by Lisa Ladew
"Let me ask you something," Eme said, leaning forward, feeling her blood still pounding in her sex but ignoring it.
"Shoot."
"You never tell any jokes around me, why is that? I hear you tell them to everyone else."
His eyes never left hers as he shrugged. "I never wanted you to think I was stupid. I liked you from the first time I saw you, remember?"
Eme nodded. She remembered. Which was part of his charm for her. "Think you were stupid for telling jokes?"
His mouth curled up on the right side. "My jokes are usually stupid. I guess that's the kind I like, but most women don't."
Eme curled her arms around her knees. "I do."
He looked up at her, his gaze almost hopeful, then dropped his eyes to the mattress again. "Most girls don't seem to. But that's me. Voted class clown four years in high school, one year in college."
"Why only one year?"
His eyes looked out the window and he sighed. "I only went one year. It wasn't for me. I, ah, well, me and books and theory and computations don't get along so well. Dad wanted me to go, so I tried it, but when my brother said he needed me part-time, I was all too happy to get out of there and go help him full-time."
Eme felt something growing between them. "Your brother needed you to work for him?"
"Yeah. His business was just getting off the ground. He was broke and couldn't afford to hire as much security as he needed."
Eme frowned. "Are we talking about Knox here? I thought he was rich."
Bronx's gaze met hers solidly. "He is now. He wasn't then. He worked for it. We all did."
Eme shook her head. "Someone told me you were a spoiled rich boy. I guess I thought that even if the spoiled part wasn't true, maybe it meant you always had money."
"People like to gossip."
Eme nodded. She knew that was the truth.
Their gazes locked again and didn't let go. Bronx's voice was soft as he spoke to her. "A toothless termite walked into a pub and asked, 'Is the bar tender here'?"
Eme put her hands up to her mouth and giggled.
"What is the last thing a redneck says before he dies?"
"What?"
"Hold my beer."
Eme smiled and shook her head.
"What is the difference between a garbanzo bean and a chickpea?"
"What?"
"I wouldn't pay $40 to have a garbanzo bean in my face."
Eme snorted again and covered her eyes. "Bronx, that was horrible."
"I know, I'm sorry. See? Stupid."
Bronx got up off the bed and looked around, raising up on his tiptoes, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, and tapping his fingers on the front of his pants. "So, nice place you got here."
"Thanks," she said lightly, watching him carefully. He was nothing like she'd ever dreamed a man could be. He was better. She hadn't been testing him, she swore to herself that she hadn't been, but even so, he passed with an A++ and he didn't even need the extra credit.
He looked into the kitchen. "You got a coffee pot in there? I could make us some coffee." He looked back at her, his eyes sad. "Unless you want me to go."
Eme rubbed her fingers against the sheet she had over her body. God he was sweet. And funny. And strong. And everything a man should be. In that moment, she fell just a little bit in love with him.
She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling at him. "I don't want coffee," she said, and when he asked her the question with his eyes, she threw the sheet off herself and pulled him down to the bed, answering him with her body.
Chapter 29
Bronx
Bronx eased next to Eme and opened himself to her again, but moving slower. He wanted this, but only if she did.
"I'm sorry for being bi-polar," she told him in that slow, melodious way of hers. She twisted in the bed and pulled at the clasp on his pants. "I was scared, but I'm not anymore."
Bronx rushed in under her fingers and undid the buckle and the zipper. His shoes were already off, somehow, and he was able to thrust the pants down in one go. Whoops, he'd meant to get just the pants, but his boxers had come down with them. He froze, thinking that had to be too fast. But her hand went right for him, her long fingers wrapping around his cock and almost pushing him over the edge right there before they even got started.
He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and heard them land on the floor with a thump. Eme worked his cock, just a tiny bit, the sensations conquering him. He dropped his head to the bed and groaned deep in the back of his throat. It felt so good he had to hold himself back from everything. He watched her through lidded eyes, loving how she looked. She stared at his erection, an expression of utter satisfaction on her face, like she liked what she was seeing. And oh did that make him glad.
As she studied him, her tongue crept out and wet her top lip and the sight of it made his entire body throb. Fuck. He'd had every intention of pressing his own mouth into her softest flesh and seeing how much pleasure he could wring out of her, but here he was on his back, waiting for her next move, completely unable to take any control back. He was hers, and he would do whatever she wanted.
She curled her fingers around him again and her head moved toward his sex. Her lips parted just enough that he could see her tongue behind her teeth. The sight fueled a lust so great it made him squeeze his eyes shut against it. Oh fuck, she was going to—
Wetness and softness touched the very tip of his cock, spreading a heated flush through it that rushed down to the very base of him, then wrapped around his balls. "Oh God, Eme," he murmured.
She moved slowly, almost nuzzling him, then taking him into her mouth all at once. He sensed she was experimenting with him, trying different things to see what he reacted to. Trouble was, it all felt so good he was left panting and completely inarticulate, not sure if he was reacting to any specific thing.
He reached his hands down to her hair and ran his fingers through it, unable to believe this was the first time he was touching it. He could barely register how bunny-soft it was because of all the tightening pleasure threatening to snap below his waist. "Eme, you gotta stop," he said, forcing the hands in her hair to stay gentle. "You're going to make me come."
Eme spoke around his cock, making him shake his head. He was so close. She was killing him.
"I want you to come."
Her words did it. He couldn't hold back anymore. He pulled on her hair as his hips shot forward and his orgasm slammed through him, forcing a low groan out of him. It went on and on and the only thing that made him stop was the thought of her choking on it. He didn't want that.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She had pulled a neat trick and moved her mouth off of him without him ever knowing, although the way she was licking her lips and swallowing made him think she'd gotten some of him in her throat. Her smile was content, almost cocky, like she'd planned this for weeks and it all went down exactly as she wanted it to. Both of her hands were wrapped around his cock and he could see his cum between her fingers, coating them. His hips bucked one more time with her last stroke. "Fuck, girl, I wanted to make you come."
She smiled at him and pulled her hands off of him, curling them under each other, then elbowed her way backwards and got off the bed. "What are you worried about Bronx, it's not even midnight yet and neither of us has to work tomorrow. I think there's still time."
Then she was gone, walking into the kitchen. He heard her turn on the water and run something, presumably her hands, under the faucet.
Bronx turned his face towards the ceiling, imagining the wide expanse of stars that were out there somewhere.
Thank you, he mouthed, then hopped out of the bed to go to her.
Chapter 30
Eme
Eme rinsed her fingers and wondered at the words that had just come out of her mouth. Who was she? She didn't know this bold, sexual, unafraid girl. But she liked her.
She found a towel and dried her hands, leaning against the sink in only her panties when she h
eard Bronx's footsteps, whisper-quiet on her kitchen floor. He reached her and pressed his body against her backside. His big hands came over her shoulders and pulled her hair away from her face, down her back. Tingles went through her body at the light touch, then she felt his cock front and center, pressing against her, hard again already and getting harder by the second. He bent and kissed her neck in the soft spot just behind her ear that had never been touched that way before.
Eme arched her back and sighed at the way the contact made her entire body thrum and ask for more.
"Your turn," he said into her ear, the vibrations of his voice making the tiny hairs on her neck shudder. Her body was a tuning fork, the lovely touch magnified a thousand fold.
Eme dropped the towel and held on to the sink, hoping her knees didn't give out. He curled his left arm around her front, sliding it over each breast, then holding it there as his right hand spanned her lower back, her ass, and then dove between her legs from behind to her softest spot. Eme gasped as his fingers grazed her.
He moaned. "Oh my God you're so wet, Eme. I have to taste you."
Eme froze. Taste her? That had never been done to her before and she wasn't sure how comfortable she would be with it. But Bronx didn't give her any time to think about it. He dropped to the ground right there in her kitchen. She had time to wonder when the last time she'd mopped the floor was and then he was tugging at her, pulling her down with him. A sweet humming sensation filled her head, half anticipation, half apprehension. She let her knees bend, willing to trust him.
He pulled her into a kneeling position right over his face and she gasped when he brought his thumb to her sex, grazing it over the wisp of fabric there. Her clit throbbed and cried out for more and she arched and moaned, letting herself go.
"That's it, girl, it's supposed to feel good," Bronx said as his thumb grazed her again.
God did it ever feel good. The sensation started right where he was eying her like she was a tasty steak and curled around her torso, tingles and fine sensations raising on her back, her ass, her breasts.
He curled his arms around her thighs and pulled her down, then lifted his head and licked her right through the lace. Eme cried out as an orgasm slammed into her at the same time as Bronx latched onto her sex like it was a breast and suckled her through the fabric. The sensation drove her waves higher, like nothing she'd ever felt in her life. Her arms floated up to her face and she held onto her head as a low keening noise came out of her throat. The cloud of pleasure so sharp she almost couldn't handle it finally subsided, forcing her forward where her arms caught the sink, holding on so she didn't collapse.
Bronx released his hold on her and she looked at him between her upper arms. "That was too soon," she panted. "I didn't want to come yet, I wanted to know what it felt like."
Bronx stroked her inner thigh, his eyebrows coming together. "What what felt like?"
"Your tongue. On my—on me."
"You've never had that done before?"
Eme swallowed hard, not sure how to answer that. With the truth seemed to be the only option. "Ah, no. I've only had one...one man and he didn't do that."
Bronx's face went stone hard and she wasn't sure what part of what she had said had prompted it, then he spoke, his voice rough. "What in the hell was wrong with him?"
Eme laughed weakly. Wasn't that the question of the decade. "He, ah, he didn't care about my pleasure much." Yeah, try at all.
Bronx pulled out from underneath her, sitting up, his back against her kitchen cabinets, making her slide down to his lap. She could feel his erection against her ass and it soothed her, let her know she hadn't ruined the moment. He held her face in his hands. "Then he was the biggest idiot on the planet and had no business being with you, or any woman."
Eme sighed. Wasn't that the truth.
Bronx leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "Who was he?" he asked softly.
Alarm bells went off in Eme's head. How to answer that question? She couldn't. They couldn't go there. Her mind supplied the only thing she thought might distract Bronx completely. "I don't want to talk about him. I'm still wondering what your tongue would feel like on my skin."
Bronx groaned and took her mouth, showing her what his tongue felt like on her lips. He braced a hand behind them and stood up with her held firmly in his arms. Still kissing her, he carried her into the bedroom and bent to place her gently on the bed. He knelt on the bed with one knee and hooked a finger under her panties, watching her. Eme stared back at him for a long moment until she realized he was waiting for her permission. She nodded once and he stripped the fabric off slowly, like the act itself was part of the dance they were involved in. She lifted her lower legs and he slid the article of clothing off, then dropped it with the rest of their clothes. His hands found her knees as she dropped her lower legs and he gently pushed the knees apart. He nodded at her. "Scooch up on the bed a bit. We're going to do this right."
Eme did as he asked, pulling herself with her elbows, unable to look away from him. He was gorgeous in the dim light, like a marble statue carved just to please a woman's eye, his hair and eyes dark, his muscles standing out in relief. Her eyes dropped lower to his cock and she smiled when she saw it looked just as amazing as the rest of him. Long, thick, standing straight up and out like it was proud to be of use.
When she stopped on her pillow, he zeroed in on her sex and stretched out on the bed between her legs. He kissed her mound and the smattering of light curls there, then kissed up and down the creases where her thighs met her body. Eme felt her arousal spike like she hadn't just had the strongest orgasm of her life, like maybe she hadn't come in years. But that couldn't be true. She could smell sex in the very air of the room, surrounding them.
Eme closed her eyes and let the sensations overtake her. She strained her hips up, letting him know she was ready. She wanted him. Still he took his time, shifting his weight so he could run his fingers up her right thigh, then her left, as he continued to kiss her softly.
When she thought she might scream, she felt his fingers go to her and part her gently. Then it came. His tongue. Bulls-eye, right where she most wanted it. Her back arched and her breath left her in a hiss, the sensation so exquisite she wanted to memorize it, but knew instinctively it was something that couldn't be caught or remembered fully. It was heaven in a stroke and she was lost in it.
He lapped at her, circling her clit, then hitting it head on, then skittering away to her other sensitive parts, then dragging the flat of his tongue against it from underneath. God she thought she might die of the pleasure. Her hands grasped the sheets below her. If she had to go, this was the way she wanted it to happen, so if she made it to Heaven she wouldn't even know the difference.
She felt her orgasm build and she tried to hold it off, not wanting the pleasure to end, wanting it only to go on and on with his mouth on her, but she had no chance, no choice. It hit her from the side and took her places she'd never even dreamed of and she actually opened her mouth and screamed with the pleasure.
The pounding of the orgasm finally released her and she collapsed on the bed, clapping her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock at how loud she had been. She glanced around and wondered if the neighbors were going to come pound on her door, or maybe call the police! Like she was being hurt in there.
Bronx pushed himself up on his knees and wiped his mouth, his eyes on her, his smile of satisfaction so big she had to laugh.
"So, how did it feel?" he asked.
She shrugged. "It was ok," she answered even as she could feel the blush hit her cheeks. His smile told her he knew exactly how it had felt.
His hands caressed her belly and her thighs, like after all of that, he still couldn't keep his hands off of her. She glanced down and saw his cock was hard as ever, still proud and ready.
He tried to fake pout, but his smile resurfaced too quickly for it to be effective. "I don't know if my ego can take just ok."
She loved teasi
ng him, but she loved how comfortable he was talking to her about sex even more, so she decided to give him a little something. "Tell your ego it can be proud, because that was phenomenal. The best of my life."
Not that that last part was saying much. She'd never had an orgasm with anyone but herself her entire life.
Chapter 31
Bronx
Bronx watched her smile underneath him in what he imagined was the moonlight, even as he knew it was the glow from a streetlight outside her bay window, but moonlight was so much more romantic. And shit he felt romantic right about now. He felt like ripping open his chest and handing his heart to her for her care and safekeeping, but since that wasn't physically possible, he would settle for giving her sweet words and soft kisses and more screaming orgasms. Many more.
God, he'd never heard a woman scream like that before. He'd had moaners, women who didn't do much of anything, and women who got loud, but nothing like that primal scream that had ripped from her throat, like maybe she was being murdered instead of pleasured. He'd known which one was actually happening though and the sound had gone straight to his cock, making it jump and thrum and beg to get in on the action.
He draped his body over hers, holding himself up on his hands and kissed her flushed lips, then worked his way to her neck, nudging her emerald out of the way so he could access the flesh below freely. He wanted to do this all night, and totally right. He wanted to make her forget that other man existed—forget any other man existed.
She moved under him and brought her hands up to his sides, running her fingers down to his ass. He murmured his approval and kissed from her jaw to her collarbone, feeling a tight line of raised flesh as he went. He stopped for a moment and looked at what he had felt. That scar he had noticed weeks ago, while her hair was up. He kissed her collarbone lightly. "What's the scar from?" he murmured. "What happened?"
He felt the tension shoot into her body and he stopped what he was doing to look at her face. She looked terrified, her lips tight, her brows high, little sips of breath shooting out of her flared nostrils. She looked away from him as if she were thinking, or seeking out the answer somewhere else, then he saw her force herself to relax. Saw the change come over her, but it was only superficial.
