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My fingers are a fraction of an inch from her center when I pull back. I want to lay her out on the bed and take my time. Plus, I’m looking forward to the blow job she promised me, and I don’t want her trying to do it in this cramped space with her parents and friends in the other room.
“Not here.”
Her bottom lip juts out, pouting in frustration.
I kiss her jaw. “Let’s go home.”
That’s what Emma and New York City are starting to feel like. Home.
* * *
I wake to a face full of Emma’s hair. Her legs tangled with mine. Her perfect ass pressed against my quickly swelling dick. That’s how I’ve woken up the past five days. It’s this moment in my day that has confirmed what I already know. There’s no way I’m letting her go, not if she feels the same as I do.
Emma rolls onto her back, her eyes are still closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathes softly. I move over her, pinning her hips with mine, and nuzzle her neck. Everything is perfect when she’s beneath me.
“Are you still sleeping?” I ask.
She giggles, but replies, “Yes.”
Beneath my briefs, my hard cock slides along her center.
I fucking ache to be inside her, to take that next step, but I’m trying to take things slow. It’s a complete contrast to our quick marriage, but I’ve waited this long for Emma, I’m not going to rush it now.
I dip my head to capture her lips, but we’re interrupted by the buzz of Emma’s phone on the bedside table.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask.
“Um, what time is it?”
I pull back to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Eight fifteen.”
Emma jolts forward.
“Eight fifteen! You’re kidding.” She moves to look at the clock herself. “Shit! I have to be downtown by nine for a meeting with the Bergman’s suppliers.”
She pushes around me and flings herself off the bed. I collapse on the covers with a groan. So much for a relaxing morning in bed. I toss my feet over the side and join her in the bathroom. She’s already in the shower, her leopard print shower cap covering her hair. I’d join her but I know I’d only slow her down. Instead, I enjoy the view. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long.
“Tell me about your meeting,” I say, watching her naked body hungrily until her still damp, flushed skin disappears underneath her robe. She beelines for the vanity, so I lean against the counter to watch her.
I don’t know what it is, but watching Emma get ready is captivating. Her routine is so efficient, I think she could do it in her sleep. I don’t think she needs half of the stuff she uses, but what do I know? Sophie was pretty low maintenance with hair and makeup, learning from friends and online makeup tutorials, but never had a big interest in it.
After washing her face, she pulls off the shower cap, pins back her hair, then starts applying her makeup.
“The contract is signed, so now we have to work through the logistics of the gowns’ production. The small manufacturer I’ve been using to produce the gowns for trunk shows won’t be able to keep up with the production demand, at least that’s the hope, so while I’ll keep them to do all my custom designs, Bergman’s is going to have their manufacturer make the gowns I’ve sold to them.”
“And there are six gowns, right?”
“Yes, and they’re going to have an Emma Belle Bridal section at the entry of their bridal and evening wear department.”
“That’s so fucking cool, Emma.”
She turns to look at me and smiles.
“It is, right?”
Once she’s done with her makeup and hair, I follow her into the closet.
She pulls out underwear and a bra from the drawer and hurriedly puts them on.
