barely inside her, barely touching her. She wanted him so much she could hardly breathe.
She looked into his eyes and saw the desire and the love there, and she said, “Now,” and reached up to pull the end of the slipknot and free his hands at the same time she plunged her hips into his.
He cried out as she covered him, and he rolled her over onto her back, running his hands across her arms, her breasts, cradling her face as he kissed her savagely, all the while thrusting into her as if he couldn’t stop, would never stop. She clung to him, gasping because he felt so good inside her. The feel of his body hot and strong and hard against her, inside her, pushed her out of the limbo of lust she’d been drifting through and over the edge of her orgasm, and she clawed at him and cried as it came, feeling him shudder with his own climax.
He held her tightly against him, drawing his breath in huge shuddering gasps.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he finally breathed. “You damn near killed me.”
“I thought you liked it,” she whispered.
“I did. But never again. It was too much.” He kissed her, his lips soft on hers, and then began to explore her body with his tongue, licking the stickiness from her, kissing her over and over, exhausted from lovemaking but still needing her.
“I liked it,” Emily said sleepily.
“I could tell.” Richard pulled the edge of the comforter over them and stroked his hand slowly up and down her back until she fell asleep, but he couldn’t, and when he woke her up half an hour later, still crazy with need, they made love with even more intensity than before.
When he awoke the next morning, he was alone. For a moment he thought Emily had left, but then he heard her in the kitchen.
She was dressed in his robe, making French toast from slabs of French bread and cinnamon-seasoned eggs and cream. It smelled like heaven.
He came up behind her and kissed her on the neck, and she leaned back into him.
“I never thought to ask you last night,” she said. “Do you like strawberries?”
“Yes.” He held her tight against him. “I especially like the way you served them. Could we do that again without the part where I get tied up?”
“Strawberries or syrup on your toast?” Emily asked.
“Strawberries,” he said.
She poured syrup over the thick slabs and handed the plate to him.
“Emily?”
“Eat,” she said cheerfully. “It’ll get cold.”
Richard sat down at the table, naked and confused.
She brought her own plate and sat across from him, pouring syrup over her toast, too.
“Big meeting today,” she said.
He looked down at the syrup on his plate and sighed, and then began to eat. “Let’s go in late. The meeting’s not until eleven.”
She chewed her toast. “I’ve never made this with cream before. It’s really rich.”
“It’s great,” Richard said and tried again. “Let’s go in late to the meeting.”
Emily handed him her coffee cup.
“Freshen this for me, would you?” she asked, smiling.
“Sure.” He got up, poured in more coffee and handed the cup back to her. “Let’s go in late to the meeting,” he began for the third time, but she overrode him as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Thanks for the coffee, love. I’ve got to go over a few things with Jane, so I’m going in early.”
“But, Emily,” Richard began, still confused.
She picked up her cup and carried it out of the kitchen with her.
“Emily!” Richard sounded outraged.
She leaned back into the doorway so he could see her. “Did you say something, dear? I didn’t hear.” Then she gave him a brilliant smile and went into the bedroom.
He scowled at his toast for a moment, then got up and followed her into the bedroom. She wasn’t there, but he could hear water running in the bathroom.
“All right, Emily,” he said to the bathroom door. “You’ve made your point. It’s very annoying being ignored, and it’s very frustrating being powerless. Now come out
She looked into his eyes and saw the desire and the love there, and she said, “Now,” and reached up to pull the end of the slipknot and free his hands at the same time she plunged her hips into his.
He cried out as she covered him, and he rolled her over onto her back, running his hands across her arms, her breasts, cradling her face as he kissed her savagely, all the while thrusting into her as if he couldn’t stop, would never stop. She clung to him, gasping because he felt so good inside her. The feel of his body hot and strong and hard against her, inside her, pushed her out of the limbo of lust she’d been drifting through and over the edge of her orgasm, and she clawed at him and cried as it came, feeling him shudder with his own climax.
He held her tightly against him, drawing his breath in huge shuddering gasps.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he finally breathed. “You damn near killed me.”
“I thought you liked it,” she whispered.
“I did. But never again. It was too much.” He kissed her, his lips soft on hers, and then began to explore her body with his tongue, licking the stickiness from her, kissing her over and over, exhausted from lovemaking but still needing her.
“I liked it,” Emily said sleepily.
“I could tell.” Richard pulled the edge of the comforter over them and stroked his hand slowly up and down her back until she fell asleep, but he couldn’t, and when he woke her up half an hour later, still crazy with need, they made love with even more intensity than before.
When he awoke the next morning, he was alone. For a moment he thought Emily had left, but then he heard her in the kitchen.
She was dressed in his robe, making French toast from slabs of French bread and cinnamon-seasoned eggs and cream. It smelled like heaven.
He came up behind her and kissed her on the neck, and she leaned back into him.
“I never thought to ask you last night,” she said. “Do you like strawberries?”
“Yes.” He held her tight against him. “I especially like the way you served them. Could we do that again without the part where I get tied up?”
“Strawberries or syrup on your toast?” Emily asked.
“Strawberries,” he said.
She poured syrup over the thick slabs and handed the plate to him.
“Emily?”
“Eat,” she said cheerfully. “It’ll get cold.”
Richard sat down at the table, naked and confused.
She brought her own plate and sat across from him, pouring syrup over her toast, too.
“Big meeting today,” she said.
He looked down at the syrup on his plate and sighed, and then began to eat. “Let’s go in late. The meeting’s not until eleven.”
She chewed her toast. “I’ve never made this with cream before. It’s really rich.”
“It’s great,” Richard said and tried again. “Let’s go in late to the meeting.”
Emily handed him her coffee cup.
“Freshen this for me, would you?” she asked, smiling.
“Sure.” He got up, poured in more coffee and handed the cup back to her. “Let’s go in late to the meeting,” he began for the third time, but she overrode him as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Thanks for the coffee, love. I’ve got to go over a few things with Jane, so I’m going in early.”
“But, Emily,” Richard began, still confused.
She picked up her cup and carried it out of the kitchen with her.
“Emily!” Richard sounded outraged.
She leaned back into the doorway so he could see her. “Did you say something, dear? I didn’t hear.” Then she gave him a brilliant smile and went into the bedroom.
He scowled at his toast for a moment, then got up and followed her into the bedroom. She wasn’t there, but he could hear water running in the bathroom.
“All right, Emily,” he said to the bathroom door. “You’ve made your point. It’s very annoying being ignored, and it’s very frustrating being powerless. Now come out
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