Page 36 of The Gilded Cuff
Teach me. Teach me to be strong. It was all that she’d wanted for so long. Peace and strength. To be able to shrug off the talons of her past digging deep into her heart.
Emery bent his head to hers and nuzzled her throat. His lips left ghostly kisses. The world shuddered, light flashing and dimming, as she was lulled into the enchantment of his touch, his kiss. Any wish, any command, she’d obey so long as he never stopped touching her.
When he made as though to move away, she whispered, “Please don’t stop. Please…”
A cool breeze teased her hair, tugging strands into her eyes, reminding her they were outside and might not be alone.
“What about the others?” she murmured. She brushed her fingers through his thick, soft hair. She threaded through the strands and tugged lightly to get his attention. He lifted his head and she met his molten gold eyes.
“They went back inside while you were dozing. We’re alone.” The odd, rough note to his voice sent a whisper of a thrill through her and it scared her at the same time. What if she wasn’t ready? He’d take everything she’d give and maybe more. What would remain of her, if she gave him all that she was?
Sophie jerked back, suddenly desperate to escape him. She couldn’t do this, wasn’t ready to surrender.
“You’re not getting away. Not after begging me not to stop.” He captured her hands and pinned them on either side of her head on the blanket.
Her pulse spiked again with the fluttering rush of a hummingbird’s wings. She hovered, indecisive, knowing she had no choice but to let her passion sweep back in and carry her away.
“You like it when I take control, don’t you?” He flexed his hands, tightening his grip a little on her wrists.
“No.” She lied, knowing it would bring out the dominance in him. Never had she had the slightest urge to play with fire until now. There was something about Emery that made her wild, reckless. Now she saw the appeal of teasing the flame with her hand, to taste the edge of pain and revel in the delicious burn.
The sharp lines of his face softened with a lazy grin. Like a lion who’d just captured a little mouse, his devilish look of enjoyment said he loved to feel her struggle. And she wanted to struggle, wanted to be chased and caught. Sophie was fast becoming addicted to the rush of fighting and surrendering.
“Let me go.” She pushed up at him as though to get rid of him, but she rolled her hips up, pleading for him to keep her pinned. The dance of fight and giving in was an erotic fantasy she’d never expected to crave.
Emery dug his fingers into her skin, not enough to hurt, only to keep her down. He used one knee to push hers apart so he could thrust his thigh against her core, and pressed down. A little moan escaped her, unable to be held in as he slid his thigh against her in a rhythmic motion. The thin material of her soccer shorts offered no real barrier to protect her from the onslaught of sensations and desire from the contact of his leg. She threw her head back, eyes locking on the endless skies.
Her vision tunneled as he licked a path from her neck down to her collarbone, exploring sensitive spots and places that made her shudder and gasp. He moved her wrists above her head, and held them both in one of his hands before he slid his free hand down past her stomach and beneath the waistband of her shorts. He toyed with her simple cotton underwear before he delved deeper.
Panic exploded through Sophie. Her heart battered her ribs like a wild stallion against a fence post. He’d find her slightly rounded belly and be repulsed. She wasn’t thin, wasn’t flat stomached and trim like other women. Her face flamed and she whimpered. He’d discover how plump she was and lose interest. It was over.
But Emery didn’t stop. His hand curved over her lower abdomen, stroking her skin before moving down to cup her mound. He pressed hard and then when she arched her back, he eased up. She dropped her hips in frustration until he teased her clit with his fingertip. He circled it, teased it, tormented it. She’d never touched it herself; it had always been too sensitive, almost painful, but when he brushed over it, the near-pain became something altogether different. Her core throbbed in time with her heartbeat, answering the bolts of lightning shooting out from her clit.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Thinking?She couldn’t think past the fact that his hand was between her legs, creating devastation and raw hunger.
When she didn’t answer he thrust one finger into her. “I’m waiting for an answer.”
“I don’t know!” she gasped, hips shooting up to push his finger deeper.
He dropped his head to her neck. The warm rush of his laughter should have upset her but it didn’t. He nipped her skin, biting and holding fast to her neck like a tiger with its mate. The sharp but minor flash of pain made her womb clench.
“Oh god!” Her head thrashed. The pain was exquisite, divine…like nothing she’d ever felt before.
Through the haze she heard his voice. “Tell me something secret about you. Something you hide from the world.” He licked the sore spot on her neck, then rubbed his cheek against hers like a possessive tomcat. The faint prickle of his jaw gave her shivers. She loved it when he dominated her, even gently.
“Something secret?” She wondered what secrets she had worth telling.
“It can be anything you want. Just talk to me.” He kissed her in a melding of mouths, soft and sensual yet packed with erotic delight. When he drew back, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement at her inability to talk.
“Umm. My middle name is Eugenia,” she blurted out, then smacked her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes in horror at the confession.
The rush of warm laughter over her forehead made her eyes open again. “Eugenia?” Emery didn’t even try not to laugh.
“My mother’s fault. She wanted something sophisticated. She’s never quite gotten over marrying a Midwesterner. She was from Boston. My dad wanted names like Katie, Stephanie—you know, something normal. My mother fought for something more traumatizing, but not intentionally, I don’t think.” Sophie scrunched her nose up. “God, it made my middle school years awful. Girls can be so mean.” She knew she was rambling but she couldn’t stop it.
Emery stalled her words by moving his hand, which he still had between her legs. He slid a second finger inside her. All conversation vanished. She fought for air as he started pumping his fingers deep inside her.
