Those little sighs lit up every corner and fold of my brain. I loved them. Wanted to hear them every day for the rest of my life.
But I couldn’t think about anything but the warm, glorious place where she rubbed herself against my leg. My joggers were thin enough that I could feel the heat radiating out of her and I was hit with a staggering need to slip my hand under those leggings and find out how wet she was.
I didn’t, but god, I wanted to.
I wantedsomuch. Wanted to get a handful of her ass and show her exactly how to ride this out. Wanted her tits in my face. Wanted to take her hand and show her how hard she’d made me.
But she learned all about hard when she started sliding her leg up and down my shaft.
I shifted a hand to her hip to give it to her just the way she needed and the responding groan that vibrated through her body almost had me popping off. I had to wait, had to hold out, but she wasn’t making it easy.
The hungry roll of her hips against my leg was almost too much to watch. I knew how those hips would bounce on my dick, how they’d jiggle when I pounded into her from behind.
In my head, I had her stripped of everything but my sweater. I nipped at her breasts through the wool while she sank down on me. Kissed her neck, her jaw, her shoulders while she bucked and screamed. Held her tight while she came, even tighter while I came.
I forced my eyes open and saw her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Fuck, I hadn’t even thought about her tongue yet.
My hold on her hip was unforgiving, my fingers digging into the plush skin there and driving her harder, faster. But she met every rock with a roll of her own, with shuddering breaths and deep, perfect moans.
I wanted to say something. Anything. I wanted her to know how gorgeous she was, how incredible she felt, how much I wanted this—how I’dalwayswanted this.
Though it didn’t matter what I wanted because Emme’s thighs tightened around me as she whispered, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Yes, fuck,yes.”
“That’s right,” I said, low and easy like we weren’t rewriting everything we were to each other. “Let me make you feel better.”
I rolled my lips together as she went on rocking against me, slower and a little shaky now but still blindingly hot. Shedragged the flat of her thigh over my cock with enough pressure and friction to make me forget my name.
Something like “Right there” and “Don’t you fucking stop” babbled out of me as I came so hard and so long I was concerned I’d damaged something. Never before had I felt my body hollow itself out—and then keep going.
Neither of us moved. We didn’t say anything. I just stroked her back and kissed the top of her head and let myself enjoy the aftershocks. Her skin was damp under my palm and I loved how hard she’d worked for it. Even though she’d kept her face from me, she wasn’t shy.
There was nothing shy about dry humping.
My shirt was soaked like I’d been hit with several water balloons and I could survive the discomfort but Emme was having a hell of a time staying out of the mess. After one last kiss to her hair, I climbed out of the seat and tucked the blanket around her. “I’m gonna change. Stay right here.”
When I finished cleaning up, I found Emme curled up in her seat and working very hard at feigning sleep.
I sat down and braced my elbows on my thighs. I was still woozy from the orgasm, from all of it, and I wanted to pick her up and bring her back to my seat but she’d chosen this. She knew what I wanted and she made a different choice for herself.
I had to respect that. I couldn’t bully my way in—no more than I already had—just because rubbing up against her while fully clothed was the best sex of my life.
chapter sixteen
Emme
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will have a quick little breakdown in the bath.
It wasn’tenough to fake sleeping through the last hour of the flight.
No, I had to take this game of avoidance to the most unhinged level possible.
I sat up with a theatrical stretch and yawn and “Oh wow, we’re already landing?” when the plane hit the runway. As if I hadn’t been counting down the seconds during the descent. When Ryan caught me staring at his change of clothes, I decided to ramble for a solid twenty minutes about needing to work on my lesson plans tonight and how I liked our curriculum well enough but still felt the need to unpack and adapt everything to my preferences.
There were a few moments when he glanced at me, his brows pitched high and his flat expression asking,Are you listening to yourself?
The answer was yes, I was listening to every mortifying bit, but it was also no, and neither should you.
