His chest rattles right in front of me with uneven breaths. His fingertips dig into my hips with so much force I’m sure I’ll get to see myself branded with marks tomorrow.
He gives me one more thrust and I’m a trembling, panting mess. I think I cry out his name. I believe I fall into his chest. My entire body pulses as I come on his cock, exactly the way he told me I was going to.
But what I’m more focused on is the way his eyes can’t leave mine, even when they want to screw shut. He forces them to stay open and on me. He’s so close so I lean forward, kiss the spot under his ear and beg—no—Iaskfor what I want, knowing he’ll give it to me.
“I really want you to come inside of me.”
“Oh God, Reese. Take it. Fuck, just take it.”
Then he does exactly as I ask of him.
He forcibly holds me down on him. Chants my name. Worships me. Praises me. Then he spills inside of me.
He’s stunning to watch as he works through it. But it’s even more lovely to feel his orgasm for myself.
It’s shockingly intimate, holding him while he finishes.
Emmett is gentle with me as he comes down, this blissed-out expression on his handsome face.
His firm grip loosens on my hips before he tenderly caresses my body. Softly squeezes my breasts. Lays languid kisses across my collarbone.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Not sure why you’re thanking me when you just fucked me so thoroughly.”
He chuckles against my skin. “Well, thank you for letting me.”
We kiss and come down for a while, and when it feels like the right time, I rise up on my knees.
“No.” Emmett grasps my hips. “Keep it in.”
There’s that commanding voice again that makes me do anything he wants. I sink back onto him, and he sighs when the back of my thighs press to the top of his.
I run my fingers through the hair on his chest. “In case no one has ever told you, you can really fuck.”
He exhales a laugh, our hips moving in slow circles together. “You make it easy. Everything you do turns me on.”
He’s so open with his words. So forthcoming with how he feels about me.
“Speaking of turn-ons.” I run a hand up his neck, cupping his jaw. “I think maybe you should stop wearing your hat at work. And the baseball pants. And running without a shirt. That should stop too.”
He smiles lazily at me. “Is this your way of saying you want to set some ground rules?”
Again, I’m understood without having to ask him to understand.
“Yeah, we should do that. But you’re still inside of me, so I don’t know if it’s the best time for that conversation.”
“Me inside of you is the only way I want to talk about work. In fact, this is the only way I want to conduct any conversations with you going forward.”
I can’t help but lean forward and press my smiling lips to his.
His hips move in an unhurried way, but there’s a clear rhythm that I subtly chase with my own.
“You’re not quitting your job,” I say adamantly. “And I’m not firing you.”
“Yeah. I gathered that.”
“I just don’t know what to do yet.”
