Page 41

EMORY

A s soon as the word leaves me, my whole body tenses.

Once. I cling to the idea that Aiden and I won’t be good together. We can’t be.

“Guess I better show you how good I can be.”

I shiver at the words as his fingers trail along my waistband. His eyes are dark and heavy lidded, his cheekbones blooming red. “Stop playing,” I tell him. “Make it fast.”

His other hand lands on my ass, cupping and kneading, before he swipes his tongue hotly along my neck. It’s possessive and animalistic and so shocking that I have to bite my lip against the needy sound in my throat.

“Fast,” he murmurs, his voice rolling over me. “Why would I make it fast? I get you once.” He bends that dark head, then there’s another flick of his tongue along the edge of my bra and fingers creeping under the waistband of my pants. “Help me get these off, gorgeous.”

His voice strokes over me the way his fingers are.

“None of that,” I say. He stills. “No pet names,” I clarify. My pulse is already pounding. I can’t do tenderness. I don’t want hearts involved.

He hums in his throat. “Of course not.”

When he lifts his head, his pupils are blown wide, need written over his face. His erection tents his thin workout pants.

“So we’re agreed? Nothing sweet.”

He carefully watches my face, and for a second I think he’ll argue, or press. I can’t bear for him to press. This is how I do it with the guys I bring home. Kissing kept to a minimum, short, preferably not face to face.

There’s something soft on his face as his palm sweeps over my stomach, pushing up my shirt. “I would never be sweet to you,” he finally says.

“Good,” I growl.

His fingers dance over my skin. His thumb pushes my shirt higher and I wriggle to help him. “What do I get if I win?”

My gaze lifts to his, dragging from where I watch his hand play over my skin.

A smile curls his mouth.

“Win?” I can’t help smiling back. Bubbles fill my blood. To play with this man, just once, that’s a gift.

His eyes gleam. “I made you a promise in the library. Four orgasms.” His thumb inches higher, making my breath hitch.

“And what do I get if I win?”

He gives me a dirty look. “You still get a lot of orgasms.” His thighs tighten around me, reminding me how much bigger and stronger he is, how he lets me control this simply because he’s that kind of man.

I like feeling small under him. I stretch, enjoying the way his hand spans my stomach, the way his eyes go hot.

His hand cups my jaw, his thumb tracing my chin, then my lips. His eyes follow the motion, and I wonder if he’ll kiss me and break the rules. Kissing is too sweet. Too honest. “I should make you beg,” he says darkly.

“You first,” I whisper, not knowing where the words come from but knowing they will fire him up.

He shudders and cups my breast. I arch under him.

He bends, mouth to my collarbone, teeth scraping, a predator at my throat but one who seems to like me.

“Here’s the thing.” He bites at the top of my breast and I whimper.

He makes a pleased sound. “To have you even once—” A swirl of his tongue over my nipple that makes me gasp and arch. “I’d beg as much as you want me to.”

“Do it,” I whisper, my heart thudding, wondering how far he’ll go, loving how it’s a competition with him always, even now.

He lowers himself to settle over me, pressing me to the mat with the delicious weight of him, crushing the breath from me just enough to remind me of his power, his strength.

His erection is hot and hard against my stomach, and I remember how thick he was in his hand the other day.

A shudder rolls through me. My hands go to his shoulders, admiring the weight, how round they are, how they flex as his mouth goes to my skin again.

“Please,” he murmurs. His gaze lifts to mine, all focus and intensity. “Let me taste you.”

My stomach shivers, but I nod jerkily, all of a sudden feeling out of my depth and so hot with need that I’m going to come out of my skin.

He tugs my nipple between his teeth and I cry out, little sparks zipping from the contact.

I dig my hands into his shoulders, then his hair, arching under him as he sucks and licks and bites and then lets me go with a pop.

“Again,” he breathes. “Oh fuck, I need that again.” His eyes are heavy lidded as he plays with my other nipple until I’m writhing and forcing myself not to beg him.

“Scale of one to ten.” He blows a stream of air onto my nipple and I whimper. I’m so sensitive and so turned on and how did I ever think I could make him beg? I’m putty in his hands. “How much did you like that?”

“Eight,” I pant. “More if you were inside me.”

He chuckles and licks my stomach, nipping, ignoring my hands that claw at his shirt and the helpless sounds that fall from my throat.

“Hips up.”

I let him strip off my pants until I’m in just the red lace underwear.

He makes a strangled sound. “Red,” he groans.

I nearly ask, but words flee when he slides his tongue under the edge of the lace. “You wax,” he says, sounding surprised.

My face heats.

“I—” A curl of his tongue along the inside, still far from where I need him.

A humming sound in his throat. “Yeah, I like it.” I’m barely breathing as I wait for more, my fingers curling into my hands.

I can feel myself getting wetter while he teases, tongue stroking lightly.

He slips it deeper, hitting my clit, making my thighs tremble. Not enough.

“Aiden,” I pant.

“You begging?” His words are muffled.

I growl, and he laughs against my skin. He shoves my panties aside, and his mouth lands on my clit. He sucks, hard enough to make me scream into the silence of the gym. My back arches, his forearms slide under my ass, and he licks me while I writhe.

I am nothing but animal need while he savors me. He explores, pushing me against his mouth, trying his teeth, then his tongue, the flat at my entrance, then the tip over my clit, again and again. I’m trembling when he pushes it inside, our mingled groans echoing in the silence.

“No one has ever—” I gasp as he curls it, our eyes meeting over my body, his hot and intent.

I can see the wicked gleam as he holds my gaze and curls it again.

I whimper, a feral sound I don’t think I’ve ever made during sex before.

It’s him, damn him. I hate that he’s the best, but of course he fucking is.

Of course he focuses on me like I’m an assignment he’s determined to ace, one large hand on my stomach, the other pressing me against his mouth. He fucks me with his tongue and my body arches off the floor, my pulse beating heavy between my legs.

The orgasm rises faster than I thought possible, a hot spiral in my stomach that explodes as he tongues me.

He makes a pleased sound as I shake.

“Count,” he says.

I’m limp, but I open my eyes to see him giving me an arrogant smirk, lips wet, eyes gleaming.

“What?”

“You said we’d be bad in bed together.” A slow smile spreads over his face. “I want you to count .”