by Mora Early
Emma drew out Josh’s long, broad cock, baring him to her voracious gaze, fingers caressing his silken skin and teasing through the thatch of wiry blond hair at the base. She bent quickly, taking the smooth, spongy head between her lips and curling her tongue over it. Josh cursed, his hands jumping to cup her head and draw her away. But Emma didn’t want to be drawn.
She slid her lips down further, pulling him into the hot, wet confines of her mouth. He was hard as steel beneath the saliva-slick satin of his skin. She grazed him gently with her teeth as she drew back, letting only the head rest on her tongue. She rubbed the damp velvet of that appendage over the underside of his cock, teasing the tiny dip, the flared ridge, and thin slit at the tip.
When she took him slowly, deeply, back between her lips, Josh drew a long, harsh breath in through his nose. His fingers tightened in her hair momentarily and his hips flexed, pressing himself deeper into her throat. Emma gasped and swallowed around him, working him with her lips, hands, tongue and throat. Sucking, stroking, licking, caressing. She couldn’t get enough of the smooth, hard length of him.
“Oh, Christ, Emma!” Her name was a curse and a prayer on his lips, his voice guttural. “You have to stop or I’ll come right now.” The words were a little rough and a lot sexy, like lace dragging over her nerve endings. Emma shuddered, paused, and then let him draw her gently away from his throbbing cock.
When she sat back, Josh shoved his slacks down the rest of the way off his legs and hurriedly peeled off his socks, tossing both into a pile beside the bed. He stood before her, completely nude, his long, leanly muscled body breathtakingly arousing.
“I’ll need your help,” Emma gasped, eyes sweeping over every inch of his golden tanned skin from head to toe and back again as she stood from the bed, thighs still wobbly. They were a few inches apart, the heat crackling between them unreal in its intensity. “With the dress.”
Emma gathered as much of the skirt as she could in her arms, eager to be rid of the lovely dress that kept her from pressing skin to skin with Josh. He caught on quickly, reaching beneath the froth of underskirts to tug the formfitting bodice’s fabric up over Emma’s head.
The dress turned inside out as they both drew it off, but Emma didn’t care. She’d worry about preserving the expensive dress later. Josh made short work of her bra, popping the front clasp and slipping the straps down her arms before sending it the way of the dress, into a heap on the floor.
And then they were pressed together, breast to chest, soft to hard, hairy to smooth. Emma whimpered and wrapped her arms around Josh’s neck. Josh’s hands snaked around her waist, tugging her to him, holding her close.
“Jesus, I want you so much, Emma.” The hard length of his erection prodded her belly enthusiastically in agreement. Emma undulated, tiptoeing to rub more fully against him.
“I want you too, Josh. Now. Please.” There was no other thought in her head aside from touching Josh, kissing Josh, having Josh inside her. His mouth crashed into hers, hard and demanding and tasting faintly of her. His tongue was hot and slick against hers as he ravaged her mouth, kissing her deeply.
Emma quaked in his embrace. Josh’s hands caressed the curve of her buttocks and the smooth line of her thighs, and then he wrapped long fingers under her knees and lifted her, pulling her legs around his waist. She hooked her heels behind his ass and clung to Josh as he climbed onto the big bed.
He laid her back, following her down, pinning her beneath his weight as he nibbled at her lower lip. One hand tangled in her hair. With the other, he reached between their bodies to guide himself to her slick entrance, sliding the broad, smooth head up and down her wet cleft, teasing her clit for a minute before notching his cock between her slippery lips.
“Yes!” Emma hissed, arched against him, rocking her hips as her body tried to take him into her. But Josh held back. Just for a brief moment. He gripped her thigh in his big hand, meeting her gaze with his and holding it as he thrust deeply into her with one powerful stroke.
They both gasped and groaned as the slick heat of her pussy enveloped the rigid length of his cock and squeezed. Josh’s fingers tightened on her as he withdrew slowly, back flexing and buttocks clenching, teasing the length of her snug channel with the broad head of his cock.
“So good,” he murmured against her lips. “Emma... god, Emma...”
“Yes, Josh, yes!” She scratched her nails down his back to his firm ass, gripping him and pulling him down harder as she arched upward. He sank all the way back down, swiveling his hips as he buried himself inside her, brushing his pubic bone in a long sweep over her clit.
Emma clung to him, fingers tangled in his hair as she sucked at his lower lip. Josh pulled slightly back from her as he drew out again, bending his head to catch one taut nipple between his teeth. He suckled her hard, tongue swirling around the crest of first one breast, and then the other as he drove back into her.
He kissed up the slope of her breast and down the other side, dragging his tongue through the valley between before returning to her mouth. His hands stroked whatever stretch of bare skin was in reach – her thigh, her side, her cheek and jaw. Josh kissed her deeply as his pace began to increase. A fine sheen of sweat coated both their bodies.
“Mmm, Jesus. God, you’re squeezing me like a vice, Emma!” Josh groaned.
She clenched her inner muscles at his words, enjoying the stretched, full feeling that radiated out from that central point as Josh skewered her with delicious friction. Tingling fire built in the quivering depths of her flesh, pleasure rolling and sparking through her veins, her skin, even her hair felt as if it was curling in ecstasy as Josh moved within her.
Emma had been waiting for this, wanting it for so long. Her body cried out for more, more of Josh, deeper and harder. She may have voiced the words. Emma wasn’t sure. If not, he seemed to intuit them, driving into her with shuddering, gasping force.
Another plunging down stroke, another hard twist of his hips, raking his pubic bone over her clit, and Josh sent her rocketing off into the whirlpool of her orgasm. Every single nerve and cell seemed to contract into a tiny, sharp pinprick of pleasure and then explode outward in the waves of a shuddering supernova.
“Josh!” She screamed his name, biting down on the firm, smooth skin of his shoulder to muffle the little whimpers and gasps that bubbled out of her with each zinging, pleasurable aftershock.
Emma felt him tense above her, his elbows locking, jaw tightening as he groaned out his own climax. The pulse of his cock within her and the hot flood of his seed set Emma off again, this second orgasm slower and sweeter, without the sharp edge of desperate need of the first. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around his shaft, making Josh hiss and curse.
“Christ, Emma,” he groaned, pressing his forehead hard against hers and staring into her dark green eyes. His own blue-green eyes glittered brighter than any of the jewels she’d worn today. “Christ.”
“Yeah,” she breathed in response, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. She knew exactly what he meant. That had been... cataclysmic. Emma had never experienced anything like that in her life. Her body still tingled and thrummed even now, just being pressed against him, caressing the sweat-slicked skin of his back. She let her eyes drift shut and just held tight, feeling his breathing begin to slow. Mussed locks of his hair tickled her cheeks and jaw.
After several long moments of silence, Emma bit her lips and opened her eyes, staring into to Josh’s. He was looking down at her just as intently. Gradually, reality began to seep back into her consciousness. She wanted to say ‘What now?’ but she was so sated her lips wouldn't move. Or maybe she was just too afraid.
Josh rolled to his side, taking her with him and tucking her against his chest, still panting a little. Emma let herself be tucked, nuzzling against the damp hollow of his throat. They lay like that for what felt like hours, silent, naked bodies pressed together, listening to each other breathe.
He only let her go long enough to wrest
le with the comforter and draw it over them both before pulling Emma back into his arms. She squirmed a little against him, shifting to lay her head on his shoulder. Josh sighed. It was a very content, satisfied sound. Emma bit back a laugh.
She found she could say the words after all, toss them into the arena and see how they fared. “Now what?”
“Give me a few minutes.” Josh chuckled, arm tightening around her waist. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Heat flushed Emma’s cheeks and trickled along her nerve endings at his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Josh rose abruptly and slid from the bed. Emma’s heart lurched. Was he leaving already? Was the fragile bubble of a fantasy she’d allowed herself to indulge in about to pop? But he crossed to the dresser and lifted something from the top. Turning, she could see he held a dark green glass bottle. He held it out, brow quirked. “I came prepared this time.” His grin was wide.
Emma blushed at the reference to the night of the masquerade. Or she would have, except her body was already burning up with fresh arousal as Josh slid back into the bed beside her, champagne in hand. His warm flesh against hers was all it took to reawaken her languorous body.
Josh pulled off the tinfoil wrapper and uncorked the champagne. When it fizzed over, he covered the bottle with his mouth, drinking as he chuckled. The corners of his eyes creased with laughter as he looked at her, strong throat working as he swallowed. Then he handed the bottle to her. Emma drank deeply, enjoying the ticklish bubbles that wafted up the back of her nose.
She handed it back and Josh set it on the bedside table, once again drawing her into his embrace. Emma went. She knew there were things she should be thinking about – what this meant for them and for the next four months of their future together – but right now, all that mattered was Josh, the feel of him against her side, solid and warm. His scent. And the touch of his hands.
“I believe the question was ‘now what’?” he murmured against her throat, tongue flicking against the pulse point there.
“Hmmm,” Emma said as she twirled a wiry curl of chest hair around her pointer finger. “I might have some ideas.” She giggled, warmth burning low in her chest.
“Such as?” His voice was muffled against her collarbone.
Emma wriggled against him. “Well, we have a few days before filming starts.”
“We do,” Josh agreed.
“Sooo...” Emma slid her hands into his hair and tugged to bring his mouth back to hers. He smiled, murmuring against her lips.
“I like the way you think, Mrs. Owens.”
Emma felt a thrill go through her at that, as Josh rolled her abruptly beneath him. His lips brushed over hers once, twice, three times, before claiming her mouth as his.
Emma pushed away all thought of tomorrow and what it might bring. Her sham marriage, the movie, the prospect of lying to friends and family for the next several months, all of it. She shoved it aside as she wrapped her arms around Josh and kissed him back.
For tonight, at least, she’d let herself be Mrs. Joshua Owens. The deliriously happy bride who’d just married the man of her dreams.
~ Epilogue: 5:27 A.M. ~
The smell of cocoa drew Josh blearily toward the kitchen. He’d awakened a few minutes ago, alone in bed. For a brief moment, his sleep addled brain had wondered why that didn’t feel right.
Emma.
If he had known before last night how good she felt beneath him – or on top of him, for that matter – he never would have been able to keep his hands to himself. He found every single inch of her skin enticing. That was a fact. He’d spent over an hour the night before inspecting her thoroughly. From the tips of her round little fuchsia painted toes to the crown of her silky-haired head, every centimeter was delectable.
The thin skin of her wrists, the creases of the knuckles on her slender fingers, the small curl of her ears, the slight bump of her improperly healed collarbone. Even the smooth skin of her elbows and the soles of her feet begged for his mouth. He’d obliged them all.
And, God in Heaven, Emma had done the same to him. He might not be able to believe a word that came out of her mouth, but her lips and tongue on his skin spoke eloquently enough. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Josh smiled sleepily, scrubbing a hand over his bare chest as he padded barefoot toward the kitchen. His skin smelled of light sleep sweat, Emma, and champagne. He was still sticky with the stuff. Like the roles she played, once she’d committed to sharing his bed, she dove in whole-heartedly and made good on Madame Butterfly’s flirtatious promise.
He’d thought he was going to die, his heart had beat so hard and frantically as she licked the sparkling wine from his skin, paying special attention to the straining length of his cock. She was nothing if not thorough, his little fake wife. Emma had finally taken pity on him and sucked him hard between her lips, her small ‘mmm’ of satisfaction vibrating through his pulsing shaft as he filled her mouth.
Even just remembering the sight of her luscious lips wrapped around his length as her green eyes twinkled with mischief up at him was enough to make him ready to go again. The boxers he’d tugged on before coming downstairs were a little tighter than they’d been a moment ago.
From the kitchen came the soft, husky sound of Emma humming to herself. Occasional words drifted through the dining room as Josh moved silently across the area rug.
“Mmm hmmm hmmm hmmm, laddie, lie near me...” A soft scuff on the tile and the clatter of mugs covered the next few murmured bars. “... firelight, what joy to see thee. All the long winter night, laddie, lie near me...”
Her voice was a throaty purr, pleasant and almost lilting. Vaguely Scottish, Josh realized with a start. She wasn’t kidding about the knack for accents. It was sexy as hell. He hoped she’d be wearing, at most, one of his shirts. Her clothes and the rest of her things weren’t going to be delivered until later today.
The mental picture of Emma puttering around the kitchen, naked but for one of his button-downs, with all that long, dark hair tumbling around her pixie-like face in mussed disarray, completed the task of bringing him back to instant, raging arousal.
“What are you...” He trailed off, the scowl just as instant as the hard on had been as he stepped into the kitchen and caught sight of a showered and fully dressed Emma. Josh realized he’d never seen her in anything but dresses or skirts before.
She wore a pair of jeans that clung to the curve of her ass and the smooth, round length of her thighs and calves. Her t-shirt was black and bore a picture of Elsa Lanchester with her shock top hairstyle. The words ‘The Bride of Frankenstein’ ran across the top in stylized purple script. Commentary or coincidence?
Emma turned toward him, her smile small and seemingly genuine. But he could read the guarded expression in her green eyes. It put him on instant alert. She lifted the mug she held in her right hand and extended it toward him.
“I was making some mocha.”
Josh took the mug, sipping experimentally. The thick, rich mixture of coffee and cocoa was milky and sweet, just the way he liked it. He nodded his thanks, leaning against the archway and studying his pseudo-bride. She looked younger than her 26 years with her hair up in a loose ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and her slender feet bare. The illusion was further enhanced by her short, slender build and, oddly, the sleek state-of-the-art design of his large kitchen.
“Where’d you get the clothes? I thought your stuff was still en route.”
She’d wanted to pack up all her things personally. Josh had wanted to hire some movers and be done with it. They’d compromised. She’d personally overseen the guys who he’d hired, and they were scheduled to arrive this morning with their delivery at eight. Two and a half hours from now.
Emma turned back to the long, Madurai Rose granite countertop and began mixing another mug of mocha for herself. He could see the indistinct reflection of her face in the mosaic metal tile backsplash behind the stove, but
not clearly enough to read her expression. “I tucked a few things into my overnight bag and had Suzanne drop them off for me yesterday before the ceremony.”
“I didn’t see a bag.” Granted, he’d been stumbling out of the bedroom, which was littered with their discarded wedding finery and the stubs of guttered candles, with only half an eye open.
“Ahh. Um. It was in the guest room across from the library.” Emma tucked her chin against her chest. Josh didn’t even need her to turn around to know she was blushing.
The guest room across from the library. Also known as the bedroom located at the furthest possible point in the house from his own. Had she crept up there to shower and change once he’d fallen asleep? The idea irked him.
“How long have you been up?” Even he could hear the disgruntled tone of his voice. Emma’s spine stiffened and she turned, leaning back against the countertop and cupping her mug between her palms. The top of her head didn’t even brush the bottom of the open cabinets with his silver-grey stoneware dishes, but she drew herself up to her full 5’4” height.
“Since 5. I’m an early riser.”
He normally was too, but if a man couldn’t sleep late on the morning after his wedding, when could he? Not that it had been a real wedding. Although, Josh had to admit, after last night he and Emma were something more than just co-conspirators or colleagues. As if sensing his thought, Emma bit her lip.
“Listen, Josh, about last night. It was... good. But –”
“Good?” Josh’s eyebrows shot up at that. The English language was an impressive tool, and there were plenty of words that could be used to describe the sex they’d had last night. ‘Good’ wasn’t one of them. ‘Phenomenal’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘amazing’. Those were just a few.
Emma’s cheeks flushed. She dropped her gaze for a second, but then jerked it back to his, defiant. “Fine. It was amazing. The best I’ve ever had. Is that what you want to hear?”