Page 72 of The Bloodfeather Promise
“Are there other ways you can show me?” Emerson asks cheekily.
“I have plenty of ideas, but always open to suggestions.” I swim close, wrapping my arms around her waist. She backs away until we are against the pool wall in waist deep water. The sun is setting in the background, painting the sky in brilliant colors. We stand in the twilight until the pool lights switch on, bathing us in the glow.
“You could kiss me,” she says dreamily, her arms looping around my neck.
I grin. “That’s a start. I plan on doing much more.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
Our mouths meet and mold together. As always, I’m astonished by the sweetness of Emerson. She’s so lush and silky, a decadent treat I crave again and again. Time comes to a stop with our kiss, the world slowly revolving around us.
Nothing on earth could have prepared me for the happiness I found with this woman. There are so many ways she makes me smile and laugh. Hell, I even adore her when she’s angry because that temper of hers is a hidden gem. I love seeing her eyes sparkle, and I love it even more when I soothe her feathers.
I’ve abandoned all my bad habits. Even the weed. I have zero desire for anything that dulls time spent with Emerson. And time with her is a gift I cherish right now. Soon enough, Seven Seconds will embark on another tour, and although she is coming with me, I won’t be able to give her the attention she deserves when we go.
She’s moving in this week. Her little cottage will be rented out to Noah and Devon. They recently were engaged and Emerson planned a party for them here at Lullaby Tides next weekend.
Emerson doesn’t know I plan on popping the question to her the day following the party. I’ve already bought the ring. I'm gonna wait for sunset, turn her to face me, and tell her how she completes my world.
The day Emerson Jane Banner becomes my wife will be the second luckiest day of my life. The first being the day she slapped me in that dive bar on the Sunset Strip.
We kiss and kiss until we are breathless, straining toward each other. Emerson breaks away first, trailing fire to the outline of my tattoo. Her lips trace it with loving care before she slips down, taking my nipple into her mouth.
I groan, my hands holding the braid of her hair so she doesn’t pull away too soon. But she’s strong, and I love indulging her, so eventually, I let her move to the other side of my chest where she treats the other nipple in the same manner. Sucking the hardened bud between her teeth, her hand dips into my swim trunks where she caresses my hardened length until I’m on the verge of madness.
“Damnit, woman. You are driving me crazy.”
She grins against my flesh then brings her lips back to mine. Before she even knows what I’ve done, the ties of her bikini are undone, the top floating away on the gentle waves we create. Keeping one arm around her waist, I divest her of the matching bottoms. Now, the real fun can begin.
“Turn around, sweetheart.” My murmured instruction brushes across her collarbone. She does as I say, arching her back against my chest. Both of my hands slide over her breasts, cupping their firmness before I twist her nipples simultaneously with hard fingers.
Her arms raise high, hands clasping the back of my head so it’s trapped against the side of her neck. I oblige the unspoken command, latching my teeth in the tender crook there. Biting, licking, then biting again until she is moaning and thrusting her rear end against me.
I maneuver us until we reach a section of the wall that will provide a mind-blowing experience. There is a jet here, pushing water into the pool. It doesn’t carry the force the others do, but it is definitely strong enough to get her attention when I position her in front of it.
“Mmm, what are you doing, Greyson?”
“Hold on to the edge and don’t let go, sweetheart,” I say, my breath coming fast as I grip her hips and push her closer to the jet.
Seeing the little feather tattooed on her hip sends a surge of animalistic lust coursing through my veins. It feels like a hit of the most potent cocaine I’ve ever had. It always does; it’s a visual symbol of my ownership. A mark reminding me she is truly mine.
“But what are you doing?” Emerson insists on asking, right as a cry of pleasure is ripped from her lungs. The jet strikes between her thighs. Just as I intended. “Oh, God.”
“I’m doing what I wanted to do the first time you swam in this pool with me. Now, do as I say. Hold on to the edge while I push you over it.”
She’s already near orgasmic when I enter her from behind, plunging into a heaven that is hotter than the water surrounding us and tighter than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Her whimpers increase, her body clenching around mine as I thrust in a slow rhythm. My hands hold her hips in place, fighting the buoyancy of the water and the added resistance from the pulsating jet.
“Ohhhh, fuck, Greyson,” Emerson pants.
I can’t help but smile because very rarely does she use that word. It’s usually when I’m making love to her that it slips out.
“Come for me, my dirty girl. Come for me. I want to feel you, feel your heartbeat against my cock. Show me how good I make you feel,” I croon.
Emerson obeys with a shudder, unintelligible words falling from her lips, her sleek back and shoulders glistening with sparkling drops of water as she rocks back onto me. When she comes undone with a cry so pure and so sweet it’s reminiscent of an angel’s song, I’m already on the verge of losing control.
With the jet pounding her from the front and my cock plunging so deep inside her from behind, she climaxes in an unending wave of contractions. Her moans are music to my ears. I savor each one.
