Emma

Like the gentleman he is, my permission was all he’d been waiting for. Alex led me to the bedroom, backing me up until my knees ran into the foot of his bed, almost making me fall over. I let my fingertips trail along the image of his face, following the strong lines of his jaw, his plump lips, over his chin, and down to his chest. His hand slips around my waist, pulling my body against his. He brings his mouth to my neck, and I silently pray his kiss isn’t far away.

I want him. I want every inch of him all over every inch of me.

His hands.

His mouth.

His cock.

My need for him is practically dripping down my thigh.

His hand glides down my spine and over my butt, slipping between my legs. “I play rough,” he growls, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over my skin. “Do you think you can handle it?”

Yes. God, yes.

“How long have you been wet for me, Emma?”

Since I saw you at the coffee shop.

“All night.”

A low growl vibrates deep in his throat. “Lay down,” he commands, and I immediately obey. “Spread your legs for me love. I want to see you.” I pull my knees apart, and he slowly shakes his head. “Wider.” I do as he says, earning a satisfied grin. He reaches down and rubs his palm over the bulge in his underwear.

Oh my God. It’s so completely vulgar and utterly sexual at the same time. I roll my hips, lifting them off the bed in anticipation of his touch, his tongue… him.

He slides out of his boxer briefs then crawls between my legs, His tongue snakes out and brushes my throbbing clit. Once. Twice. And again.

“Oh, God, Alex. Please…”

He looks up at me with that adorable smile that drives me wild and arches a brow. “Begging so soon, love?”

Another flick of the tongue.

Fuck. I can’t take anymore. I grab the back of his head and pull his face where I want it. He huffs a chuckle against my sensitive flesh but grants my plea, his tongue skillfully running from my back to front, not missing a drop. He stops to nip at the hard nub then slowly draws it between his soft lips before assaulting me with his tongue again.

It feels so good. So fucking good. But my body is craving more. His slow, sensual torture is driving me insane. Almost as if on cue, he slips a finger inside me. Then another.

In.

Out.

I’m so wet.

He watches as his finger disappears inside me. The way a starving man watches a chef prepare his favorite meal. “Is this what you were begging for?” I reply with my body rather than my words, moving my hips in perfect rhythm with his finger fucking. “You want to come, don’t you, babygirl?”

Yes.

Again, I let my body answer, thrusting myself against his hand, urging his fingers to go deeper. Harder. He adjusts his angle so that he hits me. Right. Fucking. There. A loud moan I don’t even recognize as my own echoes through the room.

“Ask me,” his voice interrupts my oblivion as his fingers slide out of me.

What? No. Don’t stop.

He once again brings his mouth to my heat, breathing hot and heavy against me. Sending tiny lust-filled waves of pleasure from my stomach to my toes. “Please, Alex. Make me come,” I plead.

The moment the words leave my lips his tongue is inside me, fucking me. And his palm is on my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of movement. Wave after wave, the orgasm crashes over my body, forcing me to cry out. He laps up every last drop of my pleasure like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

He climbs up my body, and I reach out to wipe my ecstasy from his lips, and he opens his mouth and takes my thumb inside. My other hand explores his body- his strong shoulders and well-defined biceps. His hard chest and perfect abs. I lay my hand flat against his rock-hard erection, rubbing his dick while he runs his tongue along my thumb, an unspoken demand for what he wants me to do next.

I wet my bottom lip at the thought of having him in my mouth. Alex pulls his mouth from my finger, moving his lips to my neck. His teeth graze the delicate skin there. I arch my back, leaning my head back to give him better access. Then slowly, carefully, he begins to climb my body. Like a predator.

He stops once he’s straddling my chest, his massive cock staring me in the face, every thick vein begging to be licked. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do,” he says, his tone low and gravelly. I rest my weight on my elbows, preparing to taste him.

My tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, earning a loud hiss in response. I circle the thick head, licking away the dewy droplets that have formed there. “Jesus, babygirl,” he growls.

I pull just the tip into my warm, wet mouth and begin to suck. Dark, hungry eyes meet mine as I look up at him. His hands fist in my hair as he starts moving his hips.

Wanting.

Needing.
Taking.

I am completely at his mercy. With my arms and hands holding up my weight, I can’t touch him or control the pace. It’s all him. He never takes his eyes off mine as he fucks my mouth. Slowly. Gently at first, but quickly more urgent and forceful. I almost don't know if I can take it, but every time I look up at his beautiful face and see nothing other than sheer pleasure, I don’t ever want to stop.

He slows his pace almost to a complete halt. “I love your fucking mouth,” he says as he pulls himself away from me. “But I need to be inside you now.” He slides his hand between my soaked thighs and slips a finger between my folds, making me moan. “Right here.”

His hard body is once again on top of mine, his cock waiting and ready at my entrance. I writhe beneath him in anticipation as he leans down to kiss me, soft and sensual on my swollen lips. One minute he’s fucking my mouth, the next he’s worshipping it. It drives me crazy and leaves me wanting more.

He moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I’m going to fuck you now, love. Nice and hard. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.” The word is more a plea than a confirmation.

He nips at my neck as he enters me. Then wholly, fully, and without hesitation, he fucks me. Lifting my legs onto his shoulders as he pounds me just like he said he would. Hard. Rough. Flesh against flesh. Hard against wet. Raw and real.

I don’t think my body can contain all the pleasure he’s giving me. My hands search for something, anything, to hold onto, as if that will keep me grounded. Because I am right on the edge of heaven. My hands clench in the sheets as a loud growl fills the air when Alex comes. The pulse and throb of his climax sends me over the edge with him just before he collapses on top of me. My hands glide softly over the damp skin of his back, soothing him while we catch our breath.

I let the tip of my tongue trace his bottom lip, drawing a quiet hum from deep in his throat.

No, there’s definitely no going back now.

I open my eyes, letting them adjust to the traces of sunlight shining through the bedroom window shades as I stretch my legs. An unfamiliar, yet delicious soreness spreads over my body from the inside out. I expected to roll over and find Alex next to me, but the bed is empty, making me miss him already. I pull on his t-shirt and follow the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon.

“You cook too?” I say, rising to my tiptoes to give him a kiss. I think I just may have won the lottery.

He laughs at the compliment. “Don’t get excited, babygirl. It’s just bacon and eggs.”

“And coffee,” I add, as he hands me a large black mug. I check the countertops for cream and sugar.

“Now that, you can get excited about,” he jokes.

I adjust my coffee to flavor then slide into one of three black leather barstools. He sets a plate full in front of me, waiting for my ultimate judgement. There’s more food here than I will ever eat.

“It’s good,” I tell him, after the first bite. “It’s really good.” I normally don’t do breakfast, but I seem to have worked up an appetite last night. I’m starving. He sits beside me, stealing bacon and stabbing a forkful of eggs from my plate. So that was the plan. We’re sharing. People actually do that? Holy crap. I’m one of those “people who actually do that.”

I had boyfriends in high school. In college, I focused on my job and my grades. Bastain was my first real relationship. How pathetic is my life? I’m 31-years old and I don’t even know what it’s like to share a meal with someone. Is it ever too late to start over? Do we ever reach a point where we just are who we are, like it or not?

I refuse to accept that. I refuse to settle. It’s not too late for me. I can start over. This is my book, and I’ll write it the way I want it.

“I guess I should get dressed now,” I say as we polish off the last of the breakfast.

Alex guides his hand up my thigh. “Horrible idea,” he answers with a playful grin, though his eyes are dark with want.

My body instinctively slides to the edge of the stool, burning to be closer to him. “I have to find a place to live. I need clothes. Gorgeous ones. Because I have to beg Cameron Inc. for a job.” My tone rises and falls in panic as I mentally check off the list of things I need to do. What was I thinking? Why wasn’t I prepared for this? Because you didn’t expect to be living with a psychopath.

The second Bastain hinted that his behavior might be getting worse, I started saving money. I tried finding an apartment. I did find a job. I did everything I knew to do. I have to stop beating myself up. Time to pull up my big girl panties and move on.

“Emma, love, relax. It’s Sunday. There will be plenty of time for all that tomorrow.”

“I can’t wear leggings to a business meeting.”

I’m freaking out and he’s laughing. Of course he’s laughing. I look around. He’s a successful attorney with an amazing loft and everything going for him. He notes my insecurities and takes my hand.

“Okay. We’ll go shopping. But the job and apartment can wait. I want you to myself today. Deal?”

He does have a point. There isn’t much I can do on a Sunday anyway. Old habits die hard, I suppose. I’m used to being chastised for not having things in order ahead of time. I do have to find a place to live, but between cash and credit, I’ve got at least five night’s worth of hotel stay in my wallet. More than that if I decide to call my mother. I asked Cameron to give me the week to decide on the job, which would leave me having to make my decision by Tuesday. I’ll just go to their office first thing in the morning and accept their offer. Alex is right. I need to relax. All's not lost. I give myself a mental high five. I’ve got this.

“Deal,” I agree.

“Good,” he says, lifting me off the stool and pulling me to his lap. “Now, come here, babygirl. I’m not done with you yet.”