His other hand twirls my other nipple between his fingers, as if he knows the desperation I feel for his touch. His fingers roughen, and I groan as wonderful, sweet heat blooms in my pussy, and I bite my lip to keep from gyrating on his leg.
He pulls back, leaving me gasping, as his big hands cup my face, and he stares at me with the intensity of a laser as if reaching inside me to draw out all my secrets. His silky shirt rubs against my skin, and I swivel to get more friction. He licks his lips. “Emmy . . .”
“What?” I tug him up to look at me in the eyes. If I’m being honest, this here, this man lusting for me, is what I’ve wanted ever since the moment he got down on his knees for me. Maybe before then.
“I can’t get serious.”
“Why?”
He traces my eyebrow with his finger, his voice strained. “Because I need to focus on football. And a million other reasons.”
It’s what I expected to hear. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”
“Or what,” he growls as he lowers his head to mine and takes my lips hard, his hand going to my ass to press my entire body against his.
He says my name on a groan as he kisses my neck, down to my clavicle and to my piercing. Deft fingers tease the waistband of my panties until finally he slides underneath and cups my ass.
“Darling,” he murmurs as he eases down the wisps of lace.
I feel exposed and vulnerable in the best way. The air feels heavy and thick with desire as he gazes at my body with reverence. He kneels in front of me, then locks his eyes with mine. I’m gasping, waiting for his touch. Chills dance over my skin, anticipation rising.
His lips land on my navel, tasting the gold ring I have there, then slides to my hipbone. “You smell so fucking good.”
I’m reeling in sensation when one finger enters me slowly, teasingly, barely there.
“Good?”
I nod, my body shivering as he goes deeper. I’m wet and hear him groan against my skin as he hears the sound his finger makes inside me.
I’m bracing myself against the bedpost, crying out with need, when he lifts my leg and puts it over his shoulder.
He spends a few moments staring at me, his gaze devouring the shape of my pussy, the contours, and the way I’m already clenching for him to touch me again.
He does. With his tongue. He eats at me with ferocious intent, his tongue flicking against my clit with an assault of emotion. Passion ignites even higher when his finger joins in, and he works in tandem with his tongue. I can’t really move how I want because of the angle and the way I’m holding myself up, and I mewl out, wanting and needing more.
His fingers find the secret spot inside me, and he rubs, faster and faster. My head falls back, my breasts aching, as I surrender to his masterful touch, to the carnal moment, whether it means something or not.
I give in to everything that is him. My body tenses, my pussy clenching around his fingers as my orgasm races to the top of the mountain and explodes. I cry out, spasming around him with my hands in his hair, digging my nails into his scalp. His tongue continues to suck at me, his fingers still delving inside, and my heart jumps as I wonder if I can come again so soon.
“You can,” he growls on my skin, and I shudder with the intensity of heat in his voice. He eases my leg off his shoulder, still finger-fucking me as he pushes me back onto the end of the bed.
“Keep your legs spread,” he says, his eyes like liquid metal.
I whimper as he devotes himself to pleasuring my body, as if it is the only thing in the world he’s ever wanted.
He moves to kiss my nipples, lingering on my piercing. He plays with my breasts, squeezing and molding them, drawing maddening circles with his fingertips, at first gentle and soft, then increasingly harder. The friction escalates as he adds two fingers to my pussy, fucking me like a cock, then grinding against my clit when he exits.
I’m a live wire. A pulse of sensation. I am on fire.
I ache. I need. I desire.
His teeth nip at my nipple as he taps my clit, then stops, then taps again in an uneven rhythm, making me squirm under the madness.
“Please,” I call out.
He makes a noise in his throat and rubs his slacks against my thigh. His cock strains to escape the confines of his clothes, and my mouth waters at the thought of taking him down my throat.
Sensuous abandon takes me over as I eagerly try to undo his pants, but the angle is all wrong.
“Just you,” he groans as he sucks my nipple, then bites.
It’s as if I’m being uncoiled from a tense spring as I come with a sharpness that sneaks up and detonates like a firecracker. I shudder, my body arching up toward him, my hips pumping to wrangle out the last throes of passion.
Gasping, I fall back, sinking into the covers on my bed as I moan. He collapses next to me, his face slicked with sweat, his eyes heavy and burning with tempered desire. My chest heaves as if I’ve been running.
I huff out a laugh. “You still have your clothes on.”
He smiles. “That’s what happens when you strip in front of me. Wasn’t time to really think.” He pauses, his eyes lingering on my face, searching my features. “You are extraordinary.”
Most men might have said I was “beautiful” or that I was “sexy,” but somehow “extraordinary” feels more eloquent. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”
His fingers graze down my throat softly, tracing the outline of my breasts before dancing over my nipples. “I don’t have a condom.”
I feel heat flooding my cheeks. “I do. In my nightstand.” They’re there for “just in case,” since Kian and I mostly had sex at his place.
A wailing reaches my ears, and I sit up, my head spinning from the movement. “That’s Londyn.” I wince. “I must have woken her up.”
He gets off the bed and holds his hand out for me as I put my feet on the floor. Moving swiftly, I scramble around and find my underwear, then grab a tank top and sleep shorts.
“What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she just go back to sleep?”
“Nothing probably, but she is teething, and once she’s awake, she likes to let everyone know.”
“Can I help?” he asks, following me as I open my bedroom door.
“Can you grab a washcloth from the bathroom, get it wet with cold water, then stick it in the freezer for a bit? It will cool down her gums and give her something to chew.”
“I’ve never been around babies.”
“You want kids?”
“I used to.”
With Divina, I suppose.
“Do you?” he asks.
“Londyn is perfect for me, but maybe someday . . .”
“Even though you don’t plan on marriage?”
I shrug. “Single ladies can have children.”
“Oh.”
She cries harder, and I leave him there and go to her room. She’s standing, hanging on to the crib rail as she whimpers. Her little face is red, and the top of her sleeper is wet with drool.
“Poor darling,” I murmur as I pick her up and cuddle, patting her bottom. I change her into a fresh diaper and sleeping outfit. So she doesn’t get more drool on it, I put a bib on as I murmur soothing words. When I turn, Graham is at the door, watching me with an odd expression.