“Oh yeah?”
“It’s the pants.” She gave his chin a kiss. “You wear some very tight pants. And you have a mighty fine ass.”
The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival on the top floor. Emmy ducked under his arm and looped her fingers into his belt as she walked off the elevator, dragging him along with her almost literally by his cock.
She kept her fingers tucked in the front band of his jeans while he fumbled with his keys. Once he’d managed to get the door unlocked, she jerked him inside. He’d barely gotten the door shut when she undid his belt, tossing it aside.
“Remind me,” he said again, his voice throaty, almost a growl.
She stripped off her shirt. “You said you wanted to hear me say your name.” She threw the shirt at him when he lunged at her, bolting out of his reach and running towards the bedroom.
The shirt smelled like her, sweet and feminine but not overly so. She was the kind of woman who could fit into his world like a perfectly shaped puzzle piece. He chased her down the hall. Though she gave good resistance by skirting the bed and clambering over the mattress, he had six inches on her and easily grabbed her around the waist when she tried to jump out of his reach.
“Cheater,” she said, barely able to get the word out because she was giggling so hard.
“What else did I say?”
“You didn’t get to finish your thought.”
He sat on the bed and pulled her close, undoing her pants while she threaded her fingers through his hair. “How did it start?”
“You said something about the way I squirm.”
Tucker lowered her pants, leaving her in only her panties—skimpy black lace, like she’d been expecting someone to see them—and a matching bra. He cupped her over her underwear, stroking the damp lace with focused caresses until her breaths got short and her fingernails scraped against his scalp.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
He teased her, skirting a finger under the elastic near her inner thigh and caressing the wet seam of her sex. She bent her knees, lowering herself onto his exploring finger, guiding him inside her. The way she sighed when he crooked his finger was almost too much to bear. He wanted to have her on top of him, riding him to a fast, powerful finish, but that wasn’t the game they were playing, and it wasn’t the promise he’d made her.
Tucker withdrew his hand, and Emmy made a sad noise, dropping her hands to his shoulders. He licked her nipple through the lace of her bra, drawing the pink bud into a hard peak. She moved closer so she was straddling his lap, and he cupped her bottom, squeezing her every time she ground against him. He’d learned how she liked to be touched, and now he was using that knowledge to play her like an instrument.
In all things, practice made perfect, and he wanted to perfect the art of making her come.
“Tucker…”
“You were supposed to be sitting on my face when you said my name,” he answered, and the way she laughed made his pulse skip.
“Then maybe you should lie back.”
He let her push him back but wanted to protest when she got off his lap. With his belt already out of the picture, she had no difficulty pulling his pants and underwear off, throwing them on top of hers. When she stood before him again, she put her balled hands on her hips and gave him a stern look.
“I thought I told you to lie back.”
He shuffled backwards on the bed, and she slipped off her underwear before she followed him, coming to straddle his chest as he’d done with her just that morning. He guided her to turn around, leaving him with a view of her smooth, golden skin. Tucker trailed his hands from her shoulders down her back, reveling in the warmth of her body.
Emmy leaned forward so she was on all fours, and suddenly the view of her back wasn’t nearly as interesting. God, every part of her was so lovely it made his chest hurt, and he wanted to explore every available inch of her body.
He spread her thighs for a better look at her, rubbing her wetness with two fingers and parting her lips. He groaned, hardening even more every time he touched her. Her scent drove him almost as crazy as the sight of her did.
Emmy, apparently as interested in his hardness as he was fascinated by her wetness, had lowered her mouth, taking his cock in, lavishing his head with hungry attention.
He held her hips firmly and mirrored the gestures of her tongue back onto her, lapping at her clit with the same cruel and wonderful strokes. He was intent on bringing her to climax before her clever mouth distracted him too thoroughly.
The scenario he’d begun spelling out at the park unfolded with perfect abandon as she wriggled against him, and every new twist and draw of his tongue made her lose focus on him. Soon she was panting against his inner thigh, barely able to gasp his name. She dug her nails into the flesh of his calves, and the syllables of his name gave way to moans that would haunt his dreams in the best way possible.