with us, I can lose control and set her free right along with me.
“You’d better quit your backtalk, or I’ll have to stuff that mouth with something so you’re not able to sass me.” The dark promise brings sexy sparkles to both of our eyes, and Emma grins.
Emma shoves her leggings down and off, and once naked, she climbs off the bed. Lowering to her knees and sitting back on her heels, she looks up at me. “Promise?”
Gripping her hair, I tilt her head back, and she waits with her mouth open while I undo my pants and take my cock out with my other hand. Her tongue is dancing behind her lips, desperate for a taste of my cock.
I trace the shape of her lips with my head, leaving a shiny smear of pre-cum. But I don’t let her lick her lips for the treat, instead shoving my thickness into her waiting mouth until my balls rest on her chin. She gags slightly, and I pull back just enough to let her breathe.
“You’re mine, kitty. And I’m yours.”
I hold her there for a moment, and Emma looks up at me, her eyes bright and her lips lifted in a hint of a smile as they stretch around me.
I thrust into her hot mouth as she sucks me down like a fucking vacuum cleaner, and all too soon, I’m on the edge. But I won’t come until she’s totally wrung out, every pleasure possible twisted through her body until she breaks and I shatter along with her.
Instead, I grab under her arms, hauling her up and placing her on the bed. “Face down, ass up.” And though she hurries to get into position, I slap her ass hard, loving the way my pink handprint shines on her skin.
“Get inside me,” she orders, adding a new side to our ‘game.’ And though I shouldn’t give her what she wants, should tease her to the edge again and again just to prolong this for both of us, I can’t right now.
She’s right. We’re a team now, and I need to give in, let all the emotions and mental games be washed away in pleasure and her body.
And in our love.
So I slam into her, stretching her tight pussy as her slickness tries to ease my way. She cries out, and in her, I am lost once again.
Not Nathan Stone. Not Michael Stone’s son. Not the man asking a son to kill his father. Not a monster of his own making. Just simply me. The me I am with her. The me I want to be.
And her, the beautifully imperfect, quirky, brave woman who wants me.
Us.
Chapter 47
Emma
“Are you sure about this? Like really sure-sure?” Claire asks for the millionth time. Actually, I think we’ve moved into billions now. Yeah, for the billionth time.
Just like every other time, I pause my packing and give her my full attention. “I’m sure, certain, and positive. If you want more than that, you’ll have to unpack that box and get my thesaurus back out. I love him.”
“What about your plans? Your dreams? The play?” she asks, trying a different tack. She’s already blown through arguments that Nathan is a bad guy again, even though she helped him when push came to shove. And then she’d played on his being a spoiled rich boy, also not true, and that he was trying to boss me around.
She stopped that one real fast when I’d saucily told her that I liked it like that and maybe she should try letting someone boss her around for a change.
Now it seems we’re moving away from Nathan and into the dissection of me portion of the evening.
“I blew it on the play front by leaving,” I admit, but I honestly don’t care. “I’m just glad they got the original actress to come back on such short notice and she got rave reviews. I definitely torched that bridge, but I wouldn’t change what I did. And it worked out in the end.”
I can’t believe I’m actually saying that, much less feeling it, but it’s the truth. I was over the moon with the opportunity, but I’m glad I spontaneously flew to Brazil to help Nathan.
“So, what’s next for you?” Claire asks, her voice slightly defeated.
“Now I’m going to keep working for Professor Ford, and I’ve decided to go back to graduate school.” Excitement coats the statement, but Claire balks.
“What? Back to school?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get my master’s at NYU . . . at