Ruthless In A Suit(79)

Her fingers deftly work the buttons on my shirt as I pull the T-shirt up over her head. She pulls the band out of her hair and lets it fall around her shoulders. My lips cover her skin, lick and taste her all across her face, her neck, her shoulders, her chest. Soon we’ve kicked off our shoes and she’s got my pants shoved down around my ankles.

We make it to the bed and I help her out of her jeans, so tight to her skin. Her panties don’t get to stay on—off they come, as do my boxer briefs. When I cover her body with mine, she wraps her legs around my waist, every inch of our bodies touching. I run my hands over her thighs, tight around my waist, her hips pushing into my raised dick. Her pussy touches me, her wetness making me want to shove myself deep inside her. But I want to go slower, show Emily how precious she is to me.

I run my finger down her slit, Emily curving her back so that her hips push up into me. Her eyes stay on me, her mouth open, eager. I gently glide my finger across her pussy, so wet and pink and mine, mine to play with, mine to please. I dip my finger inside her and she lets out a moan. I pump inside her before slipping my finger out and giving her clit some much-needed attention. Her face is flushed with passion and I know she’s going to start begging me soon for more. I love that she always needs more.

She reaches down between our bodies and takes me in her hand. God, her hand, so small but so assured on my dick. I slip my finger back inside her pussy and she pumps me at the same tempo as I do her, matching me, showing me that she can take it if I can. I’m not sure my body can take it—I fall to the bed beside her, fingers and hands still in place. Facing each other we work each other, our breath mingling in the small space between us.

“I love you, Jackson,” she says. When she kisses me it fills me up with such love like I’ve never known. I have to make love to her.

“Emily,” I say, moving above her. I put my finger, covered in her juices, in my mouth and suck it all off. She reaches out for me, but I take my dick in my hand.

“Yes,” she says.

I slide my cock into her slowly, leaning down on my forearms so I can be close to her face, which I intend to cover in kisses. Warm inside her, our bodies combined, I whisper in her ear, “I love you.”

I slowly move through her, never wanting to leave. Her pussy hugs my dick so perfectly, and with every drive inside her I want to come. But I ride it out, looking into her eyes, moving so slowly it’s a major tease for us both. I go harder, slamming my dick in her, methodically as her face burns with desire.

“Tell me again,” she says.

“I love you, Emily.”

I pull her leg up, my arm wrapped under her knee and continue loving on that cunt, her gasps and moans taking me to the edge, but I don’t fall over, not until she’s ready. She pushes her hips back at me with equal force, and as her hands claw out for more of me I know she’s ready and I let go, both of us jumping over the edge in an explosion of fireworks. When I collapse next to her I kiss her long and deep, holding her face in my hands and tell her again that I love her.

We spend long stretches of time in bed feeling each other’s skin, running our hands over every inch of the other’s body, memorizing curves and lines and angles. We make love again, we fall asleep. We somehow manage to order in some Thai food, which we engulf before turning back to each other once again. It’s twenty-four hours of love and sex and sleep, a little food and a lot of Emily. A lot of Emily naked.

Soon, I’ve hit my limit staying in a basement studio apartment, even if Emily is naked most of the time. I suggest a change of scenery, and Emily is game. I have my driver drop off one of my cars outside Emily’s apartment.

“What am I supposed to pack for?” she asks. “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” I say, because I don’t. For once in my life I have nothing planned.

We get in the car and speed out of town.

“Are we going to the Cape?” she asks, noticing the direction I’m headed. Even I hadn’t noticed where I was going, but I guess I’m on some sort of auto-pilot.

“No,” I say. “Martha’s Vineyard.” It’s perfect. It’s a fucking island and I don’t even know the phone number to the house. “I own a house there.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Of course you do.”

I haven’t been out here in years. I’ve literally forgotten I own the home. In fact, I can’t remember the last vacation I took. My life has been consumed by work. That is, until Emily came around and reminded me that taking breaks can actually make you more productive—and result in the best quarter in the company’s history. My father never told me that.