Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(94)

I must show my surprise because he just claps me on the shoulder as he says, “I’m gonna go then.”

“Bye, Beau,” I stammer.

Then he’s in his car and driving away, and I’m practically running to my shower. When I get out, I almost reach for my pencil skirt and blouse, but think better of it. When I go back to Emerson’s, I want to go as me. He has to take me as Charlie, if he wants me as Charlotte.





I’m shaking in my black Doc Martens as I knock lightly on Emerson’s front door. It feels like a step backward to be here as a guest. I’ve walked through this front door almost a hundred times over the last three months, but this feels almost like metaphorically starting over, redefining whatever this is. A second chance to do this right.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’m craving his nearness like I need it to survive. When he finally pulls open the door, I take in the sight of him, standing on the other side in the same blue slacks and tight gray shirt he had on earlier, but now it’s unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a patch of chest hair I know all too well.

Just being in his presence makes everything in the world feel right. That clusterfuck of a morning is a distant memory, swept away as we stand here and bask in the sight of each other. And while there are a hundred things to say, there is also nothing left to say, no words that will make this situation make sense beyond I want you, I need you, I love you. And that’s all that matters to me.

As if he can read my mind, he does exactly what I want him to do. Reaching a strong hand out, his grip latches onto the back of my neck, pulling me toward him until there isn’t an ounce of space between us. Then his mouth is on mine, his lips devouring my lips, and his tongue finding its way to mine until we are fused.

His kiss does not take or claim or steal anything that I’m not willfully giving. He grunts low and gravelly into my mouth as his other hand finds my lower back and molds me against his tall frame. The same hand creeps lower, squeezing my ass hard and making me yelp into his mouth as he lifts me, and I wrap myself around him.

He carries me inside, slamming the door behind him. He tries to make it up the stairs, but we are too desperate, and I’m clawing at his shirt as he sets me on the steps, kneeling in front of me.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans, digging his hand in my hair and grasping my scalp as his mouth trails down to my neck.

“I missed you so much,” I reply, pulling open the buttons of his shirt, so I can reach his skin because I need to feel him. And it doesn’t matter that we just saw each other last night and I felt his mouth on me less than twenty-four hours ago, because it wasn’t like this.

When I finally have his shirt undone, he quickly shrugs out of it, giving me the full, uncovered view of his body, and I wrap my hands around his waist, kissing my way down from his chest to his waist. There’s a low vibration through me from his groan as I lick my way across his stomach, teasing the area just above his belt.

“Get naked for me, Charlotte. I want to see my girl.” He takes me by the chin, lifting my face until I’m smiling up at him. His girl.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply sweetly. Then I move deftly to pull off my own shirt.

At the first sight of my breasts, he drops his hands from his belt and reaches for me, peppering my body with kisses and ravaging each side of my chest until I’m gasping for air.

“I want to take my time with you, Charlotte,” he murmurs against my skin. “But I can’t help myself when I see you. You make me fucking crazy. Now I just want to come, and I want to do it inside you.”

“Yes,” I gasp as I tear at the button on my black jeans. As soon as I have my zipper down, he grabs me by the waist.

“Turn over,” he commands, dropping me on my knees a few steps higher and tearing my pants down my legs almost violently. A loud gasp slips through my lips when I feel his mouth on my back, trailing his wet, warm kiss downward until he’s spearing me with his tongue, groaning against my sex hungrily. Lapping at my clit in a frenzied daze, he takes me to the edge of bliss before pulling away and shifting his own pants downward.

“You’re mine, Charlotte. This pussy is mine, understand?”

“Yes,” I shriek, pressing my hips backward, searching for him—his mouth, his hands, his cock, anything—but he holds me at bay. Turning back, I see him stroke himself languidly, staring at my exposed cunt with lust in his eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I gasp, clutching the wooden step between my fingers, turning my knuckles white. “I don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours and you’re mine. My…Sir,” I cry out.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, and without warning, he fills me, a hint of pain laced with pleasure. I scream while thrusting my hips backward, trying to take more, as much as I can get until I have all of him and he has all of me.

His hands land harshly against the stairs next to mine, and he covers my body, thrusting inside with each rough cant of his hips. The hot skin of his chest is against my back and his breath is in my ear. With every smack of his hips against my ass, I let out a breathy mewl of pleasure, mixed with his heavy grunts.

He’s fucking me fast and hard until we are moving as one toward our climax, and when I scream with my release, he groans and pounds into me one last time, my name on his lips as he comes.