Page 120 of Anything for You
Then, I wake up all at once. My eyes fly open and the view I have is one I would happily wake to every morning for the rest of my days and never tire of. Emma is kneeling beside me in bed, hair curtained around her face, her mouth on my cock, head bobbing up and down as she takes long, slow pulls on me, running her tongue along the sensitive underside, swirling it around the head of my dick, humming around me in a way that has me feeling the vibrations from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
“Fuck, Ems,” I rasp out, my voice gritty from sleep and the intense pleasure of her mouth on me.
Giving me a long lick from base to tip, she sits up straight and replaces her mouth with her hand, stroking me slowly as her eyes lock with mine.
“Good morning, superstar. How’d you sleep?” She gives me a wicked grin, rubbing her thumb over my slit, collecting theprecum there and using it as lube, mixing it with the saliva coating my cock to slide her hand up and down. I curl my hands into the sheets, gripping hard and just barely resisting the urge to thrust my hips up into her hand.
It’s only then that I see what she’s wearing.
The jersey is old and worn, but I would recognize it anywhere. The penguin on the front, the gold stripes, the twin ninety-ones on the shoulders. This time I do thrust my hips up into her hand and groan as Emma tightens her grip on me.
“Where the fuck did you find that?”
“eBay. You were the highest scorer in the league for three seasons. Lots of people still want your jersey. Including me.”
Emma drops her hand between my legs and rolls my balls. She rubs her index finger along the sensitive skin behind them, and precum leaks from my tip and pools on my abs. A moan slips from my lips.
I fucked a lot of women during my career, and a lot of them wore my jersey. But no woman I love has ever worn my jersey. I may be more than fifteen years removed from my playing days and only recently found my way back onto the ice, but the caveman inside of me doesn’t seem to care. Possession beats like a drum in my blood.
“Turn around,” I growl out.
Emma’s eyes flash and she spins on the bed. She gathers her hair up and pulls it over one shoulder so she can show me what I want to see. The sight of my name on her back has me feral. Sitting up in bed, I spin Emma around until she’s straddling my lap, my hard cock pressed between us, and I crash my mouth to hers. Our tongues dance and tangle. Her hands curl into my hair and tug. My hands rove her body, touching every inch of her I can reach.
It's only when I slide my hands up her legs and under the jersey that I realize there’s nothing underneath it. I graze a fingerover her slit, feeling her already wet for me. I use it to circle her clit lightly with one finger and she shivers, a low moan escaping her throat.
“Shit, Ems, no underwear?” I whisper against her lips.
“Didn’t want to,” she says, rocking her hips against my finger, trying to get more friction. Then she pulls away, keeping a hold on my hair so our gazes stay locked. “I wanted you to wake up with your cock in my mouth, and then I wanted you to fuck my throat while I wear your jersey. And only your jersey.”
She slams her mouth back on mine, tightening her grip on my hair, and all the blood left in my body rushes straight to my dick.
Mother. Fucker.
“How are you even real?” I grit out.
“Oh, I assure you I am completely real.” Emma climbs off my lap and slides off the bed, right onto her knees, turning and looking up at me. “Now stand up.”
Helpless to do anything but follow her command, I get out of bed and stand right in front of her, my cock long and rock hard and bobbing between us. The way Emma looks up at me through her lashes has pleasure curling its way through me, and she’s not even touching me yet.
“Open that mouth, Pretty Girl. You want me to fuck it? Show me.”
“You think you’re the boss of me?” she says, her voice full of the sass I love.
“You’re the one on your knees for me, aren’t you? That puts me in charge.”
Literally nothing could be further from the truth. I’m not the one in charge here. I never was. From her knees, standing straight, every which way, Emma Langley owns me, mind, body, and soul. Her smile and the glint in her eyes as she opens her mouth tells me she knows it too.
I feed her my cock slowly, watching it disappear between her lips, my brain shorting out as I bump the back of her throat, and she gags around me. I pull out almost all the way and push my hips forward again, testing her limits, making sure I know how far to go so I don’t hurt her. I would die first.
Emma grabs my hips and pulls off me, eyes flashing as she looks up.
“When I said fuck my throat, I meant Fuck. My. Throat. I’m not made of glass; I won’t break, and I know how much I can take. So fucking do it, Jeremy.”
Holy Jesus Christ.
“Okay, Pretty Girl, you asked for it. Tap my leg if it gets to be too much and it all stops.”
She nods.
