Unbroken

with the thrill. I can feel him up against me, a solid wall of muscle trapping me in place, the hard ridge of him pressed against the small of my back. I can’t move, or see the expression on his face, only hear the hoarse groan Emerson sounds as he twists a handful of my hair and yanks it to one side, kissing a searing trail along the curve of my neck.
    I whimper, bound and powerless against him, and oh God , loving every minute of it. His hands roam around to my front, across my breasts, tugging and teasing at the tender flesh before they slide down my stomach with heart-stopping intent. My legs give way, and I sag back against him as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my skirt and under the thin lace of my panties, blazing a determined trail to the tight, aching center of me.
    “Emerson!”
    I hear my desperate cry as if from far away, through the rush of blood pounding in my ears. The world doesn’t exist anymore, nothing does, even my body has been reduced to just gasps, and pleas, and the desperate ache that won’t be soothed until his palm slides firm over me and his fingers find my tender flesh at last, and curve up to push inside of me.
    Oh! I shudder against his hand, whimpering and twisting in his iron embrace as I frantically thrust against the rhythm of his fingers, shivers of pleasure spiraling out like silver cobwebs across my skin. Emerson groans, and I feel the deep vibration of his voice against my neck as his fingers press, and tease, and flutter inside me, and then he pulls free and I cry out, empty and aching until he finds me again, thumb pressing down with a new pressure that makes my knees give and my body ache, and my bones cry out for release until finally the endless slow build becomes a deep surge and with one last hard spiral of his fingers I shatter against him, falling into the velvet darkness.
    When I surface, gasping, I’m hanging against him, Emerson holding me up with those solid, muscled arms. I catch my breath, shockwaves still shooting through me. I’m reeling from the intensity of my release, adrenalin coursing fierce hot sparks through my bloodstream. Emerson turns me back to him, claiming my mouth again with fevered kisses as he backs up against the opposite wall. Objects fall from the shelving, crashing to the floor around us, but we don’t stop. I couldn’t even if I tried. He fumbles with his belt, breathing labored against my mouth, and I push his hands aside to unbuckle him, shoving down his jeans and underwear, shocked at the hunger still clawing deep in my stomach even as my orgasm slips away.
    More. Now. Mine.
    My fingers close around him, hot and hard, and I feel the jolt of Emerson’s body as he lets out a growl of ragged desire. Power surges through me at the sound, and I look up to find his head tipped back, mouth open and groaning as I gently tease and stroke him in my palm. His eyes snap open to find me watching him. He reaches for me, but I duck back, and sink to my knees on the hard floor.
    “Jules,” he gasps, reaching out to brace himself against the shelving as I lower my head and find him with my lips. I slide my hands down across the hard ridges of his abs and around to grasp the chiseled contours of his butt as I lick slowly along the shaft, tasting him, teasing him. He’s soft and salty, so familiar, so Emerson , it fills me with a blissful sense of calm. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to trace and lap at him, running my lips down his length and then swirling my tongue gently over the sensitive part near the tip. Emerson’s whole body shudders in response. He clutches mindlessly at the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, and it sends a fresh wave of exhilaration through me. Now it’s his turn to be undone, to feel helpless, to be totally at the mercy of my touch and tongue and slow, agonizing exploration.
    I pull his body closer and finally take him into my mouth. Emerson lets out a groan as I suck deeper, finding my rhythm, loving the feel of how his body trembles and jolts under my fingertips as I let my hands roam across the hard ridges of his skin, tracing slow circles on the tender patches just below his hipbones, drifting down the solid trunk of his legs, and up the inside of his thighs to tease and stroke his balls.
    “Jules,” he gasps, tugging at my hair, trying to get me closer, go deeper, but I pull back, teasing now, whispering delicate kisses along the length of him until he’s begging