He carries me inside, slamming the door behind him. He tries to make it up the stairs, but we are too desperate, and I’m clawing at his shirt as he sets me on the steps, kneeling in front of me.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans, digging his hand in my hair and grasping my scalp as his mouth trails down to my neck.
“I missed you so much,” I reply, pulling open the buttons of his shirt, so I can reach his skin because I need to feel him. And it doesn’t matter that we just saw each other last night and I felt his mouth on me less than twenty-four hours ago, because it wasn’t like this.
When I finally have his shirt undone, he quickly shrugs out of it, giving me the full, uncovered view of his body, and I wrap my hands around his waist, kissing my way down from his chest to his waist. There’s a low vibration through me from his groan as I lick my way across his stomach, teasing the area just above his belt.
“Get naked for me, Charlotte. I want to see my girl.” He takes me by the chin, lifting my face until I’m smiling up at him. His girl.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply sweetly. Then I move deftly to pull off my own shirt.
At the first sight of my breasts, he drops his hands from his belt and reaches for me, peppering my body with kisses and ravaging each side of my chest until I’m gasping for air.
“I want to take my time with you, Charlotte,” he murmurs against my skin. “But I can’t help myself when I see you. You make me fucking crazy. Now I just want to come, and I want to do it inside you.”
“Yes,” I gasp as I tear at the button on my black jeans. As soon as I have my zipper down, he grabs me by the waist.
“Turn over,” he commands, dropping me on my knees a few steps higher and tearing my pants down my legs almost violently. A loud gasp slips through my lips when I feel his mouth on my back, trailing his wet, warm kiss downward until he’s spearing me with his tongue, groaning against my sex hungrily. Lapping at my clit in a frenzied daze, he takes me to the edge of bliss before pulling away and shifting his own pants downward.
“You’re mine, Charlotte. This pussy is mine, understand?”
“Yes,” I shriek, pressing my hips backward, searching for him—his mouth, his hands, his cock, anything—but he holds me at bay. Turning back, I see him stroke himself languidly, staring at my exposed cunt with lust in his eyes.
“Tell me you’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, clutching the wooden step between my fingers, turning my knuckles white. “I don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours and you’re mine. My…Sir,” I cry out.
“That’s my girl,” he groans, and without warning, he fills me, a hint of pain laced with pleasure. I scream while thrusting my hips backward, trying to take more, as much as I can get until I have all of him and he has all of me.
His hands land harshly against the stairs next to mine, and he covers my body, thrusting inside with each rough cant of his hips. The hot skin of his chest is against my back and his breath is in my ear. With every smack of his hips against my ass, I let out a breathy mewl of pleasure, mixed with his heavy grunts.
He’s fucking me fast and hard until we are moving as one toward our climax, and when I scream with my release, he groans and pounds into me one last time, my name on his lips as he comes.
Before I have the chance to collapse onto the steps, he pulls me upright. His cock slides out of me, cum dripping down my legs, as he turns me until I’m facing him.
“I love you, Charlie,” he whispers into my mouth, sealing his words with a languid kiss. And I bite onto his bottom lip, making him feel the intensity that’s boiling inside me.
When our mouths part, I lick the teeth marks on his bottom lip before whispering in return. “I love you too.”
And it’s all that needs to be said between us. No more dirty secrets or stolen moments, just this raw expression of everything we’ve felt over the last three months. Leaving the clothes we shed on the stairs, he carries me to his bed and makes good on his promise to take his time with me, knowing he finally has all the time in the world.
RULE #39: GOOD GIRLS GET HAPPY ENDINGS.
EPILOGUE
Charlotte
He’s not focusing on the meeting at all. There are three potential investors on the call, each of their faces plastered on the screen as Maggie and Garrett walk them through the new programs the club is rolling out in the new fiscal year, and Emerson’s eyes are unfocused and furrowed as he stares at the computer screen.
Granted, I am lapping at his cock with my tongue like it’s a damn lollipop, and I’m doing it on purpose to drive him insane. With a quick click-click of his mouse, I know he’s muted his mic. Then his fingers dig into my hair as he mutters darkly, “Stop being a fucking tease, Charlotte, and suck my cock like a good little secretary.”