Emma ran her tongue along the head. “You’re dirty, Flint.” She opened her mouth and wet her bottom lip.
24
Flint closed his eyes. He was sure he would explode in her mouth.
“I don’t think I’m that dirty.” His words caught with a grumble.
“I’m dirty too.” Emma sucked on her bottom lip.
“Nothing wrong with dirty, Emma.” Flint placed his hands on either side of the tiled wall. He arched his back at a sharp angle. Emma’s hands trembled, but she sucked him in, her hand around his shaft. Flint groaned. “Yes.” Slow, deliberate movements of her hand were driving him crazy. His head flew back and hit the tiles, and he groaned out, “Faster, Emma.”
“Where’s all your patience gone to, wolf? Slow can be a good thing.”
He put his hand on the back of her head and tugged on her hair. Her thick curls were the perfect thing to hold on to.
Her eyes bulged as he forced his cock halfway into her mouth.
“Faster, Emma.”
She popped off. “Bossy.” But she sucked him back in, her tongue flattening on the underside of his head.
“That’s it.”
She bobbed her head up and down, and his world spun. He’d never had a girl in his cabin before. Not one that he wanted to fuck. And now he wanted her on every surface his home provided.
Her tongue was magic. And even thinking that word didn’t make him unhappy. But he didn’t want to come down her throat. No, he wanted to see her mew, to squirm, to yell his name.
“Stop, Emma.” He pulled the other way now.
But she hummed and sucked him into the back of her throat. Fuck, he was going to come. He tugged on her hair.
“You are bossy.” She smiled and licked the tip of his cock again.
“No. Stand up. Unless you want your hair wet.”
“Trust me when I say you have no idea how much you would be punishing yourself if you did that. I don’t have enough power left to dry it, and wet, yeah, no. It’s like a Medusa’s wig gone wrong.” She gave him a wily smile and stood up. “Now what? Sir.” She smirked at him.
“Turn around. Put your hands on the wall.” She did.
And he slid his hand down her breasts. Her nipples pebbled. Flint lathered up his hands and ran the bubbles up and down her chest. He was as mindful as possible of her hair. The thick red curls were mostly dry, unlike her core.
He slid his finger between her folds. “You’re so wet.”
“We’re in the shower.” She laughed. “Yes, I’m wet. You make me feel like a crazy brat. I’m so wet for you, Flint. Please don’t stop.”
He nudged his front against her back, his cock held tight between the two of them. “I want you, Emma.”
“Yes, please.”
Flint slid one finger and then another into her, in and out. With his thumb, he circled her clit. Emma rocked on his hand. With his knees, he nudged her legs farther apart and held his tip at her entrance.
“Now, I need you now.” She turned, her hands remaining on the shower wall.
Flint thrust into her. She was so tight and hot. He’d had plenty of sex, but nothing as hot as the witch in front of him. She clung to him and responded to every thrust, every swipe of his thumb over her clit.
“Oh . . .” Her head flew back and hit his chest as she fluttered around his cock.
But this time, he was ready. He came, and he came hard, one hand around Emma’s waist, the other gripping the towel bar above her head. He was going to keep them from turning in the shower and ending up dousing Emma’s hair. They started to rotate, but he kept them in place as his hips continued to thrust.
Her feet landed back on the shower pan next to his, and their trip remained a quick elevator ride instead of a spinning top.
He separated from her, and then she turned, putting her arms around his neck. Her cheek rested on his chest, and she was getting her hair wet. He switched the shower off and grabbed a towel from the shelf above the toilet. He wrapped it around her, drying her.
She tilted her head back and smiled as she made a hand motion, and they were both clean and dry.
“Emma,” he growled at her. “You said you didn’t have any more power.” If his sisters had used their powers to clean themselves or dry off, he would have gone off on them. But Emma? He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
Emma’s eyes drifted closed, and then she opened them. “Flint, I don’t want to ask this. I don’t . . .”
“I don’t know what we’re doing either.” The bed was a rumpled mess from when he’d jumped out of it and shifted before running to her house. He laid Emma down on it and pulled the quilt up around her.
“It’s almost morning. We’re going to have to get up soon,” she said without moving her head.
“It’s Saturday, and we just got out of the hospital. No one is going to care, and if they do? They’re shit people.”
She sucked in a breath. Who had told this girl that she couldn’t live her own life? And why did he want to make that person pay? He crawled into bed next to her. Emma clung to him like a teddy bear, and Penny jumped on the end of the bed. For the first time in months, he slept. No dreams, no visions, just darkness and comfort.
