Atlanta Heat (7 page)

“Do you know how beautiful you are, Em?” He leaned forward, his lips feathering over hers as he touched the firm, rounded globes he dreamed about.

And he was lost. Simply lost. Oh, hell yes. Clearly more than a handful, topped with cherry-red, spike-hard little nipples and covered with a sprinkling of freckles.

“Damn, Em. You have paradise right here.” He cupped the generous mounds, his thumbs flicking over the tight nipples. When an involuntary moan left her lips, he swore the sound went straight to his cock, wrapped around it and stroked.

EMERSON WATCHED IN A
daze as Macey’s head lowered, his tongue peeking out to curl around her hard nipple. She swore she nearly orgasmed the moment it touched her.

Her hips jerked against his, rubbing the hard wedge of his cock against her core as one of his hands caught her wrists and held them over her head.

“Easy, baby,” he groaned as she writhed beneath him. “Let me have you, Emerson. Just like this.”

Their moans mingled as he drew her into his mouth and sucked, devoured. His teeth scraped, his tongue lashed, and heated, fiery whips of sensation wrapped around her clit. The tiny bud became more swollen, more sensitive, throbbed and threatened to explode in orgasm.

“Macey, I can’t stand …” A desperate cry left her throat as the suckling changed, became slower, firmer, his tongue licking her nipple with relish rather than desperation.

She needed to hold back, but he wouldn’t give her the chance.

And it was more destructive. So destructive that she was only barely aware of his free hand pushing at his jeans, removing them, then pulling the sweatpants from her hips and pushing them down her thighs before she kicked them from her legs.

She didn’t care. She knew what was coming, knew and ached for it.

“You make me crazy,” he groaned, releasing her wrists to cup her breasts, to kiss each nipple and suck it into his mouth in turn until the sensations were ripping through her body, the heat building in her womb and threatening to explode.

“Oh God. Macey. More. More.” She forced her eyes open, to stare into the near black of his. His cock pressed against the folds of flesh between her thighs and throbbed against her clit.

“Not yet,” he groaned. “Not yet, baby. Let me feel this. Let’s see how good it can feel.”

“I can’t stand more,” she protested weakly. She could feel her wetness coating his erection as she tried to move against him, to force him to finish it before he chained her body to his forever.

“God, you taste sweet,” he muttered, his lips leaving her breasts, stroking down her stomach, parting her thighs. She watched as he lowered his head to the damp curls between her thighs. “Do you taste sweeter here?”

He didn’t give her time to protest. Confident, hungry, his lips lowered to her clit, his tongue
stroked it, and his groan, when it vibrated against her flesh, sent her senses reeling.

Her thighs fell further open, her hips lifted to him, and Emerson knew nothing had ever felt so good. He knew his way around a woman’s body. Knew where to lick, where to stroke, how to flick his tongue against her narrow opening. How to make her scream and make her beg for him to take her.

She saw a smile flash across his face, sexy, certain, before his lips covered her clit and he sucked it with slow, torturous draws of his mouth as his tongue flickered around it. Never in the right spot long enough, just enough to tease, to torment, to cause her to writhe and to plead but never enough to throw her over the edge.

“Macey, it’s too much,” she cried out, her fingers twining in his hair, holding him to her flesh rather than pulling him away as she should have been. “I can’t stand it.”

“Not enough,” he growled before he licked. “So sweet and hot, Emerson. I need more of you.”

“Please,” she panted. “I need you now. I can’t wait.”

“Just a few more minutes, baby,” he crooned before licking lower.

His hands cupped her ass, lifted her, and a low, ragged cry filled the air as he buried his tongue in her pussy.

Emerson felt herself unraveling. Everything she had held safe inside her came loose and streamed toward him. She had managed to keep her heart
sheltered through the flirty confrontations that were more a result of sexual tension than actual enmity. But this, she couldn’t hold herself distant from this, from a pleasure that unlocked every shield she had placed around her emotions.

As his tongue thrust inside her, his groan vibrating against hidden tissue, she felt the explosion building inside her tighten further.

She couldn’t fight it. She arched to him, begging, pleading, pulling at his hair until he loosened her hands and eased them up to her breasts.

“Touch them for me,” he whispered as he lifted himself between her thighs and curled her fingers around her breasts. “Pleasure them for me, Emerson. Let me watch while I take you.”

She cupped the heavy flesh, her fingers stroking over her nipples as Macey quickly tore at the foil wrapper of the condom he had pulled from his jeans.

Sheathed, his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as he nudged the broad head of his cock against the slick entrance to her pussy.

“Don’t stop, baby, let me watch you play with your pretty breasts while I take you.”

The hard crest wedged inside her, stretching her, sending rivulets of burning pleasure radiating from the slight penetration.

“Ah, that’s a good girl,” he whispered, his voice heavy, his breathing as labored as her own. “So pretty, Em. So damned pretty.”

So erotic. Emerson stared back at him, working
her nipples with her fingers, feeling the alternating sensations building inside her, burning through her nerve endings.

It was sexy, it was wicked, tempting him even as he worked the thick length of his erection inside her.

“Macey. It’s so good.” Her eyes closed, her fingers tightened on her nipples. It was too good, too intense, too much pleasure.

“So sweet.” His voice was rough as he worked himself deeper. “So sweet and tight. Hell, Em. You’re killing me.”

He pressed to the hilt. The head of his erection throbbed inside her, heated and heavy, iron hard, spiking the heat burning beneath her flesh now. She felt her womb clench and ripple. Her clit, pressed solidly against his pelvis, throbbed on the brink of release.

“Macey.” Trembling, she fought for the orgasm just out of reach.

“You make me lose my control,” he breathed out roughly. “God, Em, I want this to be good for you. So damned good for you.”

Shock shattered her. Had anyone ever cared if it was good for her? If she needed to come, or if she felt the same pleasure they did?

“It’s good. So good.” It was better than anything she had ever known.

His eyes narrowed on her then. “Oh baby, it’s about to get so much better.”

She didn’t think it could get better until he began to move. She expected him to take her hard and
fast, to rush to the finish line and his own release. But Macey was a sensual demon. She should have known he liked to play, liked to draw the pleasure out. He had a lazy drawl, a patient way of moving, and the sleepy sensuality in his gaze should have warned her.

“Lift your breasts to me, Emerson,” he growled. “Lift those pretty nipples for me.”

She cupped her breasts and offered the hard sensitive points to him, then screamed out her pleasure as his lips surrounded one tight peak.

It wasn’t just the hard, heated suction of his mouth, but the thrusts of his cock, the rasp of his pelvis against her clit. It combined to push her higher, but held her back just enough to keep her locked to earth rather than flying in release.

“Not yet,” he bit out, moving from one nipple to the other. “Not yet, baby. Feel good. Feel so fucking good for me.”

“It’s too much,” she cried, trying to push past that final barrier.

“It’s not enough. Not yet.”

She released her breasts to grab onto his shoulders. The sensations were too much, too violent, too much pleasure. But it didn’t stop him. He cupped them himself, his mouth devouring first one then the other as he began to stroke his cock inside her in a smooth, controlled rhythm.

Each thrust, each draw of his mouth stole another piece of her mind until she was nothing more than a creature of his pleasure. His pleasure, her
pleasure. It whipped through her, broke through barriers she hadn’t known she’d erected against him and had her fighting for release, fighting him for her release.

His hoarse chuckle pushed her higher. The slam of his hips as she writhed against him, then his hard hands gripping her hips, his lips latching hungrily to her nipple and his thrusts increasing.

That was what she needed. She lifted to him, her gaze filmy. Ecstasy washed through her veins, built and burned until she was screaming his name, screaming and exploding beneath him in a cataclysm of pleasure that ripped through her body.

She heard his shattered male cry, felt him tense and shudder as her arms tightened around his shoulders and the pleasure burned through her. Like lava. Like white-hot electricity shot straight to her soul.

SHE WAS IN LOVE
with him. She may have denied it before the mind-blowing sex, but hours later, curled against him in his bed, exhausted and sated, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Letting him go was going to bite. Watching him walk away, that careless smile on his face, would break her heart.

“This should be over in time for the March-Illison-Beckinmore family reunion.” Amusement laced his voice. “The biggest damned get-together in the state of Georgia. We hold it on Grandpa’s farm further south every year. And every year most of the men walk away with bruises from a fight or two, and the women walk away irritated and grumbling because they fought again. And everyone agrees it’s the best year we’ve ever had.”

Her head was pillowed on his chest as he spoke, though a frown edged her brow as he spoke of it.

“Sounds like a big family.” She had no idea what
a big family constituted. There were no family reunions in her family, no get-togethers outside the occasional dinner with her parents and godfather.

“One of the biggest. Over three hundred last year.” His hand smoothed down her hair, her back. “Tents and RVs crowd the place for a full week, and the main farmhouse is packed with sleeping bags and overnight mattresses. Grandma March swears every year she’s canceling the next one, but come June, she’s the one making the calls and organizing it. The woman is seventy and runs around the place like a woman half her age. She amazes me.”

“Sounds like an organizational nightmare.” She could respect someone’s ability to pull it together, but knew it had to be a pain. She just had no idea why Macey was telling her about it.

“Every morning for a week we pile outside for a dawn breakfast, cooked over every barbecue grill, gas grill, and fire ring on the place. Scrambled eggs, biscuits, gravy, sausage and bacon are heaped on picnic tables and everyone eats like they’re starving. For lunch the tables are piled with sandwich fixin’s and pulled pork barbecue, and for dinner, good God, fresh catfish, steaks, burgers and hot dogs. It’s like a camp for the insane.” But she could hear his love for it in his voice.

She just couldn’t imagine Macey with a family that size. She couldn’t imagine anyone with a family that size.

“How do you keep everyone straight?” she asked,
confused. “Over three hundred people? That sounds more like a convention than any kind of reunion.”

“It resembles one sometimes too,” he chuckled. Through it all his hands stroked over her hair, her arms, her back. They were never still, always touching her.

Was it normal for him, she wondered, to want to cuddle after sex? He must be the only guy in existence who did, because it was the first time she had ever experienced it.

Hesitantly, she let the hand that lay on his chest move, to stroke over the silky hairs that grew there and enjoy the feel of them against her palm.

She hadn’t imagined how much she would love his tough, hard body. The barbed wire tattoo around his left bicep, the scar on his thigh, the packed, lean muscle. Just laying against him turned her on and made her want to ignore the little aches and pains in her body and take another taste of him.

It wasn’t just his body she loved, though, and that’s what frightened her.

“You could go with me, you know.”

Her thoughts slammed to a halt and her head jerked up. Her hand paused in the middle of the hard abdomen she had been stroking, growing ever closer to the erection stretching from between his thighs.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you could go to the family reunion with me.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You’d have fun.”

“I’m not part of the family.”

“You’re mine. That makes you family.”

Emerson felt everything inside her slow to a quick stop as time seemed to take on a heavy, sluggish quality. She stared into his eyes, seeing the determination, possessiveness, and total resolve in his eyes.

“You know better than that, Macey.” She had to force herself to breathe, to push back the need to believe.

“Do I, Em?”

“You should.” She eased from him, wrapping a sheet around her body and moving for the doorway. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Not now. I’m not a starry-eyed teenager that needs a proposal and professions of love to excuse a little sex. You’re off the hook. I won’t cry on the admiral’s shoulder or accuse you of taking advantage of me. So do us both a favor and don’t make more out of it than what it was.”

She needed her clothes, fast. She needed to shower, to wash the scent of his body from hers and get dressed.

“Do you really think I’m going to just walk away from you, Em? For any reason?” Quiet understanding. It was in his voice, in his eyes as he stood up and walked over to her. “Did you think a one-night stand was all I wanted?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” Her heart was racing in her chest, her mouth dry with a sense of panic now. “You’re not exactly known for your monogamous lifestyle, Macey.”

“And you still went to bed with me?” He tilted
his head, his gaze gentle as he smoothed his hands over her bare shoulders. “Why did you do that, Emerson?”