Page 234 of At the Edge of Surrender

“What are you doing?” Emery’s question was a whispered breath, just low enough that I could hear it over the din.

I spun her around and pinned her to the door. “Need you. Think I might die if I don’t get inside you.”

The playfulness wound with the desire, need flashing in that mesmerizing gaze as she stared up at me. “You have me.”

My girl was no longer shy or reserved, and I fucking loved it.

“And I’m never going to let you go,” I rumbled at her lips as I blindly punched in the code that unlatched the door.

It swung open, and I backed her inside, shutting and dead bolting it behind us as I edged her toward my desk.

I alternated pouring tequila into her mouth and kissing her the whole way.

Lapping it up with my tongue.

Mad with lust.

Crazed with devotion.

With this love that I didn’t understand.

This connection that felt like a life beat that ran through my veins.

“So happy, Em-Girl. So fuckin’ happy. Didn’t know it could be like this.”

I set the bottle to the side then pushed a bunch of shit off my desk so I could prop her on the edge of it.

She gasped as I stepped between her legs and dragged her against me. My jean-covered erection pressed heavy at her center.

Pleasure ripped up my spine at the bare contact. “Fuck. I’m never going to get enough. Never going to get enough of you or this tight little cunt.”

With frantic hands, I shoved her skirt up to her waist.

Our breaths came in choppy quakes as we struggled to get to one another, my kisses demanding and wild as I pushed her panties down her legs.

I stepped back to peel them all the way down, over her thigh-high boots before I tossed them to the ground.

“Lean back and let me see you,” I demanded.

Emery complied, leaning back on her elbows and hooking her heels on the edge of the desk and spreading herself wide.

Exposing herself.

Her pussy pink and swollen and drenched.

“Fuck. Look at you, Emery. Giving yourself this way. Knowing the way I’m going to take care of you.”

It was insane that she’d been so afraid of being touched before she was with me. It was something that both made me irate since she still hadn’t fully come to the place where she could talk about it, the words locking in her throat whenever she tried.

It also made me feel like a king.

That it was me she chose.

That she was free in my touch.

I ran my fingers through her wet, hot slit.

She arched, her chest heaving as her body begged for more.

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