I’m wet in a second. Damn that he has this kind of power over me.
Before I even know what’s happening, my clothes are being pulled off and I’m pulling off the blankets he’s wrapped in and then the both of us are naked on the berth, our bodies tangled in each other.
“Fuck,” he swears, holding my face in his hands and sucking my lower lip into his mouth like it’s candy. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Alyssa. I can’t survive the days anymore without feeling you like this.”
Jesus. When he says things like that, I don’t even stand a chance.
Real or fake?
But it doesn’t fucking matter. I want him, I want him so deep inside until I can’t breathe. I want to feel just how real he is.
“Lie back,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes burning, lit from within. “Spread your legs. Touch yourself. Show me what you like. Where you want me to put my tongue, my lips. Where I need to take my time tasting you.”
I swallow hard. My cheeks are hot, tight, flaming red. There’s blushing and then there’s me.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to his dirty talk.
But I know one thing, I never want him to stop.
And so I do as he says. I scoot back onto the bed and, teasingly I might add, I open my legs.
I know we’ve had sex before but this is the first time he’s getting a good long look at me.
It feels extra-long because he’s taking his time, staring at me with simmering lust.
“I could feast on you for hours,” he murmurs, his eyes briefly meeting mine before settling between my legs again. “What a perfect, wet, pink pussy. You’re fucking stunning, baby.”
I swallow. My body is absolutely ravenous. I feel put on display but the way he’s looking at me only makes me want him more.
“You want me?” he asks gently, coming closer, prowling like a jungle cat.
I nod. “Fuck yes.”
“I want to lick every inch of your body,” he murmurs as he looms over top of me, his hard chest and tanned skin taking over my world. “Is that all right?” He licks along the rim of my ear, the sensation causing my skin to tingle.
“Yes,” I say and it sounds like I’m begging.
I am begging.
He continues to move his lips and tongue down the length of my body, caressing my collarbone, my breasts, sucking hard at my nipples until I’m dizzy and nearly mad with sensation.
God, this is so good, so good.
My stomach shivers under his tongue and my hips jerk under the tickle of his permanent stubble, the sweep of his full lips.
Finally, his head settles between my legs, already parted wide for him, hungry with want. Just as he did before as he gazed at me, he takes his time. He parts me open, slowly letting the rough pad of his fingertip brush over my sensitive flesh.
I’m already gasping, unable to keep quiet, to contain myself.
Yes, yes, yes. More.
Give me more.
Then his tongue snakes out, sliding along my clit and setting off more fireworks that flame the fire inside me. My breath shakes, unstable, my fingers clawing at the cushions. My hips lift up, wanting more of him.
He obliges, putting his mouth and lips into it. He’s watching me. Those icy-blue eyes are watching my every movement as he gives me more and more pleasure, his teeth grazing over my clit, his tongue plunging deep inside. His head between my legs is the world’s most beautiful sight.
This feels more real than anything else before.
I can’t hold his gaze any longer. I throw my head back and the world becomes hotter, tighter, combustible. The heat inside me grows and grows and grows, this impossible force, like the sun, that gathers every single nerve in my body, winding it over and over again.
The slide of his tongue sets me off.
“Emmett,” I cry out, and he murmurs into me, his groans vibrating deep inside and kicking me over the edge. I’m going over, falling over the edge, whistling through the wind, and my body quakes endlessly, until I’m quivering, boneless, spent.
I can barely catch my breath, my chest heaving and covered in sweat. He gets off of me and disappears briefly into the galley. When he comes back, he’s got a condom in his hands, sliding it on his cock with ease.
Then he’s back on the berth and he’s yanking my thighs, positioning himself. He pushes inside, still fucking hard through all of that. I’m so wet that he slides in easily, as huge and thick as he is.
What a man, to have that face, that body and that cock and still know exactly what to do with it.
And that he does.
He shoves himself into me with raw urgency that borders on savage.
I cry out, gripping the cushions again, filled to the brim with too many sensations to understand at once. I am wonderfully, stunningly overwhelmed.
Emmett is merciless and I am at his mercy. He grinds into me, his hips circling as he pistons himself in and out. He grunts hard with each thrust, this rough, animalistic noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming. It’s such a gorgeous, raw noise that causes the heat to build in my core, the beautiful pressure inside rising again.
Faster, harder, deeper. His pace is relentless. It slams me hard into the berth, enough that I’m afraid he might hit his head.
But he has no fear.
Only raw lust.
And it has never felt so good.
I can see him starting to lose control, dipping over the edge. His eyes burn into mine, and then he’s in deep, so deep that he’s shaking and muttering my name in low, guttural tones.
I can listen to these sounds forever. These sounds, all for me, all because of me.
Before he totally loses it, he places his fingers at my clit, rubbing, swirling, faster, faster. I’m so fucking slick, he’s sliding all over the place.
It sets me off–BAM–and once again I’m floating, flying, but this time I’m with him, and we’re riding it together, our bodies joined inside and out. For this moment, we are one, falling over the edge together.
When it’s over, Emmett collapses against me, his large, muscled body sweaty and sliding against mine. His breath is rough and steady in my ear, and his lips brush my neck briefly. I want to hold on to him, to feel his skin as it calms, but I can’t move. I think my arms are asleep.
Once he catches his breath, he places a soft kiss on my forehead, then pulls out. He takes the condom off, disposing of it in the trash in the head.
I need a moment to think. There are too many emotions swirling around inside. Too many of them that don’t have a place. Not with us, not with what we’re trying to do.
This is getting complicated.
This is getting dangerous.
Maybe for no one else but my heart.
In the waning tide of the orgasm, I’m starting to think clearly again.
“We can’t do that again,” I say to him quietly as I sit up, making a feeble attempt to cover my breasts. “I really mean it this time.”
He stares at me in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because,” I tell him. Suddenly the berth’s cushions seem infinitely interesting as I run my hands over them. “Because the more I have sex with you, the more things begin to blur. Things are already so confusing as it is. The last thing I want is to feel things for you.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I slowly look up and watch as he swallows, rubs his lips together like he doesn’t quite understand. “Why is it so wrong to feel things for me?”
There’s a quiet desperation in his voice that nearly catches me off-guard. I push on.
“Because I think, in time, you’ll probably just break my heart. None of this is real Emmett. The last thing I need is to forget that.”
He nods. Studies me. A flash of realization comes over his eyes, turning them cool. “You’re right. In the end, I’d probably just hurt you. That’s not what I want. That’s not what you deserve.”
Fucking hell. Even though those words pretty much came out of my mouth, it hurts something fierce to hear him say it, like a steel-toed boot to the gut. He can’t even pretend that he can be the man I need him to be.
He’s being honest with you, that’s what you like about him, I remind myself. Now tell your heart to go fuck itself and get back in the game.
Sheesh. My inner pep talks are getting pretty harsh.