Emmy in the dim light of her bedroom, her hair wild about her shoulders and eyes bright, is absolutely stunning.

"But you realize I'm staying the whole night, right?" she says.

"What?"

"This is my bed, and I'm not giving it up. Can you handle that?"

Her hand makes it to my groin and curves around my erection through my jeans.

"As long as you can handle that," I choke out in a half laugh.

"The general? He feels impressive, I'll admit. But"—she lifts a shoulder—"it's what you do with him that counts. You don't want him to be overshadowed by your massive ego."

I snort with laughter, my shoulders shaking. Then before I overthink it, I sink to my knees.

Emmy catches her breath at my sudden move.

I start at her ankles and run my hands up the outside of her legs, over her yoga pants. My fingers reach her thighs and continue under her oversized T-shirt, and my eyes flick up and hold her gaze as I reach the waistband, my fingers curling in against her warm, soft skin.

Her mouth parts. Her hands slip into my hair and scrape my scalp. "Your hair is so soft," she whispers.

Goosebumps break out across my body.

And I start to pull her stretchy pants down her legs, hoping to hell I've taken her underwear too, if she's wearing any. Closing my eyes, I inhale, getting a mainline hit of her scent. My next breath comes out as a groan, and I yank the pants down over her feet, and she frees one then the other, gripping my hair for balance. In the bunched material I see a scrap of pink. I’m frantic and crazed by the thought of her, the smell of her. My skin feels too tight for my body.

My hands race back up her legs.

"Trystan," she says on a shocked breath as I push her T-shirt up and feast my eyes on her.

"Your natural hair color, you never did confirm it for me," I say on a rush, pressing my nose against her. I risk a flick of my tongue, hitting slick salt and making her gasp. "God, your taste." Then I'm grabbing her around the legs and lifting, tossing her back onto the bed.

"Impatient, are you?" She's laughing but her voice is shaking.

"You have no idea." My voice isn't much better. I grab her ankles and urge her onto her stomach. "Your arse is spectacular." I crawl up her body, my hands skimming, my mouth sliding up to a firm, round butt cheek. I grab and squeeze and can't help the open-mouthed kiss and nip of my teeth.

She squeals.

"God, I love your body." I groan and push her T-shirt impatiently up her back. She helps me and pulls it over her head, though its trapped beneath her. My fingers nimbly unclasp her bra, and I push the straps apart. Suspended on my hands and knees over her, I drop my mouth to her back, running my tongue up her spine, gratified as goosebumps break out. Her skin is salty, and her breathing is hard. I know if I slip my fingers between her legs she'll be soaked. What did she say last night? Warm. Slippery. I groan in remembrance. God, a few flicks of the buttons on my jeans and I could be sinking inside of her. The thought is overwhelming, and I grit my teeth.

But there's something I need to do first.

"Turn over, Emmy." Up on my knees, I slip my arm under her torso to help her, and she turns between my legs, freeing herself from her T-shirt and bra. Her red hair is streaked across her face, and I gently brush it off her flushed cheeks. It's all I can do not to let my eyes drink from the sight of her glorious pale breasts topped with pink nipples. She'd told me they were pink last night, and I'd imagined them, but nothing prepared me for how gorgeous she is. I pull my gaze back up to her face with huge effort. Her eyes are open, honest, dark with arousal, and they look from my eyes to my mouth.

Hands grip my biceps.

Her lips are parted, and I reach up and run my fingertips over her full bottom lip. It's pale pink, matching her nipples, and fitting in with her makeup-free face.

"Your mouth," I whisper. "It's fucking stunning."

I've inhaled her scent, made her come, made her laugh, heard her cry, and had a brief taste. But I've never kissed her mouth. I guess we've done everything backward.

I move slowly, dropping my face closer until our eye contact has to break. It feels monumental to kiss her for the first time. Grazing my lips slowly across hers, I repeat the action, soft, sliding.

Her hands squeeze my arms. Her lips open more, moving over mine in response, beginning to close and open softly, repeatedly, as if tasting me. Deciding. Then firmer like they were always meant to move with mine.

It's a game of parry and retreat, of languidly taking our time, reveling in the sensation of our lips together, and I could play it forever. But I want more, and I lick her pouty bottom lip on my next pass, getting a hint of sweetness and mint. On a sigh, her lips part and her tongue slides against mine.

The action detonates a new, fiercer wave of need through me, causing a desperate sound I've never heard before to rumble through my chest. I open my mouth farther. Dip into hers deeper. I take and taste, my tongue and my lips moving faster, thirstier, one hand holding her jaw, the other keeping my body elevated and at bay when all I want to do is slam myself against her, into her.

But she's taking from me too. Her hands are no longer holding my arms but are on my head, and she's grabbing on to me like I might take my mouth away. I have no intention of ever stopping. Kissing Emmy is delicious and addictive. It's decadent and desperate. Kissing has never been so necessary. A part of me wishes we could do nothing but this.

But every move of our mouths slips us gradually from discovery to greed. Feeding a fire. A hunger without end. And before long I can't keep my body from settling over hers. The feel of her skin against my bare chest is incredible, and we both moan at the contact. Apparently it's not close enough because she presses up against me, her hips moving against my erection.

Aware I'm still in my jeans and could hurt her, I reluctantly slow down, my mouth moves over her jaw and neck, and I bury my nose against her neck and breathe in. The elusive scent of an exotic flower and a hint of vanilla is now my drug of choice, breathing it in is what I do now, I decide. My nose follows it down between her breasts. I inhale, moving over her skin until it's too much for me not to lick a tightly budded peak of her breast.

"Oh God, Trystan, that's so good." She gasps and thrusts her chest forward, needing more. I gladly oblige, nipping, pulling, filling my hands and my mouth, sucking at the stiffening flesh.

Hot hands move over my back and shoulders, and their jerky movements tell me Emmy is as desperate as I feel.

I thought I'd take my time with her, taste more of her, get her ready, but within minutes she's whimpering, begging. "Please, Trystan. God, I need you inside me."

"Thank God." I grin, pinning her with my gaze.

She's flushed and panting hard.

"I want you so damn much. I didn't plan for this to go so fast," I admit. "Actually I didn't plan on it at all."

Her hands move down my sides and push me to roll over so she can reach the button of my jeans. "Me neither." She laughs. "You're like freaking kerosene."

Between the two of us, we manage to get my jeans undone and shoved down my legs. She sits up and uses her feet to push them the last little bit and then tugs on the waistband of my boxer briefs. Rolling onto my back I drink in the sight of her undressing me.

Christ, her tits are spectacular. Perfect. I want to remember this moment forever.

"Thank you," she says, making me realize I've spoken aloud. "Oh, Trystan." She sighs as she reveals my cock. It's stiff, swollen, needy, and it bucks under her hungry gaze. "The general really is impressive." She smirks, and then my eyes slam shut, and I arch as her hot hand closes around me and squeezes.

"Christ." I hiss the word as I feel her hot wet tongue touch the head. I grab her wrist, my other hand gripping her hair. "Don't," I say against every urge and instinct in my body that wants her hot mouth to devour me. "I've never been this ready. It'll be over." A burn of sparks is already shooting down my spine. This is insane.

I urge her to come up my body, and she does, her nipples dragging over my bare chest, which does nothing to calm the rising tide.

"Let's slow down," I manage and can't believe my own words.

She pouts. "I was thinking a quick one now and a slower one later."

Later . . . I wonder if later will even be enough, or if we'll survive the first time without going out in flames. Holding her head, I bring her in and fuse my mouth with hers again and flip her onto her back.

She squeals.

My hips settle between her legs, my cock nestled against her, and I feel how wet she is. Hot and cool. I try to talk. "I need"—her hips move and I rock in response, my body closer to its goal—"to suit up the general."

She smiles at my euphemism then bites her lip. "Do you always suit up?"

"Of course. Always." I've never, ever taken a chance of someone using it against me. I control these situations. Always. "You?"

She nods. "Always," she says seriously. "But it's been a while. Obviously," she adds, reminding us of her expired condoms downstairs.

Personally, I fucking love the fact it's been a while for her. The thought of someone else touching her is—nope. Not going there. "I have some in my wash kit, hold on." I hate to break the moment and leave the bed. I should have done it sooner.

"I . . ." She squeezes my arm as I move, making me pause. She swallows. "I'm on the pill. What you said to me last night about . . . c-coming deep inside me. I want that." Her cheeks flush red as she admits it.

"Jesus, Emmy," I moan. I could orgasm right now. "Fuck."

I grab her head, and my mouth finds hers wildly, our bodies straining toward each other.

Her legs open wide, wrapping around my hips, and my cock slips against her hot opening. I heave in a breath like I'm on top of a fucking mountain with no oxygen. There's no way I'll last without a barrier between us. I feel like a teenager. Where's the damn ghost when you need it? I need sports stats. Something. But right now I wouldn't be able to say if someone even needed a bat to play baseball.

The only solution is to get her there with me in case she isn't already. I need access to her body.

I drag my mouth from hers and rise onto my hands. My mouth closes over her nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing, mouth sucking.

"Yesss." She's writhing, holding me to her. I've never known breasts to be this responsive. Not that there are any other breasts in the world. Only these. Only Emmy's. "Oh God, yes," she pants, and I switch sides. My mouth works and works the peaks until she's gasping.

Holding her around the waist, I kneel, pushing my legs under her thighs. She is still lying back, her butt raised, her legs spread open for me. I look down. Big mistake. I close my eyes and struggle for control. "God, Emmy, you're fucking gorgeous." Her sweet pussy is winking up at me from beneath the thin smattering of golden red curls. The flesh is pink, moisture sparkling and catching the light. Next to her, my aching flesh looks red, angry, and desperate. I run my fingers down her belly and graze between her legs.

She bucks and whimpers. "More."

"You like that?" I ask, and my fingers slip closer to her opening, bathing in her wetness.

She nods.

My fingers move upward, circling. "Do you like it when I do this?" I ask, and before she answers, her breath catching, my fingers sink lower again and I work one inside her. It's hot. Velvet.

I bring it to my mouth and suck. She's tastes like sweet and salt.

Her eyes are fixed on my hand, her mouth parted, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I suck two of my fingers and then bring them back to her body.

She's panting, just watching me.

I work in a second finger. Gently, because she's so tight. "Or do you like it when they fuck you?"

Emmy's body is moving against me, against my hand, her mouth is open, her eyes glazed and unfocussed on me, her breath coming in pants. "Don't stop."

My thumb touches her clit.

"All of it," she mumbles. "I like . . . it all."

Her body shudders, I feel it in the muscles of her legs against mine. And I take my hand away.

My mouth is watering so I move my body, holding her open and take a quick taste. A promise. A long swipe of my tongue from the crease of her ass, over the delicious center of her and up over her hard clit, making her cry out and buck.

I'll return here. It will be my new playground.

Then I'm back up, my cock in my fist, positioning myself at her entrance.

We both hold our breath and lock eyes.

"I don't want to come, Trystan. Make it last. Make it last," she begs me. "This place, right here. I want to live here. God, it feels so good. I've never felt this good."

Her words make me feel like a king. And she is my kingdom, my queen, my advisor, my beggar, and every loyal and willing subject. I’ll worship at her alter.

My other hand reaches forward, cups her head, and my palm runs to her jaw. My thumb crosses her lips. She leans into the touch and draws my finger into her mouth.

"God, you're beautiful." I sigh and let my hand move down her body until I can grip her hip.

I nudge her with the head of my cock. "Take me in, Emmy," I breathe as I press forward and look down. Her body hotly swallows the tip of me. "Jesus." I squeeze my eyes closed because it's too much. I've never felt this good either. Sweat is freezing on my skin, the prickles racing up and down my body. "God, you feel good," I echo lamely because there are no words to describe what is happening right now.

She's panting, her body still. "You're big," she says.

"You can take it."

"More, give me more."

I sink in farther, and I'm glad I'm bracing my weight on my knees and not my arms because I'm shaking with the effort to stem back the coming rush. My fingers steal over her clit, and I press down, massaging in slow circles.

Emmy lifts her head and comes up on her elbows, her eyes glued to our joining, her chest heaving.

I watch in fascination as a blush comes over her like a tide, and her body starts to shudder.

"No," she moans in shocked fascination. "Not yet. Oh God, it's too much." Her head drops back exposing the skin of her throat, and her body clenches hard and repeatedly, squeezing my cock. Her body twists against my hand on her hip that is trying to hold her still, anchored as the storm buffets through her.

"Trystan." She's sobbing my name, and it's glorious. A symphony. A rhapsody. I've never heard my name sound so beautiful.

Gritting my teeth, I hang on. I'm not even fully inside her, and then I can't anymore. Her body is loosening, grabbing me, pulling me in. With a hoarse sound, I barely register is coming from me, I give in with a hard thrust, forging my way inside.

There's no time to appreciate the tight, snug fit because my orgasm is barreling through me, a racehorse out the gate. "Jesus, Emmy. I'm coming." And all I can do is helplessly ride it, drowning in the beautiful ache and the freefall into euphoria. I work my hips to wring as much of it as I can.

Trying to keep it.

Trying to get as deeply into her as possible.

I want to leave myself there.

I already have.