First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

Christ, this woman….

My chest rumbles with laughter against her back, and I take a second to enjoy the musical notes of her own laughter echoing around this small room, before I quickly put an end to it by dipping my hand right down into the opening of her shorts.

“Oh my God.”

“Fucking hell,” Emily and I groan at the same time when my fingers slide between her legs.

She’s wet. So goddamn wet for me.

No one has ever felt this perfect, sounded this perfect, smelled this perfect, or been so made for me in every possible way. I’ve never been this hungry for a woman. Never wanted to tear down every wall in the fucking room with the need to bring her pleasure.

A choked gasp comes out of Emily when I swirl two of my fingers through all that wet heat, bringing them up to circle her swollen clit, loving the way she whimpers and squirms in my arms, churning her hips and wanting more. Loving the way she trusts me so freely with her body. Loving every minute of making her lose control against my hand, holding her securely against me.

“You feel so good on my fingers, baby. So fucking wet,” I mutter against her ear, nudging her legs open wider with my knees. My goddamn balls ache with every panting, whimpering breath that comes out of her and with each jerk of her ass back against me while I continue to circle her clit with the pads of two of my fingers, drenched in her wetness. “You did such a good job tonight. You definitely deserve a reward.”

Dipping my fingers back down into her wet heat, I pump two of them in and out of her, squeezing my eyes closed against the side of Emily’s face, doing everything I can not to rut against her ass that keeps grinding back against me, wanting this to just be about her.

“Yep, such a good job,” Emily pants, one of her hands flying up off the counter to grip onto my arm anchored around her waist, as I keep shallowly thrusting my fingers inside her, trying not to remember how tightly she clenched my cock when I took her against the wall. Brushing my thumb back and forth over her swollen bud, her hips thrust forward, urging me deeper and making me grit my teeth. “I’m the best fake girlfriend ever. Maybe that should be my new career. Although I’ll have to charge extra for these kinds of perks, QB.”

My hand immediately stills between her legs.

She thinks I’m talking about her doing a good job pretending to be my girlfriend? For fuck’s sake.…

When I’m talking about all the hard work she put into practicing with the girls, helping serve the steak dinner, helping clean up, coaching the girls from the sidelines, being the proudest mama bear in the world when they nailed every move, and happily helping her best friend out at the concession stand at the end of the night, even though I know she must be exhausted after working all day, on top of everything else.

My heart pounds in my chest, and there’s a loud buzzing in my ears that won’t go away as I tug her back harder against the front of me with a huff, squeezing my eyes closed again when I feel her clench around my fingers that are still buried inside her.

“Cut that shit out,” I whisper hoarsely in her ear, her hand gripping harder to my arm that’s locked tight around her body. “I’m Quinn, and you’re Emily. When we do this, when you trust me enough to let me inside your body, you fucking trust me enough to call me by my goddamn name. When we do this, it’s fucking real, and it’s not pretend.”

Emily doesn’t say a word except for a quiet sob she tries to stifle unsuccessfully, and it completely breaks my fucking heart in two, but her silence right now tells me she’s not ready to hear this.

Not even weeks of two-a-days, daily training in the gym, or hour after hour of slamming into the blocking sled prepares me for the kind of strength it takes to pull my hand out of Emily’s body and slide my other arm out from under her hand that’s still clutching my forearm, letting go of my tight hold on her. Taking a few steps back, I cram my hands into the front pockets of my shorts before I’m tempted to walk right back up to her and put them on any part of her body she’ll let me again.

I know I’m going to be cursing myself for the rest of time for this, but I need her to understand what’s going on. Bodhi’s right. Honesty really is the best policy, and right now, I don’t care if she’s not ready to hear it, because I have to say it. I’ve been a chickenshit for long enough.