Page 36 of Marrying His Brother

Her release floods against my tongue, her sweet nectar coating my lips and tongue. I feel her shudder beneath me, her body wracked with pleasure as she cries out my name.

As her orgasm subsides, I kiss her inner thighs softly, trailing my fingers through the remnants of her release. I guide myself to her entrance and slowly thrust inside her, feeling her muscles constrict around me.

I want to go slowly but the demons inside me won’t let me.

I take her hard and fast, Emily’s nails digging into my back letting me know that we’re together.

“Andrew,” she moans, her name a hoarse whisper that sends a jolt through me. “I need more.”

I drive into her, burying myself to the hilt. I pull out and ram into her again. Emily wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me even deeper.

My mind is empty, save for the pleasure coursing through me and Emily’s tight pussy milking my dick.

Emily whimpers as my release builds up.

Her whimpers grow more desperate, her hands clawing at my back, urging me on.

“Andrew,” she gasps, her voice barely audible above the sound of our bodies slamming against each other. “I'm close.”

Her words set off a spark inside me, and I thrust harder, faster, feeling the pressure build until I can't hold back any longer.

“I'm going to come,” I grunt, my voice rough with need.

Emily's breath hitches as she cries out my name, her hands clutching at me tighter. “Andrew!” she says again, the urgency in her voice matching my own.

And then it happens. Her body flutters around me, pushing me over the edge. My release floods her, her muscles clamping down against me in response.

I feel as if I’ve run a three-thousand-mile race. Spent, I collapse besides Emily and pull her close. My eyes are heavy with sleep. There’s a thought nagging at me but I’m too exhausted to chase it. I give in to sleep.

Chapter 16: Emily

I wake up, disoriented, my cheek pressed against something warm and solid. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when they do, I realize I’m nestled against Andrew’s chest, his strong arms wrapped around me.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes steadily, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something purely him—masculine, familiar, intoxicating.

Oh God.My heart pounds as the events of last night come rushing back, and I want to scream. What the hell was I thinking?

I replay everything in my mind, the way I crept down the hall, tiptoeing to Andrew’s room after hearing him cry out in his sleep.

I remember standing by his bed, his face twisted in anguish, the sound of his ragged breathing. I’d shaken him gently, whispering his name, trying to wake him from whatever nightmare had its grip on him.

And then he’d pulled me into his bed, his arms tight around me, like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him afloat. I should have stopped it, should have stepped back, but instead, we kissed.

And once his lips were on mine, every rational thought evaporated.

I was so aroused, so desperate for him, that nothing—absolutely nothing—could have made me leave. The way he held me, the heat of his mouth, the urgency in his touch. I didn’t think, I just felt.

But now, in the cold light of morning, my heart is thudding for a different reason. The reality of what we did crashes over me, and I can’t breathe.

He was obviously reacting to his nightmare, needing something, someone, to hold onto. But what was my excuse? Why did I let it happen?

Oh my God. Shame surges through me, burning hot. I can’t bear the thought of facing him when he wakes up. What will he think of me? That I took advantage of a vulnerable moment?

Slowly, carefully, I pry myself out of his hold, moving inch by inch, trying not to wake him. His arm tightens around me for a moment, and I freeze, my breath catching.

But then he shifts, and I manage to slip free, tiptoeing out of his room like a thief in the night.

Back in my own room, I practically dive into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, hoping it will wash away the embarrassment, the confusion.

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