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“Jenna.” He groans. “You are going to make me blow it in my pants if you keep talking like that.”
“It’s the truth,” I tell him as I lean back, trailing a hand up my body, letting my fingertips graze my stomach until I reach my chest to squeeze my breasts. I pinch a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, arching my back and letting my hair cascade around me to really give him a show.
“You have the most perfect tits,” he tells me, coming closer to shove my hands away, taking them in his own. Perfect is a bit of a stretch. Equal sizes, sure. But they’re nothing compared to someone like Meg, and the words of Boob-Job Brennan still echo in my head.
“They’re a little small, don’t you think?”
Emmett continues staring, kneading my chest, shaking his head furiously at my comment. “Hell no. They’re not huge, but they’re not small, either. They’re fucking perfect, Jenna.”
Not too big, not too small, right. Kind of like having the Goldilocks of boobs. Good to know.
He leans down, pulling a pink nipple into his mouth, licking and flicking it with his tongue and it’s all I can do to hold on tight. “Emmett,” I whine, needing more. I need to feel some friction between my legs. “If you don’t take me upstairs right now and fuck me, I’m going to lose my mind.”
He chuckles, living for the whining that’s coming out of my mouth. He kicks his boots off and unbuckles his belt, smiling at me as I watch every flick of his wrist, every motion, as he slowly undresses himself in front of me. And when he reaches an arm back to pull off his tee and I finally see his full bare chest for the first time, my mouth goes dry.
My once-boyish, sweetheart, best friend is nothing but a full-fledged man. Working a manual labor job has done him good, so, so good. His burly chest is thick, like the rest of him. Strong shoulders leading to a strong back, his belly a little husky, but I would bet my life savings without touching him that he’s solid muscle underneath. His chest is covered in coarse, dark hair, and it’s hair that I want to feel scratching my entire body while he fucks me.
“You could make a man feel like a God staring at him like that.”
His words catch me off guard. A compliment from Emmett isn’t like receiving a compliment from any other man. When I got that dreaded phone call, when I thought that we were done, and that I’d never see him again, I joined ranks with Meg and went on what can only be described as a rampage.
If we weren’t at work, or recovering from a night out, we were partying, finding the hottest guys, having fun, seeing how weak we could make them. But they were always flat, and flat men give flat compliments.
You have a nice smile.
Your hair looks nice.
Everything wasnice.Pretty.Cute. It’s all the same, and it’s nothing compared to the words that come out of Emmett’s mouth.
His words are dripping with honesty.
I reach for him, wanting to feel his warmth wash over me, only for him to grasp my hand and still me. “Let me look a little longer,” he rasps. The man can look all he wants, but I’m ready to play.
I slowly spin, letting my back arch, sticking my ass out a little knowing that my cheeky underwear has ridden up and is showing a hefty amount of ass. I make a show about it, twirling, bouncing on my toes, letting him see how wet I am for him. And when I have him distracted, when his mouth is open and his eyes are glazed over, I whisper against his lips, “You can stand there and look all you want, but I’m going to go upstairs and have an orgasm, whether you join me or not.” And I take off.
I rush down the hall, around the corner, grabbing the banister with one hand, attempting to take the steps two at a time but only make it halfway up the first few when a thick arm grabs me from behind, wrapping around my waist and tackling me to the stairs.
I shriek with laughter as Emmett’s glorious body covers my backside, hands moving my hair across my shoulder so he can kiss my back, the side of my neck, all while mumbling threats that sound more like sexual promises.
He manhandles my body, flipping me around and bringing my ass down to rest on a step. I’m sprawled out on his staircase with his body between my legs, completely at his disposal. No words are spoken as he tucks his thumbs under the band of my underwear, sliding them down my legs. He takes my underwear, all bunched up into his hand, and he smells them.
Fucking smells them.
Something I’d cringe at if the act was done by any other man has me moaning out loud. He takes a hand to each knee, spreading my legs, leaving me on full display so he can take in every inch. “Fucking perfect,” he mumbles into the quiet air. “I knew you would be.”
I’m about to tell him something sarcastic, to put his mouth to better use, but all words are lost when he lowers himself a step down and leans in, leaving his face level with my pussy. He tosses my legs over his broad shoulders before leaning in, using two fingers to spread me wide and plants an open mouth kiss right where I need him the most. So hot and damp, I nearly combust. He licks, teases, finds every nerve ending in my body and sets it on fire. I let my body fall back onto the stairs, not caring that the nose of the step is biting into my back, that my neck is at an awkward angle, and I can’t reach out and grasp anything for support. Who gives a shit. I’d sit like this for hours as long as he never takes his mouth off of me.
My eyes fall shut, and I let him take over, feeling him slide two fingers inside, stretching me. It’s been so long—too long—since I’ve been touched like this.
But has it ever really felt like this? I’m already a quaking mess as he strokes his fingers in and out, swirling them, pulling out to stroke my lips as he spreads me wide, sucking my clit into his mouth.
My hands spring out to my sides and I’m desperate for something to hold onto. To grasp with all my might and keep myself from spinning off into space. I stretch an arm out as far as I can and wrap a few measly fingertips around the railing. He moans into my skin, pulling away to scrape his beard against my inner thigh and planting soft kisses in his wake.
“What the . . . what the fuck are you doing to me?” I pant out. “This . . . it’s too much.” I can’t fucking think.
Nothing more than a cocky chuckle from him. “I’m going to ruin you. Eat this pussy until you scream my name, make sure you think of me andonlyme every time you touch yourself.”
Well, if that was his goal, consider it done.
