“God, that’s so damn sexy.” Emerson prowls towards me, and if she weren’t recovering from a concussion and vertigo, her back would be up against the tile while I thrust my hard cock inside her or, fuck, I’d sit back in my seat while she straddled my hips, letting her do the work but feasting on her tits. Goddamn, what they do to me.
“Yeah, you like that? Like that you have me so hard I’m fisting my cock, wishing it were your hands instead of mine.”
“Please, let me take care of you.” My hand moves to her hip, steadying her.
“How about I get you off with my fingers, and I’ll let you enjoy the show too?” If her mouth got anywhere close to my cock right now, my hands would be fisting her hair and I’d be fucking her mouth.
“I want another promise, then,” she barters.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” My left hand is still stroking my cock, my right one gripping her hips. God, do I love everything about this woman.
“The minute I’m cleared, I want to taste you. I want your cock in my mouth, and I don’t want you to hold back.” My thumb sweeps along the lips of her pussy.
“You have yourself a deal. Now, hold on to my shoulders and spread those fucking sexy legs of yours.” The moment she does as I say, my thumb finds her clit and one finger moves to her cunt, wanting to see how wet she is before I give her two fingers. It’s a tight fucking fit with both inside Emerson, and don’t even get me started on when my cock is where my fingers are. “Saint,” she moans. Thank goodness I’m ambidextrous. Because I never lose my pace, not even when I slide another finger inside, the palm of my hand grinding on her clit, and my other hand working my cock.
“Yeah, sweetheart. You feel it. Ready to go over the edge and take me with you?” I can feel it coming from not only myself but her too, the way her cunt is clenching my fingers. Head tilted back, legs trembling, and when she groans out, “Yes!” we do just that, together.
“Fuck.” My cum jets out of my body, and I paint her pussy with it.
“I’m so over this waiting bullshit.” Emerson runs her fingers down her body, dipping them in my cum and gathering it. Shocking the fucking hell out of me when she brings it to those luscious lips of hers, tasting me. The soft moan when she swallows it has my cock rock fucking hard all over again.
“Christ, that’s so damn sexy.” I stand, moving us back under the water to wash off. If we don’t get out of here soon, she’ll be climbing me like a tree, and I won’t be able to say no. Some brilliant idea I had taking a shower with her.
“Come on, give in just this once, Saint. I’ll be as still as possible. Hell, I’ll be a rag doll. You can place me where you want. I just need to feel you inside me.” She’s a damn temptress.
“Good try, sweetheart.” I turn the water off, ready to shut this down before I really do give in.
“Fuddy dud,” she harrumphs but still dries herself off, and thank God, Emerson covers up.
“Holler when you’re ready to come down the stairs. We apparently have shit to buy,” I grumble, but I’m already in the master bedroom. Emerson’s stamp is all over the house already, from her toiletries on the bathroom countertop, the lotion on the nightstand on her side of the bed, to some of the throw pillows that have appeared in more shipping boxes than I ever imagined. Today, though, the shit I ordered is coming, the back deck patio furniture. It’s the only thing I really wanted my say on, mainly because I knew from the saltwater coming off the intracoastal, any metal material would eventually rust. So, tonight, I’ll have my woman beside me out there while the sun is slowly setting, our bellies full of some good food.
“I will. It’s going to be a bit though,” she tells me. Yep, that’s my cue to get out of here. If I watch her change, my cock stand will never go down.
“Alright, don’t come downstairs on your own,” I state.
“Yes, master,” she grouses.
“You better watch yourself. I might like that more than you’d think.” I hear her laugh, and then I’m walking downstairs.
Eighteen
Emerson
Two Months Later
Saint definitely isn’t good at compromising. That’s my thought as I take in the house. Excuse me, our house. I suggested returning back home a couple of days a week after I got the all-clear from the doctor. Imagine my shock when the very next day, there stood my whole family, boxes packed and bringing all of my belongings from my house. That’s how I moved in. We argued, I got over it, and this is now our home. I did put my foot down on pulling my weight. Of course, since there’s no mortgage because my man is ridiculously smart with money, I took over the grocery bills, power, and water bill. Saint wasn’t happy, but I said it was either that or I move back to my place. Which is impossible now. It’s a rental, and I am making hand over foot on it, so win-win in that regard.