Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

Before her breathing evened out, his voice filled her ear. “Again.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—not with words. Instead, jostled a gasp out of her when he flipped her over and laid her on the table again. She propped herself up on her elbows, and realized she’d just had two screaming orgasms with her shirt and shoes on. Hell, technically, she still qualified for service in finer fast-food restaurants throughout Atlanta. But Beau intended to change that. She watched as he knelt by her dangling feet and got to work on her laces.

The clomp of one boot hitting the floor reached her ears. Another clomp told her he’d tossed the second boot.

Then he peeled her jeans off and gave her a look that sent waves of hot and cold over every inch of her exposed skin. “Beau…I appreciate the effort, sincerely, but I’m not sure I’ve got more in me at the moment.”

“You’re wrong. Give me a minute and I’ll show you.” He propped her heels on his shoulders.

She gripped the edge of the table and decided the least she could do was let him prove his point. “Okay. I’ll give you a minute. I’m a giver.”

As a reward, he licked and bit his way to her navel, over her abdomen, shoving her T-shirt out of his way as he went. When he’d pushed the garment up to her armpits, he caught a handful of the front, pulled her upright, and jerked the shirt over her head. Her bra came, too, and ended up tangled with her shirt around her wrists. She tried to slip her hands free and realized she couldn’t. He’d fashioned an effective if unintentional restraint.

Or maybe not unintentional at all, she corrected when their eyes met. His hands cupped her breasts, lifting their weight, bringing one aching peak dangerously close to his mouth. “Can you come for me this way?”

And in that moment, she didn’t just want to come again. She wanted to come for him, while he alternated between kissing the tender undersides of her breasts and sucking her nipples until she felt the pull of his mouth in every last cell of her body.

“I don’t know. Usually I need more”—she broke off as he took her nipple into his mouth and drew on it hard enough to bow her spine—“God, maybe.”

Keeping the suction tight, he slowly drew back, millimeter by millimeter, until her breast popped free. Sensations spiraled through her, sharp and almost painful. She nearly cried out, but then his mouth returned, gentle this time. He kissed the soft, sensitive curve where her breast met her torso, slowly worked his way up the swell to where her nipple jutted, tight and throbbing. His lips barely touched the tip, and every muscle below her belly button clenched.

Halfway through withstanding the same sweet torture to her other breast, impatience and need reached a critical point. She couldn’t keep her hands still, pulling and twisting to free them from the trap of her shirt. She couldn’t keep her legs still, either. Open thighs. Closed thighs. Nothing eased the pressure between them. Finally, she broke.

“I can’t,” she panted, and squeezed her eyes shut and parted her restless legs. “I need to feel you inside me.”

His palms slid up her thighs, parting them wider and holding them open. “What would you like? My fingers? My tongue?”

She couldn’t think. “Either. Both. Anything.”

“My cock?”

Was that an option? So soon? “Yes.” She fluttered her legs against his hands. “If you can. You don’t have to be super hard… Oh!”

He was inside her before she finished speaking, and hardness? Not an issue. Then he brought his face close to hers, and growled, “Yes. I do. Unlike what’s-his-name, I don’t use sex to jack off my ego. I wouldn’t waste your time, or the privilege of your body, with some weak, self-serving fuck. I give you my best whenever I’m inside you. Nothing but my best.” He emphasized each word with a deep thrust, and her eyes watered with gratitude. “Or I find another way to make you come. Are we clear?”

She struggled to find her voice, to say “Yes, sir!” or “Thank you,” or quite possibly, “Praise Jesus, hallelujah.” God only knew what would actually fly out of her mouth, but before she could speak, his moves got faster, and all she could do was loop her arms around his neck, wrap her legs around his hips, and hold on.

She might have had a shot at being more than a clinging ride-along if he’d stuck with a steady rhythm, but he kept her guessing, alternating between lightning-quick thrusts and slow, deep, breath-stealing plunges. Playing with her. Every time she thought she found the right pace, he changed it.

He put his mouth to work on her breasts, obviously not ready to abandon plan A completely, and she nearly levitated off the table. Maybe some part of her did, because although her eyes refused to open, she suddenly saw herself lying there, a sweaty, shaking mess with her hair spilled all over, and the rest of her clamped around Beau as if he anchored her world. Was this what people meant by an out-of-body experience?

Beyond the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she heard her own voice. Not polite, seductively encouraging requests like, Oh baby, you’re so good. Do that again, but raw, inarticulate pleas littered with moans and curses. Her pleas. Her moans. Her curses.

She really ought to get herself under control, but it was too late. Her body had shirked off whatever leash her mind had on it, and only obeyed its new master.

And sweet Jesus, the man knew his tricks. Big hands closed around her wrists and pulled her arms back until they rested on the table above her head. He levered himself up, unwrapped her legs from his waist, and for one moment of pure panic, she thought he’d finished and intended to leave. Relief washed through her when he hitched her legs over his shoulders. The new position put him deeper than ever, and wiped all lingering self-consciousness from her mind.

She’d cry, beg, sweat, and shake—whatever it took to ride this to completion and live. Calves draped over his shoulders, weight shifted to the center of her back, she offered him unrestricted access to everything.

He fully exploited the access, slamming hard against her quivering flesh with every thrust, then rolling his hips to give her a perfect grind while leaving her enough wiggle room to drive herself a little bit insane with every withdrawal.

“Look at me, Savannah.”

The husky directive tripped some self-preservation alarm she didn’t even realize she’d installed. Giving him free rein over her body was one thing, but staring into Beau Montgomery’s eyes while she surrendered every last bit of control to him suddenly struck her as dangerously intimate.

She kept her eyes closed and assumed her silent refusal would be the end of it. She assumed wrong.

A hand