My face buries in her pussy, my tongue lapping up every taste of her. First in low, slow strokes, then in small flicks over her swollen little clit.
I kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since the first time I saw her. With everything I have.
Her hands spear into my hair, pressing me against her as she bucks in a silent plea for more, and I fucking love it. “Fuck. Don’t stop.”
I won’t. I’m not sure how I’ll ever stop.
My teeth scrape gently over her before I seal my lips around her clit and suck in soft movements. She bucks, my arms tightening around her to hold her still. “I can’t—,”
Then don’t. I can’t speak, but I pull back slightly, my tongue trailing down before I bury it inside her. Fucking her with my mouth.
Her cries, the feel of her fingers tugging on my hair – I could come just like this. My own hips twist as Emmy unravels, her breathing harsh and sobbing. My name on her lips.
I chase every last drop as she shakes around me, holding her tightly until she’s twisting in a silent plea for restraint.
Gentle, slow laps, easing her down before I pull back. My face is soaked. “You okay?”
She nods, still panting. Her legs are quivering, her look dazed. “I…uh…,”
My smile is nothing but pure satisfaction. “I need your words, baby.”
She nods woodenly. “Good.”
Good?
From where I am, it’s easy to tip her. A startled shriek slips out as I stand with her over my shoulder. “Jared – what the hell?”
I tap her ass before rubbing it. “Good? I can domuchbetter than good.”
Emmy is a warm, pliant weight as I carry her into the bedroom, her hair trailing down my back and tickling my skin. “If you do any better than that, I won’t survive it.”
She bounces on the bed, and I follow her down.
Her lips tilt up in silent question. She scowls when I kiss the tip of her nose instead. “You just spent a good fifteen minutes kissing me down there, but mymouthis off limits?”
“Yep.” She lets out a startled noise as I sit back and grab her ankles, tugging until she slides down the bed. “But I promise I’ll make up for it.”
Three times, in fact.
69
Emmy
Angelo hands me the spray of baby’s breath. “Try this.”
I carefully start working them into the garland. “Like this, do you think?”
He’s uncommonly quiet. “You tell me.”
I stand back to get a better look, my head tilting to the side.
“Yes,” I decide finally. “It looks good.”
“Good.” He brushes off his hands. “This was very good, Emmy. They will be happy.”
I use my arm to wipe at my forehead. I’ve been working on these wedding arrangements for the last two days. The room around me is filled with shades of pale pink. Puffy peonies, perfectly curled roses. Pale lilies and dusty pink hydrangeas. I pluck a piece of greenery from my hair. “You think they’ll like it?”
“Doesn’t matter. I like it. If they don’t, they have no taste.”
