No Quick Fix: Torus Intercession Book One, page 21
I moaned loudly when his hot, leaking cock slid over mine, and then gasped when he broke the kiss to lift my right leg over his shoulder. Two lube-coated fingers pressed inside of me, and he scissored with that same deliberateness from earlier, relaxing the tight ring of muscle before recapturing my lips.
The man could kiss. It was like being worshipped, as though he was savoring the contact, my taste, and the feel of me under him. Heat rolled inexorably up my spine as I tried to take those fingers in deeper, needing more, ready as I thought I’d never be.
When he withdrew his fingers, I arched up off the bed, and he lifted my left leg over his shoulder before the wide head of his cock notched against my entrance.
“I’ve never,” I whispered, needing him to understand as I met his narrowed eyes. “Just so you know.”
“I know,” he murmured, and I was struck by that confirmation. Not by the words alone, but by the look in his eyes, as if I were already beloved, and then he pushed forward, slow and steady, without pause but with more restraint than I could have shown. “I know this is a gift.”
The stretch and the burn started off dull, but the pain brightened and blossomed, and I was caught between wanting him more than life and not wanting him lodged in my ass, splitting me apart. It was torture, wanting him both in and out, but then he did something totally unexpected. He bit my bottom lip. Not hard, it was more a nip than a bite, but still, it jolted me, altered my focus, and the tugging and sucking, like he wanted to eat me, was really fucking hot. The sexy, languorous grin he gave me before he kissed me again, this one desperate and devouring as he took hold of my cock in his slippery fist, roiled through me like a stormy sea.
I roared his name.
It was lucky we were the only ones in the house, because everyone would have heard. If his neighbors were home, they probably did.
My muscles relaxed, and the solar flare of pain, hot and engulfing, eased with each stroke of his hand and each ravenous kiss as he slid his long, hard length into me.
His name came from deep in my chest then.
“Jesus, Brann,” he choked out, his forehead pressed to mine as he panted, sweaty, not moving, just there, buried all the way inside of me. “I don’t even think I can move, that’s how tight you are.”
“I need you to try,” I entreated, wanting him somehow deeper, shivering now, flushing hot and cold, so close to the orgasm I could feel flickering near the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight, the all-consuming clenching that told me I was ready. “Please.”
“God yes. Beg me to fuck you,” he growled, easing out a fraction only to screw himself back inside, grinding into me. “It’s only what I’m dying to do, what I was made to do.”
I lifted my ass off the mattress the second time he withdrew, and he shoved a pillow under my hips so when he pounded back inside me—deeper, faster, harder—I felt it, like ripples of pleasure throughout my body.
“Do you feel me? Because I feel you, all of you, wrapped around all of me,” he said, his voice spiking, almost frantic, as he found his rhythm, thrusting deeply in and dragging slowly out, over and over.
I turned my head and reached for my pillow, pressing it to my face, trying to muffle the sounds he was pulling out of me.
“No,” he ordered, snatching the pillow from me and tossing it aside. I looked up at his face, at the dilated pupils, his swollen lips and flushed skin. “I want to hear all your noises; I want to know them all.”
“You will. There’s time, right?”
“Oh,” he said like I’d struck him, changing position, rolling forward, tighter, bending me in half. “There’s all the time, nothing but, because you’re the only one who’s ever going to work in my life… fit in my life. It’s all you, Brann. Just you.”
Reaching up, I took hold of his shoulders for leverage as he ground down into me, changing his angle on the descent, which drove his heavy cock over the place I had touched in others but never experienced myself.
I tightened my hands knowing I’d leave bruises, but I was done caring, too lost in what my body was doing, the hurtling rise right before the crest. I checked out, all of it, all of him more than I could bear. And then at last, when he hit the spot that triggered my climax, I held nothing back. The orgasm hurtled up my spine, and my flexing muscles clamped down around him, holding him there as I came apart, splattering his belly and chest.
His head fell back as he came, nailing me to the bed, filling me, the pumping deep inside washing me hot, from the inside out, his cum spilling around his cock and seeping between the cheeks of my ass.
It was like being at the top of a mountain and then freefalling, and there was a moment where I was me, then I was not, and then I was me again. And I was under him, still, and there was air and I could see, though I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of my own heart.
Emery fell forward, on me, into my waiting arms, and I wrapped him up as he buried his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulder.
After a moment, I realized he was laughing, and I nudged him to no avail.
“What’s so funny?” I grumbled. Hand buried in his sweat-soaked hair, I tilted his head back to expose an illicit grin. His eyes were closed and I took that moment, those small but precious seconds, to drink him in. I’d heard the phrase ‘my heart was full to bursting’ before but it had never meant anything to me. Until now.
“We’re both covered in sweat and semen,” he said dreamily, licking his delectable lips, puffy and red from mauling my mouth and sucking my dick. “It’s sexy as hell, my cum leaking from your ass, yours all over my chest, and in my hair.”
He sounded drugged, or drunk, and I loved it. The grin grew into a smile as he opened his eyes and looked at me.
“What?”
Slowly, gently, he eased free of my body with a slight groan as my muscles fisted his length, milking him that last little bit.
“God, did you feel that?” he asked as he rolled to his back beside me. “You didn’t want to let me go.”
“You seem quite proud of yourself.”
“I feel like a pirate.”
I grunted, turning away from him so he couldn’t see my smile.
Ridiculous man.
“I ravaged you.”
“Shuddup.”
“I pillaged you.”
I buried my face in my pillow.
“What are you doing?” He grabbed my shoulder and tugged until I was on my back again. “Come here.”
I rolled my head so I could see him.
“Brann,” he said my name like it was magical. “Please.”
My grin was just as cheesy as his, I was certain. “You’re covered in cum, like you said. You should shower.”
“Baby, come here.”
I rolled over into him, and he ran a hand up my back and into my hair, burying it there, staring into my eyes the whole time.
“Olivia’s right, you have pretty hair.”
“Speaking of,” I said, exhaling, feeling my body get heavy, lulled by his warmth and closeness and the hand now carding through my hair. “What are we gonna do?”
“We is right,” he said hoarsely, kissing my temple. “And we will go over to Mal’s and have a talk with the girls.”
“Okay.”
He was quiet then, and I almost nodded off.
“I know things,” he whispered.
“What things?” I asked, not opening my eyes, happy to still try and doze with him talking to me.
“Well, for example, I know you love me, you love my girls, you love my dog, and you love my house.”
I stayed quiet, though now I was wide awake.
“Right? Don’t you? Love all those things?”
I knew what he was asking. “Yes,” I said honestly, because this was us, together, in my bed. We had no more time for lies on either side.
“Hey.”
Leaning away from him, I opened my eyes so I could see him. The smile was gone; he was dead serious now.
“I told Lydia I couldn’t marry her today, and the only reason for that is because it turns out you can’t choose when you’re going to fall in love.”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“And just so we’re clear, I am totally and completely in love with you.”
The words took me a second to process because they were big and life-changing, and I’d never heard them before. “Oh, yeah?” I said, feeling the happiness spread slowly over me, infusing every cell in my body, filling me up and making me smile like an idiot. “You love me?”
He nodded.
“A lot?”
“Yes.”
“Like you’d marry me?”
“I would.”
I pounced on him, clutching him in my arms and burying my face in his shoulder as I squeezed the life out of him.
“You knew we were supposed to be together,” he prodded, and I could hear the need in his voice. “Didn’t you?”
I nodded fast, a bit too choked up to speak.
“You wanted me to love you.”
“And you do,” I barely got out.
“And I do,” he declared with so much feeling that I felt it like a buzz under my skin as he hugged me tighter.
We had to clean up and go get the girls so I rolled out of bed, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
As I walked into my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed that the bites he’d given me were now smears of dark wine against my skin. It was amazing. This was what being claimed was, the marks, my mauled lips, the stubble burn, my tousled hair, and the blotchy flush over my chest and throat.
That was the outside.
Inside, the changes were bigger, broader, painted on my soul like a lush, overgrown garden teeming with life and sweetness and hope. So much of that.
Under the warm water, I felt the tempest beneath my skin trying to erupt, to escape, to pierce my flesh and show the world that he and I were joined, and together there would be a whole new life built on the solid foundation of the first. I would take care of what Andrea Dodd had begun, be caregiver and lover, father and husband. I’d never felt anything but love in the house, comforted by it, enveloped and accepted. And I knew I was out of my head, vulnerable and joyful, but there was a solidness too, a weight, and even as I clutched for balance in my sudden new life, there was an engulfing peace as well.
Because he saw me.
Emery had the ability to see me as I truly was, with all the flaws, all the shortcomings and selfishness, but all the good parts too. He saw my heart and how it belonged only to him. And now there was the quiet after the storm, and so I was reverent of what had been and what would be.
Wiping the fog from the mirror, I saw myself again and I felt it, how settled I was in my skin, and I smiled back thinking this was what being crazy in love looked like.
He walked behind me, on his way to the shower, but stopped and stared.
“What?” I asked, almost breathless all over again from his unwavering attention.
He shook his head, pressing his chest to my back, brushing his lips over my ear, and spoke so I shivered from his warm breath. “I fall fast, you know,” he confided to me in a whisper. “I saw Andrea on a Friday, and it was like walking outside in the warm summer sun. I knew she was supposed to be with me, so I asked her to move in with me on the following Monday.” His sigh, like he remembered it so very clearly, made me smile. “After she died, I thought… well, a lot of things, but most of all, that I’d never feel that way again.”
I waited because the way he was staring at me, standing beside me, touching, smoothing his hands over my skin, told me there was more.
“When you walked in the front door that Saturday morning, I saw it again, and then I felt the same brightness and sense of peace.” His voice cracked on the last word as his hand slipped over my flaccid cock and lower to my balls. “I was stunned,” he said, his warm breath tickling over my damp skin. “And I thought I was wrong. That maybe it was an illusion, that I was seeing things that weren’t there. Because I was sure my life was going to be a certain way after my wife died, so I agreed to a marriage that had nothing to do with love.”
Everything felt different. Being in the house, being in his space, I was lighter, my life irrevocably complete with an outcome I could have never imagined. We were the same, he and I.
“But there you were,” he said, his voice sultry, rich, stroking me gently as I hardened slowly in his hand. “Your first instinct not to please or flatter, like everyone else tried to do, but to protect, which is what we all so desperately needed.”
I pushed into his hand, hearing my breath go raspy and ragged.
“You’ve been a confidant and a champion. You’ve become the parent both the girls needed,” he said, leaning me forward over the counter, his hand on my ass, rubbing and massaging as my eyes drifted closed. “And I saw you the whole time, and the amazing thing is, you saw me too.”
He went to his knees behind me and when he parted my cheeks, I gasped before bucking against the counter as his tongue slid into my hole.
“I’ll be so gentle,” he promised before he licked and pressed, the spearing and suction and endless laving turning my bones to liquid so, guided by his strong hands, I sank to the floor on my hands and knees.
He left me there to retrieve the lube from the bed, back before my skin chilled, kissing down my spine, the delicious rimming starting all over again. When he replaced his hot tongue with two lube-covered fingers, pushing in deep, I moaned his name.
“If this isn’t all right, you tell me,” he said, and I could hear the seduction as well as the sincerity there as he took hold of my hip with one hand and positioned the head of his cock to my entrance with the other.
In answer, I pushed back, craving the feeling of fullness, but more than that, the connection with him. He was gentle, and I felt my body stretch around him, open, take him in as he groaned, husky and low, pressing inside me.
“When you want this from me, Brann, when you want to be inside me, put me down on the bed and I’m yours, you understand? I want this too.”
“But not as much as you want to be inside me,” I said, shivering as I rode the line between pleasure and pain, the pinpricks of sharp, overly-sensitized flesh contrasting with the desire to have him fuck me into the floor.
“I love having you under me,” he growled, pushing, filling me, inch by inch, his movement a slow, steady glide until he was fully seated and I was impaled on his hard length. “And the idea that such a strong, sexy man has my cock buried in his ass is making me stupid.”
I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “I could ride you.”
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, reaching out to clench his fingers in my hair, tilting my head, bowing my back, sliding in and out, hard and fast, the sound of slapping flesh a steady tempo until he faltered as the primal urge to rut took over. “Grab your cock, because just imagining you bottoming from the top is going to make me come.”
“Is it better than this? Now?” I teased him with my last cognizant thought before there was only the deep stroking to my core.
“Nothing is better than you right now, at this moment,” he said, panting, lost to his own body thrusting, pumping, and above all else, staking his claim. Again.
I’d never been wanted, needed, as I was by Emery Dodd, and as my muscles clamped down along his length like a fist, I came spurting on the floor beneath me, amazed that there was anything left after the first time.
He was seconds behind me, falling across my back, replete as his orgasm washed over him, shuddering with the aftershocks.
“I feel good, huh?” I rumbled, loving his hands sliding all over me before his arms wrapped around my chest, and he clunked his head down between my shoulder blades.
“You feel so much better than good, and I find myself compelled to put marks on every square inch of your beautiful skin.”
“Compelled, huh?” I snickered, loving how ridiculous he sounded.
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“Absolutely not.” I couldn’t help teasing.
“Just… I want you to stay here and belong to me,” he murmured. “You need to be mine for the rest of my life.”
He was postorgasm, so not all of what he was saying could be counted on to come from his heart. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, voice low, throaty and almost somber. “I mean, I know I just had really great sex, so you might infer that I’m not terribly credible, but I assure you that I am. Don’t leave me; I won’t survive.”
The chances weren’t much better for me, and as I exhaled the last shred of uncertainty in me, I realized he was it, the only man who would ever do.
“I’m heavy,” he yawned. “I’m sorry.”
But he didn’t move, and when I chuckled, I felt him smile against my back. “You’re not sorry one bit.”
“No,” he agreed, lifting up but not pulling out, instead reaching for my chin to turn my head so he could kiss me. “Not one bit.”
Fifteen
I drove toward Mal’s, smiling like an idiot because Emery had his hand on my thigh the whole way, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I need to ask you a question,” I began hesitantly, pulling over and parking, but leaving the car running, turning in my seat to face him after I unclipped my seat belt.
“I’m sure you need to ask me a million.” He sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, sliding the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “I’m ready when you are.”
I took a breath. “You touched me all the time.”
“Yes, I did,” he admitted gravely.
“And you’re a high school teacher, so… you should be very aware of boundaries and touching and what that all means.”
“Which, of course, I am.”
“And yet with me…,” I said, letting the words trail off, waiting on him.
“And yet with you, all that flew out the window,” he finished my sentence for me, his breath a defeated huff. “I touched you all the time, and I couldn’t help it even though it only made everything worse for me.”
The man could kiss. It was like being worshipped, as though he was savoring the contact, my taste, and the feel of me under him. Heat rolled inexorably up my spine as I tried to take those fingers in deeper, needing more, ready as I thought I’d never be.
When he withdrew his fingers, I arched up off the bed, and he lifted my left leg over his shoulder before the wide head of his cock notched against my entrance.
“I’ve never,” I whispered, needing him to understand as I met his narrowed eyes. “Just so you know.”
“I know,” he murmured, and I was struck by that confirmation. Not by the words alone, but by the look in his eyes, as if I were already beloved, and then he pushed forward, slow and steady, without pause but with more restraint than I could have shown. “I know this is a gift.”
The stretch and the burn started off dull, but the pain brightened and blossomed, and I was caught between wanting him more than life and not wanting him lodged in my ass, splitting me apart. It was torture, wanting him both in and out, but then he did something totally unexpected. He bit my bottom lip. Not hard, it was more a nip than a bite, but still, it jolted me, altered my focus, and the tugging and sucking, like he wanted to eat me, was really fucking hot. The sexy, languorous grin he gave me before he kissed me again, this one desperate and devouring as he took hold of my cock in his slippery fist, roiled through me like a stormy sea.
I roared his name.
It was lucky we were the only ones in the house, because everyone would have heard. If his neighbors were home, they probably did.
My muscles relaxed, and the solar flare of pain, hot and engulfing, eased with each stroke of his hand and each ravenous kiss as he slid his long, hard length into me.
His name came from deep in my chest then.
“Jesus, Brann,” he choked out, his forehead pressed to mine as he panted, sweaty, not moving, just there, buried all the way inside of me. “I don’t even think I can move, that’s how tight you are.”
“I need you to try,” I entreated, wanting him somehow deeper, shivering now, flushing hot and cold, so close to the orgasm I could feel flickering near the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight, the all-consuming clenching that told me I was ready. “Please.”
“God yes. Beg me to fuck you,” he growled, easing out a fraction only to screw himself back inside, grinding into me. “It’s only what I’m dying to do, what I was made to do.”
I lifted my ass off the mattress the second time he withdrew, and he shoved a pillow under my hips so when he pounded back inside me—deeper, faster, harder—I felt it, like ripples of pleasure throughout my body.
“Do you feel me? Because I feel you, all of you, wrapped around all of me,” he said, his voice spiking, almost frantic, as he found his rhythm, thrusting deeply in and dragging slowly out, over and over.
I turned my head and reached for my pillow, pressing it to my face, trying to muffle the sounds he was pulling out of me.
“No,” he ordered, snatching the pillow from me and tossing it aside. I looked up at his face, at the dilated pupils, his swollen lips and flushed skin. “I want to hear all your noises; I want to know them all.”
“You will. There’s time, right?”
“Oh,” he said like I’d struck him, changing position, rolling forward, tighter, bending me in half. “There’s all the time, nothing but, because you’re the only one who’s ever going to work in my life… fit in my life. It’s all you, Brann. Just you.”
Reaching up, I took hold of his shoulders for leverage as he ground down into me, changing his angle on the descent, which drove his heavy cock over the place I had touched in others but never experienced myself.
I tightened my hands knowing I’d leave bruises, but I was done caring, too lost in what my body was doing, the hurtling rise right before the crest. I checked out, all of it, all of him more than I could bear. And then at last, when he hit the spot that triggered my climax, I held nothing back. The orgasm hurtled up my spine, and my flexing muscles clamped down around him, holding him there as I came apart, splattering his belly and chest.
His head fell back as he came, nailing me to the bed, filling me, the pumping deep inside washing me hot, from the inside out, his cum spilling around his cock and seeping between the cheeks of my ass.
It was like being at the top of a mountain and then freefalling, and there was a moment where I was me, then I was not, and then I was me again. And I was under him, still, and there was air and I could see, though I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of my own heart.
Emery fell forward, on me, into my waiting arms, and I wrapped him up as he buried his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulder.
After a moment, I realized he was laughing, and I nudged him to no avail.
“What’s so funny?” I grumbled. Hand buried in his sweat-soaked hair, I tilted his head back to expose an illicit grin. His eyes were closed and I took that moment, those small but precious seconds, to drink him in. I’d heard the phrase ‘my heart was full to bursting’ before but it had never meant anything to me. Until now.
“We’re both covered in sweat and semen,” he said dreamily, licking his delectable lips, puffy and red from mauling my mouth and sucking my dick. “It’s sexy as hell, my cum leaking from your ass, yours all over my chest, and in my hair.”
He sounded drugged, or drunk, and I loved it. The grin grew into a smile as he opened his eyes and looked at me.
“What?”
Slowly, gently, he eased free of my body with a slight groan as my muscles fisted his length, milking him that last little bit.
“God, did you feel that?” he asked as he rolled to his back beside me. “You didn’t want to let me go.”
“You seem quite proud of yourself.”
“I feel like a pirate.”
I grunted, turning away from him so he couldn’t see my smile.
Ridiculous man.
“I ravaged you.”
“Shuddup.”
“I pillaged you.”
I buried my face in my pillow.
“What are you doing?” He grabbed my shoulder and tugged until I was on my back again. “Come here.”
I rolled my head so I could see him.
“Brann,” he said my name like it was magical. “Please.”
My grin was just as cheesy as his, I was certain. “You’re covered in cum, like you said. You should shower.”
“Baby, come here.”
I rolled over into him, and he ran a hand up my back and into my hair, burying it there, staring into my eyes the whole time.
“Olivia’s right, you have pretty hair.”
“Speaking of,” I said, exhaling, feeling my body get heavy, lulled by his warmth and closeness and the hand now carding through my hair. “What are we gonna do?”
“We is right,” he said hoarsely, kissing my temple. “And we will go over to Mal’s and have a talk with the girls.”
“Okay.”
He was quiet then, and I almost nodded off.
“I know things,” he whispered.
“What things?” I asked, not opening my eyes, happy to still try and doze with him talking to me.
“Well, for example, I know you love me, you love my girls, you love my dog, and you love my house.”
I stayed quiet, though now I was wide awake.
“Right? Don’t you? Love all those things?”
I knew what he was asking. “Yes,” I said honestly, because this was us, together, in my bed. We had no more time for lies on either side.
“Hey.”
Leaning away from him, I opened my eyes so I could see him. The smile was gone; he was dead serious now.
“I told Lydia I couldn’t marry her today, and the only reason for that is because it turns out you can’t choose when you’re going to fall in love.”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“And just so we’re clear, I am totally and completely in love with you.”
The words took me a second to process because they were big and life-changing, and I’d never heard them before. “Oh, yeah?” I said, feeling the happiness spread slowly over me, infusing every cell in my body, filling me up and making me smile like an idiot. “You love me?”
He nodded.
“A lot?”
“Yes.”
“Like you’d marry me?”
“I would.”
I pounced on him, clutching him in my arms and burying my face in his shoulder as I squeezed the life out of him.
“You knew we were supposed to be together,” he prodded, and I could hear the need in his voice. “Didn’t you?”
I nodded fast, a bit too choked up to speak.
“You wanted me to love you.”
“And you do,” I barely got out.
“And I do,” he declared with so much feeling that I felt it like a buzz under my skin as he hugged me tighter.
We had to clean up and go get the girls so I rolled out of bed, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
As I walked into my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed that the bites he’d given me were now smears of dark wine against my skin. It was amazing. This was what being claimed was, the marks, my mauled lips, the stubble burn, my tousled hair, and the blotchy flush over my chest and throat.
That was the outside.
Inside, the changes were bigger, broader, painted on my soul like a lush, overgrown garden teeming with life and sweetness and hope. So much of that.
Under the warm water, I felt the tempest beneath my skin trying to erupt, to escape, to pierce my flesh and show the world that he and I were joined, and together there would be a whole new life built on the solid foundation of the first. I would take care of what Andrea Dodd had begun, be caregiver and lover, father and husband. I’d never felt anything but love in the house, comforted by it, enveloped and accepted. And I knew I was out of my head, vulnerable and joyful, but there was a solidness too, a weight, and even as I clutched for balance in my sudden new life, there was an engulfing peace as well.
Because he saw me.
Emery had the ability to see me as I truly was, with all the flaws, all the shortcomings and selfishness, but all the good parts too. He saw my heart and how it belonged only to him. And now there was the quiet after the storm, and so I was reverent of what had been and what would be.
Wiping the fog from the mirror, I saw myself again and I felt it, how settled I was in my skin, and I smiled back thinking this was what being crazy in love looked like.
He walked behind me, on his way to the shower, but stopped and stared.
“What?” I asked, almost breathless all over again from his unwavering attention.
He shook his head, pressing his chest to my back, brushing his lips over my ear, and spoke so I shivered from his warm breath. “I fall fast, you know,” he confided to me in a whisper. “I saw Andrea on a Friday, and it was like walking outside in the warm summer sun. I knew she was supposed to be with me, so I asked her to move in with me on the following Monday.” His sigh, like he remembered it so very clearly, made me smile. “After she died, I thought… well, a lot of things, but most of all, that I’d never feel that way again.”
I waited because the way he was staring at me, standing beside me, touching, smoothing his hands over my skin, told me there was more.
“When you walked in the front door that Saturday morning, I saw it again, and then I felt the same brightness and sense of peace.” His voice cracked on the last word as his hand slipped over my flaccid cock and lower to my balls. “I was stunned,” he said, his warm breath tickling over my damp skin. “And I thought I was wrong. That maybe it was an illusion, that I was seeing things that weren’t there. Because I was sure my life was going to be a certain way after my wife died, so I agreed to a marriage that had nothing to do with love.”
Everything felt different. Being in the house, being in his space, I was lighter, my life irrevocably complete with an outcome I could have never imagined. We were the same, he and I.
“But there you were,” he said, his voice sultry, rich, stroking me gently as I hardened slowly in his hand. “Your first instinct not to please or flatter, like everyone else tried to do, but to protect, which is what we all so desperately needed.”
I pushed into his hand, hearing my breath go raspy and ragged.
“You’ve been a confidant and a champion. You’ve become the parent both the girls needed,” he said, leaning me forward over the counter, his hand on my ass, rubbing and massaging as my eyes drifted closed. “And I saw you the whole time, and the amazing thing is, you saw me too.”
He went to his knees behind me and when he parted my cheeks, I gasped before bucking against the counter as his tongue slid into my hole.
“I’ll be so gentle,” he promised before he licked and pressed, the spearing and suction and endless laving turning my bones to liquid so, guided by his strong hands, I sank to the floor on my hands and knees.
He left me there to retrieve the lube from the bed, back before my skin chilled, kissing down my spine, the delicious rimming starting all over again. When he replaced his hot tongue with two lube-covered fingers, pushing in deep, I moaned his name.
“If this isn’t all right, you tell me,” he said, and I could hear the seduction as well as the sincerity there as he took hold of my hip with one hand and positioned the head of his cock to my entrance with the other.
In answer, I pushed back, craving the feeling of fullness, but more than that, the connection with him. He was gentle, and I felt my body stretch around him, open, take him in as he groaned, husky and low, pressing inside me.
“When you want this from me, Brann, when you want to be inside me, put me down on the bed and I’m yours, you understand? I want this too.”
“But not as much as you want to be inside me,” I said, shivering as I rode the line between pleasure and pain, the pinpricks of sharp, overly-sensitized flesh contrasting with the desire to have him fuck me into the floor.
“I love having you under me,” he growled, pushing, filling me, inch by inch, his movement a slow, steady glide until he was fully seated and I was impaled on his hard length. “And the idea that such a strong, sexy man has my cock buried in his ass is making me stupid.”
I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “I could ride you.”
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, reaching out to clench his fingers in my hair, tilting my head, bowing my back, sliding in and out, hard and fast, the sound of slapping flesh a steady tempo until he faltered as the primal urge to rut took over. “Grab your cock, because just imagining you bottoming from the top is going to make me come.”
“Is it better than this? Now?” I teased him with my last cognizant thought before there was only the deep stroking to my core.
“Nothing is better than you right now, at this moment,” he said, panting, lost to his own body thrusting, pumping, and above all else, staking his claim. Again.
I’d never been wanted, needed, as I was by Emery Dodd, and as my muscles clamped down along his length like a fist, I came spurting on the floor beneath me, amazed that there was anything left after the first time.
He was seconds behind me, falling across my back, replete as his orgasm washed over him, shuddering with the aftershocks.
“I feel good, huh?” I rumbled, loving his hands sliding all over me before his arms wrapped around my chest, and he clunked his head down between my shoulder blades.
“You feel so much better than good, and I find myself compelled to put marks on every square inch of your beautiful skin.”
“Compelled, huh?” I snickered, loving how ridiculous he sounded.
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“Absolutely not.” I couldn’t help teasing.
“Just… I want you to stay here and belong to me,” he murmured. “You need to be mine for the rest of my life.”
He was postorgasm, so not all of what he was saying could be counted on to come from his heart. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, voice low, throaty and almost somber. “I mean, I know I just had really great sex, so you might infer that I’m not terribly credible, but I assure you that I am. Don’t leave me; I won’t survive.”
The chances weren’t much better for me, and as I exhaled the last shred of uncertainty in me, I realized he was it, the only man who would ever do.
“I’m heavy,” he yawned. “I’m sorry.”
But he didn’t move, and when I chuckled, I felt him smile against my back. “You’re not sorry one bit.”
“No,” he agreed, lifting up but not pulling out, instead reaching for my chin to turn my head so he could kiss me. “Not one bit.”
Fifteen
I drove toward Mal’s, smiling like an idiot because Emery had his hand on my thigh the whole way, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I need to ask you a question,” I began hesitantly, pulling over and parking, but leaving the car running, turning in my seat to face him after I unclipped my seat belt.
“I’m sure you need to ask me a million.” He sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, sliding the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “I’m ready when you are.”
I took a breath. “You touched me all the time.”
“Yes, I did,” he admitted gravely.
“And you’re a high school teacher, so… you should be very aware of boundaries and touching and what that all means.”
“Which, of course, I am.”
“And yet with me…,” I said, letting the words trail off, waiting on him.
“And yet with you, all that flew out the window,” he finished my sentence for me, his breath a defeated huff. “I touched you all the time, and I couldn’t help it even though it only made everything worse for me.”
