Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(54)

He starts to pick up speed, grunting with each thrust, and whatever spot he’s hitting inside me feels like he’s untapped some hidden code of bliss, because I’m already feeling the urge to come again. With my legs in his arms, he slams into me again and again. It’s rapture, another onslaught of sensation, but this time different, less intense but more consuming…and so, fucking good.

“I’m coming again,” I cry out, and he keeps the hard speed while I lie there with my eyes closed lost in absolute bliss. Pulling me upright, he kisses my mouth with a harsh bite.

“Open your eyes, Charlotte,” he commands, and I do. As our eyes meet, he growls, “God, I love fucking you.”

I latch my arms around his neck, watching his expression as he pounds into me. I memorize the look of pleasure on his face, the sounds he makes as he grunts and groans with each thrust. I do this to him, I remind myself. I drive him crazy and make him act out of control, and he knows it.

With our gazes locked on each other, he slams into me even harder and faster, his groans turning into loud bellowing cries of pleasure. My nails dig into his back as I cling to his body. When he comes, the room practically rattles with the sound coming out of his mouth.

I’m left speechless, staring up at him without a rational thought in my head. There are only emotions flowing through me at the moment—emotions like contentment, adoration, and desire. So much desire.

I kiss him again, holding his chest against mine, feeling his rapid heartbeat while we both catch our breaths. And as we hold each other, I say a silent prayer in my head.

Dear God, please let this be the only man I fuck for the rest of my life because there’s not a chance in Hell anyone else could ever top that.





RULE #24: WORK IS SO MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE WHEN YOU’RE FUCKING YOUR HOT BOSS.





Charlotte





Emerson carries me up to his room. Then he carefully strips me down until I’m standing in front of him naked. His clothes come off next. Before crawling into his enormous bed, he kisses me again, gently this time.

Pulling back the covers, he gestures for me to climb in. As he slides his giant naked body over mine, I smile. How is this happening? And how am I so fucking happy?

As I stare up at him, I think about how much has changed over the past two months. How my feelings for him have evolved. When did I stop looking at him as too old? Too off-limits. Too…Beau’s dad?

Because now I only see him as mine. My…something, I don’t know. More than my boss, but not just my lover.

My Sir.

We don’t hurry this time. Instead, he rests on top of me, his elbows framing my face as he strokes my hair and peppers my face, neck, and chest with kisses. Our thirst has been quenched, but our appetite has not been totally fulfilled.

He fishes into his nightstand for another condom, and I watch him put this one on, my eyes fixated on the way his fingers move the rubber over his stiff cock. When he lies back on top of me, he gathers me in his arms, squeezing me tight as he slides inside. And the entire time his body moves in languid, sensual strokes, our lips are locked and our hearts are beating in unison.





I must have drifted off to sleep because I wake up a couple hours later, nestled against Emerson’s chest. He’s awake, stroking my back as he reads something on his phone.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Just after midnight,” he replies, kissing my forehead.

“I should probably go,” I say, but even as I say that, my arm tightens around his body, and I can’t imagine peeling myself out of his warm bed. When he looks down at me, I see a hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes.

“I understand. I wouldn’t want your mother to worry.” Something about that makes me feel so juvenile. I’m twenty-one, and while it’s a pool house in the back yard, I do still sort of live with my mom. That unsettling feeling of not deserving Emerson comes flooding back.

“I’m sure she’s already asleep, so it’s not a big deal, but I do have to work tomorrow.” I give him a tight-lipped smile, and he grins back, stroking my bare stomach with his soft, large hand.

“You can come in a little late tomorrow, I guess.”

“I don’t want to. I’ll be here bright and early.”

“Good.”

Finally, I force myself out from under the covers and slip my skirt back on.

“I guess I have to drive home like this,” I say, showing him my now buttonless blouse.

“Not a chance,” he says with a grimace. Without a shred of clothing on his body, he gets out of bed and pads over to his dresser, where he pulls out a T-shirt. I couldn’t tell you what color or size the shirt is because my attention is laser focused on Emerson Grant’s naked bum.

He turns toward me, and I do my best not to stare at all of his nakedness. I mean…I just had the damn thing in my mouth. Why would I blush about it now?

“Are you okay?” he asks when he notices me not moving to take the shirt from him.

I pinch my lips together and look up at his face. “I’m fine.”

He laughs at me as I pull my blouse off and replace it with his shirt. To my disappointment, he slips on his black boxers before walking me to the door.

“I wish you could stay,” he whispers, wrapping me up in his arms. I breathe in the scent of his skin and his shirt that I’m wearing, and I wish the same thing.