"Let's just say it's one of the few times I'm ever truly surprised."
"Note to self. Surprise Emma more often."
And surprise me he did. Because without any preamble, he stroked the mushroom tip of his cock over my clit, stroked down, and entered me in one deep grind. My eyes flared wide. "Oh, Jesus."
His gaze sharply narrowed on mine. "Fuck, you okay?"
I expelled a long breath. "Uh, okay doesn't even begin to describe it. Wow, yeah, more than okay."
He retreated almost all the way and then with the snap of his hips drove forward again.
I hissed again and clutched at his shoulders. "Jesus, Bridge. More of that, more."
We fell into rhythm easily. In this hallowed hall of old textbooks and even older money, he fucked me on that podium. With all his disrespect for the Elite men who came before him. All the disrespect for the bullshit rules he hated. And when he slid a hand between us to work his thumb over my clit, I threw my head back and came apart, my screams echoing all around the stone. But Bridge didn't stop. He kept up his punishing rhythm, and all I could do was lay back and enjoy it.
His hands roamed over my body, and he leaned over and kissed me, his hips still working me when he eventually slowed down. When he tried to pull away, I scrambled back up. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not going anywhere. Bend over."
I was boneless. I wasn't sure how I was going to keep myself up, but I was going to give it a really good try.
He helped me down. And then turned me over so that I was once again gripping the opposite edge of the stone podium.
Behind me, he lined himself up again and this time took it slow. I started to quiver deep inside again. Jesus, I would never get tired of the way he made love to me or the way his fingers flexed into my flesh when he kissed me. How sometimes he would slide his hand just under my jaw, holding me in place. I would never tire of the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle to solve and then giving up trying to solve it as he decided to just enjoy it. I would never tire of him.
When his thumb started to circle over the pucker of my ass, I could feel the impending orgasm. "Oh God, yes, please."
"I'm so glad to hear you say that. I have something else planned."
And then I heard him fumbling with the bowl that held the tattoo tools. And I knew he was using the oil for lube. Was I ready? I'd all but dared him, right? He pulled out, and there was more fumbling. And then when he was back, he slid the length of himself over my wet opening, and I moaned. He was buttery soft and slick as well.
But he didn't enter my pussy. When he aligned the tip of his now slick cock to my ass, I held my breath. He ran his hands slowly over my lower back. "No, no, no, relax like before. Easy does it." I wanted to hold my breath. That was reflex. But I followed his directions and tried to relax the best I could. With the first push of the tip of his cock, all the breath left my lungs. Oh Jesus, he was huge. This was not a thumb or a finger. This was his massive erection and… wow.
But he didn't rush me. He didn't pressure me. He just stayed still. Gently rubbing my lower back. Whispering how beautiful I was, how much he loved me. And before I knew it, I was pushing back against him. The initial burn gone and replaced by urgency for friction. But despite my need for him to pick up the pace, he took his time.
Slowly retreating, giving me that delicious friction, making me hiss and call every variation of his name that I could think of.
I wasn't sure how long we sat like that. His slow, painstakingly easy entry and me, begging and panting for more.
When he was fully seated, he dropped his forehead to the back of my head and he whispered. "You're so fucking tight. I'm afraid to move."
"I need you to move. Make it feel good."
"Is it too much?" His voice was more of a feral snarl.
"No. It's not enough. I feel full, but I think I need more."
"I’ve got you."
He reached around to the apex of my thighs and found my clit easily. And then he started moving. A slow, aching retreat with furious movements of his fingers. My fingers went to join his, and the two of us heightened my urgency. But he still kept on that slow retreat, slow entry until I was begging. "Jesus, Bridge, I'm begging you. Faster."
"Is that what my girl wants? Faster?"
I nodded frantically. "Yes, please. Oh God, please, please, please."
So he picked up the pace. And the instant pleasure along with his fingers over my clit made me gasp with pleasure. It was as if everything below my waist was lit up with firecrackers. And I was going to break apart.
"Fuck, Emma, you're so good. So goddamn tight."
I could hear that he was talking through his teeth. I could practically see the muscle ticking in his jaw. We were both sweat slicked as he rode me and fucked my arse.
I deliberately squeezed around him, and he coughed. "Fuck, Emma."
He pressed on my clit in these fast, grinding strokes, and there was no warning. There was no time. The orgasm slapped into me with the force of a Mack truck. And I was calling out, screaming his name. And all I heard behind me were his grinding words. "Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, so good. So good, baby. I love it. I love you. So goddamn good."
And then he stiffened, and I could feel him expanding inside me. But I was on a journey of my own with every explosion through my body making me weak. Robbing me of all sense of time and place.
Then he collapsed, the two of us barely able to stand. Panting, joined from our fingertips along our bodies, intertwined. Forever. And all he could do was whisper in my ear, "Wow."
"I think that was my line."
Thirty-One
Bridge
Even after making love with Emma, I still couldn’t sleep. I hadn't been able to shake the events of the last week. Running into my father. Going to see Jacob Milton. The only thing I knew for sure was that someone was trying their level best to make it look like I was capable of murder. But why? That was the piece of the puzzle I did not have. And then, of course, we still had our Middleton problem.
It should not be this hard to find information. Middleton was slippery. Too clean. Something was very wrong with the picture, but none of us knew what it was. We were all missing something.
Unable to crack the drive Emma had stolen, East and Telly were working on cracking his phone. I could only pray that whatever was on Middleton’s phone would point us in the right direction.
Next to me in bed, Emma tossed and threw an arm out, smacking me in the face. I turned to her with a raised brow. Her lips were almost permanently curved in a subtle half smile, even in her sleep, although her deep breaths told me she was completely knocked out.
As well she should be after what you did to her.
That was… intense. It gave a whole new meaning to initiation ritual.
My movement slipped the duvet, showcasing her perfectly formed breast. More than a handful, more than a mouthful. It was one in the bloody morning. Should I wake her?
My dick of course thought that was a fantastic idea. Blood rushed to my cock, just like that, and I was ready to go. But after the last session, she had to be sore. I should let her sleep.
Still though, I leaned down and kissed the cinnamon tip of her breast. She moaned and lifted her hips. Then she smacked me again and cuddled into my warmth. I couldn't help but chuckle. Even in her sleep, she was keeping me in check.