I feel her clench around me, her gaze darkening to make the irises of her blue eyes look like the deepest depths of the ocean.
“You’re definitely on the naughty list,” I tease, flipping us over to where her back hits the soft fur of the rug, my cock still buried inside of her.
I pull her leg higher up on my side, setting the arch of her foot along my shoulder so I can fuck her even deeper. She sighs a breathy whimper as my hips flex.
“I need you to stop talking and fuck me, Jackson Pearce.”
My brow arches. Most of the time, she drives me up a fucking wall, but damn, I think I actually love that mouth. I love how feisty she is. A fucking spitfire, never taking any shit from anyone.
It’s the things that I didn’t know about Emma that I’m committing to memory right now. The way she sounds as she comes, the way we somehow fit perfectly together even though we’ve been taught to hate each other for our entire lives. How right she feels on my dick.
Her legs rest on my shoulders, and I feel the tremor in them when I thrust my hips deeper, bottoming out inside of her. With every thrust, her tits shake, and she moves further up on the rug.
There’s nothing gentle or romantic about what’s happening between us.
It’s raw, lust-filled fucking, both of us giving in to our bodies’ desire for each other. Tomorrow, we’ll worry about the consequences, but tonight, losing myself in her is the only place I want to be.
My gaze drops to where I’m fucking her, and I spread her open further so I can better watch my cock slide into her. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Watching her stretch to take all of me, her pussy pink and puffy from my cock pounding inside of her.
I feel her tightening around me and the tingling in the base of my spine intensifying, pushing me closer to the edge.
I withdraw and surge forward forcefully, my thrusts turning more erratic and wild, and she whimpers beneath me. Leaning down, I capture the taut peak of her nipple between my teeth to bite as I drop my fingers down to her clit, circling in sync with my thrusts.
“Come, Emma,” I rasp against her nipple, my other hand fisting the soft curve of her hip as my balls begin to draw up, ready to explode.
“I-I…” she pants.
I pinch her clit between my fingers, and her orgasm sweeps through her violently, her back bowing and her legs clamping around my hips as she writhes.
A second later, I follow, arousal snaking down my spine. I rock my hips into her slower, delving deep as I let go, coming inside of her in hot spurts. A deep groan sounds from my chest, and my hands grasp tightly on to her waist as the aftershocks of her orgasm rock through her.
“Holy shit,” she mumbles, glancing up at me with darkened pupils and flushed cheeks.
This was dirty, and rough, and hot as fuck.
And suddenly, I find myself wishing it was for more than the one night we promised.
emma
Mistle-No
I feel like I’ve got a neon sign over my head that says, “I had the best sex of my life with a man I sometimes want to murder,” and it’s following me around everywhere I go. And by sometimes, I mean all of the time that he isn’t giving me orgasms.
Logically, I know that’s not true, but it seems like ever since the night that we shall not discuss, the entire town has been whispering and following me with their eyes even more than usual.
“You’re being paranoid, Emma. Chill,” I mutter to myself, closing my eyes and counting to ten, then exhaling a steady breath.
“What was that, darling?”
My eyes fly open, and I see my mother standing in the kitchen, her brow furrowed in question, which is saying a lot considering the amount of money she spends each month on Botox.
I clear my throat and shake my head, pasting on a smile. “Nothing, I was just going over my to-do list in my head. I just wanted to sit with you really quick and go over a few things.”
A few things being that I might actually be the worst Worthington in the history of my entire bloodline. I nervously chew my lip as she nods and gestures to the grand dining room table. As always, it’s set to perfection.
I wouldn’t expect anything less from Amelia Worthington. Everything in our household has always been proper and organized, or my mother would lose her mind, and nobody wanted that. I grew up realizing from a very early age that my mother expected the very same perfection out of me, and somewhere along the way, the pressure to be what she expected me to be began to feel… suffocating.
More so now than ever. I hated to disappoint her, even as an adult.
“Well, sit down, Emma, you’re making me nervous,” she says from the opposite chair.
“Sorry, I’m feeling a bit, uh, distracted today.” I pull out the chair and smooth the back of my skirt before taking a seat. Her gaze is trained on me as I sit there in silence.
I don’t know the right way to come out and say it, so I’m just going to say it and get it over with.
“There was a little… altercation a few days ago. I know you were out of town for the work trip with Dad, and I wanted to be the first one to tell you. “
Her eyebrows rise slightly, causing her brows to reach the blonde wisps of her bangs. She’s wearing her hair half up and half down today, secured tightly with a Chanel clip that’s almost the same shade as the red on her lips. Her signature color.
She’s always said that it’s the perfect shade to match the bloodred ruby earrings my father gifted her on their first wedding anniversary. Her makeup is flawless and her clothing classy yet effortlessly casual.
My mother has always been the face of the ladies society in Strawberry Hollow. A perfect Worthington woman, which means that she has always set the bar high.
“What kind of altercation?” she asks, her expression scandalized.
“I ran into Jackson Pearce at the general store, and we had a small… disagreement. It was honestly so silly, and I realize that now, but as you know, the Pearce family has the uncanny ability to push you like no other. I didn’t realize in my argument with him how close I was to the glass ornament display, and when I stepped back… it fell over and shattered.”
My mother gasps, covering her mouth. “Oh, Emma!”
“Obviously, it was an accident. A terrible accident, and to make a very long, ridiculously silly story short, there were consequences. Consequences I was totally prepared to handle, but unfortunately, Mayor Davis says that neither the Pearce family nor the Worthingtons can have a Christmas party… unless it’s at Town Hall. Together.”
I’ve never seen my mother go as pale as she does when she hears the news. For a second, she’s frozen in shock, her perfect face unmoving.
“I know it’s not the best-case scenario, but I think that it will be o—”
“Emma.” She finally speaks, her voice rising with every word. “Do you mean to say that we have to be around the… Pearce family. To have our annual Christmas party… together?”
I nod, biting my lip, unsure if the question is actually one she wants me to answer or if she’s just in shock.
She stands abruptly, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble tile as she paces the dining room. It’s rare to see her so… frazzled. My mother is always the picture of calm and put together. Seeing her this way is slightly unnerving.