Page 85 of Pretty Obsessed

“Dearest…”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Have you?” I had my cock out, stroking over it as I approached and it was painful to take it that slow.

“I almost came a few times.” Emory rutted his hips against the sofa.

“How long have you been back here?” My tone carried amusement.

“Only since you started the last encore song.” His words were carried on a moan, urging me closer.

“And what made you so horny?” I stepped up behind him rubbing my tip against his hole, finding it already lubed. “Emory…”

“Watching you.”

“So you came in here and…?” I asked dipping my tip inside.

“Made sure I was ready for you to use as soon as you finished. I didn’t want to wait for prep and—well—anything.” He grabbed my thigh, digging needy fingers into my flesh.

“That bad?” I gave him more of me, and he rewarded me with moans.

“Yes. So. Very. Bad.” He pressed backward, riding on to me.

“I love watching you take me.” I let him and he pushed back until I was fully sheathed inside him.

"You feel so good. I want you to own me.”

I rocked back and forth, slowly. “What does that mean, Emory.”

“I want to be fucked. Hard. I don’t want to be able to think of anything but you inside me. Fully owned.” He looked at me as he said the words, sealing them between us like a whispered pact.

I throbbed inside him. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes.” He rutted against me. “More.”

I grabbed his hair pulling back onto my dick while slamming forward. He whimpered, arching into my thrusts. I gave over to the hard clash of our bodies, bringing us both to the edge.

“You’re going to make me come.”

On a whim, I withdrew. “On your side, on the sofa.”

He hesitated but did as I asked, tucking himself facing the back.

“Not like that.” I climbed in beside him and flipped him around. “Come here.”

My feelings for him overwhelmed me all of a sudden. I collected him as we came together kissing him slowly. He reached between us and guided me back inside him. Everything changed. This was less about mutual satisfaction and more about being together. As reverent as the stage but more. The exchange shifting pieces in my chest.

I muttered things into his lips and drank the taste of love. Or what I believed it tasted like. What I hoped it tasted like. He held me tight and then tighter still.

At every step through this process, I knew I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go back to the way I’d been before. The loneliness, the avoidance, the lack of connection. I didn’t want anything else. I didn’t want anyone else.

I wanted Emory.

We laid coupled together a long time after we both came, kissing and talking.

I was deliriously happy. A type of happiness I didn’t know was possible.

“Are you coming with us to get tattoos?” I asked, knowing Iris would be looking for us before too long.

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