“Oh, God, Jackson,” she moans. She has no idea how much pleasure that gives me. I reward her by slipping my finger inside her, her juices covering my finger. Those sexy noises of Emily’s pick up—she’s got her hand over her face as if she’s trying to keep some sort of composure. I work her hole gently at first, slipping easily in and out. My mouth goes back to work on the hard little nub of her clit, sucking gently on it while my finger pumps in and out of her tight little hole. Once she’s been thoroughly worked I add another finger, opening her up even more, pumping her like I intend to pump my dick in her, stretching her a little further, a little wider. I push my fingers deep inside her and hook them at the top, giving her even more pleasure.
“You’re gonna make me come,” she pants. “God, Jackson. Stop or I’m gonna come.”
Her hand tangles back in my hair and she keeps my face pressed between her thighs. I work double time on my efforts, lapping at her clit, pumping my fingers inside her, sucking her, doing everything I can to get her off now that she’s so close. I’m rewarded when Emily cries out, bucking her hips into my mouth as her walls clench, her hand digging in my hair. I ride her out until she’s done.
“Oh my God,” she says, her eyes closed and her head dropping to the side. Her body has gone limp. I kiss her thighs, giving her a minute.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I say, standing up. She doesn’t move. I don’t think she could right now if she had to.
I move to one of the hall closets and grab armfuls of plush blankets and pillows the housekeeper stacks neatly in here, and which I have no recollection of ever buying. That’s the thing about having a staff—things just appear, and sometimes at the best of times.
I lay the blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace and drop the pillows down as well.
“Come here, beauty,” I say, helping Emily up and guiding her to my little bed. I’d take her upstairs to my bed but this somehow seems more intimate. I’ve never been with anyone else in this room.
She lies down and I toss a couple of the blankets over her and she snuggles down in their warmth. I start a fire, then burrow in next to her, wrapping her naked body up in my arms. I kiss her neck, taking in the scent of her skin and hair. She giggles and lifts her shoulder.
“That tickles,” she says.
“What, you mean this?” And I nuzzle in even more until she squeals and squirms. “You weren’t complaining a moment ago, all the things I did with my mouth.”
She grins. The golden oranges flicker over her face, making her even more beautiful, if that’s possible. “I hope your neighbors didn’t hear me. God, I’ve never made that kind of racket before in my life. You’re amazing.” She nudges her ass back into a little; I pull her tighter.
“I don’t have any neighbors,” I say.
“What do you mean? You’re on the corner but there’s the brownstone next door.”
“I own that one too.”
“God, why am I not surprised?” she says. “I should have known you live in a double wide.” I laugh along with her. “All that and a fireplace.”
“I have eight,” I tell her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says.
“So you keep telling me.” I kiss her arm, running my finger over her skin.
“You’re in this big double house all by yourself? Not even a dog?”
“Not even a goldfish,” I say.
After a moment she says, “That sounds lonely.”
“You live alone,” I say. “Are you lonely?”
“Sometimes,” she admits. “But my studio is cozy and I use every part of it. How many rooms does this place have?”
“Too many” I say. I kiss her arm, preferring to concentrate on her body than my house.
“I bet there are rooms you never even go in.”
“Probably,” I say, continuing my kissing. “Definitely.”
“So why have such a big place?”
I stop and look at her. “Because I can.”
She holds my eyes for a moment. A grin slides across her face and she looks back to the fire. She nudges her shoulder back at me, and I go back to my light kisses. “Well, I think it’s—”
“Ridiculous?” I say.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Totally.”
I don’t disagree with her. Being here with her in this big house, I realize that there is something I want, and something I need. Emily. I can see her living here with me, helping to fill up this big house with her light and energy. Maybe we’d even get a dog. I don’t want her to leave my arms, let alone my house. It could work. Emily and I together could work, if she’d have me, apropos of my father’s last demands of who will take over the company. If I married Emily—God, I can’t believe these thoughts are running through my mind—but if I married her it would mean I would get the company. But maybe I don’t care about that. Right now, all I care about it making Emily happy.