his arms, ignoring her protests. He forced her to meet his gaze, trapped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly, trying to portray all his emotions. He didn’t allow her to breathe, making her share his oxygen, share his breath, as he wanted her to share her life with him.
When he finally dragged his lips from Emily’s kiss-swollen mouth, he was shaking, trembling under the force of something so strong, so elemental, that Gareth found it almost too hard to comprehend. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love her this much. She was his.
“Mine. You have always been mine, Emily. Don’t fight me on this—you won’t win.”
Gareth’s tone was arrogant, dominating, but he didn’t care. As he shut off the water still running from the shower, he twisted the taps with such force it was a wonder they did not crack under it. Gareth grabbed the towel within his reach and wrapped it around Emily’s shivering body, hoping that it was desire that had her quivering and not cold but needing to make sure, needing to do everything for her, to protect her and cherish her.
Emily stood still, her eyes wide, staring at him, clutching the towel around her. Gareth removed his boots, shucked his jeans the rest of the way from his body. His brain was clearer now his mind was set—he was able to take charge of the moment. He was confident that with that clarity he would be able to send Emily so high, make her desire him, crave him, want him so much, so wholly that she would not— could not—walk away from him again.
He swept her, towel and all, into his arms and strode towards his room. He placed her gently onto the centre of his bed. He peeled the towel from her grasp, tossed it over his shoulder as he looked at her. Emily, naked, spread out on his bed—the bed that he had spent many a sleepless night tossing and turning in over the burning need for her. It was now perfect with the addition of her sexy form. Her hair was still wet, soaking into his mattress, his pillow. He didn’t worry about any of that—all Gareth cared about was Emily. He knew that his face was not portraying gentleness—his expression was probably hard, showed off his intention, his determination to prove to Emily that they were meant to be together. But she showed no sign of fear in response to that lack of softness in his gaze.
Gareth lifted Emily’s left foot, held it to his lips and gently kissed each of her toes, sucked them into his mouth as he began his journey, his mind focused on her and on making love to every part of her. He was unprepared to leave even one speck of her body overlooked or unloved. He kissed the length of one leg, licking behind her knee, raining kisses over her as she squirmed, her body arching into his touch, her need building as she tried to gain purchase on him with her hands, to expedite his long, slow journey. But Gareth would not be halted or hurried.
He could smell the aroma of Emily’s desire, her pussy calling him to her, enticing him. When he finally reached the sacred spot between her legs, his own hunger was rampant. He nuzzled against the velvet-soft covering of her cunt, breathed the scent of her deep into his lungs. Her fragrance was more potent than any expensive, designer perfume to Gareth’s nose. Nothing compared to her.
He attempted to reinforce his weakening composure, his longing for her nearly overwhelming. Gareth tasted her, prepared—yet unprepared as well—for the gut-wrenching reaction his body had to the sweet taste of her arousal. He lost himself in the pleasure of her taste, licking, imbibing her juices like some starving animal. Screams tore from her, pleasurable screams that satisfied his male ego as he continued his loving assault on her. He drove her hard with the force of his stabbing tongue, his eager lips as he pushed her towards climax, then refused to give her what she needed, refused to allow Emily to tumble into the abyss.
Gareth was waiting for her to cry out his name, to
When he finally dragged his lips from Emily’s kiss-swollen mouth, he was shaking, trembling under the force of something so strong, so elemental, that Gareth found it almost too hard to comprehend. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love her this much. She was his.
“Mine. You have always been mine, Emily. Don’t fight me on this—you won’t win.”
Gareth’s tone was arrogant, dominating, but he didn’t care. As he shut off the water still running from the shower, he twisted the taps with such force it was a wonder they did not crack under it. Gareth grabbed the towel within his reach and wrapped it around Emily’s shivering body, hoping that it was desire that had her quivering and not cold but needing to make sure, needing to do everything for her, to protect her and cherish her.
Emily stood still, her eyes wide, staring at him, clutching the towel around her. Gareth removed his boots, shucked his jeans the rest of the way from his body. His brain was clearer now his mind was set—he was able to take charge of the moment. He was confident that with that clarity he would be able to send Emily so high, make her desire him, crave him, want him so much, so wholly that she would not— could not—walk away from him again.
He swept her, towel and all, into his arms and strode towards his room. He placed her gently onto the centre of his bed. He peeled the towel from her grasp, tossed it over his shoulder as he looked at her. Emily, naked, spread out on his bed—the bed that he had spent many a sleepless night tossing and turning in over the burning need for her. It was now perfect with the addition of her sexy form. Her hair was still wet, soaking into his mattress, his pillow. He didn’t worry about any of that—all Gareth cared about was Emily. He knew that his face was not portraying gentleness—his expression was probably hard, showed off his intention, his determination to prove to Emily that they were meant to be together. But she showed no sign of fear in response to that lack of softness in his gaze.
Gareth lifted Emily’s left foot, held it to his lips and gently kissed each of her toes, sucked them into his mouth as he began his journey, his mind focused on her and on making love to every part of her. He was unprepared to leave even one speck of her body overlooked or unloved. He kissed the length of one leg, licking behind her knee, raining kisses over her as she squirmed, her body arching into his touch, her need building as she tried to gain purchase on him with her hands, to expedite his long, slow journey. But Gareth would not be halted or hurried.
He could smell the aroma of Emily’s desire, her pussy calling him to her, enticing him. When he finally reached the sacred spot between her legs, his own hunger was rampant. He nuzzled against the velvet-soft covering of her cunt, breathed the scent of her deep into his lungs. Her fragrance was more potent than any expensive, designer perfume to Gareth’s nose. Nothing compared to her.
He attempted to reinforce his weakening composure, his longing for her nearly overwhelming. Gareth tasted her, prepared—yet unprepared as well—for the gut-wrenching reaction his body had to the sweet taste of her arousal. He lost himself in the pleasure of her taste, licking, imbibing her juices like some starving animal. Screams tore from her, pleasurable screams that satisfied his male ego as he continued his loving assault on her. He drove her hard with the force of his stabbing tongue, his eager lips as he pushed her towards climax, then refused to give her what she needed, refused to allow Emily to tumble into the abyss.
Gareth was waiting for her to cry out his name, to
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