“Jesus,” she muttered, breathless as she folded over, one hand over her eyes and one on my shoulder to steady herself.
“Jesse,” I corrected. “But you can say that the next time I make you come.” I pressed a kiss to the back of her knee and stood.
I smiled when I spotted the scowl on her face, her eyes still hooded as they found mine.
“Talk to me,” I said, taking her face in my hands. “What do you need?”
“I need to help you,” she said, her voice a scratchy whisper as she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. I moaned as she wrapped her hand around my cock, gliding it up and down as it jerked against her palm. “Like you asked me to.”
“I’m not going to last,” I gritted out, trying with every cell of my body to hold back, but I was already too close. She bit her bottom lip as she pumped faster, her eyes on mine as she gave me a slow nod.
I came in long spurts, too fast to put enough distance between us to not make a mess.
She dropped her head to my chest as I held on to her, my heart thumping against hers as we stood chest to chest.
“I need to clean up,” she said, glancing down her body with a wince.
“Same.” I kissed her forehead. “But don’t go. Please.”
“I don’t think I’m in any condition to go anywhere, Jess.” She flicked her eyes down to her soaked blouse and lifted her leg, dangling her panties on her ankle.
“After we clean up, I want you to stay. Not the night if you don’t want to, but long enough to talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said as she stepped into her jeans. “Not that I have a lot of brain cells left after that.” She laughed, but it didn’t make it all the way up to her eyes. I spied the fear and the doubt, but she wasn’t running. Not yet.
I could work with that.
Emily followed me upstairs, stopping at the doorway of my bedroom.
“Could I borrow a hoodie for tonight?”
“Sure,” I said, stepping into my bedroom and rummaging through my drawer until I found a sweatshirt. “Here you go. You can wait for me in the living room if you want. Just give me a minute.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the hoodie from my hands and holding it up by the shoulders. “Glad you’re still a Yankees fan.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“My grandfather liked when you used to watch the games with him. He used to yell at my mother to give you a break.”
“I remember,” I said, returning Emily’s easy smile when she lifted her head. “It was all in Italian, but they kept looking back as they argued, so I assumed it was something about me.”
“You would have been right. I’ll go change. This takes me back,” she said, snickering as she headed for my bathroom.
I shut my eyes and laughed.
“I was hoping to show off some skills now that I’m not a teenager anymore, but”—I bunched my shoulders—“turns out I still have no control when it applies to you.”
She shook her head. “Skill was never important.”
“Well, thanks. Not sure how to take that.”
Emily cupped her hand over her eyes.
“I mean, not that you didn’t have skill or you don’t. But we…us… It was never about that. As long as it was you, that was all I needed.”
I watched her head down the hall and disappear into the bathroom, knowing exactly what she meant. Every time was mind-blowing and explosive in its own way, and I’d attributed that, or I’d tried to, to being young and lost in the wonder of it all.
Then Emily came back into my life, and every spark of electricity still burned bright between us in a way it never had with anyone else. She consumed me now just as easily as she always had, and it scared the shit out of me as much as it did then.
