“I’m not done with you yet,” she tells me silkily as she continues kissing down my toned stomach, stopping to pay particular attention to each ab.
Her nipples graze against my skin with each slide of her tongue, only adding to the sensation.
Lower and lower she travels, until she reaches the waistband of my jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she undoes the button then begins to pull them down.
I lift my hips instinctively, and she wiggles the pants and boxers down my ass and then stops when they reach my knees.
“Look how hard you are for me,” she murmurs, reaching for my shaft and wrapping her hand around it. “Do you want to fuck me, Emery?”
A coy smile unfurls on her lips as she lowers her head to my throbbing cock and licks the tip.
My heart pounds in my ears, my whole body feverish with need. Need for her.
“Izzy, please,” I cry, honest-to-fuck whimpering.
“Please what?”
“Please let me fuck you. I want to make you feel good, baby.”
“Hmm. Let me think about it.” Izzy taps her chin in mock contemplation…then lowers her mouth over my cock, taking me in deep.
“Holy fuck.” I dig my nails into the tree-house floor as Izzy’s mouth works over my cock, her head bobbing up and down repeatedly. One of her hands snakes between our bodies to fondle my balls, and the dual sensations nearly send me spiraling over the edge.
“Fuck, Izzy. Holy fuck. I need to fuck you so bad. So fucking bad.”
Love for her sinks its teeth into me in a way that’s almost painful. Never in a million years would I have believed that falling in love would equate to pain, but here we are.
And it’s the sweetest fucking ache imaginable.
Izzy releases my cock and smiles at me, her blue eyes dazzling. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.” She licks her lower lip, the sight almost sinful. “Do you have a condom?”
“Oh…fuck.” I drop my head to the floor with an audible thunk.
Of course I fucking don’t. I’m an eighteen-year-old virgin who has been waiting for his mate. And of course I didn’t take Izzy out tonight expecting sex.
“I’m sorry. Fuck. Maybe I could?—”
“What the hell is going on in here?” a familiar voice demands.
Izzy screeches, and I’m moving before my brain can even catch up, lunging for Izzy and covering her half-naked body with my own. She reaches for the blanket beneath us and awkwardly attempts to pull it over her shoulders to cover herself. I hastily pull up my jeans and boxers, though I don’t bother to button them up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My father looks almost comical on his hands and knees, gaping at us through the tiny door to the tree house. His shocked gaze flicks from my half-naked body to Izzy’s covered one. Anyone with eyes can see what we’ve been up to.
I see a plethora of emotions flicker across my father’s face before it settles on one—anger.
“Emery! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how late it is?”
I can’t remember the last time my father yelled at me. It’s certainly been a few years.
“Sorry, Dad. We were on a date, and—” I begin, but his incandescent glare causes the words to shrivel into a tight ball and get caught in my throat.
“Your mother has been worried sick! And I’m sure Isabella’s parents are worried too.” He levels his angry glare on my mate, and immediately I bristle, wanting to protect her from his ire.
I know it’s irrational, but my mate instincts are riding me in a way they never have before. Protect. Protect. Protect.
“It’s not her fault,” I exclaim.
