“Fuck me, Jericho,” she murmured in the sexiest damn voice he’d ever heard.
He didn’t need any more persuading. With a movement of his hips, he thrust deep, and then he was inside her tight, hot warmth. She screamed again, clawing at his back. This time, when she clenched, he felt it around his cock, not just his fingers. And she felt amazing.
“Jericho,” she cried out, throwing her head back as he thrust again. “You’re killing me!”
“Want…me…to stop?” He punctuated each word with a rough thrust.
“Don’t stop,” she babbled. “Lord have mercy, don’t stop! I’m still coming!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders even harder, and she lifted her h*ps to meet his next push, and soon they were slamming together, and he was as rough with Emily as she was with him. Over and over he pumped into her, holding nothing back as she yelled out his name and quivered against him, and her pu**y was so tight it felt like a vise around his cock. If she was having an orgasm, she was either having lots of small ones or one really big one that just kept on going.
Either way, it was f**king amazing to watch. And it was causing him to lose his control, too. He pulled out of her when he got too close to blowing it,and she moaned in dismay. Instead, he patted her flank. “Flip over for me, sugar.”
She made a soft, protesting noise, but turned over and got on her hands and knees. He immediately tugged at her hips, lifting them higher, and pushed into her again from behind.
Emily moaned loudly, her head dropping to the blankets. Her hands fisted in them, as if she couldn’t handle all the pleasure.
And damn, he loved seeing that. His hands splayed on her pale hips, admiring the smooth, unmarked flesh compared to his heavily tattooed, tanned skin. They were completely different kinds of people, but Emily was perfect for him in bed. He rocked his hips, and began a different rhythm of strokes, working her over. Her br**sts bounced with each thrust, the globes pressing against the bed sheets as he pumped into her, and she continued to moan and raise her h*ps for him, unable to get enough.
Insatiable – that was Emily.
She was incredible. With his hands on her pretty, round ass, he began to leisurely thrust into her again, their bodies moving in a rhythm that created delicious friction. As he f**ked her, she continued to make small noises and clutch at the bed sheets, wild with need. He’d never f**ked anyone who went so wild at his touch – and it was hell on his control. His thrusts got rougher, his movements faster, until he was pounding into her, Emily’s sweet pink ass jiggling from the force of his c**k slamming into her, and still she cried out for more.
When they finally came – together – he felt as wrung out as she looked. With one last fierce thrust into her, he rocked his h*ps and let loose even as she jerked and shivered underneath him, crying out his name. He’d never come so f**king hard. With a long, weary exhale, he finished coming and pulled off of her.
She immediately collapsed in the bed. “I’m jelly,” she said softly. “You turned me into Jell-O.”
He chuckled as he moved to a nearby garbage can and peeled off his full condom, then wrapped it in tissue and chucked it in the trash. “You put up a good fight.”
“Mmmm. It was really good, wasn’t it?” Her voice went all dreamy. “Wow. Jericho, that was amazing.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he said, hesitating. Did he crawl back into bed with her? Or was Emily the type that just wanted him to go away after she’d been f**ked? They didn’t have a relationship bond of any kind – not really. They were just two friendly strangers who decided to get their rocks off after having one date. And even that date hadn’t gone particularly well.
Emily sat up in bed, looking over at him through a nest of well-fucked curls. “Are you leaving?”
“Did you…want me to?”
She shook her head and patted the bed next to her. “Can we cuddle?”
“Do I look like a cuddler?” He asked, amused, but he climbed back into bed next to her.
“As a matter of fact, you do,” she said, snuggling up against his chest when he got into bed. “Every time I see tattoos, I think, gosh, that man needs a cuddle.”
He snorted. “Your definition of cuddle must be different than mine.”
“Mmm. Maybe just parts of you need cuddling.” And incredibly, her hand went to his softening c**k and she gave it an interested stroke. “I can think of one particular part.”
He lay back on the tangled sheets, a bit surprised at Emily’s voraciousness. “Have mercy, woman. Give him a few minutes to recover.”
She swung a leg over his h*ps and began to rock her pu**y against him slowly, a mischievous look on her face. “How about I do all the work this time?”
Turns out, Emily’s version of cuddling was rather different than his.
Seemed he was a cuddler after all.
The next morning, Jericho woke up to tangled sheets and an empty bed.
He sat up, his legs a little stiff. Okay, that was surprising. It had been a long time since a woman had worn him out so thoroughly in bed, but Emily was damned near insatiable. They’d made love at least four more times throughout the rest of the night, and he’d run out of condoms and had to use her supply. And when they ran out of those, she’d gone down on her knees and pleasured him with her mouth, simply because she didn’t want the fun to stop.
She was pretty damn amazing, all in all.
Jericho dressed in his wrinkled clothes, noticing that Emily’s robe was no longer on the floor. He headed down the narrow stairs of the old Victorian and heard the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen, just before he caught the scent of bacon.
His mouth watered. Bacon. She’d f**ked him until he’d passed out last night and now she was making him bacon? The woman was diabolical.
Jericho rounded a corner to see Emily in the kitchen at the stove, dressed in her fluffy robe. Her hair was messily pulled into a clip and she was barefoot, humming as she scraped something onto a nearby plate.
“Hey,” he said as he headed into the kitchen.
Emily jumped, turning around. She had a skillet in one hand, a spatula in the other, and her face lit up at the sight of him. “Hey you! I was just making breakfast. Are you hungry?”
He rubbed the back of his head, feeling a little uncomfortable. He was never good with morning-afters. Most of his hook-ups were just that, and it usually involved grabbing your things and heading out before things got awkward for either person. “You sure you want me to stick around?”