He knocked her hands out of the way and started yanking the buttons free. She abandoned the shirt gladly, reaching down to undo his pants.
“What was that about foreplay?” he asked hoarsely.
She ignored him, pulling his cock out. She stared at it, thumbing the tip where pre-come was gathering, and her lips parted in a hunger that made Arthur shiver.
She looked up at him, eyes gleaming.
“Stay,” she told him.
She climbed off the couch, dropping to her knees on the carpet. She took a second to shove the coffee table back, making an annoyed noise as she noticed the spilled risotto. Then she turned back, reaching up to her head. Sweeping her hair back, he realized as her hands swept through empty air and faltered on her pixie cut. Either she got that haircut recently, or it had been a while since she’d been on her knees for a guy.
Before he could ask which one it was, she leaned down and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth.
He groaned, wedging a knuckle between his teeth to muffle the sound. He had a list of approved sex noises, and these were getting decidedly out of control. He couldn’t help it; she looked so fucking hot down there, with her head bobbing and eyes closed as she sucked. Sinking lower and lower, trying to take him into her throat.
He sank a hand into her hair, ready to pull her off. Despite her steadfast determination, she could never get the hang of deep throating. But sure enough, his cock nudged the back of her throat and kept going.
He choked on air. Emma gagged around his cock, throat fluttering. But still, she sank lower and lower until her nose pressed into his wiry pubes.
“Holy shit,” he rasped. “Emma,fuck.”
Emma pulled off, coughing. She wiped her mouth.
“What?” she asked when he looked down at her in rapt disbelief.
“Nothing,” he managed. “Uh. Proud of you. You were really frustrated you couldn’t do it.”
She snorted, wiping her puffy lips.
“I did think about texting you,” she admitted. Then she sank back onto his cock, taking him deep into her throat and swallowing hard.
His head thumped back against the couch, lost in the sensations. He wanted to laugh at the idea of her texting him:hey hope movie stardom is going ok, also i finally deepthroated.What would he have even said to that?Congrats, I knew you could do it?Would he have felt the same weird mix of pride and sadness he felt right now, trying not to think about some guy he probably knew in high school coaxing his cock deeper down her throat, telling her what a good job she was doing?
His orgasm was coming up fast. He didn’t have the excuse of a dry spell, but it didn’t matter. She was glorious.
“Come here,” he gasped. He hauled her back into his lap.
She slid her hands under his open shirt, scratching at his furry pecs. “Condom?”
He fumbled in his pocket, pulling his wallet out and resurfacing triumphantly with a foil packet. He ripped it open with his teeth and slid it on. She grasped him before he was even finished, angling herself over him.
He grabbed her hips. “Impatient.”
She ran her tongue along his fangs and asked, “What happened to giving me what I needed, huh?”
“I will,” he said. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
He thrust up, sinking into her in one smooth motion. She cried out, eyes slamming shut. Her hands tightened in his mane so hard it stung.
He paused. “Too much?”
She shook her head vigorously. Her eyes cracked open, staring down at him in something so much like wonder it took his breath away. He clenched her hips, pushing back up into her once more.
She moaned, devastatingly loud. For a moment, the world narrowed into her transcendent expression, the single line of sweat running down her chest, and the need to make her come again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unfocused on his own pleasure during sex. He needed to make her feel good like he needed air.
Then her hands came down over his own, stilling his motion.
“My turn,” she breathed. “Don’t move, okay?”
