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I cross the room, my heart thrashing within its cage. Emberly doesn’t want me. She just wants some comfort. I really shouldn’t take advantage.
“Where does it hurt?” I rasp.
She rolls her shoulders and points at a spot at the base of her neck. “Here.”
“Let’s get you comfortable first,” I murmur.
Emberly sits back, watching me arrange cushions and blankets on the floor. When I’m done, I help her settle between my spread legs, and she leans her back against my chest.
I push her curls aside, revealing her delicate neck. My mouth inches toward her exposed skin, wanting a taste, but I resist.
Instead, I massage her neck and shoulders with the tips of my fingers and my thumbs, relishing in her cinnamon-and-vanilla scent, and in the familiar feel of her flesh. Every muscle is knotted, and her breath is fast and shallow.
“You’re tense,” I murmur.
Emberly shivers, but doesn’t speak. I move my thumbs in slow, circular motions, kneading away at the hardened tissue. She arches and gasps, her hips moving backward and grinding against my cock.
As I work away the tension on her upper back, Emberly finally relaxes against my chest and her breaths slow.
“Where else does it hurt?” I ask. “Show me.”
“My bump.”
I slide my hands down her sides and trace the curve of her belly. “Where?”
“Lower,” she says, her voice breathy.
My hands move downward, so I’m supporting the weight of her bump beneath my fingers. Emberly rests her head against my shoulder, melding her body with mine.
I massage with gentle, slow strokes, enjoying the way she sighs.
“That feels so nice,” she murmurs. “But I want more.”
“Show me where you want it.” My lips graze her temples.
Emberly wraps her fingers around my wrist and pulls my hand between her legs.
My cock surges, and my heart skips several beats. “You want me to stroke your pussy?”
Her breath quickens. “Yes.”
Fuck.
I could twist this situation to lure her into my car. I could talk her into returning home with me, but I’m no longer that manipulative bastard. Besides, who am I to refuse the woman I love when she’s in desperate need?
Emberly pulls the waistband of her leggings with her other hand and guides my fingers to her cotton panties.
“Touch me,” she whispers, her voice tight.
I slip my fingers beneath the fabric, through her nest of soft curls, and meet her swollen clit. Her hips jerk, and she gasps.
“You like that?” I rasp.
“Yes,” she replies, her voice barely a whisper.
I slide my fingers down her slick folds, all the while brushing my thumb over her clit. Emberly throws her head back, clamps her eyes shut and pants hard through her parted lips.
“You’re so wet,” I groan. “Is that all for me?”
