“I knew your pussy would take my dick so good, baby.”
“God,yes,” she muttered and collapsed back against the pillow.
He was so deep inside of her. Amelia’s breasts bounced with each thrust. Emory leaned down and took one in his mouth, his tongue swirling against her nipple. Amelia grabbed onto his ass. His muscles contracted and released against her palms each time he bucked his hips. Emory lifted to his knees, gathered her wrists in one large hand, and pinned them overhead.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growled.
Ruthless again, he loomed over her and squeezed her wrists. He might’ve fucked her too hard if not for how diligently he studied her face and watched how she responded. Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Amelia nodded. The pressure between her legs surmounted with a flush of wetness and a rush that left her heart racing. Yes, she wanted this too; wanted him to devour her, claim her, take everything he could.
“Emory,” she gasped and reached down to swipe her clit. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”
A gentle wave before, the second climax slammed into her. Emory extracted every second of it from her body, his rhythm unrelenting as she rode her release. Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, his moans pouring into her mouth and vibrating against her chest. With one last thrust, Emory collapsed on top of her. Amelia closed her eyes with a heavenly sigh but opened them again when his hand met her cheek.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
So often, he’d demanded her gaze, an angry command she never really understood until that moment. If she wanted to be loved, then he wanted to be seen. She met his gaze as his cock pulsed inside her. Amelia could come again from the sensation alone.
She kissed his neck beneath his ear, then whispered, “I want to see.”
Emory eagerly obliged and pulled out of her slowly. Together, they watched as his cum seeped out of her and coated her pussy.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking dream,” Emory said and beamed as if proud to have wrecked her this way. On top of her again, he slipped his arms underneath her. “Come here. I need you.”
On a long inhale, Emory breathed her in deep, a breath that filled his lungs, and he held it there just as soundly as he held her in his arms. He released it on a laugh, sincere despite how quietly it departed his lips.
God, and his lips. They were perfect. He kissed her again, and if he meant to eat her alive, he was certainly succeeding. He feasted like a man starved, and when he was through, he shook his head with a sated smile.
“What is it?” Amelia asked and freed the strands of hair that’d stuck to his cheek. Flushed, his body billowed heat, and his skin dewed with sweat.
“Bet you never thought you’d end up like this,” Emory said and combed his fingers through her hair.
Amelia shook her head and studied the tattoos on his chest. On the left side was a heavenly host of angels and the right a legion of demons. They looked at war over his heart that strummed so peacefully.
“Did you?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever come around.” After a pause, a grin unfurled on his lips. “You hated my ass.”
“I didn’t hateyou.”
He laughed at that and looked primed to call bullshit. She couldn’t blame him. Their early days together were mired in complications.
“I hated that I was attracted to you,” Amelia said as she traced the tattoo on his bicep and the scars underneath, “that you turned me on, that I wanted you so badly. I hated the guilt and shame I felt because of it. Hated that I wanted to be close to you, and that I wanted you to want me too.”
“Of course, I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
For so long.
Amelia smiled at the marker he placed. She’d done it too, and neither could escape the nonsense of their timeline. If she could catch her breath, Amelia might have told him that it seemed they’d already spent a lifetime together or perhaps quite a few. His presence conjured memories just out of reach, so it all felt like being roused from the sweetest dream. She couldn’t recall the sequence of events, only the feeling of having lived this moment with him once or twice or endlessly before.
“What is it?” Emory asked when she still hadn’t said anything.
“What is what?”
“The way you’re looking at me.” His eyes flicked over her, roused with some mystery she couldn’t see in herself. “I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me this way.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way,” she admitted.
Some men gloated in that singularity because it wasn’t enough just to love them. They needed to be the only star to light up the sky, a supernova burning up what had come before and spoiling what might come after. Emory wasn’t the sort.
