Air whizzes from my nose when Emerson uses the tactic she always does when she’s losing.
She kisses me.
I could pull away. I don’t because I don’t have the strength.
I’m a human, not a fucking superhero.
This woman could stab me in the heart over and over again, and I still wouldn’t deny her. That’s how under my skin she is, how badly she drilled herself into my brain. Even when I am furious at her, she’s forever on my mind, and I’m done pretending she isn’t.
Even if it only awards me an hour of her time, I’ll let her have every penny I own before I will ever stop this.
With my fingers weaved through Emerson’s hair and our lips squashed together, I kiss her with everything I have.
Our embrace isn’t close to sweet. It is angry and indulgent, and it makes my dick leak pre-cum. This was always our pattern: cruel and vindictive, but once the tension was released, the hurt faded, and mutual admiration and respect emerged.
I can only hope we will follow the same route now.
As our tongues dance an intricate routine, I back us up until the first step of the grand staircase of Zelenolsk Manor almost knocks Emerson off her feet, and my cock throbs halfway up her stomach.
She grips my hair, fisting it roughly, when a second after I lay her across the top three stairs of the stairwell, I lower my mouth to the region of her body that teasingly badgered me for hours on end last night.
My only task was to ensure her safe arrival home, but her regretful groan changed my plans. I slipped between the sheets and pulled her into my chest before a single thought crossed my mind, only escaping mere minutes before the fight I knew would inevitably occur began.
After pulling Emerson’s sleeping shirt up to her chest, I curl my tongue around her erect nipple. I suck it into my mouth before gently grazing it with my teeth, doubling the harshness of her breaths. Her back arches as I feast on her delectable breasts.
When my fingers brace at the entrance of her pussy, her moans echo in the emptiness of my grandfather’s most beloved estate. I press my thumb down ever so slightly on the nub at the apex of her almost bare mound, drawing out the moans I would go to the end of the world to hear time and time again.
The air dampens when I touch her through panties too scant to be classified as an article of clothing. I toy with her clit for several long minutes, making her panties and tiny sleeping shorts moist and pliable. They come away from her body with only the slightest tug, as fragile as the wire I am precariously balancing on.
I pocket her damp panties, hopeful they won’t be the last pair I collect from her, but I do it so absentmindedly that it doesn’t ruin the tension keeping the air sticky with humidity.
Emerson’s shoulders join when I part her with my fingers before slamming two inside her. I finger fuck her roughly,almost cruelly, but she can’t get enough. Her pussy grows even wetter as mewls for me to take her hard and fast spill from her lips.
I comply. I fuck her hard with my fingers while my thumb circles her clit with every brutal pound. In seconds, she’s racing toward release, so I free her clit from my thumb and concentrate solely on her pussy.
“Mikhail, please,” she begs, too rehearsed on my go-to coping mechanism when I’m spiraling. I take, take, take and only give once I’m on the cusp of exhaustion.
Curling my fingertips, I calm Emerson’s panic slightly before saying, “If you want to come, stop holding back.”
“I’m… not… holding… back.” Her eyes roll into the back of her head as I increase the speed of my thrusts for every word spilling her lie.
When she bites her lip, stifling the screams I’m desperate to hear, I lose all sense of control. I replace my thumb with my tongue and stretch her wide with three fingers instead of two.
I nuzzle the cleft of her pussy first before allocating all the focus of my lips and tongue to her clit.
Emerson grips my hair tightly when I swivel my tongue around the nervy bud before sucking it into my mouth. Her moans are erotic, almost where I need them to be.
She’s warm and wet and tastes as fucking sweet as I remember.
“I could eat nothing but your pussy for a year and not feel like I was missing out on a single fucking thing.”
An indecipherable sentence falls from her mouth as she pushes me in closer to her pussy, wordlessly demanding I continue eating her for breakfast.
She’s still angry at me but incapable of looking past the fireworks that forever erupt when we’re in the same room.
Furthermore, consuming her like this, in this location, is much more intimate than fucking. I’m on my knees in the very place that almost cost me my life, and she is above me, on the pedestal I placed her on when she made my life seem worth living.
The memory of how she saved me makes me eat her more expertly. Her moans fill the air as her taste erases years of painful memories. Hardly any of them belong to her, but I struggle to remember anything when my head is buried between her legs.
