Page 73 of The Love Interest
Suddenly, he lifts up one of my legs to rest against his shoulder. He groans because I’m tighter around him now. His pace slows. He is catching his breath and savoring this new sensation. I raise my other leg to rest it on his other shoulder. He hisses. “Fuck. Baby. So hot.”
I’ve never talked much during sex before, but I want to, for him. “I love how you feel inside me, Emmett.”
He grunts, drilling into me again.
The fronts of my thighs keep getting pushed up against my boobs, and I don’t mind at all. “We fit so good.”
“Your pussy was made for me,” he mumbles.
Well, now.
He’s a little better at this than I am, so I’ll just shut up and let him fuck me.
And he does.
He slides his hands up my legs as he gets up onto his knees, hikes me up higher, and comes at me from a different angle. I’m used to seeing his face all tensed up, but this kind of tension makes him look so sexy I could cry. He stares down at my breasts. They’re bouncing around happily. I do something else that I wouldn’t normally do for a guy—I put my hands on my breasts and touch myself for him.
The flicker of his eyelashes, the sound that emanates from the back of his throat is reward enough.
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
I’m becoming a woman for him, I think. The sexiest, most intoxicating version of myself. This must be some kind of reproductive evolution. My body wants to make babies with him, so it’s making me do all the porny things I’ve never been inspired to do for anyone else.
I am pretty sure my blood content is about ninety percent sex hormones right now.
Every part of me feels swollen. Even my fingernails are on the verge of orgasm. My spleen is getting in on the action too, I’ll bet.
Just when the contractions start, Emmett pauses to flip me over so I’m on my hands and knees. He takes a fistful of my hair and tugs on it. I never knew I wanted anyone to do that to me, but it puts me over the edge. He holds on to my hips, his thrusts getting faster and faster. He is so in control of my body, and I have never been handled so masterfully in my life.
I realize the sounds I’m making could be interpreted as agonized or terrified or despondent. But it’s pure bliss. My body can’t contain this much pleasure all at once, so I have to release it by crying out and transmuting my climax to sound vibrations that match the “Winter” movement that’s coming from the speakers.
Emmett slams into me, and then his whole body shudders. The sudden stillness is electrifying. My eyes squeeze shut, and I sigh because I can feel the warmth of him emptying himself inside me, exactly what I wanted. His hands glide up my back, which is slick with sweat. I lower myself down so he can lie flat on my back. I feel his lips on my shoulder.
“Jesus,” he mutters.
I would give him a standing ovation, but I love feeling the weight of him on top of me. I love his breath on my skin and his fingertips stroking my biceps. I love that he doesn’t have to ask me if I came, because I’m pretty sure the entire county knows I did. I thought I loved sex before, but this was something else entirely. This was two bodies colliding because our souls needed to smash into each other to create something newer and better than we’d ever known. This was the long-awaited culmination of two personalities reacting to each other and being transformed like chemical substances.
Or maybe it was just two people fucking and it was awesome.
I want to do it again.
He kisses the crook of my neck. “Should we eat dinner and then do that again?”
“Yes, please.”
I remember needing inspiration that night that I met Emmett. I looked up the definition ofinspirationin the dictionary the other day. One of the definitions is: “a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation.” Another: “the act of drawing in; specifically:the drawing of air into the lungs.”
I’ve drawn Emmett Ford into my lungs, and he’s been pumped into every part of me, including my writing. I now feel qualified to communicate this sacred revelation: the fear of falling in love with someone is insignificant compared to the joy of letting yourself fall in love with someone who pushes you to become more of who you areandcalls you “baby.”
That is what I have ultimately learned in Professor Ford’s class.
In this way, I am willing to always be his student.
34
EMMETT
This time yesterday, I thought Fiona was in California and I didn’t know when I’d see her again. Today, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go more than a day without seeing her and I think I want to live here with her all the time. Not now but someday. All of the feelings I’ve been holding back since I met her seem to be flooding in to fill the void that was my cold, dead heart.
