Page 67 of Tasting Fire
“Wh…what?”
“Just thinking you may’ve given me an MI. And if they transported me right now, they’d attribute the cardiac event to the fact that the only place on my body with blood flow is my dick.”
“You obviously have enough going to your head to form words.” She unwound her semi-painful grip on his hair and petted him clumsily. “Don’t worry. My medical opinion is that you’ll live.”
That was good, because he’d found he had a whole hell of a lot to live for.
“Come up here,” she said.
“Gotta run an errand,” he told her as he got to his feet and wobbled a little. Damn, his knees weren’t totally on board yet.
Her unbound hair flying and eyes wild with worry, Emmy reared up on the bed. “To where?”
Good. She was just as destroyed as he was. It was good not to be alone in this defenseless place. “To my wallet.”
“Oh. Thank God.”
If he tottered on his way back to her living room, no one was there to bust him on it.
You’re a goner, dude.
Yeah, like that’s a surprise.
Condom in hand, he returned to the bedroom to find Emmy sprawled where he’d left her. Her left hand was cupping a breast and her right was between her thighs, slowly stroking. Mesmerized, he stood there and simply watched.
Her fingers played a slow dance. Slide up. Dip down. Paint a tight circle around her clit.
Self-soothing and stimulating at the same time.
“Has this turned into a singles game or can we go back to doubles?” he teased.
She smiled a sleepy smile. “Depends on how good your forehand is.”
“I think I proved that when you screamed.”
“Point to you.”
Cash rolled on the condom and climbed onto the bed, straddling Emmy on his hands and knees. “You, Emmy McKay, are the sexiest woman in the world.”
He took the hand from between her legs and brought it to his mouth, sucking the taste of her from her fingers. He started to lower himself, but she braced a hand against his shoulder. “Missionary isn’t my favorite.”
He didn’t have to make a note to file that away. It immediately imprinted in his brain. “Tell me what you want.”
“How about you sit up against the headboard?”
No argument from him. He settled his back against the head of the bed and Emmy rolled over to insinuate herself between his legs. She swept her tongue up him—balls to crown—like she was catching a sweet droplet from a melting snow cone.
“Blue coconut,” he said as his dick twitched as if trying to entice its way into her mouth. Blue coconut had been her favorite.
She paused, mid tongue flick. “Oh, I like the taste of you even better. And I appreciate that you don’t melt.”
If she didn’t stop playing with him, he’d come like a fucking rocket. And he didn’t want to fade away before he made her come again. And this time, he wanted to be inside her. Wanted to feel the clench of her around his cock.
He threaded his fingers into her hair and tilted her face up. “As happy as I am to be your personal snow cone, it needs to wait. I want inside you.” That was a lie. Heneededinside her. His stomach was tight with the instinct to sink inside her wet heat. To do it again and again, until neither of them could move.
Emmy seemed to instinctively understand that he wasn’t kidding. She climbed into his lap and he held his cock away from his body so she could slide down and surround him.
When he was fully seated, he clamped down on her hips to keep her in place, and Emmy’s head fell back. Her hair was a teasing curtain of softness against his thighs.
