Page 37 of Higher Ground
She pinched at the plastic wrap that still coated it and cursed herself for not thinking to open it beforeright now. She didn’twant the moment to pause any longer than it needed to. But the damned plastic was tough, and she was still pulling at it with her nails when Byron grabbed the box from her.
Emory rolled onto her back. Her eyes widened, and she pulled her lower lip into her mouth. Byron had pulled off his pants and shirt and was kneeling over her. His cock hung firm between his legs. She’d been right. He was big. She didn’t know if he would fit, especially not after so long, but she wanted desperately to find out.
Byron kept his eyes on her as he brought the box to his mouth and bit a hole in the plastic so that he could rip it off. He wasted no time pulling out a foil packet, bringing it to his mouth, too. Emory watched with her lip between her teeth as he rolled the condom over his length. Once it was on, she reached for him, sure she was supposed to dosomethinghere other than just lie there aroused, wanting and waiting. But Byron grabbed her wrist before she could touch him. He placed her hands above her head, but he didn’t hold them there.
Moving at an aching pace, he trailed his hands down her body. He palmed at her breasts, pinched her nipples, then continued lower to grab her hips. Pulling her towards him, he spread her legs wide and leant over her. He smirked at her, then spat on her pussy. The saliva hit her clit and she gasped,again.
She’d always imagined sex with Byron would be fucking amazing, but this? This was extraordinary. This was more.
He ran his shaft through her folds, spreading his saliva in with her own need. Once she was soaked, he pressed the tip against her entrance.
Leaning down, Byron held himself over her and kissed her.
“Em,” he warned. “Are you sure?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it will fit.”
“It will fit if you’re sure.”
Emory kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “I’m sure.”
Byron pushed in slowly, and Emory felt herself stretch for him. Her breath caught in her throat as she adjusted to his size.
“That’s it, Em, a little more. You can do it.”
It was those words that had her coming undone. His praise, his encouragement. She let her legs drop open a little further, and Byron thrust into her. He paused, moaning.
“Fuck, Em, you’re so fucking tight.”
She bit his lip. She wanted him tomove. She needed him to move. She rocked her hips against the bed, then back into him.
“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, the word dragging out on his breath. He moved slowly at first, pumping in and out lazily until Emory was desperate for more.
When he finally started to pick up the pace, Emory’s head fell back against the pillow. Byron held her close, and he thrust into her over and over again. She was full and whole, and her body ached to feel everything that Byron could give her. Her breaths quickened to short gasping intakes of air as her second release built and built and built.
“Byron,” she murmured through her raspy breaths. “I’m going to …”
She wasn’t able to finish her sentence. He kissed her as her orgasm ripped through her, thrusting deep into her until she couldn’t breathe. Stars filled her vision, and tears filled her eyes. She trembled underneath him. Byron groaned with his last frenzied thrusts as his own orgasm had him shuddering.
He rolled them together until they were on their sides, and then he kissed her. This one was nothing like the frenzied explorations of before. This one was slow and sensual and … loving. Emory kissed him back, but she brushed off the thought.
Don’t get silly, she told herself.
It was just the post-orgasm endorphins.
She told herself that’s all it was, even after he took her to the bathroom to wash up and after he got her a drink. She even told herself it meant nothing when he curled into bed with her.
And even in the morning, when Byron stirred early, slipping out of bed with a gentle kiss on her forehead before Clayton came to find her, she still told herself it meant nothing.
But she knew she was lying.
Chapter 18
Byron
The house was alive again. Byron had sensed it from the minute he’d dragged Emory and Clayton’s suitcases through the front door, but it was undeniable now.
It wasn’t just last night that had shifted everything, although he didn’t doubt it had something to do with the added spring to his step. Nah, this was something more.
