eyes but I think my fake eyelashes are glued to each other. Did I not take off my makeup? Am I even in my bedroom?
Oh my god, please don’t tell me I’m still in my clothes.
I feel down my sides, my hands skirting over voluminous silk.
There is no worse feeling in the world than waking up the next morning in the clothes you wore out drinking. In this case, my bridesmaid’s dress. It’s a sign that you totally failed and got beyond trashtastic. Not washing off your makeup before bed? That’s bearable. But not even managing to get undressed? That’s close to getting your adulting card revoked.
And then I’m hit with a memory.
The feel of Emmett inside me as he slammed me against the locker walls, the hoarse grunts from his throat as he came.
OH MY GOD.
And then Carla opens the door.
“I had to make sure you weren’t dead,” she says. I don’t even have to open my eyes to know the look she has on her face: totally unimpressed. You know, my normal expression when I’m not waking up the morning after a wedding. There’s a reason we get on so well as roommates. Plus, there’s the fact that she’s a stoner and extremely low maintenance.
“And?” I croak, blinking at the light that’s coming in my window. Vile, horrible light. “Am I dead?”
“You look like you died in the middle of your prom. Please tell me you at least got laid.”
I can’t help but grin. In fact, I’m not just grinning up at the ceiling like I’m high, I’m laughing.
“Oh boy,” Carla says. “I’ve got pickle juice ready if you want a quick fix.”
Even though a hit of pickle juice is essential to any hangover recovery methods, I’m still laughing. Because, OH MY GOD.
I totally got fucked by Emmett Hill last night.
Cruiser McGill.
Bruiser NoChill.
Doctor Death.
And whatever else name he has.
And even though I know I should be deeply ashamed by all of this, I’m not.
I mean, he was good.
He was really fucking good.
Best fucking cock I’ve got in a very, very long time.
Maybe ever.
I’d be sad about it if the endorphins weren’t still running through me, faint but present.
“Should I call a doctor?” Carla asks, approaching the bed warily.
I shake my head and then stop immediately. The pain makes me wince and yet I’m still smiling. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“Then what’s so funny? Usually you’re moping around for a few days after a wedding and eating all my chocolate. In fact, I bought a few extra bars because I expected your wallowing.”
“No moping, just…” I slowly ease myself up and give her a lazy grin.
“You did get laid,” Carla says, patting my leg. “Good for you. With who?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“You know I’m gullible,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do I need to get a coffee for this? Popcorn? Pot cookies?”