He was large. Very large. And beautiful. She’d never thought she’d ever think of a man’s… thing… that way, but he was. She felt a strange compulsion to touch him, to stroke, and caress. She wanted to taste him. Odd – she’d never experienced any urge to do so before, not even when she had thought he was Kit. That time – that first time, when she had finally known it was he making love to her and not his brother – that was the first time she had ever… done it. But it had felt degrading then, and illicit, somehow. She did not want to think about then.
He was on top of her now, his mouth hungrily seeking hers. Instinctively, her lips parted – he slid inside, plundered, hot and wet. He rolled, and she found herself on top of him, her blouse gaping open, her bra tugged away. His hands gripped her waist, bent her forward, and Emma’s breast, quite suddenly, was in his mouth.
She let out a gasp of agonising pleasure. She felt hot, wanton, uninhibited, free. Freer than she’d ever felt in her life. She didn’t delude herself, this time, that he was forcing her. She wanted this. She wanted him.
But she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it, afterwards.
Tugging herself away, she bent down, pressing her mouth against his bronzed, sculpted torso. There was a raw, masculine beauty in him, in the leashed power of his body. If only he wasn’t such an arrogant boor!
Her tongue touched his nipple and he groaned, closed his eyes and let his head drop back. “Oh, God, Emma,” he rasped. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer, merely moved onto the other nipple, laving, then suckling at it. James’ hands crept into her hair, his fingers alternately caressing and twisting.
She moved down to his stomach, and he tensed. “Emma…” he began in a warning voice. “Do you -”
The rest of the sentence was cut off in a strangled gasp as she took him into her mouth, and he jackknifed forward. His fingers clenched in her hair. He uttered a weak moan, then dropped back, his entire body stiff with the strain of keeping himself from thrusting into her mouth.
The taste, the scent of him filled her senses immediately. She experimented, bent down to try and take all of him. He was large – she couldn’t, but she tried anyway, and was rewarded with another agonised groan for her efforts.
“Touch me,” James rasped. “Touch me, sweetheart.”
Emma complied, gingerly stroking him. He growled, low in his throat, his fingers clenching even tighter in her hair. Emma winced, but continued to caress him, wrapping her tongue around him. She suckled and he let out a yell of pleasure. Elated, she continued.
There was a new stiffening in his body. He seemed to grow larger in her mouth. “Emma,” James began, panting, “Emma, I’m – ” His hips bucked, thrusting involuntarily into her mouth. “Oh, god, Emma!”
She felt him before she tasted him, pouring into her mouth. Instinctively, she swallowed. His eyes widened. “Don’t – ” She ignored him, keeping her mouth sealed on him until he had spent the last of his seed in her mouth. At last, he finished, and she removed her mouth.
There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” James said at last. “I shouldn’t have done that.” But there was an unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
Silently, Emma crawled back up the bed, sliding under the covers. James reached out, drew her tightly to his side. There was a strange feeling of tightness in his chest, even after everything, after he’d believed he’d banished the last of that weakness. She curled up into his body and simply lay there. She did not sleep.
She did not sleep all night. James woke often, and before she knew it, he was on top of her, inside her. He made love to her almost constantly, sometimes rapid, hard, and explosive, sometimes slow and sweet and tender. She clawed at him, bit at him, leaving angry, passionate marks on him and he in turn marked her, his teeth sinking, it seemed, into every part of her body, even those she wouldn’t even have imagined it possible to bite.
Emma woke to the sensation of something hot, wet and probing between her legs. She sat up with a gasp, lifting the bedcovers and finding James’ head of dark silky hair between her thighs. “James,” she murmured weakly, before collapsing back onto the bed.
“Wider, sweetheart,” James’ voice, muffled, came from under the covers. Mindlessly, she did as ordered. He licked, lapped, and probed deep inside her some more, and she was soon orgasming around his tongue, not bothering to even muffle her cries of pleasure.
He crawled up her body, stopping as his face was level with her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, suckled, and Emma moaned. His lips travelled upwards, lingering in the curve of her throat. He licked the length of her neck, sank his teeth into her. She moaned. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Delicious.”
His mouth sealed over hers, his tongue, tasting of her, filling her mouth. His hips settled into the cradle of hers, she felt him probing at her entrance, and then he was inside her, full and thick and heavy, pulsing with arousal. She was so swollen from her orgasm that he felt impossibly huge inside her.
And then he began to move.
Long, fast strokes, rapidly in and out, his hips grinding against her, his shaft sliding in and out of her with slick and frantic lunges. She whimpered, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He let out a low growl, digging his fingers into her hips as he lifted her, forced her up to meet his thrusts, to take him deep, deeper than before.
“James,” Emma gasped, writhing, yet unable to move in his iron grip.
“Say it again,” James ground out. “Say my name.”
“James. James, oh, god, James. I love you.”
He stilled, suddenly, his glittering green eyes blazing into hers. Then he growled again, low, reverberating in his throat, and quickened his thrusts, clasping her closer against him so her breasts were crushed against his chest, her face buried against the strong column of his throat.
He pumped rapidly, ever harder inside her, their two bodies joined as if one. And quite suddenly, the moment came. He let out an exultant roar of ecstasy, spilling himself inside her, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. It had never been like this. Never. He recovered in time to feel her pulsing against him, clenching around his cock. He smiled, his eyes closed, and collapsed atop her. He did not care, at that moment, that he was probably too heavy for him. What mattered was the fact that she was his, that he was inside and on top of her, and that was where he wanted to be.
“Shit,” James said sometime later.
“What is it?” Emma stirred sleepily from on top of him. He’d rolled over soon after he’d realised he’d probably been suffocating her.
“I’ve got to go. I have an appointment this afternoon.”
“What time?”
“Three,” he answered. “Its almost two-thirty. I have to run, sweetheart.”
“Ok,” Emma said sleepily, and closed her eyes again. She was warm and comfortable. She wasn’t going to move.
“Emma,” James said after a moment.
She opened one eye. “Hmm?”
“I have to go.”
She felt vaguely irritated. “Ok.”
Her eyes closed again.
“Emma…” There was a note of rueful amusement in her voice.
“What?” This time she woke fully, sitting up on top of him in some exasperation. “What is it?”
“I really do need to go.”
“So go!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You’re on top of me.”
Emma looked down to find herself straddling him. “Oh,” she murmured, and climbed off him. He smiled at her, his teeth flashing white in the leonine face, and slid out of bed. Emma lay in bed, the bedcovers drawn up around her and watched while he dressed.
“James,” she said, suddenly. “What – What does all this mean? Why did you come to find me?”
His face grew suddenly cold, distant. “What do you mean?” he said coolly.
“Well… you – you came here. To find me. What does that mean?” She wanted to hear him say it, she realised. She needed to hear it.
His eyes seemed shuttered, closed now, as they looked at her. “What do you think, Emma?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Did you imagine, perhaps, that I had come to declare my love for you yet again?”
Her face flushed bright red. She had so hoped…
“That, perhaps, I had come to beg you to reconsider my suit? Just so you could throw it back in my face again? I may have been foolish, Emma, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I am no fool now.”
“I never said you were,” she said, cold fingers clutching at her heart. “So – so this was, was just sex?”
He smiled. “Not just sex, sweetheart. Great sex. And what else does one need, after all?” So saying, he bent down, kissed her thoroughly, then left the house. She heard the front door close behind him.
And wanted to cry, yet again.
A short while longer, the bedsprings from the house upstairs started again.