Page 64 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

Her silent mantra began again, and she licked his hand to encourage more. His palm was hot against her lips and cheek, his kisses cool and sweet on her neck. His breath skated across her skin before he sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent, and his hips bumped closer of their own will.

She cried out as he slid a digit inside her, the sound muffled, and she set aside her plan to explore him, lowering her hands to fumble with his button and fly frantically. As he crooked his finger inside her, she bit her lip to keep from crying out again, but the answering jerk of her hips was more than enough to signal her need.

She batted the folds of his pants away blindly and shoved them down his hips. From the angle he covered her mouth at, she couldn’t even glance down and see him, but she could feel him. Lyric wrapped her fingers around his cock, and he bucked into her touch at the same time he added a second finger inside her.

Precum was leaking from the head of his cut cock, and she thumbed it away before stroking him, the glide easy and slick. He felt thick, and when she stroked knot to tip, she could tell he was on the bigger side as well.

He pressed closer, trapping his cock and their hands between their bodies, halting her strokes.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Be quieter.”

Lyric glared up at him through her lashes and nipped his hand. His fingers flexed on her cheek before relaxing, his eyes so dark they were mesmerizing, and she hooked her calf loosely around his. She wanted him inside her.

Her entire body shook at just the idea—it had been far, far too long—and her pussy squeezed around his fingers.

He arched a brow in question, and once she tasted his skin again, salty sweet, he slowly withdrew his touch. As he met her gaze, he lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked them inside, one at a time, to suck her taste off his skin. She clenched around nothing, tugging her hands free to dig her nails into his hips, dragging him closer.

She wanted him to do that to her—but another day. For now, she wanted him inside her. Wanted him to tame the fire burning inside her to its fullest before it consumed her.

Emerson growled, a low, dangerous, sexy rumble as he jerked her pants to her feet, pulling one leg free. She sucked in a single, deep breath through her lips, the night air cooling the dampness his palm had left behind before he was back.

His free hand hooked beneath her ass and lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist effortlessly.

Her pants dangled from one foot, anyone could discover them at any time, and the unforgiving wall wasn’t the comfiest place to have sex, but all of those things just made the entire moment that much more intense. That much more memorable. That much more delicious.

But not nearly as delicious as the nudge of his cock head at her core, the teasing burn and slight stretch as he entered her. Emerson slid inside so slowly she wanted to scream, but she settled for raking her nails from his back over his side, trying and failing to pull him deeper. He was taking this at his own fucking pace—a nice lazy stroll when she wanted to sprint.

“Hmry,” she mumbled. Hurry.

Whether he understood her or not was answered as he retreated his hips, the drag of him against her walls so full and intoxicating and perfect before he slammed right back in.

Oh, fuck.

Lyric bit her lip to keep from crying out, her hands tugging his shirt up to keep it out of the way and feeling every inch of his chest as he fucked her.

“Fucking—hell—Lyric,” he grunted, each word emphasized with a thrust.

He pumped into her, and each time his hips slapped into hers, she bit her lip harder, tried to muffle her own cries because no, she didn’t want anyone to discover them. This was their moment, this was what she wanted, and she’d be damned if anyone was going to interrupt it.

Emerson’s breath puffed hot against her neck with each thrust, and knowing he was as desperate as her made her entire body thrum with need.

But of course, the universe had to have its laugh.

The loud screech of the metal exit door sliced through the night, and Lyric’s nails dug into his side as an icy cold dose of fear washed over her. It battled with the heat coursing through her body like clouds crashing in a storm, and she was torn between pulling herself free of Emerson’s arms to run or to fuck herself on him selfishly.

Footsteps slapped over the ground and she nipped at his palm in warning.

He jerked his head up at her, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t name before he ground his teeth and stared at the boxes to her right. The metal handles jangled, and Lyric froze. All he had to do was pull, and that box would disappear, baring her and Emerson and—

“Move those boxes, and you lose an arm,” Emerson growled.

Asphalt scraped beneath the sole of a shoe as the person halted. Then the metallic clack as the box handles were released.

“Uh… I’ll… come back,” he mumbled, before his shoes scraped against the ground as he took off.

The storm raged. She knew they should stop, knew things had already gone too far. Emerson tensed, lowering his hand from her mouth and shifting as if he were about to pull out of her and stop.

Protected.