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Like I said the magic words, Emery drags her fingers down my stomach and releases.
It’s fucking beautiful. The way her muscles flex and release. The way she clenches around my cock, drawing my pleasure out of me with her own.
“Wait,” she rasps, pressing on my chest and pushing me back. “Wait.”
Emery shifts her hips away and then slides off of me and down the side of the bed. A second later, her hand is around my length, and she’s pressing me to her lips.
“Emery,” I breathe, already so close to the edge, “I’m going to—”
“Then do it,” she says, meeting my eyes.
Then she takes me into her warm mouth, sliding down my shaft until her nose is pressed against my stomach.
And I let go of everything I have with a deep, guttural groan.
“God fucking dammit.” I grab a fistful of her hair and pulse into her mouth.
I know she needs to breathe, but I can’t stop. Can’t give up how good it feels. And Emery isn’t pushing me away—she’s drawing me closer. Her hands are wrapped around my legs, taking me in.
So I let her. I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
And then, for the first time since my father’s heart rate monitor went silent, I can breathe again.
