Page 77 of On the Way to You

But then Emery inhaled a long breath, the air filling his lungs before it touched my lips with his exhale, and he slowed. His fingers worked in a smoother rhythm, his kisses longer and softer. The crease of his brows told me he was fighting against the urge to go faster, harder, and when his touch turned more gentle, I sighed into his mouth.

Being touched by Emery was my new favorite state of being. When his hands were on my thighs, when his lips were on my neck, when his eyes were on my body like figure skaters, looping and gliding from top to bottom, inch over inch. It was an excavation, a slow and purposeful discovery, each and every time.

Slowly and carefully, Emery withdrew his fingers, my body shaking violently at the loss of heat as he picked me up again, carrying me across our room with his mouth fused to mine. My back hit the bed, the cool comforter puffing up around me as he dropped his hands on either side of my head. The longing in his eyes as he stared down at me, admiring for a moment before he lowered his mouth to mine again, it was enough to undo me. It was enough to make me wish to stay in that moment, in that room with him, forever.

He pushed back to standing long enough to make quick work of his own robe, the white fabric falling to the floor at his feet as I traced the lines of his abdomen. Emery was so hard, every inch of him, from the lines on his forehead to the muscles of his thighs. Lean and toned, strong and tall — he was all man.

His eyes were hot on mine as he knelt, kissing his way down my flat stomach. A soft shudder of a breath left my lips and my eyes fluttered closed at the contact, at the feel of his wet lips on my skin. He dragged his tongue up the inside of my thigh, tugging me forward off the edge of the bed just enough for him to maneuver his way under me, and then his mouth was where I ached for him most.

I moaned, hands gripping the comforter as he ran his tongue flat over me before sucking my bud. He gripped my thighs in both hands, spreading me wide as he buried his face in me, and it was all I could do to just keep breathing. I should have felt embarrassed, exposed for him like that, my most sensitive and private parts of my body on full display in ways never seen before. But I only felt desired. I only felt wanted in a way a goddess is wanted by a man, the way freedom is wanted by a prisoner, the way rain is wanted by a drought-ridden crop.

My legs shook on either side of his face, trembling at his touch, and just when my orgasm started to build, Emery pulled back, the sensation leaving me in a rush as every tensed muscle released at once.

“Oh, God,” I breathed, shaking at the loss, and Emery smirked as he towered over me again. Bending forward, he snaked one arm under the arch in my back, lifting and moving me back up the bed until my head hit the pillows and his weight settled between my thighs. For a long moment he watched me again, his hands in my hair, eyes searching mine.

“I don’t deserve to touch you like this,” he whispered, fingers brushing my hair behind one ear.

It broke me, the way his face cracked under the weight of his words, the words he believed to be true. But I knew they weren’t. I knew he was meant to touch me, that he was theonlyone who had ever deserved to. So I leaned up, telling him with a kiss that he was wrong, assuring him with a roll of my hips that I wanted him, too — perhaps even more than he wanted me.

He reached forward for his wallet on the nightstand, never breaking our kiss, and then there was a faint rip of the condom wrapper and a pressure at my center. His hands moved from my hair to my shoulders, fingers curling around them, his biceps encompassing me as he flexed forward.

And then we both sighed, our foreheads pressed together, breaths meeting between us in a current of longing.

He filled me completely, my thighs squeezing his hips at the sensation as he withdrew and rocked forward again. It was as new as the first time, as foreign and exciting and overwhelming. Electricity filled me from the inside out, buzzing my nervous system to life, igniting the air around us with a shock. When he picked up speed, finding a rhythm, I felt the fire catching where his body rolled against mine with each thrust.

“Yes,” I breathed as he pulled back, the whole of him sliding out until just the tip was left before he rolled forward again. “More.”

“If I give you any more, you’ll break,” he panted, kissing my collarbone, his hands still curled under my shoulders. He pulled me down, his own hips rocking forward again, the flex filling me deeper.

But I wanted more.

Pressing my hands into his chest, I leaned and rolled until he submitted to me, taking my place on the bed as I straddled him. Emery’s eyes widened when I sat upright, his hands falling to rest where my thighs and hips met in a crease. His hard body was beneath me then, sprawled out against the white sheets, and I bent down to kiss him before I used one hand to slide him back inside me.

We both moaned with the new position, and though I knew my bad leg would make it a little challenging, I wanted this — I wanted to bring him the pleasure he was bringing me. I moved slow, adjusting to the new way he filled me, and when I finally slid all the way down, Emery squeezed his eyes shut on a curse.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, sitting there for a moment before lifting again. “It’s so… you’re so deep this way.” I whimpered when I slid over him again, the way he hit me inside like never before, a depth I’d never experienced.

“Fuck,” Emery groaned, flexing his hips into me. “I love when you talk like that. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Everything,” I sighed, thighs burning a little as I moved over him. “I feel everything.”

Emery’s hands fell to the bed, letting me take control, and I threaded my fingers with his on either side of us before moving them to my hips again. He held my slight frame in his hands, less shaky than the first night he touched me, and I bent to whisper against his lips.

“Help me ride you.”

He growled, the sound low and throaty as I pushed up off the bed, sitting all the way down on him. His grip tightened, and with the help of his hands, I lifted until only the tip of him was still inside me before sliding down again. With his help, I could move faster, his hips thrusting forward to hit deeper, and my orgasm built with the speed of a Ferrari flying down an unmarked highway.

“Cooper,” Emery husked, and I peered at him through heavy lids. “I want you to touch yourself.”

His eyes fell to my chest, and I hesitantly pulled my hands from where they gripped his wrists, fingertips gliding up my rib cage. When I paused, unsure, Emery tightened his grip on my hips and pulled me down again, hips flexing.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Chills broke over my skin as I obeyed, and when my fingers rolled my nipples between them, that same electricity I’d felt buzz to life earlier shocked my system. Every nerve awakened, and I moaned out his name, a prayer answered before I’d even known to ask.

Emery sat upright, moving until his back was against the headboard and our chests were pressed together again. His mouth found mine in a frenzy, his hands still helping me ride him, our bodies connected at every point from hip to lips. He rocked into me slow and steady, a new friction building between us, and I moaned into his mouth with every new thrust.

That night, Emery didn’t kiss me like we had forever. He kissed me like it was our last night on Earth, like he had mere moments to fill me, to touch me, to take all he could before we both faded into nonexistence. His teeth sank into my bottom lip, his hands moving to cup my ass as he lifted me to his tip, sliding me back down slowly, every centimeter stretching me more. Then again, faster, harder, his teeth releasing my lip as he moved to kiss my shoulder, the swell of my breast, the hollow point of my throat.