by Lora Leigh
Her arms curved around his neck, and he set out to mark his territory. The primal need to possess had him by the balls now, and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to release him anytime soon.
As his hand flattened beneath her shirt on the bare flesh of her stomach, a moan slipped past Emerson’s lips into the kiss he was stealing from her soul. Calloused and warm, the tips of his fingers stroking her flesh had her nerve endings howling in pleasure.
They strained together, hips arching, bearing down, the thick length of his cock pressed against her saturated core as her hands curved around his back, her nails digging into the material of his shirt.
It wasn’t enough, she needed to touch his flesh, needed to feel it against her. She tore at the cloth, tugging it upward to his shoulders, revealing the tough skin and hard muscles of his back. Pleasure whipped through her palms as she stroked his flesh and felt him tense tighter against her.
“Get naked,” he growled, tearing his lips from hers, lifting just enough to jerk his shirt from his body, then her shirt followed. A dark, almost black patch of chest hair arrowed along his hard abs and into the band of his jeans.
Her hands tore at the belt cinching his waist, pulling it free as his hands worked on the metal snap and zipper.
She tugged at the material, pulling it over his hips with one hand as she parted the front edges, pulled the snug boxer briefs from the thick length of flesh it covered and felt her mouth go dry.
His cock was so hard and the skin stretched so tight it appeared painful. Heavy veins throbbed in hungry demand and the wide, dark crest pulsed with a heartbeat all its own, pushing a silky pearlescent bead of pre-cum from the narrow slit.
“Oh God, Macey,” she whispered, desperation coloring her voice as she held the heavy flesh, stroking it, her pussy clenching at the thought of accommodating it.
She lifted her eyes along his tight abs, his heaving chest, to meet his dark eyes. He watched her as well, his expression tight, honed with hungry lust as she stroked the length of his erection.
“I want to taste you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
“For God’s sake, hurry,” he groaned. “If I don’t touch you, taste more of you, it might kill me.”
She wanted to smile at that. Had any man ever been so desperate to touch her? She knew there hadn’t been.
She sat up on the couch, her legs between his spread thighs. She lowered her head, the fingers of both hands curling around the heavy shaft as she licked the little bead of creamy liquid from the head of his cock.
The savage groan that tore from his throat shocked her, excited her. Hands slid into her hair roughly, bunching it and clenching in the strands.
Fiery bursts of heat spread through her scalp. Her mouth opened, covered the swollen head, and sucked it in. She gloried in the strangled curse that fell from his lips. Her tongue swiped over the tight flesh, curled around it and rubbed the underside, that sensitive little area just beneath the head.
“Emerson, darlin’.” His voice was rough, thick and heavy with pleasure.
He was close to the edge. She could tell by the tight length of his cock, the throb of blood beneath the flesh. The fingers of one hand cupped his balls, feeling the taut sac ripple beneath her touch.
She sucked at him firmly, finding more pleasure in the act than she ever had before. He tasted male, clean and strong, vibrant and aroused. The taste could become addictive.
As she sucked, her gaze lifted to his again. A moan caught in her chest as his eyes met hers. His lips, so sensually curved, were parted, his strong, white teeth clenched tight.
“So beautiful,” he groaned hoarsely. “Keep looking at me, Em. God, your eyes are beautiful. Your face. So beautiful. Your mouth so hot, so sweet.”
Her mouth was filled with his flesh, with the taste of him, the heat of him.
“Do you know what you do to me, watching me like that? Sucking my dick and staring at me as though you were starving for the taste of me?”
She felt her face flush, watching the satisfaction that filled his eyes.
“Such a pretty blush. Such a wicked little mouth.”
He was fucking that mouth with slow, easy strokes. He wasn’t digging in or trying to ram it down her throat. He wasn’t in a hurry to release. He was letting her enjoy, letting her taste, stroke.
Pleasure. It was in her eyes. She was drowning in her own pleasure right now, finding joy in touching him, even knowing she might not know the same consideration.
* * *
LOVE HER HEART, HE was going to eat her alive. He was going to have her screaming in orgasm, have her begging to be fucked, to be taken, possessed before the night was over. He’d take that look out of her eyes once and for all.
He watched the head of his cock disappear into her mouth once more, bit back a curse as her mouth surrounded it, her tongue stroked it, and she sucked at it with heated hunger. Her moan was another caress, dark, rippling over the sensitive flesh and drawing his balls tighter with the need to come.
That wasn’t happening. Not yet. Not nearly. First, he’d devour that sweet, sexy little body, those lush, luscious breasts. Oh yeah, he was going to gorge himself on the taste of her breasts and her sweet cherry-red nipples.
“Enough, baby.” He moved to draw back.
Panic flared in her eyes; her fingers tightened on the shaft of his dick and had him grimacing with the pleasure-pain of it.
“Come here, Em.” He reached down, loosened her hands and pressed her back to the couch. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want to touch you. Don’t you know how much I need to do that? Just a few minutes, that’s all.”
Just for the rest of his fucking life. God, the look in her eyes was killing him. Hope mixed with fear. Not the fear of physical pain, but the fear of loss. He knew that fear himself, knew how it hurt to wake up and realize that love had just been a fantasy.
Long ago, far away, when youth thought it was wise and all-knowing.
He knew better now. He knew the risk he was taking, the rewards and the possible consequences, just as he knew that he would always regret letting her slip out of his grasp if he didn’t try to find her heart.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, Em?” He leaned forward, his lips feathering over hers as he touched the firm, rounded globes he dreamed about.
And he was lost. Simply lost. Oh, hell yes. Clearly more than a handful, topped with cherry-red, spike-hard little nipples and covered with a sprinkling of freckles.
“Damn, Em. You have paradise right here.” He cupped the generous mounds, his thumbs flicking over the tight nipples. When an involuntary moan left her lips, he swore the sound went straight to his cock, wrapped around it and stroked.
SEVEN
EMERSON WATCHED IN A daze as Macey’s head lowered, his tongue peeking out to curl around her hard nipple. She swore she nearly orgasmed the moment it touched her.
Her hips jerked against his, rubbing the hard wedge of his cock against her core as one of his hands caught her wrists and held them over her head.
“Easy, baby,” he groaned as she writhed beneath him. “Let me have you, Emerson. Just like this.”
Their moans mingled as he drew her into his mouth and sucked, devoured. His teeth scraped, his tongue lashed, and heated, fiery whips of sensation wrapped around her clit. The tiny bud became more swollen, more sensitive, throbbed and threatened to explode in orgasm.
“Macey, I can’t stand …” A desperate cry left her throat as the suckling changed, became slower, firmer, his tongue licking her nipple with relish rather than desperation.
She needed to hold back, but he wouldn’t give her the chance.
And it was more destructive. So destructive that she was only barely aware of his free hand pushing at his jeans, removing them, then pulling the sweatpants from her hips and pushing them down her thighs before she kicked them from her legs.
She didn’t care. She knew what was coming, knew and ached for it.
“You make me craz
y,” he groaned, releasing her wrists to cup her breasts, to kiss each nipple and suck it into his mouth in turn until the sensations were ripping through her body, the heat building in her womb and threatening to explode.
“Oh God. Macey. More. More.” She forced her eyes open, to stare into the near black of his. His cock pressed against the folds of flesh between her thighs and throbbed against her clit.
“Not yet,” he groaned. “Not yet, baby. Let me feel this. Let’s see how good it can feel.”
“I can’t stand more,” she protested weakly. She could feel her wetness coating his erection as she tried to move against him, to force him to finish it before he chained her body to his forever.
“God, you taste sweet,” he muttered, his lips leaving her breasts, stroking down her stomach, parting her thighs. She watched as he lowered his head to the damp curls between her thighs. “Do you taste sweeter here?”
He didn’t give her time to protest. Confident, hungry, his lips lowered to her clit, his tongue stroked it, and his groan, when it vibrated against her flesh, sent her senses reeling.
Her thighs fell further open, her hips lifted to him, and Emerson knew nothing had ever felt so good. He knew his way around a woman’s body. Knew where to lick, where to stroke, how to flick his tongue against her narrow opening. How to make her scream and make her beg for him to take her.
She saw a smile flash across his face, sexy, certain, before his lips covered her clit and he sucked it with slow, torturous draws of his mouth as his tongue flickered around it. Never in the right spot long enough, just enough to tease, to torment, to cause her to writhe and to plead but never enough to throw her over the edge.
“Macey, it’s too much,” she cried out, her fingers twining in his hair, holding him to her flesh rather than pulling him away as she should have been. “I can’t stand it.”
“Not enough,” he growled before he licked. “So sweet and hot, Emerson. I need more of you.”
“Please,” she panted. “I need you now. I can’t wait.”
“Just a few more minutes, baby,” he crooned before licking lower.
His hands cupped her ass, lifted her, and a low, ragged cry filled the air as he buried his tongue in her pussy.
Emerson felt herself unraveling. Everything she had held safe inside her came loose and streamed toward him. She had managed to keep her heart sheltered through the flirty confrontations that were more a result of sexual tension than actual enmity. But this, she couldn’t hold herself distant from this, from a pleasure that unlocked every shield she had placed around her emotions.
As his tongue thrust inside her, his groan vibrating against hidden tissue, she felt the explosion building inside her tighten further.
She couldn’t fight it. She arched to him, begging, pleading, pulling at his hair until he loosened her hands and eased them up to her breasts.
“Touch them for me,” he whispered as he lifted himself between her thighs and curled her fingers around her breasts. “Pleasure them for me, Emerson. Let me watch while I take you.”
She cupped the heavy flesh, her fingers stroking over her nipples as Macey quickly tore at the foil wrapper of the condom he had pulled from his jeans.
Sheathed, his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as he nudged the broad head of his cock against the slick entrance to her pussy.
“Don’t stop, baby, let me watch you play with your pretty breasts while I take you.”
The hard crest wedged inside her, stretching her, sending rivulets of burning pleasure radiating from the slight penetration.
“Ah, that’s a good girl,” he whispered, his voice heavy, his breathing as labored as her own. “So pretty, Em. So damned pretty.”
So erotic. Emerson stared back at him, working her nipples with her fingers, feeling the alternating sensations building inside her, burning through her nerve endings.
It was sexy, it was wicked, tempting him even as he worked the thick length of his erection inside her.
“Macey. It’s so good.” Her eyes closed, her fingers tightened on her nipples. It was too good, too intense, too much pleasure.
“So sweet.” His voice was rough as he worked himself deeper. “So sweet and tight. Hell, Em. You’re killing me.”
He pressed to the hilt. The head of his erection throbbed inside her, heated and heavy, iron hard, spiking the heat burning beneath her flesh now. She felt her womb clench and ripple. Her clit, pressed solidly against his pelvis, throbbed on the brink of release.
“Macey.” Trembling, she fought for the orgasm just out of reach.
“You make me lose my control,” he breathed out roughly. “God, Em, I want this to be good for you. So damned good for you.”
Shock shattered her. Had anyone ever cared if it was good for her? If she needed to come, or if she felt the same pleasure they did?
“It’s good. So good.” It was better than anything she had ever known.
His eyes narrowed on her then. “Oh baby, it’s about to get so much better.”
She didn’t think it could get better until he began to move. She expected him to take her hard and fast, to rush to the finish line and his own release. But Macey was a sensual demon. She should have known he liked to play, liked to draw the pleasure out. He had a lazy drawl, a patient way of moving, and the sleepy sensuality in his gaze should have warned her.
“Lift your breasts to me, Emerson,” he growled. “Lift those pretty nipples for me.”
She cupped her breasts and offered the hard sensitive points to him, then screamed out her pleasure as his lips surrounded one tight peak.
It wasn’t just the hard, heated suction of his mouth, but the thrusts of his cock, the rasp of his pelvis against her clit. It combined to push her higher, but held her back just enough to keep her locked to earth rather than flying in release.
“Not yet,” he bit out, moving from one nipple to the other. “Not yet, baby. Feel good. Feel so fucking good for me.”
“It’s too much,” she cried, trying to push past that final barrier.
“It’s not enough. Not yet.”
She released her breasts to grab onto his shoulders. The sensations were too much, too violent, too much pleasure. But it didn’t stop him. He cupped them himself, his mouth devouring first one then the other as he began to stroke his cock inside her in a smooth, controlled rhythm.
Each thrust, each draw of his mouth stole another piece of her mind until she was nothing more than a creature of his pleasure. His pleasure, her pleasure. It whipped through her, broke through barriers she hadn’t known she’d erected against him and had her fighting for release, fighting him for her release.
His hoarse chuckle pushed her higher. The slam of his hips as she writhed against him, then his hard hands gripping her hips, his lips latching hungrily to her nipple and his thrusts increasing.
That was what she needed. She lifted to him, her gaze filmy. Ecstasy washed through her veins, built and burned until she was screaming his name, screaming and exploding beneath him in a cataclysm of pleasure that ripped through her body.
She heard his shattered male cry, felt him tense and shudder as her arms tightened around his shoulders and the pleasure burned through her. Like lava. Like white-hot electricity shot straight to her soul.
EIGHT
SHE WAS IN LOVE with him. She may have denied it before the mind-blowing sex, but hours later, curled against him in his bed, exhausted and sated, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Letting him go was going to bite. Watching him walk away, that careless smile on his face, would break her heart.
“This should be over in time for the March-Illison-Beckinmore family reunion.” Amusement laced his voice. “The biggest damned get-together in the state of Georgia. We hold it on Grandpa’s farm further south every year. And every year most of the men walk away with bruises from a fight or two, and the women walk away irritated and grumbling because they fought again. And everyone agrees it’s the best year we’ve
ever had.”
Her head was pillowed on his chest as he spoke, though a frown edged her brow as he spoke of it.
“Sounds like a big family.” She had no idea what a big family constituted. There were no family reunions in her family, no get-togethers outside the occasional dinner with her parents and godfather.
“One of the biggest. Over three hundred last year.” His hand smoothed down her hair, her back. “Tents and RVs crowd the place for a full week, and the main farmhouse is packed with sleeping bags and overnight mattresses. Grandma March swears every year she’s canceling the next one, but come June, she’s the one making the calls and organizing it. The woman is seventy and runs around the place like a woman half her age. She amazes me.”
“Sounds like an organizational nightmare.” She could respect someone’s ability to pull it together, but knew it had to be a pain. She just had no idea why Macey was telling her about it.
“Every morning for a week we pile outside for a dawn breakfast, cooked over every barbecue grill, gas grill, and fire ring on the place. Scrambled eggs, biscuits, gravy, sausage and bacon are heaped on picnic tables and everyone eats like they’re starving. For lunch the tables are piled with sandwich fixin’s and pulled pork barbecue, and for dinner, good God, fresh catfish, steaks, burgers and hot dogs. It’s like a camp for the insane.” But she could hear his love for it in his voice.
She just couldn’t imagine Macey with a family that size. She couldn’t imagine anyone with a family that size.
“How do you keep everyone straight?” she asked, confused. “Over three hundred people? That sounds more like a convention than any kind of reunion.”
“It resembles one sometimes too,” he chuckled. Through it all his hands stroked over her hair, her arms, her back. They were never still, always touching her.
Was it normal for him, she wondered, to want to cuddle after sex? He must be the only guy in existence who did, because it was the first time she had ever experienced it.
Hesitantly, she let the hand that lay on his chest move, to stroke over the silky hairs that grew there and enjoy the feel of them against her palm.
