I place a hand on his chest. “Say it,” I whisper.
“I want to be inside you. I know it’s complicated, but I need to.”
My hand rises to his hair, his mouth quickly pressing to mine before he pulls back.
He tip-toes in a puddle of doubt, so uncertain about what his subconscious knows that he needs. He is leading us, but he still needs my help. I let my tongue dart out. Trace his lower lip. He takes it. Sucks on it, before our lips crash together, tongues sliding together in a frenzy of lust and passion and love. Suddenly, he stands and yanks off his shirt. He picks me up, my body fitting into his arms so perfectly, so fucking beautifully.
This is it. This day will forever mark the day Brooks and I get to relish each other’s bodies, get to be honest with our souls.
I point to the counter. I don’t know why, but I’ve always found counter sex so fucking hot in porn. Without speaking a word, he walks to the kitchen. Sets me down on the island—the cold granite adding to the arousal I’m feeling. His hands come to my hips, and my legs wrap around him, imprisoning him in my love.
He kisses me again, and my hands run through his hair, tugging it with my fists so furiously, as if I can pull his love from it. He moves his hands to my shirt, and works it over my head. Bites my shoulder as he reaches around to unfasten my bra. At the same time, my fingers move to his jeans, guiding the button through the hole as he’ll guide his cock into the pussy with his name on it.
My white, lacy bra falls to my arms, my breasts bare to his eyes.
“Goddamn, you are stunning,” he says, his voice a deep and feral whisper. He pecks me on the lips. Trails wet kisses down my neck until he meets my tits. His tongue slips over my nipples, and I moan. Pull his hair even harder. He pulls his mouth away, and then steps out of his pants, only a pair of briefs and my shorts separating us from the union God intended.
With one hand, he pushes my body back onto the island. Unbuttons my shorts and tugs them off. I can’t believe we’re really doing this. If only he could have been my first. With a certainty stamped in his eyes like I’ve never seen, he brings my feet to the counter and spreads my knees.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes again.
When his head moves between my legs, I physically jerk with anticipation. I’m on the edge of coming, and we aren’t even fucking yet. No, we aren’t making love yet. Because that’s what it’ll be—the physical culmination of the love that has always been there. It just had to be unearthed again.
His palm moves across my panties, over all my sensitive places in one sweep. I don’t know how I’ll survive this. I feel like I’m about to explode already as … as he starts kissing me over the fabric of my thong, the dry heat making me buck my hips upward.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
He walks his fingers up my stomach. Grabs my breast, and pinches my nipple. “What do you want?”
I don’t tell him. I’m scared of the consequences of finally doing this.
“What do you want, Emily?” he repeats, his words gruffer this time.
“I want you,” I answer clearly. Then, a whisper. “Take me.”
With that, he pulls my thong to the side, exposing me to him. I keep my eyes closed, and my hands rise timidly to my face so that I can’t look. I can’t handle the anxiety of him seeing all of me after so many years. Oh my God, he’s staring at my pussy. He’s looking at it, and … I’m in his mouth in one slow, wet suck. His tongue trails teasingly along my lips before moving to my clit. He strokes, providing the perfect amount of pressure against me—gentle and patient. He takes his time and enjoys. His fingers pinch my nipple harder, his tongue bringing me closer. I sit up, my fear cast aside, intent on watching him do this—watching him work. His eyes move up to mine as I grip his hair, my legs snaking over his shoulders. He stares at me. Alternates feather-light licks and sucks before flicking across my clit again.
“Oh God, Brooks.” My head falls back as the pressure builds. I don’t want to come, but I’m going to, and I can’t say no to the pleasure he’s giving me. I can’t turn down the love he’s committing. Can’t break free from the chains of him.
“Come,” he commands.
I moan, my hips rocking in the heat, my heart happy I’ve saved my first oral orgasm from a man for him, the one I love. Only he is deserving of this monumental moment.
“Come, baby. I want to taste it.” Oh my God, he just called me baby! An important milestone in the love story of Brooks and Emily!
I moan louder this time, my hand pulling him harder against me. His lips enclose me, provide suction as his heavenly tongue licks. The pressure is too much to take. I could have come from the first stroke, but I’m desperate, desperate not to let this moment slip by too soon. I’m holding on as tightly as I’m able, but I’m cracking under the heat of his mouth and the years of experience he’s unfortunately gained from licking Eliza.
He releases the suction, his tongue dipping inside me before licking me from the bottom to the top and sucking my clit again in small pulses. Instantly, I let go—a tidal wave of satisfaction washing over me like never before, my loud moan causing him to suck harder but slower, followed by one final lick as my hips stop thrusting.
Fuck, this is … I don’t even know. That was better than anything I’ve ever done for myself. If I loved him before, now I love him more than I could ever dream. My Brooks—Pussy Licker Extraordinaire. I need this every day for the rest of my life. I need him.
But when can I call him mine?
I let my hand move to his briefs. Feel the erection jutting out, begging me to do something. I grab it, cupping his balls as he cups my breasts, nuzzling his face into my neck.
Suddenly, he leaves me. Grabs his wallet from the counter, and pulls out a condom. Shit. With anyone else, yes. But not with Brooks. Never with Brooks. I want to feel him, every millimeter of what I’m sure is his magical penis.
“Don’t,” I blurt.
His eyes cut to mine, confused, as his fingers are poised on the wrapper, ready to take it out and slip it on. “Don’t?”
I lie back on the counter again. Reach out a finger and trace it over the edge of his abs. “I want to feel it. All of it.”
What begins as a hesitant look melts into submission as I spread my legs in invitation.
“Are you on birth control?”
I nod, but I’m lying. However, it isn’t my goal to trap him. I want to earn him. And I damn near have.
He drops the condom, and tugs me up again as he pulls his cock from his boxers. I got a glimpse of it in Colorado, but wow. It isn’t some ten-inch anaconda dick, but it’s perfect. I’m guessing eight inches and thick, so I’ll be sure to feel every bit with my gently used pussy. He grabs it. Brushes it across my opening that is now soaking wet. My eyes roll back, and my breathing picks up again. The orgasm that nearly just broke me has fully subsided now, so I’m very much ready for this.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” His eyes are squinted, nose flared ever so slightly. The face of his arousal is enough to make me come. His Sex Face is hot.
“Yes. Please.” I lock my legs around him again. Grip a hand on his arm, ready to steady myself for the moment we unite.
He leans over, licking my neck until he makes his way to my ear, his tongue delving in and out, mouth sucking on my lobe, one of his hands stroking his cock. When he presses inside me, it’s a surprise, and instantly I know. I know that I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. I don’t care how bad I have to be. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to get rid of, or who fucking cares.
Brooks is mine.
Forever.
I’m pushed back by his hand again, the height of the island giving him a perfect advantage to explore me. I grab his face with my hands to pull him down. His thrusts are too shallow, too light. He hasn’t fully entered me yet, and I want it. I fucking need it. I’ll die if I don’t get it. I want him to fuck me like he motherfucking owns me.
He follows my lead, leaning down to kiss my breasts
as his thrusts teasingly get deeper, husky moans flowing from him.
And then it’s there. All of him. Deep inside, pushing against the end of me, my G-spot begging for release as he retreats and re-enters. I fucking love it, taking all of him, and the slap of his balls against me when he’s as far as he can go—when he’s fully enjoying the fruits of my work.
This is it. I’ve finally claimed him.
And I’ll never let go.
I am holding her, assaulting her with my mouth, my cock still fully inside her when she makes her request for me to take her to the shower.
Fuck, so good.
When I reach the bathroom, I fumble for the shower door—still trying to keep up the rhythm of our kiss. I struggle a bit to slide it open and turn on the water, but I manage. She gives me a break, kissing my neck while I adjust the temperature. Her pussy is a work of art—tight, super wet, and she doesn’t yelp in pain when I go deep. It’s as if we were made for each other.
I hold out my arm to test the temperature. It has warmed now, and I carry her inside and slide the door closed, the glass quickly fogging. I look into her eyes as the water beats against my shoulders. Her legs fit snugly around me, her eyes fixed to mine as she randomly tenses her pussy—a silent beg for me to keep fucking her, to keep making love to her.
Slowly, I thrust inside her again. The water washes away some of the lubrication, which I love. I love how tight pussy is in water. Yet, Emily is still drenched on the inside. Her eyes flutter with my thrusts, and I kiss her again, greedily sucking at her tongue. Briefly, I realize her mouth hasn’t been on me yet. I went down on her and without even thinking about her going down on me in return. It isn’t a requirement, but I want it. I need her mouth on me. I need to mark her throat, to come everywhere I can, because I want her to be mine.
I can’t explain why I feel so connected to her. I feel like I could tell her anything, and like I have known her forever, and not only because of our brief time together at the concert years ago. It moves beyond familiarity. I feel like she knows me, like she sees who I am.
I pick up the pace, fucking her faster and harder, my cock stressing against the friction of her. If heaven exists, it is in Emily’s pussy, because it is fucking gold. I thought I knew what good pussy was, but I was wrong. I don’t remember sex being as exciting as this since the first time, and even bad sex is exciting when it is the first time. Quite frankly, it is better because we are amazing together, the way we respond to each other’s prompts.
And she is loving it, loving every stroke. I can tell by the way she clenches around me, constricting so tightly I am illogically afraid my dick will break off. But it would be a good way to lose it.
I grab her ass hard, and she moans in a mix of pain and thrill. I move my hand around to her clit, using three fingers to apply even, light pressure. In circles, I move them, fucking turned on by her mouth staying half-open in a silent show of ecstasy. I suck her neck, then move my tongue up to her ear. Then I roll her nipple between my fingers. Her back arches in response, her head turning toward mine, my hair being damn near pulled out. She moans. I moan with her. We moan together.
That is something Eliza always liked about me. I am not the silent type.
“I’m gonna come,” she says. “Harder, babe.”
Babe. I realize I called her baby when I was going down on her. It slipped out—perhaps a side effect of recently coming out of a relationship? Or is Emily that fucking important to me already?
I follow the rhythm of her grinding. I thrust hard but slow, my cock now bathed in her pussy juice, the water even unable to wash it away. Her tits bounce in the most beautiful way as if they are the tits she was born to have, except I know she bought them. I see the light lines of her surgical scars, and it turns me on even more, knowing she paid for them. I imagine her having gotten them to tempt me and only me, even though I know that is a ludicrous thought. She grabs my jaw with both hands, and we kiss just as hard and slow as I fuck her. She is a phenomenal kisser. I have most definitely been missing out on good kissing.
Suddenly, her legs tighten around me, and her hands hook around my neck. She is pressed tightly against the stone, so I let go of her, confident she won’t fall, and palm both of her tits as she starts coming. I know she is coming because her pussy jerks in rapid rhythm, warmth flooding around my dick. I am surprised I haven’t busted yet, but I am about to. However, I was determined to finish her first.
She screams into my ear, her fingers moving from my neck to my hair, pulling it roughly as her heels dig into my ass and I bite her shoulder.
Within seconds of her hips stopping, and her breathing slowing, I am out of her. I set her down, and instinct brings my hand to my cock. I am about to come. She knows, and she drops to her fucking knees.
Eagerly, she takes it in her fist, brushes her lips against it. Her tongue darts out and licks the head as her eyes cut to mine. I block the water from her face as she stares at me expectantly, like she wants me to command her. I say nothing, but I grab her by the back of the hair and yank it back. I don’t know why I do it. I have never been into rough sex, but I need her so badly, and something about the obstacles between us makes me want to fuck her like it will never happen again.
With her other hand, she massages my nuts. I close my eyes as my head falls forward, hoping I will feel every diminutive sensation she graces me with. Abruptly, her mouth closes over my head, and I shudder wildly. I release my grip on her hair, and place my hands against the wall of the shower, softly banging her mouth as she provides vacuum-like suction all the way down my shaft. There isn’t even a hint of a gag as my head reaches the back of her throat. Her tongue writes figure-eights over my shaft, hands still grabbing my balls, head twisting as her mouth slides up toward the head again. She repeats this routine while groaning excitedly against my cock.
Eliza never let me come in her mouth, so I retreat. “I’m close,” I pant.
She smiles, her eyes thick with seduction and sex. Her full lips meet my cock again, holy fucking shit, and immediately I blow my load as she moves all the way down to my base, my head hitting the back of her throat. Fuck, she is talented at this. I jerk, bucking into her while we gaze at each other, my entire body twitching with powerful electricity. When it is finally over, she pulls off me. Swallows and licks her lips.
Jesus.
I could come again just from seeing that, damn.
Eliza never, in ten years, did that. Actually, no one has done that, since I have only been with two people, and Kate wasn’t swallowing at sixteen.
She stands, and I back her against the shower again. My hands grab on to her hips. I kiss her, our tongues intertwining, the slightly unpleasant taste of what has to be me on her tongue. Impulsively, I get on my knees. Suck her pussy as she groans once more, so I can wash away the taste of myself. When I stand again, she pulls me to her lips, and she sucks my tongue, tasting herself, me, us.
Oh my God.
I am in so much fucking trouble.
We don’t go our separate ways after drying off and brushing our teeth. Instead, Brooks pulls me to his bed, and we climb into it—naked and satisfied. He pulls the sheet up over our lower bodies. Spoons me under the expensive white sheets. Kisses me on my neck, the smell of his pricey cologne married to my skin.
“Goodnight, baby,” he mumbles.
A butterfly dances between my ribs, my fingers finding his in the dark. Firmly, they connect, and we don’t let go.
“Night, babe.” It feels so fucking good to say that. We’re finally on the same page of the same book.
I can’t believe I’ve done it. He’s come back to me. Or … have I come back to him, and he’s allowed it?
Whichever way … no matter how we got here, it is finished.
We are one.
When the light of morning invades the room, peeking between the blinds, she is still in my arms. We practically haven’t moved. Our hands aren’t tangled anymore, but otherwise we are the same. I could get used
to this, waking up next to her after a night like we just had. I know it wouldn’t be easy. I know there would be a lot of pissed off people, but … maybe.
Maybe it could work.
Maybe we could make it work.
I have to be sure, however. We both would have to be. We can’t just throw caution completely to the wind, say fuck it all, and do the white house with picket fence and kids without examining the situation on paper.
Speaking of kids, I dreamt about her last night. We were in the kitchen, making brownies, both of us covered in flour, being playful and fighting for the spoon. She had sucked brownie mix off my finger, and I kissed her before little feet pattered into the kitchen and grabbed at both our legs. When I looked down, it was the face of a child—golden ringlets popping up all over, bright blue eyes shining happily at us. I can’t remember if it was a boy or girl. Honestly, I don’t think I even knew in the dream. But it seemed real.
It felt like … a premonition almost.
I get out of bed, and stumble to the kitchen. From the cabinets, I pull two mugs, and prepare the coffee maker, then search through the fridge and decide on eggs and bacon.
I fry the bacon over a hot pan, and have the eggs going in a separate one. Emily’s mug is in place under the coffee maker, and I sip mine between pushing around the eggs and flipping the bacon strips.
A phone rings in the distance. I check my pockets and decide it’s mine. I’m still working out the kinks from not sending a file to my dad on time yesterday, so I rush quietly back to the bedroom. Deacon’s name illuminates the screen, and I wince before pulling my lips into a thin line. Emily hasn’t moved, and her breathing is still slow. Hurriedly, I grab it from the nightstand and jog back to the kitchen before sliding to answer.
Before I can say hello, Deacon blares through the speaker. “Yo, man! Where you at?”
“Still at the beach. What’s up?”
I move the eggs mindlessly across the pan with the spoon, and then grab a plate and dump all the bacon on it.
The Evolution of Ivy: Antidote (The Evolution of Ivy, Volume 2) Page 19
