I stared at her ass, spreading her with one hand while I smoothed some of her wetness down my shaft.
Her eyes moved over me in the mirror, her lips popped open as she watched me jerk myself. “You see this? You see how fucking hot you make me, Emma?”
“You’re killing me,” she pleaded, pressing her ass closer to me. “Please, Daddy. I’ve been good.”
I raised on my knees and shoved my pants a little more down my hips so my balls could swing free.
I lined myself up and inch by inch, piercing by piercing, I filled her. Seated in her wet heat, I had to take a moment to get it together. While I was doing that, Emma started doing the work, rocking on her knees and spreading them wider.
“You have to wait for me,” I said.
“I can’t wait anymore,” she said, her eyes pathetic in the mirror. “I need you.”
I nodded, losing myself to the way she fucked me, to the disorienting feeling of being needed, wanted, craved. I held her hips and looked down, the studded “Daddy 30” a blur with how fast she moved. I bent to fill my hand with her breast and Emma’s eyes drifted shut, ecstasy parting her lips.
“Do you still hate me, princess?”
“I hate that I don’t hate you,” she gritted out, her speech broken by her exertion. “I hate you for making me love you.”
I balanced with a hand planted behind hers on the floor. I kissed her shoulder as we continued to move together. “I could never hate the way you love me. It’s the best fucking thing.”
I pulled her back against my chest, narrowing my knees to fit between hers with her knees bracketed on the outside of my thighs. I kissed her neck and watched myself thrust up into her, a hand full of her breast with the other working circles around her clit.
“Unbutton your shirt,” she begged. “I need your skin.”
I removed my hand from her clit and tore at my shirt, the buttons flying off dramatically. Emma let out a mix of a laugh and a satisfied moan, and I had to laugh too. My gaze returned to hers in the mirror. “Christ, look at us.”
My shirt, now buttonless, hung open, and my pants were around my knees. Emma was gorgeous leaning back into me, heaving breasts, hips cocked back to take me.
“Your piercings, Harlan. It’s too good,” she panted, eyes rounded on where we joined. “Please don’t take this one from me.”
“I won’t, princess.” I tapped her clit and with an incredulous stare, we watched together as she squirted. “Fuck, Emma.”
“I didn’t know I could do that,” she squeaked. She pried my hand off her breast and brought it to her throat. “Fuck me.”
I held her firm at her throat, thrusting into her ruthlessly while my middle finger flicked over her clit. Her jaw dropped when her orgasm hit, and I was struck by all of it: the way I was semi-dressed and she wasn’t, the mess she’d made on the floor, her unbelievable brown eyes in the mirror, and most of all, the way she trusted me so unequivocally. Her contracting walls were the last little bit I needed, and I released into her. I breathed hard against her shoulder, sloppy kisses covering the area asI came down. I slipped my heels out from under myself and slumped back against the wall with her still in my lap. I wrapped my arms tight around Emma.
“Harlan?” Emma breathed, her voice sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“I hate you.”
I met her smiling eyes in the mirror with a chuckle. “I love you too.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
EMMA
MAY
Warm,surrounded, actively being doted upon.
Loved.
Not a bad way to wake up.
Liam was at his dad’s, and the Rusties had a break while Toronto and Washington duked it out over who would play us in the conference finals. Harlan and I took advantage of the lull with a night alone at his place.
