“I like you here.” She raked her hand through his short hair.
His mouth curved with a devilish tilt. “Worshipping you?”
She nodded.
“Bet you’re used to that.”
“Hardly.” The men she’d shared a bed with in her past hadn’t been particularly...noteworthy. She liked sex and pleasure, and didn’t mind giving as well as receiving, but she’d never use the word worship to describe a past interaction. “I can’t say I’ve experienced that.”
“A first. Then allow me to worship you.” He leaned closer, his warm breath coasting over the scant stripe of hair on her sex. “My queen.”
Oh yes. That was working for her. Her face warmed, her thighs pressing together in anticipation of the delicious feel of his tongue on her.
He didn’t make her wait, slicking her center so slowly her legs shook.
He encouraged her to sit on the bed. Then he was on his feet, ripping off his shirts and dropping his pants. The bulge in his boxers was as impressive as the rest of him, the thick ridge a promise of the inches to come.
He returned to his task, burying his face between her thighs, and delivering blow after blow of pleasure while she twisted on the comforter. He didn’t tell her to come, or command her in any way with his words. Ever the strong, silent type, Emmett let his actions speak for him as he laved her mercilessly.
She let go on a cry that filled the room. The orgasm took its time washing over her and he kept his pace steady until her entire body was sex warmed and sated.
He placed a kiss on each of her inner thighs and then drew a line of kisses up her body as he ascended. Over her, he was more hulking than usual, his turgid cock resting heavily on one of her thighs, his lips glistening, his eyes so lust filled they were almost black.
“I have a condom,” she told him. “In my suitcase.”
He didn’t hesitate to cross the room.
“The zipper pocket.”
He pulled out a condom, raised an eyebrow and dropped it back into the pocket. She propped up on her elbows to protest.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he knelt in front of his duffel.
“Too small,” was all he said. Then he stood and shucked his boxers and she got an eyeful of exactly why the condoms she’d purchased were “too small.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” she murmured, reciting his words from earlier.
He grinned, his chest puffing with male pride, and rolled on the protection from his bag. Then he came to her in fluid movements that should’ve belonged to a much slighter man.
“You okay?”
His face pinched like he was concerned about her answer. Like she should demurely ask if he was sure he would fit or maybe remind him not to hurt her. She’d do no such thing.
She could handle every inch of her husband’s gorgeous member. Gladly.
“I’m better than okay, Em.” She grasped his biceps and encouraged him forward. “Bring it.”
There was something beautiful about him at the brink of making love to her. He was a sculpted specimen, perfectly hewed to pleasure a woman. The twinkle in his eye was merry, but determination set his powerful jaw.
“You got it, honey.”
He lowered his body between her legs, his hard abdomen lying against her softer belly. He notched the tip into her entrance and slid in slowly, watching her with an intensity that suggested he was in far more pain than she.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Then he slid in deeper and she was better than fine.
She arched her neck and enjoyed the fullness of that first thrust, the feel of him seated deep while her body adjusted to his girth. Then she opened her eyes and met his, holding tight to his shoulders as he drew away inch by excruciating inch.