“This is a distraction,” she said, pressing a kiss to one pec, followed by the other. Her hand slid lower, running her fingers over his rock-solid dick. “And this is most definitely a distraction.”
He watched her lips as she spoke, full and soft, taking in every word. For a moment, he’d let her think she was in control, but once they got into her bedroom…
“But it’s more than all that. I just want you, Connor. I’ve been thinking about this since the night at The Crimson Room, perhaps even sooner if I’m honest.”
“So, we’re doing this?” he asked, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt. “You’re going to let me be with you for the rest of the night, however I want to.”
“Please, Connor,” she begged, as he ran his hands beneath the soft fabric to cup her breasts. He began to knead them gently, playing with their weight, running his thumbs over her nipples.
Connor slid the T-shirt over her head and, just as quickly, slid her sweatpants down her legs, helping her slip each foot free. When she stood before him in her underwear, hands on the counter behind her, dusky pink nipples just waiting for his lips, his dick pulsed. The woman had him wound up tight.
He picked her up, savoring the feel of her nearly naked body in his arms, as she wrapped her legs around him. Kiss after kiss was planted behind his ear and down his neck. The sensation drove him as wild as it tickled.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
“Second left off the hall.”
Connor kicked the door open to her bedroom and laid her down on the bed before switching on the small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a warm glow as Emerson wiggled back on the soft white bedding.
She watched him through hooded eyes as he removed the shirt she’d already unbuttoned, as he unfastened his jeans and slid off his shoes.
Wearing only his boxer briefs, he climbed onto the bed, bracing his weight over Emerson, before bowing his head to kiss her. Knowing they were both on the same page as to where this was headed, he kissed her as he’d wanted to at the distillery.
Passionately. Messily. Desperately.
Emerson responded. Her tongue searching for his, her hand threading through his hair and the other tracing the contour of his back, pulling him closer to her. When he settled between her legs, they both groaned.
Seriously, was there a better feeling than skin pressed up against skin?
Connor savored kissing her, the way her body fit against his, and the way they moved in sync. He moved down her body, kissing her collarbone, her shoulder. He indulged himself, licking the tip of her nipples before blowing on them as they reached firm peaks.
He sucked one into his mouth, absorbing the way her body arched against his as she gripped the bedsheet with one hand. Emerson was so responsive, and he couldn’t get enough.
He kissed her hip bone, nipping it gently with his teeth, before sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear.
Slowly, he stood and slid them over her hips, down her smooth long legs, and when done, he removed his boxer briefs.
“You’re quite the fucking view, Emerson,” he said. Her chest rose up and down as if she were already breathless.
Emerson’s eyes tracked a lazy trail down his chest, focusing for a moment on his dick. And damn, if she didn’t flick her tongue across her lip. “Impressive is the word I might have chosen.”
“Yes, you are.” His finger traced the seam of her pussy, finding it delightfully wet.
“I meant you, Connor,” she gasped.
“I know.” Bending forward, he pressed a kiss to her clit, and then, using his tongue, set out to demolish Emerson Dyer.
Emerson groaned as his tongue ravaged the deepest parts of her. One moment, he’d circle her clit, teasing her until she grabbed his hair, holding him where she needed him. Then he’d slide his tongue inside her, slowly easing in, then out.
The pace confused her and set her on edge, heightening the anticipation.
When he returned to his knees, she groaned. Hovering on the edge of orgasm, she needed more. She looked up at his body, his muscles were taut. The discipline he had to look so utterly perfect was apparent in their sinuous movement.
“The first time you come, Emerson, will be around my cock,” Connor said gruffly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m done playing with you. Yet.” He stroked her gently with his finger. Far less pressure than she needed to get off, but enough to keep her close. “How does that feel?”
Connor must know she was writhing beneath him. How could he not see the effect he was having on her? She reached for him, pulling him back down on top of her. He pressed against her, so hard. So firm.
“How does it feel?” she repeated. She kissed him, nipping at his lip. “Do you really need me to tell you what you’re doing to my body? How ready it feels for you? How much I want you in me?”
Sliding her hand between them, she gripped him. Lord, he was so wide.
Connor groaned. “Fuck, Emerson.”
He was hot and firm to the touch, and she could feel the steady beat of his pulse. The idea that he was about to slide into her, stretch her and fill her, caused her clit to throb.
His hands traced every inch of her body, and for a moment, Emerson understood what it was to feel thoroughly desired by the man she was with. The idea that he had driven to her home because he was concerned about her, that he hadn’t planned a booty call or intended to stay added to the need she felt for him. The promise she’d made to talk to him scared her slightly, but at the same time fueled the feeling inside her that she wasn’t alone. That he would be there for her no matter what difficulty she was in.
His kiss took her out of her head. His touch took her out of her body. She was at the heady precipice of coming apart.
“Are you ready for me, Emerson?” Connor asked. She felt the absence of his warmth and solid weight as he pushed himself off the bed in one fluid motion. He grabbed something from his jeans.
Condom.
She had her own, but the fact he was prepared and brought one reassured her he took such things seriously.
Connor rolled the condom on as Emerson watched. The light of the lamp cast shadows on his body, casting the muscles in stark relief. Every part of his body revealed the discipline he must live by.
As he crawled back on the bed, he kissed her foot, her shin, her knee, her thigh. She flinched when he kissed the ticklish spot on her hip, and Connor smiled, as though he knew exactly what he was doing.
When he settled between her thighs, he pressed his lips to hers, gently.
Softly.
His pale blue eyes burned with intensity. “Are you ready for this, Emerson? Are you ready for us?”
Unable to verbalize everything swirling inside, she simply nodded.
Connor reached between them and guided himself into her slowly, groaning as he inched forward, his eyes never leaving hers.
The feeling was so intense her head spun. She hadn’t realized how wet she had gotten for him, and she opened her legs wider, allowing him to move more freely.
“Connor,” she moaned as she reached around his back, pulling him against her, arching upward to meet him. The movement allowed Connor to press deeper until he was fully inside her, stretching her, the sweet sensation of being held in place removing any anxieties she felt.
He stopped moving. “Fuck, Emerson. You feel so good,” he gasped.
Emerson ground her clit against him, desperate to chase the orgasm that hovered just out of reach.
“If you keep doing that, you know I’m going to come, right?” he muttered, his face pressed against the side of her neck, the warmth of his breath heating her shoulder. Connor slid his hand beneath her ass, lifting her, opening her.
She felt safe in his grip as he began to move again, the steady back-and-forth increasing in pace.
Pressure began to build deep inside her. The telltale sign that she was riding the right wave.
“Connor, I’m close.”
She grasped for him,
wrapped her legs around him as best she could to allow him to sink deeper and deeper, faster and faster. The man had more stamina than anyone she’d ever met. The pace, the delicious friction, the absolute control he had over her body.
“Me too,” he grunted. “Fuck, yeah. Me too.”
The sound of his voice, the lack of control in his words, was the push she needed.
As his thrusts became almost frantic, Emerson exploded around him. “Oh, God,” she cried as she lost all sense of self or rhythm. Every muscle clenched. Warmth flooded her.
“Em,” Connor groaned as he thrust hard into her, his body jerking against her as he came, pulsing, within her.
His movements slowed as Emerson came back down to earth. Connor lay on her, his breathing heavy, their bodies damp and sweating. Neither of them said anything, neither of them moved.
Energy raced through her, but her mind was finally clear, absent of worry.
Connor pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, and she ran her fingers through his hair. When he finally lifted his head to look at her, he looked relaxed, more youthful. “That was incredible,” he said. “You were incredible.”
He rolled to one side and tucked her against him, wrapping his arm around her. For a moment, Emerson considered leaving to get cleaned up. But Connor didn’t seem to care and was quite content to simply lie there with her in his arms.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his smooth chest.
They fell silent, and Emerson was close to falling asleep when she heard Connor’s stomach rumble. They hadn’t eaten, and there was food sitting on the kitchen island. She looked over at the clock on the bedside table. It was nearly nine. If they were going to eat, they should do it now.
And with the stress out of her system, perhaps she could finally relax and enjoy her food.
“How do you feel about dinner?” she asked, aware his breathing had dropped to an almost frighteningly slow pace.
“Do I have to move to eat it?” he mumbled, and then finally opened his eyes to look at her.
Emerson thought for a moment. “I could always pop it on trays and bring it in here.”
Connor slipped his arm from beneath her and ran a hand across his face before running it through his rumpled hair. “It’s okay. Let’s make a move so I can get cleaned up and perhaps open the wine if you feel like it.”
Emerson sat up and pulled the sheet up to cover herself. Yes, she might have just let the man screw her into oblivion, but she was suddenly aware she was naked.
As Connor climbed out of the bed, he kissed her shoulder. “You’re beautiful,” he said, as if reading her worries.
He disappeared into her bathroom, and Emerson got out of bed, grabbing her robe. It wasn’t flowing and sexy like one she thought Connor might appreciate. It was pale pink and fluffy. Warm and cozy. She put it on and tied it around her waist.
After cleaning up in the washroom off the hallway, she waited for him in the kitchen, busying herself getting plates and cutlery and her corkscrew for the wine.
When Connor joined her in the kitchen, he was wearing his jeans. And only his jeans.
Emerson couldn’t decide if it was the scent of the food he’d brought or the sight of the man without a shirt on that made her mouth water.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly. “Mmm…those lips,” he murmured.
She couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile.
“Let’s get some food,” he said, letting her go before he opened the bag. “I’m so glad I got cold salads. I didn’t think hot food would last the drive here.”
“Honestly, I could eat a horse.” Emerson opened the takeout boxes to see a delicious salad. Thin glass noodles, strips of medium-rare beef, slivers of peppers and carrots, and the scent of freshly chopped cilantro.
“Wait until you try the dressing. It’s all the good stuff…soy sauce, sesame oil, loads of lime.” Connor tackled the wine. She watched the muscles in his arms flex as he removed the cork. Damn, even the way he sniffed the cork was giving her sensations in places that shouldn’t yet be ready for action.
As he poured the wine into glasses, she tipped the salads onto their plates.
“Cheers,” Connor said, handing her a glass.
Emerson took it and clinked the edge of the glass against his. “A pinot noir?” she asked, after she’d taken a delicious sip.
“It was what you ordered in The Crimson Room the other night, so I knew it was a safe bet.”
They sat down at the island. One of the things she had loved most about the property was the quiet at night, and beyond the odd scrape of the fork or clink of the glass, they ate in a comfortable, companionable silence.
As she came to the end of her meal, worry started to creep in. He was going to expect her to talk to him, to tell him what had her so wound up. But she wanted to simply exist in the happy silence between the two of them.
“Connor. I know I owe you an explanation. But do you think, just for tonight, we could just go to sleep?”
Connor turned on his stool to face her. He opened the hem of the dressing gown, placing his hands on her knees. The warmth of them grounded her. “As long as you aren’t blowing me off.”
“I’m not,” she assured him. “I want to talk to you about it, I really do. For the first time all day, I don’t feel so stressed…and just thinking about how to explain what’s going on at work is starting to make me feel anxious. I need some sleep and some perspective, that’s all.”
He studied her face for a moment, before nodding. “You go climb into bed. I’ll rinse these off before I join you.”
She should clear up the dishes in her own kitchen, but suddenly her body was bone-tired. Emerson walked to the bedroom, and after a few minutes in her bathroom, climbed into bed.
She was already asleep by the time Connor joined her.
Chapter Six
The rat-a-tat-tat sound infiltrated Connor’s dream, rousing him from sleep.
Was someone hammering something in his building? Was someone trying to bust down a door?
He couldn’t open his eyes. Wherever he was, it was a hell of a lot brighter than his bedroom.
Connor tried to move, only to find his arms were wrapped around a woman.
Emerson.
With a sigh of relief, he pulled her closer, her back to his chest. The sound, he realized, was a woodpecker somewhere outside the open window. They’d fallen asleep before closing the curtains, exhausted from great sex and delicious food.
Sex. Was that all it was to him?
The idea that it meant more unnerved him a little, yet he couldn’t deny the fact that it did. The way she felt as he slid inside her, as she moved and opened up for him. It was so much more than sex. It was the connection he’d felt, the way she’d held his gaze, the way she’d asked him for what she wanted, the fact that for once he felt like he was building something with Emerson, and that feeling had pushed him over the edge.
His dick stirred at the idea of a repeat, especially with that ripe ass of hers pressing against him. And while he hoped that could happen before he left for the day, they needed to talk first.
Trying his best to not disturb Emerson, he pulled his arm from beneath her, grabbed his jeans, and left the room. There was a bag full of workout clothes in the trunk of his car that he could pull clean stuff from later. But for now, he needed coffee.
The kitchen was bright, and from the window he could see what looked like a vegetable garden. There were rows of beds, some with plants still thriving. A greenhouse was positioned off to one side. The rest of the garden was planted simply in shades of green and white. On the patio just outside the door sat a small bistro table.
Thankfully, he noticed a coffeemaker on the counter, and Connor set about making an espresso. He was just making his second shot when Emerson shuffled into the kitchen.
“You scared the crap out of me.” Emerson squinted in the daylight. She pushed her hair off her face. “It took me a minute to figure out wha
t kind of home intruder breaks in to make coffee.”
Emerson made her way to him and stepped into his arms before placing her head against his chest and closing her eyes. “It’s too early to be doing morning yet.”
Connor glanced at the clock on the microwave as he pulled her in close. It was a little after eight. “Believe it or not, usually I’d be up at least three hours by now. I feel like I had an epic sleep-in.”
Sure, he’d be late getting off on his usual Saturday seventy-five-mile bike ride, but his energy level felt boundless. Add in the double-espresso and he’d be good to go.
Emerson lifted her face to his. “We need to talk, don’t we?” she said.
He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled as she scrunched up her face. “We do.”
“Have a seat in the front room while I make myself a coffee.”
Connor wandered into the living room. It was warm and inviting, if a little cluttered for his more minimal tastes. A soft green sofa was stacked with cushions in different fabrics and sizes, but all black or white. White walls were covered in artwork and photographs. And plants hung and sat on every available surface. He thought of Blake and Talia’s plant-filled apartment. Evidently, Emerson and Talia would get along.
Emerson also liked to read…widely. Books on economics and business theories sat next to thrillers, horrors, and books with titles that caught him off guard.
“Best American Erotica?” he asked when Emerson walked into the living room.
“Nothing wrong with reading about sex, Connor,” she said, pulling her knees beneath her on the sofa.
Connor was the opposite of offended. “I never said there was. I’d be more than happy to spend a night on this sofa with you, taking turns reading and possibly reenacting everything between those covers.”
Emerson grinned. “I’d like that, too. We could do that now,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
His dick twitched in agreement. Now would be a great time to push that robe open and try something new with the lovely Emerson Dyer. “As much as that idea just took top spot on the list of ways I’d like to spend my day, we need to talk first.”
Love in Numbers: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Love Distilled Book 1) Page 10
