Nicholas
I know I should stop, only I can’t. Emerson is addictive, her body, her kiss, and her sweet moan. The needy look in her eyes and the way her perfect tits rise and fall with each deep breath she takes has my head fucking spinning. It’s been spinning since the moment I opened the text to find the lingerie pic she sent.
I meant it when I said she was trouble.
Trouble as in, I can’t seem to get enough. It’s some ungodly hour, well into the morning, and I know I should be sleeping only I can’t. My body craves her even as I try not to focus on the way her naked chest faces me. One of her legs is lifted and thrown over my waist. I can feel her warmth pressing against my thigh, almost inviting me to take more.
It is impossible to keep my hand from roaming along her thigh, over her hip and seeking out her wetness. A soft whimper escapes her when I part her with my finger and gently slip one inside.
“I want you,” I tell her as I reach to the nightstand and grab for yet another condom. Using my free hand, I lift it to my lips and tear open the package. Very skillfully I manage to sheath myself as I use my other hand to continue to prep her.
When her hips begin to shift, she gently rides my finger as I add another.
“Ride me, Em,” I say, and although her eyes are closed, she begins to crawl over my body. We are both exhausted, and I should feel ashamed that I’m once again entering her, but I’m not. I could fuck her all damn day and night.
We both moan in unison from the moment I am fully seated within her and she starts to move her hips. I watch the place we are now joined and feel myself only growing more desperate. I want her to continue this, yet that strong urge to flip her over and give it to her hard and fast hits me too.
She pushes up, resting her palms on my chest and starts to move. Her head is thrown back, her mouth gaped open and the word yes falls from her lips with each stroke.
“Just like that baby,” I encourage her, “don’t stop.”
Emerson has such a quiet nature about her. I assume it was just in my presence, but I like this side of her, the wild one she is letting me see. It’s mind-blowing to see her let go and grow so demanding and needy. I not sure if she realizes it, but when she gets horny she cusses and has a tendency to talk a little dirty. I fucking love this dirty side.
“Tell me how it feels. What do I feel like inside of you?”
“So good.” She rotates her hips, and I grip her ass tighter as I feel my control begin to slip once again. “Nothing has ever felt so good,” she confesses as she repositions herself, tilting her head to finally look down at me. “You make me lose control.”
“I love to see you fall apart.”
She bites her lip and shifts above me, really taking me in deep. “Let go, baby,” I glide my hands over her waist and move upward, cupping her breasts.
“Nic…” My name falls from her lips as her tongue darts out. I hold her upper body in my hands, and though she tries to fight it, I continue to move in and out of her. I feel her clench around me, and when I think I have gained some control of myself, she whispers three words that make me lose my mind.
“Fuck me, Nic.”
I am putty in the hands of my dirty girl.
* * *
“Do men glow?”
I choose to ignore the heckling of my so-called friends. It has been a couple of days since I spent the night at Emerson’s, and Gianna has a big fucking mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I like that Emerson shared some details of our night together. It means it won’t be quickly forgotten. It also says the chances of a repeat are in my favor.
The problem is these dumb asses are having entirely too much fun with their newfound knowledge.
“He has angels in his eyes like he’s frolicking through the clouds without a care in the world,” Terry adds as he leans in and gazes up at me with a huge grin. “The guy is farting rainbows and I swear I’ve never seen him smile so much.”
“You do understand how big of a dumbass you are, don’t you? What are you, twelve?” I lift my beer and the moment the bottle presses to my lips I feel the urge to grin. Maybe there is some truth to their words because I do feel more relaxed than I have in a long ass time. It has been a couple of days since I’ve seen Emerson, but we do talk and text often. She is back into the full swing of work, and that means I have to be patient. It is growing harder to maintain each day.
“It would appear that our boy here has handed his balls over to a woman,” Terry adds, and I still choose to ignore him.
I’ve never felt this dependent on another person’s touch before. It is like a pull so strong that it leaves me feeling that a vital part of my day is missing without it.
“When you seeing her again?” It’s Spencer who asks. I shrug because honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it, but I know I want to see her again. Spence speaks up again. “From what I’ve heard, some guy is staying at one of her father’s hotels and her dad’s been pushing him on her.”
“What guy?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table as I squeeze my beer bottle just a little tighter. The happy, blissful feeling is suddenly replaced with one of pure irritation.
“Some big shot executive.” Spencer knows me better than most, which means the guy knows how to get a reaction out of me. “He is the perfect image of the man her father believes is made just for her.”
“Her father’s a douche,” I say without hesitation. I haven’t brought this up to her, but anyone who has ever had a run in with Mr. Mansfield knows just how shady he is. The man has serious control issues; he feels he holds the power to manipulate anything and anyone in his path.
“A rich as fuck douche,” Spencer adds. “Gianna told me that he does this shit to Emerson often.”
I don’t have any say in what she does or who she spends her time with; I know this. But it sure doesn’t ease the irritation inside me knowing that she’s been spending time with another man. The longer I sit there in the bar, pretending not to care about where she is, or who she is with, the nastier my mood becomes.
Nicholas: You’ve been quiet today.
The moment I send the text I feel like the whipped bastard Terry just accused me of being. I put my phone back in my pocket and try to ignore the fact that minutes have passed with no response.
I barely know her. We had one night together, well two, counting the one I was paid to share. The truth was, I would have done it for absolutely nothing but the pleasure of her company had we met under circumstances other than an auction.
I leave the bar almost an hour later, and though I know I shouldn’t, I drive toward Emerson’s apartment, the opposite direction of my own. Call it stupidity, hell, call it fear and desperation, but I feel like I need to remind her of what we shared. Whatever sorry suit she’s been spending her time with needs to be wiped clean from her mind.
I punch in the code she gave me only a couple of days ago and ride the elevator with so much nervous energy my legs bounce uncontrollably. Once it arrives on her floor, I waste no further time as I move toward her apartment.
Moments after I knock, her door opens and I step inside as I grip the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine. I love the look of surprise and maybe even excitement on her face when I rush toward her.
She’s wearing the tiniest little pair of shorts I’ve ever seen and a cropped t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. The moment her chest firmly presses to mine there is no hiding the fact she’s not wearing a bra. The way the hardness of her nipples gently brush against the thin material of my shirt sends me into overdrive as I reach down and cup her ass. Lifting her from the floor as if she weighs nothing, I back her up to the wall and use the weight of my own body to hold her in place.
With her legs hooked around my back, I have full access to push my cock against her and I don’t hesitate. “Nic,” she gasps, as she shifts herself against me; it’s just what I need to hear. The movement of her hips almost mimics the way she rode me only days before.
“Your phone broken?” I ask as I kiss along the side of her neck and bite at the base of her throat. I know my ego being wounded by her lack of response is somewhat childish, but I don’t fucking care. I want to be the only man she thinks of, the one she wants to be with, not some jackass who will one day end up ignoring her once he got the things he wanted. She practically melts in my arms as I push my hips forward once more, grinding my cock against her as she moans into my mouth. “I’m here to remind you of how good I make you feel.”
The words I’ve never had a woman make me feel so alive with just one touch ring in my mind. That’s the description she’d given to Gianna about how I made her feel, and it is precisely how I feel too. I only know because Spencer can’t keep his mouth shut. On most occasions, I hate how he always feels the need to share everything with us guys, but this was one thing I’m happy he told me.
“I was busy with work,” she pants, and I feel my jaw twitch with the idea of just what she means by work. “It’s been a crazy, stressful couple of days.” More like daddy’s little prodigy was keeping her company and I don’t like that. Not one fucking bit.
“How about I help you relax?” I slip my hand beneath her shirt and gently skim over her breast with my hand. The way her back arches only furthers my assault as I now hold her completely in my hand. Kneading and teasing her nipple, I tug just enough to make her gasp. “What do you say we break in that fancy kitchen table of yours?”
I pull back just in time to see her eyes glaze over with interest, though she shakes her head in protest. Always trying to pull off the innocent act only makes me want to force her to be even more dirty. Something is empowering about getting her to fall off the ledge and go a little crazy with need. It is the best rush I’ve ever felt in my life.
When I know I have a good grip on her, I begin walking toward her dining area and smirk when I see her bite her lip as she looks back over her shoulder. “When we’re through, you’ll never be able to sit at this table for a meal and not envision me buried deep inside you. You’ll hear our groans, you’ll feel your body grow hungry for me.”
I half expect her to attempt to argue when I place her on the tabletop, but she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head before tossing it to the floor behind me. “Do your worst, Mr. Vaughn.” Her lips purse in the sexiest fucking way when she looks up at me through her long eyelashes. “I need these dirty thoughts to get me through the most mundane days of stuffy executives and ass kissers.”
I keep my eyes locked with hers as I carefully begin to remove her shorts. She lifts one hip then the other, making the task that much easier; I’m pleased to find she wears nothing beneath them.
In that very moment, I felt like a complete sap as I look her over, thinking that she looks even more beautiful than she did the first night. I’m a man who generally seeks only pleasure and leaves all the feelings shit at the door. That stuff always got in the way of great sex. But with Emerson, something feels different as I find myself wanting to take the time to cherish every inch of her. Hell, I want to spend hours making sure she feels every possible desire I can offer. But then again, sex with her isn’t just great, it is fucking epic.