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Got off on it hard.
“Caine, God, I’m…gonna…”
“Fuck, yeah.” His grip tightened on her wrists and his hips smacked her clit faster. “Come on me again.”
The words finished winding her up, up, up and then she was gasping out his name while her hips shuddered and her thighs shook.
Caine’s whole weight fell on her and his hands found tight purchase against her skin. He roared his release against her neck, his hips jerking as his cock pulsed inside her. It seemed to go on and on until the sounds that ripped from his throat were almost tortured. Emma wrapped her arms around his shoulders and head and held him through it.
In truth, the power of what they’d shared left her head spinning, and she needed the holding, too.
* * * *
“Aaaah, what the hell?” Caine yelled, flinching.
Chewy sniffed them and whined pitifully, clearly feeling neglected. Emma burst out laughing. “He wanted to play, too.”
“He licked my ass.”
Emma laughed harder. “He…he has…good taste,” she gasped out around the laughter.
Caine’s whole face cranked into a frown. When he spoke, it was to the dog. “That’s not cool, man.”
Now tears gathered in her eyes and she kicked her feet against the floor as her amusement stole her breath, especially when Chewy sat and tilted his head at Caine.
She pressed a hand over her mouth as the hilarity of the moment crashed into how overwhelming the sex had been and snowballed into an overload of emotion. “Sorrysorry,” she said, trying but failing to get herself under control.
Caine pulled her hand away and pressed it to the floor again. His eyes were more open, more clear, more at ease than she’d ever seen them before. “I rarely make anyone laugh or smile, so please don’t hide it from me. It’s fucking beautiful.”
Oh, my heart.
Here he was, this man with so many rough edges—and certainly some about which she didn’t yet know, judging by what he’d said earlier—but he came at her with this aching sweetness. Again and again.
“So sweet to me,” she said.
He released her wrist, then lifted it, looking. “What we did just now, that wasn’t sweet. Did I… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Hey,” she said, grasping his face and making him look at her. “No, it was the opposite of hurt, believe me. I asked you to show me what you like, and you did. And I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Twice. All of that was freaking sweet.” That reserved seriousness was returning to his expression and his eyes again, as if someone was lowering the blinds over his soul. And it made her need to know. “Was it okay for you?”
“Christ, Emma, it’s still blowing my fucking mind.” Warmth flooded through her, and then he rolled off of her, his hand catching and fisting the condom. “Mind if I use the bathroom?” he asked.
“My house is absolutely your house, Caine.” She smiled. “Top of the steps.”
He gave her his back as he stepped into his jeans. In the morning light, the skin that’d been burned stood out more starkly than it had in the dimness. She couldn’t imagine how much a burn of that size must’ve hurt, and wondered if he’d be willing to talk about what’d happened. He made for the stairs without another word, and Emma stretched against the blanket like a cat in the sun. And then an idea struck her.
She threw on her sweatshirt and panties, rushed to the dining room closet, and rooted around for something that might be right, or at least funny, or even hilariously terrible. She used this closet to store gift wrap, craft supplies, and things she picked up that might make good gifts or classroom prizes or that she just liked and didn’t know what to do with until the right moment or person came along. But her closet was failing her now, and it made her stomach squeeze. Because there was no way she wasn’t figuring out something for Caine to open as a gift on Christmas morning.
Rushing water that told her he’d flushed the toilet sounded from the ceiling, and she skidded into the kitchen, her thoughts spinning as she opened the pantry…and landed on a case of the orange soda Caine seemed to like.
“That’s stupid,” she said, right before she grabbed the cardboard handle of the six-pack of bottles and returned to the gift closet. She found a decorative bag big enough for the soda, and stuffed it with red and green paper. She’d just scrawled his name on a tag when footsteps sounded from the top of the steps. Heart pounding, she dropped the gift bag at the tree just as Caine stepped in from the foyer.
He gave her such a suspicious look that she could only chuckle. “Morning,” she said, brazening it out.
