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He lets me loosen his belt, slip the button of his jeans through the loop before I slowly lower the zipper, feeling each notch of the metal tick against my knuckles before I reach in and grip him over his briefs. We both suck in a breath at the first real contact we’ve ever had. I faintly remember what it felt like the one time I straddled him, but to feel it now, all hot and hard in my hand is a whole different story. And thankfully, he’s big and thickeverywhere.
“I want you right now,” I tell him as I shove his jeans over his round ass, and he stills my hands again.
“I’m not going to do this where anyone could walk in and see.” He grips the waist of his jeans, trying to pull them back up but I stop him.
Stepping up on my toes and peppering kisses to the underside of his jaw, I remove his hands from his jeans, letting my fingers graze over his briefs, over his hard cock, before reaching under and squeezing him, wrapping my hand around all that soft skin. “And when have you ever been able to tell me what to do?”
He smiles the first real smile of the night. “That’s probably the thing I like the most about you.” With my hand gripping his cock, stroking slowly, letting the pad of my thumb swipe the drop of pre-cum that’s already begging to come out, I can see the moment he gives in.
So, I fall to my knees, moving his briefs down enough to let his cock spring out. And with my gaze locked on his I take him in my mouth, slowly moving him across my tongue, pausing to breathe so I don’t gag like an amateur, before opening and taking him as far as he can go.
“Fuck.” He hisses as a hand comes up to slap the wall behind me. He leans his weight on that hand, using the other to caress my hair, letting it fall through his fingers before gripping the base of my neck. He adjusts his stance, rocking forward a minimal amount. Enough to tell me he wants the control, so I drop my hands to grasp the backs of his thighs, balancing myself and telling him with my body that I want him to take over.
He rolls his hips, taking his time, moving in a smooth rhythm and fucking my mouth. It’s all so erotic, I can feel the dampness grow between my legs. His rhythm matches the beat of the music, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as his movements become shaky.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this.” My stomach clenches at his confession. “I jerked off every night in high school, knowing you were in the next room, sleeping in your little shorts, tank top barely covering your tits.” His hands come back down to gather my hair in a makeshift ponytail. “I imagined you coming in my room and getting on your knees, sliding my cock between those pretty pink lips.”
Fuck me. Emmett has always been a man of words. Sweet words. Comforting words. Words that pushed me to do what I want in life. But these words? These words I never expected.
His thrusts pick up pace, and I whimper, needing more of him, wanting to hear more of his filthy thoughts come out of his mouth.
“You like that, don’t you? You like knowing you’ve been teasing me since the moment I laid eyes on you.” His hand comes back to cradle the base of my skull, slowing his thrusts as he does. I adjust my position so I can reach a hand up, stroking his base in the same rhythm he’s pumping, and he groans. “Oh fuck. Baby,babyI’m gonna come.” He gently pushes on my shoulders to pull out, but I move to wrap my hands around his ass, gripping the back of him to let him know I want it all. He grunts, pumps slowly, his eyes focusing on my face as he comes.
His chest is heaving as he pulls out and quickly stuffs himself back in his briefs, zipping up his pants but leaving the belt loose as he reaches down to haul me up by my biceps. He pulls me tight, hugging me, muttering a series of praises in my ears before he pulls back and kisses me.
Our tongues tangle and he switches between buckling his belt and adjusting himself in between kissing. “I can’t believe you sucked my cock in a coat closet of probably the sleaziest club I’ve ever been in,” he says against my lips.
“You make me sound like the town whore.”
He pulls back to force me to look at him. “What did I do to deserve that? I thought you were mad.”
“I am still mad,” I admit with honesty, “But I missed you more.”
He dips down to pick up my jacket and purse from the floor, slipping it over my arms before pulling it up and adjusting it over my shoulders. He hands me my purse, then grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs. He grips it firmly through each floor, zig-zagging through the smoke-filled dance floor, side-stepping the spilled sticky drinks before opening the door and letting me pass in front of him.
The cold winter air hits us and he turns toward me, adjusting the hood on my jacket to block the tiny ice crystals from peppering my cheeks. I nuzzle into his embrace, not caring that we are blocking the center of the sidewalk on a busy Saturday night, not caring that it’s the middle of a blizzard and that my hair is getting wet, because I’m in his arms, and every time I’m held in his arms, that’s all that matters.
He loosens his grip and reaches for my hand again, eyes studying my face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, kissing my hand and finding it cold. He grabs my other and holds them both in his large palms, slowly blowing warm air into the pocket he’s created, warming my hands along with my heart at the gesture.
“Let’s go back to my house,” he says, locking eyes with mine. “It’s my turn to showyouhow much I missed you.”
Chapter Eighteen
We're barely through the front door when he pushes me against the wall and crashes his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss. Our hands find each other, groping, savoring, touching every inch that we’ve wanted to touch since the moment we met.
He shucks off his jacket, breaking the kiss to roam his mouth over my cheek, down my neck, kissing my throat as his hands gather at the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up and over my head, tossing it behind him with the rest of our clothes and shoes before his hands are on my ass, lifting me up so I wrap my legs around his thick waist. With my back pressed firmly against the wall, he lowers his head to my breasts, and I groan at his hot, wet mouth licking and biting me, his teeth finding my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. How much I’ve thought about your body, how you’d look, how you’d taste . . . imaging all the ways I could make you scream.”
He’s crazy if he thinks that this isn’t a two-way street, like I haven’t lusted over him since the moment I saw him, touched myself to the thought of his body towering over mine.
I pull his ear into my mouth, biting once before sucking gently. “Did you imagine me sucking your cock? Did you know you’d come in my mouth, and I’d lick up every drop you gave me?”
A full-body shudder escapes him, and he nearly drops me. And Iloveit, love knowing how much he wants me. It’s such a fucking freeing feeling, having the barriers between us broken, no more questioning what the other thinks, what the other wants.
I drop my legs, pressing my feet flat on the floor so I can unbutton my jeans and push them down my hips before I lean into him again, wanting his lips on mine so badly I can’t focus. With trembling hands, he takes over, shoving my jeans down my hips, before trailing his hands up to unclasp my bra, leaving me standing only in my underwear.
“Did you know,” I mumble breathlessly, pulling him into me, “that the very first time I touched myself, the first time I got myself off, it was to the thought of you?”
