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I roll my eyes. “Premature much? We’ve just started whatever this is. Besides, I’m sure he’ll get bored of me soon and proceed with his plan to marry some gorgeous socialite. We’re just having fun, like you told me to—and no, before you ask, I’m not going to parlay this into a publishing industry job.”
“That’s your prerogative, as long as you’re parlaying it into multiple orgasms—which it sounds like you are. But seriously, Ems, you are so wrong about his intentions. You haven’t played the dating game much, so you might not realize this, but a guy wanting to spend his entire weekend with you after he’s fucked you? That’s rarer than billionaires in Bay Ridge. And staying at your place overnight because you don’t want to leave your cats? You might as well expect a proposal next week. He’s into you, big time. Mark my words, before long—”
“I have to go,” I hiss into the phone, my heartbeat jumping as the sound of running water stops. “He’s coming out of the shower. Talk later, okay?”
“You got it. Have fun with Mr. Magic Dick.” And on that lewd note, she hangs up, leaving me standing there flushed and flustered.
And hopeful.
Much too hopeful.
So hopeful it’s almost a given that I’m going to get badly hurt.
43
Emma
I wake with a shiver as warm lips touch my nape, their softness contrasting with the scorching heat of mint-scented breath and the roughness of the morning stubble rasping across my skin.
I’m lying on my stomach and Marcus is kissing my neck, I realize groggily, and though I’d love to sink back into sleep, the sensations are too delicious to miss. He’s massaging me now as well, his strong hands kneading the muscles of my shoulders, my arms, my back, my butt… Oh, yeah, he’s definitely focusing on my glutes, and I had no idea how much those muscles needed tending. His lips follow his hands down my body, trailing over my spine and leaving my skin tingling.
He moves his attention to my legs, and I moan into the pillow, keeping my eyes closed as he massages the soreness out of my inner thighs and hamstrings—areas that badly need it after being overstretched two nights in a row. He had me practically bent in half at one point last night, with my feet resting on his broad shoulders as he pounded into me, his face taut with lust. It was beyond intense, and I came hard, but afterward, I felt even more sore—both inside and out.
I’m seriously going to insist on no sex today, at least of the penetrative variety. Oral is good anytime, as is whatever it is he’s doing to me right now. Actually, wait, on second thought—
“Oh fuck,” I gasp, my hands gripping the blanket as his tongue dips between my cheeks, toying with my other opening. No one’s ever touched me there before, and the sensation is beyond strange, pleasurable yet so dirty that I flush all over. Granted, I showered after sex last night, but it’s still wrong that he’s licking me there—wrong and perversely hot. I can feel myself getting wet, my clit swelling with arousal, and as his tongue goes deeper, pushing at the tight ring of muscle, his hands grip my buttocks and pull them apart, opening me wide.
“Your asshole is so fucking pretty,” he growls, lifting his head, and with a burning wave of mortification, I realize he’s looking right into my ass, the inside of it. The embarrassment is so intense I feel like I might burst into flames, and at the same time, I’m so turned on my arousal is leaking down my thighs.
“I’m going to fuck your tight little hole. Soon,” he promises hoarsely, and before I can react, he lowers his head and pushes his tongue into me, my spread-apart cheeks preventing me from clenching to resist his entry. His tongue penetrates me, thick and slippery and oddly muscular, and as it pushes deep, I feel like I might explode from the shame of it… and the dark, dark pleasure coursing through my body.
There’s no pain, but there is a disconcerting fullness, a feeling of wrongness that only exacerbates the perverse eroticism of it all. Groaning against the pillow, I press my hips into the blanket, desperately needing to rub my throbbing clit on something… anything. Just the slightest pressure would send me over the edge, dissolving this maddening, delicious tension. His tongue is thrusting in and out, fucking me like a cock, and it’s too much yet not nearly enough. I’m dying, burning up from the mortifying need, and it’s almost a relief when the slippery tongue withdraws and a big, rough finger pushes in instead, using the lubrication left behind.
It’s not as thick as his tongue, but it’s longer, and I feel the shock of it, the immediate resistance of my body to the intrusion of a foreign object. My insides clench, and even with my cheeks held open, the hard edges of the nail dig into tender tissues, making my nerve endings sing in pain. Except it’s not all pain—somehow, it’s also pleasure—and I cry out as the tension grows unbearably, all my muscles tightening with coiling need.
