She’s also shaking. Tiny tremors that make her skin tremble beneath my touch.
“Hey.” Curling my arm around her waist, I use my knee to gently part her legs. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
The lines of her throat work as she swallows. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually get like this. I just…”
“You need. I know.” I glide my fingers forward and circle her clit, whispering, “Thank you.”
“For what?” she whispers back, hips rolling. I move my hand up her belly and cup her breast, plucking at her nipple. She moans.
I replace the fingers of my other hand with the wide head of my cock. She moans. I say, “For letting your guard down with me. I’m honored. And inspired.”
Emma pauses, mid-roll. Her eyes say what her words cannot. That she’s happy and scared and so turned on it hurts.
I sink a little inside her, her pussy swallowing my crown. Seeing stars at how sweet she already feels.
Her breath catches, eyes squeezing shut.
I’m big. She’s small. This position is probably not the best call for our first time, but it’s what she wants. So I nudge her legs a little wider and grit my teeth and go slowly. I move my hand back to her clit, gently massaging her there while I sink inside her millimeter by millimeter.
It’s heaven and hell, all at once. She’s so tight I wanna scream. I wanna jackhammer my hips and have my way.
I put the other hand on the floor beside Emma’s torso and lean forward so that I surround her. She’s so little she fits inside the shelter of my body perfectly. I kiss her neck and suck on her shoulder. I gather her slickness on my fingertips and spread it on her nipple, making her pussy flutter around my cock.
“You that close?” I nip at her earlobe.
“The pain,” she replies thickly. “The contrast with your gentleness—it’s hot as hell, Samuel.”
That’s the story her body’s telling too, so I go with it.
She pushes up onto her hands when I am sunk to the hilt.
“Okay?” I ask.
Running her fingers through her hair, she nods. “Start slow?”
I kiss her shoulder blade. “Keep talking to me.”
But it’s her body that does the talking. I do a mini-thrust, a slow in-and-out motion. My free hand still on her clit.
Her pussy flutters again. Stronger this time.
Her arms start to shake.
“Aw, baby,” I murmur against her skin. “You are close. Tell me what you need me to do to get there.”
She opens her eyes. I already said it, they reply. I need you.
I thrust again, a little harder this time. Her tits bounce and her head rears up. My thighs are flush against hers. She cries out when I take my hand off her pussy, but I need to find our rhythm so I can catch her when she falls.
Hand now on her hip, I guide her back and forth in time to my thrusts. We begin to move. I watch my cock glide in and out of her, my skin growing clammy with sweat. Holding back like this takes a fuck ton of effort, but I would rather light myself on fire than hurt Emma.
Plus, I have a feeling her orgasm is gonna be really, really good.
I want it to be her best ever.
Doesn’t take long for Emma to meet me stroke for stroke. She’s eager, athletic, and we set a good, sweaty pace, our bodies slapping with every thrust. When I’m confident she’s okay, I curl my arm around her waist again and hold her tight against me.
I love the feel of her body against mine.
By the way the walls of her pussy clamp down on my dick, so does she.
“I want to see your face when you come,” I say in her ear. “Roll over.”
She obeys, my dick slipping out of her as she settles onto her back. I want to devour her with my eyes, the way her cheeks are flushed, the lines of her belly, but she’s reaching for me, wrapping a hand around my cock and guiding it back to her center.
I smile at her impatience and hike her leg over my shoulder. Sinking inside her, I lean over her and play with her clit.
But it’s when I kiss her mouth that she comes.
Her pussy tightens, milking my dick. She breaks the kiss and closes her eyes, body arching into mine. She cries out, head falling back. Neck bared.
In my arms, she lets go.
I watch, heart in my throat, with my eyes on her face. The sinews of her neck pop against her skin, and I lean down to kiss them. She curls her hands into the muscles on my chest, nails biting into the skin, and the place between my blood and bones sings at the ferociousness of her desire.
She wants to be held so I hold her. I pump into her, my balls tightening. I keep my gaze on her face as she rides out her orgasm.
At last, Emma opens her eyes. They’re stormy, sated. Full.
She’s falling.
I kiss her, and I come, growling into her mouth as my entire being implodes. Pulse after pulse of pounding sweetness I can barely breathe through. But I keep my eyes open and watch her watching me lose my shit.
Emma strokes my face, tucking my hair away from my forehead. The shockwaves flatten me, and for several seconds, my heart stops working even as the pulses keep coming.
The orgasm goes on for forty-eight years.
When my heart finally starts beating again, it feels different inside my chest. Like it’s worked itself into a new shape. Or maybe just untied itself from its perpetual knot.
I let out a breath.
Emma keeps playing with my hair. It feels nice. She smiles.
I do too. A real smile. Because finally, fucking finally, I don’t feel lonely anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma
I wake up naked, horny, and sore.
I am sore everywhere—between my legs and inside my chest. The first one isn’t new, but the second one is. My pulse skips a beat.
Oh, God, this feeling. It’s lovely and it’s terrifying, and in the darkness, my heart begins to pound.
I forgot myself with Samuel. I don’t always play the alpha, but my tendencies always show through.
Tonight, though? Tonight, I forgot about power dynamics. I forgot to play or that control even existed. Because the sex was so good, and I was so into it that I barely had time to catch my breath, much less plot out what my next move should be. And that sort of freedom—that sort of ease, of comfort—is something I’ve never felt before with another person.
I felt connected with Samuel during sex without being worried about keeping my guard up. I felt appreciated for who I was in the moment. Not who I could be or should be.
He adores me for who I am.
Against my better judgment, I’m falling in love with Samuel Beauregard.
Not only that, I told him as much on that bearskin rug in front of the fire. Granted, I didn’t say the words out loud. But he knew, and I knew, and now it’s not only my career in his hands, but my heart too.
I want him. I want to be with him.
I am so fucked it’s not even funny. Although having sex on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire is a cliché for a reason. It is awesome.
The worst slash best part? I’m pretty damn sure Samuel’s falling for me too. He didn’t say so either, not explicitly. But there was a tenderness in his lovemaking, an earnestness in his eyes, that I know he wanted me to notice. My insides do a happy dance at the idea that we are in love. My pussy clenches, and I can tell I’m already wet.