by Kendall Ryan
His fingers slide over my covered crotch, caressing up and down, making it hard for me to think. “Orgasms release endorphins and soothe menstrual cramps. It’s scientifically proven.”
“Oh, so y-you’re a gynecologist now?” My attempt at snark is undermined by the way his skilled teasing makes my voice shake. Damn, he hasn’t even touched my clit directly yet, but it’s already starting to ache.
“I dabble.” He licks the shell of my ear, making me shudder.
“But . . .” I sigh.
He presses me back against the wall, sandwiching me between its cool surface and his heat. “Let me make you feel better.”
I give in and roll my hips into his touch.
With a pleased sound in my ear, he slides his hand down into my panties. His fingers feel cool on my overheated flesh. I scoot my feet apart to give him more room to work—and oh, work he does. His fingers rub circles into my swollen bud as he kisses and nips a sensitive spot on my neck, sending tingles down my spine. I don’t care that we shouldn’t anymore. I’m drunk and horny, I want pleasure, I want Emmett.
“You like it?” His voice has turned low and rough.
“Mmm,” I murmur, panting. “Yes.”
I can’t hold back my whimpers. I bury my face in his broad shoulder and spread my legs wider for his exploring hand. My knees threaten to buckle, but I know he won’t let me fall. Ecstasy rolls through me and I bite down on the crook of his neck, muffling my cries. Emmett sucks in his breath and his steely erection nudges my stomach.
I come in a dizzying rush of endorphins that really do make me feel better—from head to toe.
When my trembling subsides, he presses a soft, almost tender kiss to my lips. “I’ll knock you up next month, I promise,” he says softly. “But for now . . . it’s time to get you to bed.”
His warm arm around my lower back steadies me as I toe off my shoes, and I realize I’m not depressed about getting my period anymore. In fact, I’m excited about what the next month holds—an open buffet of Emmett.
Chapter Twelve
Emmett
Late at night, I toss and turn, restless and horny. What I usually do in these situations is jack off, but breaking my promise to Jenna isn’t an option. I have to keep my hands off my dick, no matter how hard things get . . . pun very much intended.
I roll over to grab my phone from the nightstand, check my calendar, and suppress a groan of impatient despair. It’s only been a week since her period . . . it’ll be at least that long before she’s due for her next impregnation attempt. And I didn’t get off the last time I saw her either. Which makes it about two weeks since I’ve had any release. I didn’t quite realize how stressed out I would be ignoring my cock.
No way in hell can I wait out that whole time. I need to see Jenna ahead of schedule. But calling her at this hour is out of the question—I’d just wake her up and piss her off. I also shouldn’t bug her while she’s at work tomorrow. I decide to wait until the next evening. Surely, I can make it through just one more measly day at the office, right?
Yeah, about that.
All through the next morning, I struggle to keep my mind on my work. It just keeps sliding off the dry memos and reports and graphs into longing, pornographic thoughts of Jenna. What’s she doing right now? Does she still want me? How long will it be until she calls for me again?
My control frays thin . . . then, around lunchtime, finally snaps. Fuck it. I give up. I can’t take this anymore. I buzz Lisa to tell her to hold all calls and visitors for fifteen minutes, then pull out my phone to call Jenna. I drum my fingers on my desk while it rings and rings.
Finally, she picks up. “Emmett?” she asks, sounding distracted. “What’s going on?”
I guess this is the first time I’ve called her instead of texted, let alone in the middle of the workday, but I did it because I need a response as soon as possible. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen . . . what are you doing tonight?”
“Why?” Skepticism colors her voice.
Casually, I reply, “Just wondering if you’re up for another date night.”
A long pause, during which the already minimal background noise fades completely. She must have retreated to privacy. “This is a booty call?” she asks, now with a trace of what I hope is curiosity, but I think is actually annoyance.
Yep, this conversation clearly isn’t going at all the way I wanted it to. I rub the back of my neck. “Well, I wouldn’t have picked those exact words, but sure.”
“It’s the middle of the day. I’m at work . . . actually, aren’t you too? Why did you booty-call me now?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “Why do you think? Booty calls have a pretty specific purpose.”
“Okay, everybody stop saying booty call. I’m asking because my next ovulation isn’t for a while yet, and assuming you have a calendar, you already knew that. So, not that I’m offended by the offer or anything, but I just can’t figure out why you want to fuck me.”
I almost laugh. Why would I ever not want to fuck her? Wait . . . I have an inkling of what’s going on here. “Did you forget what we talked about the last time I saw you?” She was practically falling over, so she might have been too drunk to remember the details of our conversation.
“Uh . . . maybe?” A rustle in the background, like she’s looking through papers. “Sorry. Can you be more specific?”
I hold back a laugh. Even as organized as Jenna is, this is definitely not the type of thing she would have written down. “When you were drunk, you told me that the only way I was allowed to come anymore was inside you.”
She’s dead silent for a minute. “What?” she finally replies, slow and flustered. “N-no way did I say that.”
“Oh, but I remember it perfectly.” I’m smirking, despite my overwhelming need. I can’t resist the chance to mess with her a little. “You interrogated me about how often I masturbate, and then . . .” I repeat her exact words back to her, low and dirty. “All of your orgasms belong to me. Anytime you need to relieve pressure, you’re only allowed to use my pussy.”
She makes a noise that sounds something like “guh.” I can just picture the pink tint spreading over her cheeks.
I press harder. “I did exactly what you told me, Jenna. I haven’t touched myself since. I can’t wait until you’re ovulating again—I need you so bad it hurts.” I don’t have to fake the note of desperation in my voice.
An audible swallow. “I . . .” She pauses, and it sounds like she’s wavering.
“Please.” I’m half-hard just talking to her, anticipating her answer. Hoping for a yes, and soon.
“I’m free tonight.” Her words rush out. “Come to my place whenever you’re done with work. I’ll be there.”
Thank God. “Absolutely,” I purr, pleased to have seduced her.
I hang up and try to force my attention back to my computer. Now I just have to hold on for the rest of the workday . . .
Shit.
• • •
As soon as five o’clock hits, I jump in my car and rush over to Jenna’s apartment. I hope to Christ I don’t get pulled over for speeding, because I don’t want to explain the huge bulge in my pants to a cop. The need to see Jenna, to touch her and smell her, is overpowering. I’m almost embarrassed at the way my heart races as I knock on her door.
It’s just sex, for God’s sake—it’s not like I’ve never been horny before. But Jenna isn’t just any woman.
Then she opens the door and desire obliterates all other thoughts.
She’s in her bathrobe. Her indecently short bathrobe that just barely covers her ass, leaving her long, shapely legs and creamy cleavage exposed. Her hair curls at the ends in loose, wet tendrils, and her cheeks are pink. I can smell her flowery shampoo.
Freshly showered. There’s nothing I want more than to get her dirty again.
Sweeping her into a breathless kiss, I spin her around and close the door by shoving her ag
“Well, hello to you too.” She chuckles, but her voice dissolves into a moan as I yank the belt of her robe and it falls open, revealing the feast I’ve been starving for. I bite and suck at her neck, her breasts, gradually dropping to my knees as I kiss my way down. God, she’s so warm and soft, and I can’t get enough of the little noises she makes.
“Hi, Jenna.” My mouth trails down her belly, lower.
“I thought this was about you?” Her hands roam through my hair and her eyes are filled with questions.
I stop just before I devour her pussy right then and there. “It’s always going to be about you too . . . and when it’s about you, trust me, that makes me very happy.”
She squirms to shed her robe completely, and it falls to the floor in a heap. “On the couch,” she gasps.
I was ready to devour her right here on the spot. But the couch sounds good too—I can lay her down there. I back off just enough to let her walk past.
She lies back and I kneel between her thighs, shivering when she starts tearing at my zipper. I’m so eager and pent up, I’m already dripping for her. She pulls my cock out and wraps her legs around my back, urging me forward.
“Already? You sure?” I ask.
“Yes.” She moans, rubbing her wet center along the underside of my cock.
I slide in, unable to hold back the groan that rumbles in my throat. She sighs in satisfaction, like she’s been waiting for this too. Has she gotten any release since last time either? I don’t know which is hotter . . . the idea that she controlled herself for me, or the idea that she didn’t.
I start thrusting and grin when I immediately find the angle that turns her mewls to screams. Never let it be said that I’ve lost my touch. Picking up the pace, I pinch and roll her nipples between my fingers, wishing I could crane my head low enough to taste them too.
“Oh fuck, harder,” she moans.
I obey with enthusiasm but it’s been too long; the urge to come is already creeping up on me. My balls start to draw up tight. “Damn,” I pant, “I’m getting close.”
Her legs yank me in even deeper. “It’s okay. Keep going.”
“But if I don’t slow down, I’m gonna . . .”
Her eyes burn into mine. “Remember what I told you. Use me for relief. Just let go and give me everything.”
I refuse to take my pleasure before she’s finished at least once. Fuck that. My cock throbs and I bite my lip, stifling a groan at how tight and hot she feels around me.
But there’s no way I’m finishing before her. Not a chance in hell.
I pull out and immediately drop to my knees to admire the mouthwatering sight of her wet, flushed pussy lips, slick with her arousal. Her swollen nub pokes out of its sheath, begging for me.
“What are you . . . ,” she says, but then I give her neglected clit a long lick. “Oh . . .”
She gasps and her thighs tremble around my head. Yes . . .
I taste her again and again, and when she whimpers, I decide that’s more than enough teasing and dive in in earnest, rapidly moving my tongue against her clit. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer. She bucks hard into the stimulation, twitching up against my grip on her soft hips.
“Emmett . . .” She groans, and her knees suddenly lock and her trembling ramps up into violent quaking. I hold on tight and keep licking while she shudders apart under my hands.
She slumps back on the couch, panting. I climb up beside her for a kiss, hoping she can taste herself on my lips.
“Need to come now,” I growl.
“Yes, inside me.” Jenna pulls me close again. Wrapping her fist around my swollen shaft, she guides me to her still-pulsing core and I sink inside.
This woman is going to kill me—and I’m going to enjoy every second of the fall. I can’t stop.
She’s so tight, so warm, and I’m beyond the point of return. Pumping my hips, I tip helplessly over the edge, spilling pulse after pulse inside her. Her legs hold me close until the last aftershocks fade.
“Damn, that was . . . intense,” she says, breathing hard. “Maybe I should keep you pent-up more often.”
I let out a half laugh, half groan. “Please don’t. These past two weeks have sucked royally.”
I realize that while my statement was true, it’s not just because of the lack of sex. It’s sucked not spending time with Jenna.
“I’m only teasing you, big boy.”
“Evil woman.” I bend close and she opens her mouth to me. We share a slow, lazy kiss.
For a while we just sit there on the couch and bask in the afterglow, our arms and legs tangled together, her head on my shoulder. I realize that my earlier hunger wasn’t only from a lack of orgasms . . . I’ve missed this too. Just being near her.
On impulse, I ask, “Would you be interested in going to my cousin Mike’s wedding with me next week?”
She doesn’t move. Her expression barely changes, but I can feel her close off. “Why?” she asks.
I make a vague noise. “Just a thought. He and Sheila will expect me to bring a date, and I hadn’t planned on it initially, but it sounds better than going alone.”
Jenna sits up, moving away from me. “I can’t be your date to anything because we’re not dating. That wasn’t part of our deal.”
I hold up a hand. “You’re right. We’re not dating. But trust me when I say it won’t be a big deal. My family is used to me bringing a woman around once and only once. They’ll be perfectly nice, but nobody will get attached or ask awkward questions. No interrogations, no weird expectations, only polite small talk. It’ll be like we’re just friends.” Even friendship is slightly dangerous territory, but hopefully Jenna will still be more receptive to that than the alternative.
She sighs with an odd sort of sad skepticism. “I believe you, but still . . .”
“Please? Come hang out with me so I’m not bored out of my fucking mind,” I say in my sweetest tone.
She chews her lip, her gaze downcast, then looks back up at me. “What’s in it for me?”
Good, we’re getting somewhere. I rub my chin in thought. “I’ll . . . give you my slice of wedding cake?”
She snorts with a deadpan expression. “I’m not a college student anymore. It’s been a while since free food was enough to get me to go somewhere I didn’t want to go.”
“Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Miss Porter. How about, I’ll do that thing I did last time that made you scream?” I smirk.
She averts her gaze, her cheeks pink, holding back a smile of her own. “Oh my God, never mention that again. That was embarrassing.”
“It was fucking hot.” I flash a grin.
“Oh, shut your gross, horndog mouth.” She pushes my face away, but she’s also laughing, so I count that as points in my favor. “Fine, fine, you win. I’ll go with you.”
• • •
At the wedding reception the next week, I chill by the open bar, drinking a dry martini and watching Jenna dance a slow, shuffling two-step with Mike’s ancient father. She laughs and her nose crinkles. Hah . . . Uncle Kurt must have told one of his famous so-bad-it’s-good jokes.
My younger brother, Jake, slides up to the rail beside me with a smug look, like he thinks he knows something I don’t. “So, you and Jenna, huh?”
The slight smile I didn’t even know I was wearing slips off. “What about it?”
“Nothing,” he says in a tone that means everything. He turns to the bartender. “Hey, can I get what he’s having? Thanks.”
“Where’s Heather?” I ask. You know, your infant daughter who you should go play with instead of bothering me about Jenna?
“With Nicole, don’t worry.” He takes an infuriatingly nonchalant sip of his martini.
Nearby, my older sister, Aubrey, peels off from her husband and their three young children and walks over with baby Dustin asleep in her arms. She beams at me. “You guys are talking about Jenna? Isn’t she the greatest?”
Narrowing my eyes, I look back and forth between them with the deepest suspicion. “This is a conspiracy, isn’t it? What are you guys plotting?”
Jake raises his palms. “No plotting here.”
“Don’t try to deny it,” I reply. “Just skip to the part where you tell me what you’re up to.”
“We like Jenna. That’s all.” Aubrey sways slightly, rocking her son despite the fact that he’s clearly already dead to the world. “During the ceremony, when Kimberly started throwing a tantrum? Jenna offered to hold Dustin so I could focus on getting her to cool her jets. Usually, he’s scared of new people, but he couldn’t have been happier. Just giggling up a storm, babbling and cooing and reaching out to touch her face . . .”
“I know, Aubrey,” I say as patiently as I can, which isn’t very. “I was sitting right next to you two. I saw the whole thing. And I already knew she loves babies.” It’s sort of the whole reason that we’re doing whatever this is . . . but I certainly don’t tell either of them that. It’s not at all surprising that Jenna is a natural mother. “So, what’s your point?”
Aubrey fixes me with one of her patented what are you, stupid? big-sister looks. “My point is that she’s super sweet.”
“Uh, I agree?” I reply cautiously. Where are they going with all this?
“She’s wicked smart too,” Jake says. “I was just talking to her earlier about small-business taxes. Do you know if she takes any accounting work? We could really use a hand with that down at the store.”
I shrug. “Probably not. She owns her own business, in antiques.”
“Darn. Anyway, we both think you gotta lock this girl down.” Jake raises his eyebrows at me. “She’s the one, dude.”
Are you two shitting me right now? I put down my drink with a sharp clack. “You just met the woman a few hours ago. How the . . .” I glance at the still-sleeping baby whose tousled head lies cradled on Aubrey’s shoulder. “. . . heck do you know anything?”
“Oh, we can tell a good catch when we see one. She’s totally different from the women you usually date. No offense, but your taste has gotten way better, little bro.” Aubrey smirks. “And we’d have to be blind to miss the way you look at her.”
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