by J. L. Beck
I’m pent up with need, my muscles coiled tight. Shamelessly I let my hand drift down to my cock, a soft hiss escaping my lips at the contact as I fist the soft flesh.
I’ve never wanted a woman so badly but refused to give in to that want. It’s wreaking havoc on my body, clearly, since I haven’t had to beat off since I was like fourteen.
Sighing, I push the thoughts away and start to stroke my cock, up and down, up and down… “Fuck…” I groan loudly, louder than intended. I can’t help but imagine Emerson lying in my bed, right on the other side of the door. I try not to think about her but the image of her in nothing but a shirt isn’t leaving my mind. Tightening my grip and pace, all I can see in my mind is her creamy, pale skin, with a light dusting of freckles. So fucking smooth, so fucking perfect. Her bare leg draped over mine, so fucking close to my cock.
I imagine her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling, her pink pussy strangling my cock inch by inch. I wonder briefly if she would beg me to take her, or if she would just pull me closer, using her body instead of words.
I think about how willing she was last night and how I could have had her then. I tighten my grip further at the thought, imagine her mouth around my cock, her cheeks hollowed out as she sucks me, milking the cum out of my dick. I know my thoughts are wrong and filthy, but I can’t help it, I want her so fucking bad.
With a final stroke and a loud growl that bounces off the bathroom walls, I come like I’ve never come before. Ropes of sticky cum shoot out of my cock and onto the tiled wall, mixing with the water as it swirls down the drain.
“Christ…” I mutter as I come down from the most mind-blowing, toe tingling orgasm I’ve ever given myself. If this is what it feels like to jerk off with Emerson in my mind, then fuck me, having actual sex with her must be some kind of religious experience.
60
Emerson
By the time the bathroom door swings open, I’m already sitting upright in the bed. The blanket clutched to my chest, with my heart racing inside of it. That growl… it was animalistic, deep, possessive, and it reached something inside of me when I heard it.
I chew on my bottom lip. Was his intention for me to hear him? I might be inexperienced, but I’m not stupid. I know what he was doing to himself in there. A man doesn’t make sounds like that for no reason.
As soon as he enters the room, his eyes find mine and I know instantly that he didn’t mean for me to hear him. I should be embarrassed, laughing, scared, but I’m not any of those things. Not even close. He stops mid-step, keeping a few feet of distance between us.
“I thought you were asleep,” he mutters, his eyes dropping to the floor as if he’s ashamed or something. I never thought I would see the day that cocky Clark was embarrassed to be caught in the act.
My mouth pops open, I’m about to say something, but the words get lodged in my throat when my eyes rake over the rest of his body. Fresh from the shower, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his hair is still wet, water droplets falling off of it and onto his tan skin. I follow the drops as they slide down his shoulders, over his chest, down to his chiseled abs and...
“Em?” Clark calls my name, gathering my attention.
“Huh? Yeah?” I answer, the burning in my cheeks is almost immediate.
As if he doesn’t know it already, he decides to embarrass me further. “Were you checking me out?”
Suddenly my mouth feels dry like I swallowed a bucket full of sand and filled it with cotton balls right afterward.
“N...no…” I lie, blinking slowly. Clark smirks boyishly before running a hand down the front of his body, flaunting the perfect chiseled muscles.
“You mean to tell me you weren’t looking at all of this?” Okay, now he’s getting cocky. Maybe Vance was right, Clark’s head is big enough, no need to boost his ego further.
“Yeah, yeah, you have a body cut from stone. So what?” I shrug, trying to hide how much he actually affects me. This is so new for me, the flirting, the kissing, and the warmth in my belly at the sight of him.
“Emerson, are you flirting with me?” he coaxes, raising one eyebrow playfully.
Feeling extremely brave, I answer, “What if I am?”
His smile fades as he walks over to my side of the bed. “Do you still want to do what you asked me last night?” Do I? If there was anyone I could choose, it would be Clark. No one makes me feel like he does, no one understands me, will listen, and care.
“Yes,” I somehow muster to say.
God, I want to, I want to so bad.
Slowly he climbs onto the bed and reaches for the edge of the blanket. Knowing it’s my security blanket, just another layer he has to peel back, he pulls it from my grasp.
“If you change your mind at any time, just say the word and I’ll stop,” he tells me, his voice taking on a tone that I’ve never heard before. It’s low and sensual, stoking a fire inside of me. I half expect myself to start freaking out at any second, but there isn’t a single ounce of fear or anxiety coursing through me at this moment.
It’s as if I’m cured, feeling something other than those two emotions for the first time since I can remember.
“Okay…” I confirm, nodding my head for him to continue. I trust Clark, he won’t hurt me or take advantage of me. He’s doing this to help me, to help me overcome my fear. I don’t dare tell myself it’s because we’re both attracted to each other, because we both want this… no, because then that would mean something entirely.
Peering up at me, with his hazel eyes bleeding into mine, he asks, “Have you ever come before?”
Biting at my bottom lip, I nod my head yes. Before everything happened, I had masturbated a time or two but since then the thought of doing so… it’s repulsed me.
“Words, Emerson, use words with me. I want yes or nos so that I know if you’re okay with something. I don’t want to hurt you or scare you.”
He reaches out and caresses my cheek, and I almost sigh into the pillows. His touch is like a healing balm on my skin.
“Yes, I’ve… come before, but it’s been a long time.” His hand drops from my cheek and trails down my body, over the top of my breast, and down over my belly, stopping once he reaches the hem of my shirt. I shiver even though he hasn’t touched my bare skin yet, an electric current pulsates between us.
“Do you want my tongue or my fingers…” he questions, his voice taking on a deep honeyed sound. Caught up in the sound, it takes me a moment before I can gather my thoughts and answer him.
“Fingers…” I whisper. “I want to be able to see your face, in case…”
He just nods, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I want to take your shirt off. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice coming out stronger than I expected. He grabs hold of the fabric and starts pulling it up very slowly, never breaking eye contact, as if he is making sure I don’t freak out or change my mind along the way. He’s handling me like I’m made of glass, like I’m fragile and while I am fragile, I’m also already broken. There’s nothing he could do that could make things worse.
The shirt comes off over my head, leaving me in nothing but my panties. Without looking, Clark throws it over his shoulder, the cotton shirt landing in a heap on the floor somewhere next to the bed. Without a single sliver of urgency at all, he leans in, his lips finding mine, as soon as our lips touch, a spark ignites in my belly and I find myself reaching for him, my hands flying up to grab onto his shoulders.
His muscles ripple beneath my hands, and before I realize it, he’s moving us backward, gently placing me against the pillows. He starts to pull away and a tiny whimper subconsciously slips past my lips. I sink my nails into his flesh, willing him to stay, and a hiss of pain or maybe pleasure meets my ears.
Our eyes clash, his pupils are dilated, his nostrils flared. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me, ravage me, but there is more… something else hiding in the depth of his eyes, past the lust and the need.
Everything feels electrified as he pulls the small piece of fabric down my legs, letting his knuckles glide along the flesh as he goes. When the panties are off, he flings them over his shoulder like he did with my shirt. I’m bare now, completely exposed to him, and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never in a million years thought that I would be okay being so exposed, so vulnerable in front of a man.
There’s a stampede of horses in my ears that I know is my heartbeat. My nipples are hard peaks and I need him to touch me, need him to soothe the ache between my thighs.
With a softness that doesn’t match his demeanor, he says, “Spread your legs for me.” Without thought, I do as he asks, my legs fall open without fear, and I know what I’m doing. I’m giving myself to him, trusting him completely.
“Remember, all you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. I swear, Emerson,” he assures me, but I don’t need his assurance. I just need him.
Leaning forward, he holds onto my hip with one hand and sucks one of my hard nipples into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation that swirls deep in my belly as his tongue flicks against the hardened nub. I can’t stop my hands from moving, it’s like they have a mind of their own as they run through the short strands of hair, my nails sinking into his scalp.
I can feel his hard as steel cock resting against my leg and without thinking, I move so my thigh is rubbing against it. He groans against my breast, his hand on my hip tightening as he pulls away slightly. My eyes move over his face, his nostrils are flared, his cheeks are flushed, and he looks sexy, good enough to eat.
“This is not for me… this is all for you.” He leans in, kissing me with a fervor that is contagious. I’m not sure what overcomes me, but I turn into a frenzied animal, my teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Both hands move to my hips as if he’s holding me in place, his grip is bruising, but I’m not scared. If anything I’m thrilled. He moans against my skin, the sound only egging me on. My arms snake around his neck, holding onto him, pulling him even closer, as I deepen the kiss.
Heat spreads through my lower half, pooling inside of me, and dribbling out against my thighs. I’m ready for him, beyond ready. I never felt this way before, but I know what it means.
Mumbling against his lips, I tell him, “Touch me.”
He pulls away a millimeter, both our chests are heaving now, sweat beads against his brow and I can tell this is weighing on him, tension coils inside of him, right beneath the surface.
“Are you sure?” I smile, because there is nothing else in this moment that would make this any more perfect than it already is.
“I want you, Clark…” The ache between my legs mount, I grab onto one of his wrists, prying it from my hip, and bringing it to the apex of my thighs. “I want you to touch me here…” My eyes collide with his, and I gasp when I feel one thick digit slip between my folds, grazing my clit. His touch is gentle, soft, but also passionate and urgent at the same time. He moves his finger through my wetness with ease, groaning when he realizes how ready I am for him.
His finger teases my entrance and his thumb finds my clit, the rough pad drawing small circles across the tight bundle of nerves. Holy shit. There’s something magical happening deep in my belly, something awakening inside of me. I grab two fistfuls of sheets on either side of me, feeling compelled to hold on to something or risk floating away.
“Fuck, Em,” Clark hisses, and a moment later he’s entering me, slowly, so slowly it’s almost painful.
“Oh God…” I cry out, unable to keep the words inside. Clark resists the urge to move inside of me, letting me adjust to his finger, but I don’t want to adjust I want to feel the pleasure that I know he’s going to deliver. “Please Clark, please…” I plead, staring up at him.
His face is a mask of agony, pure need, and it’s remarkable how he can hold himself back, proving yet again how perfect he is to do this.
“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he growls, and I feel that growl deep in my womb. The muscles clenching around his digit at the sound. Knowing exactly what I need, he starts to move, fingering me with a gentle thrust, his biceps tremble with the effort it takes for him to hold back and I swallow thickly as he strokes the fire in my belly with each thrust. It feels as if I’m awakening, deep under the water, racing toward the surface.
Closer and closer I get to the surface, my legs shake, and I bite into my bottom lip, a scream building deep in my throat.
“Come for me, Em, let me see what you look like when you fall apart,” Clark whispers against my heated flesh.
“Clark…” The word passes my lips on a scream.
With his finger pumping in and out of me and his thumb on my clit, I go soaring through the water, crashing through the surface. Air fills my lungs and it feels like I’m breathing for the first time, like I’ve been drowning this whole time, and I guess I have.
Until he found me.
Gasping, my eyes fall closed and my channel clenches the muscles contracting as waves of pleasure ripple through the sensitive tissue. Clark’s movements slow as he milks out my orgasm. When every tremor of pleasure has made its way through me, I force my eyes open and find Clark staring down at me. His gaze is heated, hotter than the sun, with need painted like a red warning label on his face, one that would’ve sent me into a frenzy of fear before I met him.
He starts pulling away, but I grab his forearms, holding him in place. It feels like I’m drunk, my lips are swollen, my mouth is dry, and yet I’ve never been so free. It’s been forever since I felt like I could breathe. I have to repay him, return the favor.
“What about you?” I croak.
“I told you, this was all for you. Don’t worry about me. Besides, I already came in the bathroom while thinking about you,” he says without an ounce of shame in his voice.
He thought about me while he masturbated. I guess I’m not all that shocked. I knew we were getting into unknown territory and that a guy like him couldn’t hold off on sex forever, but I didn’t...I guess I didn’t expect him to think about me while doing it. I’m nothing special.
I open my mouth to object, but Clark’s phone starts to ring somewhere next to the bed. Clark doesn’t bat an eyelash though and instead continues looking at me.
“I want to repay you, show you that I can do this…” I trail off. I feel shy even though I did just let him finger me and see me completely naked.
Clark’s eyes gleam with approval, but he shakes his head. “I know you can do it, so it doesn’t matter. You have nothing to prove to me. Next time you can repay me. Today was meant to show you that you still have all the power and that not everyone hurts women.”
For some stupid reason, tears well in my eyes, and I want to hug him, kiss him, tell him how much he means to me, but again his phone starts to ring.
“What the fuck?” he mutters under his breath, gently pulling away from me to find his phone. A second later he’s got the sleek device in his hand, a somber look crosses his face and then he looks over at me. Anger clouds his vision and I wonder what, or better yet who would cause his emotions to waver in such a way.
As if he can hear the question I’m asking, he says, “It’s my dad.”
Grabbing the blanket from the foot of the bed, I drape it over my naked body. I know his dad can’t see me through the phone, but I still somehow feel weird knowing Clark is talking to his father and also looking at my naked body.
I’m nearly covered up when Clark answers the phone bringing it to his ear.
“What?” he growls into the speaker. If it wasn’t clear before that he was angry about his father’s phone call, it is
when I hear the tone of his voice.
“I don’t want to do any more shit for you.” He squeezes his eyes shut, frustration marring his handsome face. After a pause, he sighs, “Fine, I’ll be there. I’ll ask her but if she says no, then you are going to leave her alone. She doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.”
He hangs up the phone and looks over to where I’m still sitting on his bed. Maybe I should’ve gotten up by now, but I can’t bring myself to leave the bed yet. I want what happened between us to resonate within me for as long as it can. I don’t want to let go of the feelings, of the way it felt to be taken care of, instead of being taken advantage of.
With a grim look, Clark says, “There is this charity event at the clubhouse at the end of the month. Our dads want us to go… I already said I would go, but you don’t have to, you can stay here or hang out with Ava if you want.”
Does he not want me to go? My brow furrows. Maybe he wants to go with someone else?
“You don’t have to take me,” I assure him. “You can take someone else. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Em, you still don’t get it, do you?” He gets into the bed beside me, taking my hand and holding it to his chest over his thundering heartbeat. “I want you. I want you and no one else. We aren’t pretending anymore. This is real.”
There’s a pause and I’m not sure what I should say….
“Go with me, be my plus one, my date, my girlfriend…for real this time.”
I’m sure my eyes are bugging out of my head right now, but I can’t wrap my mind around what he just asked me. Doesn’t he know that I’m broken, that I’ll never be like the other girls he’s dated?
“I don’t know…” I whisper.
Tipping my chin upward with one finger, he stares into my eyes. “Think about it. We have time. You don’t have to decide right now, just know that in my mind, in my heart, you’re already mine.”
