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She didn’t think it could get better until he began to move. She expected him to take her hard and fast, to rush to the finish line and his own release. But Macey was a sensual demon. She should have known he liked to play, liked to draw the pleasure out. He had a lazy drawl, a patient way of moving, and the sleepy sensuality in his gaze should have warned her.
“Lift your breasts to me, Emerson,” he growled. “Lift those pretty nipples for me.”
She cupped her breasts and offered the hard sensitive points to him, then screamed out her pleasure as his lips surrounded one tight peak.
It wasn’t just the hard, heated suction of his mouth, but the thrusts of his cock, the rasp of his pelvis against her clit. It combined to push her higher, but held her back just enough to keep her locked to earth rather than flying in release.
“Not yet,” he bit out, moving from one nipple to the other. “Not yet, baby. Feel good. Feel so fucking good for me.”
“It’s too much,” she cried, trying to push past that final barrier.
“It’s not enough. Not yet.”
She released her breasts to grab onto his shoulders. The sensations were too much, too violent, too much pleasure. But it didn’t stop him. He cupped them himself, his mouth devouring first one then the other as he began to stroke his cock inside her in a smooth, controlled rhythm.
Each thrust, each draw of his mouth stole another piece of her mind until she was nothing more than a creature of his pleasure. His pleasure, her pleasure. It whipped through her, broke through barriers she hadn’t known she’d erected against him, and had her fighting for release, fighting him for her release.
His hoarse chuckle pushed her higher. The slam of his hips as she writhed against him, then his hard hands gripping her hips, his lips latching hungrily to her nipple, and his thrusts increasing.
That was what she needed. She lifted to him, her gaze filmy. Ecstasy washed through her veins, built and burned until she was screaming his name, screaming and exploding beneath him in a cataclysm of pleasure that ripped through her body.
She heard his shattered male cry, felt him tense and shudder as her arms tightened around his shoulders and the pleasure burned through her. Like lava. Like white-hot electricity shot straight to her soul.
chapter 8
she was in love with him. She might have denied it before the mind-blowing sex, but hours later, curled against him in his bed, exhausted and sated, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Letting him go was going to bite. Watching him walk away, that careless smile on his face, would break her heart.
“This should be over in time for the March-Illison-Beckinmore family reunion.” Amusement laced his voice. “The biggest damned get-together in the state of Georgia. We hold it on Grandpa’s farm further south every year. And every year most of the men walk away with bruises from a fight or two, and the women walk away irritated and grumbling because they fought again. And everyone agrees it’s the best year we’ve ever had.”
Her head was pillowed on his chest as he spoke, though a frown edged her brow as he spoke of it.
“Sounds like a big family.” She had no idea what a big family constituted. There were no family reunions in her family, no get-togethers outside the occasional dinner with her parents and godfather.
“One of the biggest. Over three hundred last year.” His hand smoothed down her hair, her back. “Tents and RVs crowd the place for a full week, and the main farmhouse is packed with sleeping bags and overnight mattresses. Grandma March swears every year she’s canceling the next one, but come June, she’s the one making the calls and organizing it. The woman is seventy and runs around the place like a woman half her age. She amazes me.”
“Sounds like an organizational nightmare.” She could respect someone’s ability to pull it together, but knew it had to be a pain. She just had no idea why Macey was telling her about it.
“Every morning for a week we pile outside for a dawn breakfast, cooked over every barbecue grill, gas grill, and fire ring on the place. Scrambled eggs, biscuits, gravy, sausage, and bacon are heaped on picnic tables and everyone eats like they’re starving. For lunch the tables are piled with sandwich fixin’s and pulled pork barbecue, and for dinner, good God, fresh catfish, steaks, burgers, and hot dogs. It’s like a camp for the insane.” But she could hear his love for it in his voice.
She just couldn’t imagine Macey with a family that size. She couldn’t imagine anyone with a family that size.
“How do you keep everyone straight?” she asked, confused. “Over three hundred people? That sounds more like a convention than any kind of reunion.”
“It resembles one sometimes too,” he chuckled. Through it all his hands stroked over her hair, her arms, her back. They were never still, always touching her.
Was it normal for him, she wondered, to want to cuddle after sex? He must be the only guy in existence who did, because it was the first time she had ever experienced it.
Hesitantly, she let the hand that lay on his chest move, to stroke over the silky hairs that grew there and enjoy the feel of them against her palm.
She hadn’t imagined how much she would love his tough, hard body. The barbed wire tattoo around his left bicep, the scar on his thigh, the packed, lean muscle. Just lying against him turned her on and made her want to ignore the little aches and pains in her body and take another taste of him.
It wasn’t just his body she loved, though, and that’s what frightened her.
“You could go with me, you know.”
Her thoughts slammed to a halt and her head jerked up. Her hand paused in the middle of the hard abdomen she had been stroking, growing ever closer to the erection stretching from between his thighs.
