“Babe. I’m just getting started. Didn’t I say I wanted to devour you? You can’t be trying to run away like that.”
“I can’t help it, Val. It feels so good. I haven’t …” She broke off. “You always make me feel things I’ve never felt.”
At least she gave him that. She might not have wanted to, but she’d always been starry-eyed and a little shocked as if every single time he’d fucked her, or made love to her, it was her first time and he was the most amazing, incredible lover ever.
He spread her thighs wider, placing her legs over his forearms, and then leaned down, one hand on her belly to hold her in place. He went back to those slow, delicious licks and flicks with his tongue. Teasing. Building the burn. Never quite giving her what she needed where she needed it. He used his free hand to brush her clit or circle it when his tongue wasn’t there. He curled his finger inside her, stroking that very sensitive spot that made her go a little wild. He pulled back and used his tongue like a weapon, plunging in and out and then withdrawing just as she was close.
He’d missed her taste. He’d missed her response. He’d missed every single thing about having his woman under him. The sight of her in such need. Her fragrance surrounding him. That soft skin and tight channel with scorching, silken walls waiting for his aching cock. He nuzzled her thighs, breathing her in, taking her deep into his lungs, keeping her there.
“Val! What are you doing?” she wailed. “I’m so close.”
“You need to come, baby?” He could feel her. Coiled so tight. Her body hot. Flames licked at both of them. Every nerve ending on fire. His. Hers. Nothing separated them.
“Yes. Hurry.”
“You need to know who makes you feel like this, Emmanuelle.” He put his mouth on her. Let his tongue work her hard. Bring her right there. He lifted his head. “Who would that be, Princess? Who gives this to you?”
“You are being a dick.” Her head popped up again and her blue eyes darkened as she glared at him with demand. With a threat. “Do you have even an inkling of an idea what I do for a living?”
He laughed. He had forgotten he could laugh. Only Emmanuelle made him laugh. He lived in fucking hell, and she brought the sun with her. She knew how to brighten his world.
He went back to work: Fingers. Mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Bringing her close. Losing himself in her taste. In her scent. The softness of her thighs. In the fact that he loved her. That he could feel that overwhelming emotion the way he did for her. That she was right there with him again. He had her back, and he would be damned if she slipped away again.
She was thrashing now, her body close. He felt the tightness in her belly, her thighs, the small silken muscles clamping down viciously on his fingers. He withdrew again, kissing her thighs, wiping his face on either side of those creamy legs while she wailed and threatened.
“Better talk to me, Princess. Say what I want to hear. Who gives you what you want? Because my woman is marrying me, not some fucking stranger in another country. No other man is ever going to make you come. Promise me, baby.”
Her head was up suddenly, her blue eyes looking straight into his eyes, and he knew he’d given her too much. Revealed how much it hurt. In his voice. Now it showed in his eyes. The knife she’d driven into him deep. Twisted. Kept twisting. She’d left him for two long years, believing he’d betrayed her, when all she’d had to do was listen to her own body, hear his voice, to know the truth.
She was going to give herself to another man. Those fucking papers. He’d read every single question and every single one of her answers. Damn her to hell for thinking she would give herself to another man. That hurt more than any bullet, any knife ever could.
He looked at what was his. His woman spread open for him. So beautiful. All liquid and hot. Waiting and wanton. Pulsing and needy.
“I promise, Val. No arranged marriage. I promise that much.”
Her voice was very soft, a mere thread of sound. She was telling him she wouldn’t ever marry someone else even if she didn’t commit to him. That was something, at least. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her stiff little clit. She jumped.
He went back to one of his most favorite things, bringing his woman as much pleasure as possible. This time, he didn’t stop, encouraging one orgasm to roll into a second, much longer one. She was sobbing his name by the third. Yeah, she knew who gave her intense pleasure.
He eased her down gently with his fingers and then rid himself of clothes. “I missed you, Emme. I missed you so much.” He wanted to make love to her slowly, hold her in his arms, but he hadn’t been with his woman in so long, and he wasn’t going to last this first time. “You on birth control, Emmanuelle?”
“Yes.”
“I swear to you I’m clean. I really haven’t been with another woman. I want to feel you, take you bare.” He’d always preferred to be in her bare, although he’d never, not once, before Emme, been with another woman without a condom.
“Tell me it’s okay, Princess.” He was right there, the thick, wide head of his cock fitting in her snug, hot entrance, his heart beating too hard, while blood pounded through his body, a firestorm raging that might never be fully sated.
“Yes, hurry, honey.” There was urgency in her voice.
His hand tightened on her hip. He couldn’t help the possessive streak he had. He felt possessive of her. He hoped she felt the same for him. His fingers dug into her flesh to hold her still, and he surged forward, a hard thrust, driving the thick, long length of him right through those tight, hot silken muscles that didn’t want to give an inch.
Fire raced up his spine. Flames licked over his entire body. She was so tight. He’d forgotten what it was like being inside her, trying to force his way into that silken canal. She didn’t want to open for him, but he forced the invasion, a thick, wide drill, penetrating every inch, burying himself as deep as possible. Making them one so they were sharing the same skin. Nothing felt so good. Nothing was like Emme. She was pure fucking fire.
“You’re too big, Val. It’s burning. Stretching.” Her voice came in ragged little pants.
She hadn’t been with anyone else for two years. A long time for her body to wait for his. He took a deliberate breath, threw his head back and let himself just feel to give her time for her body to adjust to the size of his invasion.
“It was always like this at first, baby. Remember? Then so good. Relax for me. Just relax. Give yourself to me.”
She always did. Emmanuelle had trusted him in the past with her body. He’d worshiped her over and over. Taught her so many things. He felt her relaxing. Felt her silken muscles, so scorching hot, adjusting to his size. She was a snug fit, and in their time together, that fit was always that same tight glove that stretched around him so perfectly.
Emmanuelle took a deep breath, and Val felt the muscles contract and then relax just enough to allow him to move without fear of hurting her. He started as slow as he could to give her a chance to get used to his cock dragging over her sensitive bundle of nerves. She jolted every time he hit them so perfectly. She’d forgotten and reacted, her body shivering, shuddering, coiling with tension, winding with pressure fast.
He caught her hips and surged into her over and over, letting himself go, needing this first time with her to stake his claim. The flames ran up his legs, his spine, danced over his skin, colors flickered behind his eyes. Yeah, this was what he remembered. What he needed. Only Emme could give him absolute ecstasy. Nothing, no one else came close. She was the real addiction. Once you had her, there was no going back.