She knelt with her legs on either side of his. His dick between them. With her eyes fixed on him, she slid both hands over his length.
“Fuck,” he moaned and blindly reached his arm in the direction of his bedside table, pulling the drawer open to find a condom.
Once it was on, he reached for Emerson’s wrists to stop their movement. “My turn,” he said, placing her palms on her thighs.
“Connor,” she gasped as his finger touched her clit.
Gently, Connor eased one finger inside, watching Emerson as she began to rock against him. He added another and, with his other hand, reached for one of her breasts, teasing the nipple.
“Oh, God. Yes,” she cried, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensations he was able to give her.
His dick ached to be inside, a throbbing distraction. Watching Emerson fall apart, watching the way she chased her own orgasm so confidently was erotic, but he was inherently a selfish man. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, teasing her as he placed them into his mouth, sucking on them as he tasted the sweetness of her. “When you come, I want to be in you,” he said gruffly. “Come here.”
Emerson crawled up the bed a little, her knees on either side of his hips. He took hold of his dick, and Emerson slid slowly down on him. “Like this,” she gasped.
Connor rose to meet her, the friction taking his breath away. “Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.” He placed his hands on her ass, encouraging her to rock against him in the same way she had against his finger. Looking down at the point where they merged, him seated deep within her, he watched her swollen lips rub the length of his dick, almost bringing him to his breaking point.
Emerson fell against his chest, her breath coming in sharp erratic breaths as she began to moan. “Yes, yes,” she repeated, her actions becoming more frantic. He could feel her begin to squeeze him, and he could feel his own orgasm build.
She pressed her lips to his, a wild uninhibited look in her eyes. And then she gasped and shuddered against him, losing herself to the sensations. “Connor.”
The feel of her squeezing him tightly was enough to have him thrust against her, deeper and firmer, faster and wetter. Thrust after thrust in pursuit of his own climax. “Fuck, you feel good, Em,” he groaned.
He squeezed her ass, holding her in place while he took everything he wanted from her body, coming in hard jerks that ripped his soul out.
His body continued to shudder for a moment, prolonging the exquisite pleasure that coursed through his veins. Emerson, still breathless, gasped against his shoulder as he tried to control his own breathing. He’d never experienced anything quite like this with anyone else.
This was something unique.
This was something special.
And in a startling moment of clarity, he could imagine them together, permanently.
Connor reached for the sheet and pulled it up over Emerson’s back. Sweat and air conditioning wasn’t always pleasant, and he didn’t want her to get cold. Nor did he want her to leave her comfortable position draped across his body, despite the fact he would have to deal with the condom in a minute or two.
Emerson lifted slightly, her weight on one arm. “I need to be honest,” she said quietly, almost shyly. “I think I might be falling for you, Connor.”
Connor pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and allowed his finger to trail her cheeks. Flushed from their lovemaking, she looked sated and less worried than she had been during dinner. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he said, honestly. “I don’t know where this is headed, but it’s more than a casual thing to me.”
Emerson rewarded him with a smile that reached her eyes. “It’s the same for me too. I’m past the point of playing games and wondering if I should text you or not. We’re exclusive now, right?”
“Damn straight, I don’t like to share.” Connor kissed her, but a kernel of worry filtered through the otherwise perfect moment. What kind of games would his father think he was playing?
He couldn’t keep Emerson a secret, not when they had just declared this was something more than a casual hookup.
But for the foreseeable future, he couldn’t let him know, either.
Chapter Seven
“Liv, Jake,” Emerson called out, kicking off her shoes as she set her purse on the old wooden bench in their father’s hallway.
“In the kitchen,” Olivia replied.
The sweet scent of apples and cinnamon greeted Emerson as she entered the craft kitchen made from pine that had taken on a yellow glow. Anxiety-baking, as Olivia called it, was her sister’s way of navigating the here and now.
Perhaps I should give it a go. She’d spent the last several days going through her father’s business emails and found no record as to whom the loan her father had taken out had been paid to. There was no paper trail on his company laptop or in the filing cabinets.
“Smells good in here,” Emerson said.
Olivia switched from rinsing dishes in the sink to washing her hands. “Figured the least I could do for you guys is throw together a lasagna and pie.”
“Lasagna? You made my favorite?” Jake said, coming in through the back door, the sleeves of his sweater dirtied with mud. Jake waved his dirty hands near Olivia’s face. She squealed and flicked tap water at him. “Your gutter is now clear, and you’re welcome.”
Emerson grinned at the bickering. “Apple pie’s my favorite. You trying to butter us up for something, Liv?”
Olivia turned to face them. “It’s time to get on with things. With life, work.”
Emerson cast a look toward Jake, who immediately looked concerned. “You don’t need to,” he said. “We’ve got this covered.” He circled the air around
