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Who would weep for Emma? Hope and Felicity and Riley, for sure. Her father? Just the mention of him made her face close up. Maybe he wouldn’t mourn the loss of his wonderful daughter.
He and Emma would have had no chance to see where this wild attraction would take them. They’d be dead bones in the cold ground.
The drumbeat of urgency thrummed in his veins. It was as if he’d never made love before. Everything was new and so exciting he could barely breathe. Her mouth, soft, still tasting faintly of coffee, tongue tangling with his. Her skin. Oh god, the softest thing in the universe, like warm silk. Her clothes were in the way of touching all that skin and he impatiently undressed, stopping just short of ripping everything off her because it felt obscene to have cloth between his hands and lips and her skin.
Pulling off her sweater made her hair lift in waves that crackled with static electricity. Red locks tumbled over her shoulders, one perfect lock curling around her nipple, like an offering.
Well, itwasan offering, her breast, made for his mouth. He licked her cherry red nipple and heard her gasp, then started suckling hard. Her back arched to offer herself even more to his mouth. He lightly nipped his way across the soft skin of her chest and latched onto her other breast. Oh god thetaste.Like salty ice cream with a salty cherry on top. One arm was around her back, the other was busy opening her pants, pushing everything down so that … ah! There she was, warm and wet, soft folds just waiting for him to enter her. He started with a finger, reaching inside her heat.
Every moment was a moment that took them further away from that point in time in which they could have been both dead. Every moment was a celebration of life.
“God, Emma,” Raul gasped. “I can’t go slow. Just can’t. Sorry.”
In answer, she pushed herself onto his finger, writhing around it. He felt her contract once, twice.
She was coming.
He had to be with her. Had to.
Two steps away was a couch. He had no idea how, but in a second, he’d stripped them both and was kissing her mouth and entering her sex with one sharp thrust. She moaned into his mouth, then gave a sharp cry, holding him tightly as she came. Heat filled his body, shot down his spine and came out through his dick as he came, too, pounding into her until every single drop of liquid in his body had emptied itself into her.
Raul slumped onto her, completely wiped out, muscles like rubber.
It took a while for his breathing to slow and for him to realize where they were. He’d fucked her like a wild wolverine. This was Emma. Emma!
Regret filled him.
He was better than this.
Was she still talking to him?
Only one way to find out.
“You, ah, you okay?” he ventured.
He felt her wriggle fingers and toes. “I think so. Hard to tell. I think I died and came back.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“For giving me the best orgasm of my life? What am I, stupid?”
He grinned. “No, you’re not stupid.”Nail it down,he thought. “So – you’re not mad at me?”
Emma lifted her head an inch then let it fall back. She wriggled her butt. He was still inside her and they smelled of her perfume and sex. “But I think we just left a wet spot on this very expensive couch.”
16
There was loud music coming from somewhere. Familiar music. The Star Trek theme. What…?
Emma opened an eye. She was not in her bedroom but it was a nice one. Heat against her back. Raul.
“Ignore it,” he mumbled and tightened his arms around her.
It all came rushing back – the attack, the move to the safe house. The wild sex. A massive meal from a local Thai restaurant. Ready to go back to bed when Colin called and said that Toby had passed out from fatigue.
So, Emma had felt duty bound to continue Toby’s research. He’d uploaded everything to a super secure site in the darkweb and she downloaded and continued analyzing his data until 3 a.m., when she fell asleep with her cheek on the keyboard. It was 3:30 by the time she slid into bed. Raul was fast asleep, but turned over and held her. It felt so good she fell instantly into sleep and hoped to sleep at least until nine am.
It wasn’t nine, it was … she cranked open an eyelid. There was a clock that projected the time onto the ceiling. Six a.m.! She’d barely slept two and a half hours!
