Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (21 page)

I felt my hands slipping down,
returning to trickle over his gloriously ripped midsection, mirroring the
gentle, yet arousing, touches he was planting on my body.

Moans of pleasure slipped from
his mouth as he continued to scatter kisses down my neck and shoulders. As I
moved my hands farther south, his mouth began to wander downward. He slipped
the strap of my dress down over my shoulder just enough to expose what he was
after. His thumb deliberately brushed across my nipple as it hardened,
prompting sharp, drawn-in breaths of pleasure from me.

He traced a heated trail down
across my belly with his hand and moved his mouth from my shoulder. “I can stop
any time you want me to,” he breathed into my ear.

“Never,” I gasped, and his warm
mouth made its way down to my breast, replacing his thumb. As his tongue danced
playfully around my nipple, I could feel an intense arousal coming on. A heat I
had not felt for a long, long time was now pulsing its intensity between my
legs. The fire of the alcohol in my blood was working its madness through my
veins and amplifying my arousal.

As he began to slip his hand up
my inner thigh, he hesitated.

“Are you sure you want to do
this?” he asked, panting with the force of his own arousal.

“Don't stop,” I hissed. “Whatever
you do, don't you dare stop. I want this. I want you, Emerson.”

He stared directly into my eyes
with a gaze that could have liquefied steel, and then he kissed me again,
deeply and passionately. I had never been kissed with such emotion.

His hand slid into my panties and
I shuddered. “Oh my God, you're so wet,” his voice was husky through our
kissing.

I gripped his wrist as he started
to move his fingers up and down, rubbing and caressing in a slow, even rhythm.
A steadily-building tsunami of pleasure began growing with each deft stroke of
his fingers. I slid my hand into his underwear and gripped what I found: the
full, throbbing hardness of his own arousal. I started to move my hand in
rhythm with how he was working my body until he started to gasp and moan as we
kissed.

I managed to pull my lips from
his for just long enough to speak.

“My room, now,” I ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stood and hurried to my room as
he padded along behind me. As soon as he was inside, I pushed the door shut,
stripped my dress off, and stood before him in only my panties.

“My God, you're gorgeous,” he exhaled.
“You're so utterly, utterly beautiful.”

“So are you,” I breathed as I
made my way toward him.

The wine was pounding its roaring
arousal through me with hurricane force. I stood before him and slid my panties
to the floor. I traced a line down his abs until I locked a finger in the band
of his briefs and helped him out of them.

I fell back on my bed and pulled
him on top of me. He immediately resumed trailing kisses over my body. As he
did, I fumbled around in my bedside drawer, desperately seeking a certain
little item I knew to be there. In a moment of triumph, my fingers found it.

Emerson threw my legs over his
broad shoulders, grabbing each of my thighs as he spread my legs wide. His
mouth was on me with no hesitation, tongue flicking over every inch of my most
private flesh. I arched my back, tossing my head back and forth, moaning with
pleasure. My breathing surged violently. My hips bucked up to meet his talented
mouth in rhythm with the pulse rushing through me. It had been an eternity
since I'd orgasmed so strongly; my whole body was shaking.

Finally, I couldn't wait any
more.

“Here,” I said, breathing heavily
as I pulled his head up from between my legs and thrust the condom into his
hands. “I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

He gasped, pausing in his
enthusiastic bout of running his mouth up my stomach.

He ripped open the wrapper with
his teeth and slipped the condom out, rolling it over his cock with expert
speed and fluidity. He positioned himself over me and started to slide his hard
shaft into me. I was wet and ready, but even so, it had been a long time and I
felt a sliver of pain spark through me.

“Oh, oh God, wait, slowly, slowly…”

“Damn, you're tight,” he gasped.

Emerson gradually slid inside,
causing my eyes to roll back into my head. I was losing my mind with freshly
awakened passion, each soft thrust sending bouts of pleasure rippling through
me.

He kissed me with slow, languid
pleasure while, in contrast, he had a firm grip on my hips as he pushed into me
in complete control, sinking deep into me over and over, relentlessly.

“Please, Emerson,” I cried into
his ear. “More. Please.”

He pressed his body against mine
and surged in and out of my wetness, faster and harder, just as I had
requested. I could feel the first stirrings of an orgasm as he continued.

“Oh God, oh God, yes, yes, yes,”
I moaned as the pleasure grew more and more intense.

I tried to keep quiet, but it was
too much. It felt too good.

He was thrusting madly now –
almost with a speed that seemed beyond humanly possible – and that's when my
orgasm started to tear through my body, sending convulsions of raw bliss and
ecstasy through my every extremity.

A loud moan escaped, and he
covered my mouth with his to quell the sounds of my intense, wall-shaking
orgasm. He gasped and drove himself into me one last time, shuddering and
convulsing with the force of his own orgasm as his rock-hard member throbbed
its explosive power within me.

With that, he collapsed,
shivering and trembling with pleasure. He slipped his fingers through mine, and
we gripped each other's hands as we lay together in a tangle of sweaty,
shivering limbs and damp sheets, both breathing as hard as if we'd just
sprinted a marathon.

Emerson rolled over on his back
and pulled me next to him without saying a word. He caressed my cheek, ever so
gently, and looked deeply into my eyes. Then he ran a finger through my hair
and kissed me slowly and gently.

“You're so beautiful,” he
whispered to me. “So, so beautiful.”

He continued to caress and kiss
me softly as the last waves of my orgasm died out.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Emerson

The sun hadn’t even made an
appearance when my eyes opened. My head was feeling a bit fuzzy from all the
wine I’d consumed the night before. For a moment, I was certain I was dreaming.
I had to blink a few times to focus in the darkness of the room, but sure
enough, it wasn’t a dream. I was naked, lying next to Brooke.

I stared at her while she slept
for a while. God, she was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that plastic girls like
Melissa could never be. I ran a finger gently across her cheek, brushing her
skin lightly with my fingertips. It was impossible to resist touching her, even
though I didn't want to wake her. She stirred in her sleep and the slightest
hint of a smile appeared on her lips.

I kissed them lightly, and she
half-opened her eyes.

“Emerson,” she sighed and smiled
at me as she shifted a little, moving closer to snuggle up next to me. I
instinctively wrapped my arms around her.

“Good morning,” I whispered as I
placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I've gotta go see my dad now. Go back to
sleep.”

“What t-time is it?” she mumbled.

I glanced at the clock on her
nightstand. “It's around five in the morning. Shh, go back to sleep,” I coaxed
in a quiet tone, not wanting to disrupt her too much.

“Mmm, okay,” she whispered and
dozed back off.

I gently disengaged myself from
her embrace and reluctantly got out of bed. It wasn’t even remotely what I
wanted to do. I wanted to stay. I wanted to have a repeat of last night, only
without the influence of too much wine. But I also wanted to see my dad, so, I
got dressed as quietly as possible and tiptoed out.

Once back in my apartment, I
checked the day’s weather and then packed a backpack with some clothes and a
few essentials before I set out on the six-hour ride up to my dad's place. I
put my helmet on, thumbed the starter, and prepared to go. On the horizon, the
first golden silvers of sunlight were appearing. It was a nice day for a ride
and the weather was supposed to stay clear. I'd be off the interstate before
most of the morning commuter traffic hit, and from there, it would be backwoods
country roads without too many other vehicles.

 
A few hours later, I pulled into a gas station
and parked my bike outside of a meager diner attached to the gas station. I
dismounted and stretched my limbs. After riding for almost three hours
straight, my wrists and back were a little stiff. An old man dressed in grimy
dungarees and a tattered baseball cap stared at me as he chewed on a stalk of
long grass. I was out in the sticks, alright. Mountains stretched to the verge
of the horizon and old forests stood sentry at the edges of the road.

It was picturesque, to say the
least. I reached into my pocket for my phone, intending to take some pictures
of the scenery and send them to Brooke who would surely be awake and on her way
to class. That's when my heart stopped.

My phone was gone.

In a panic, I patted all of my
pockets thinking maybe I'd put it in a different one.

I hadn't. I always kept it in the
left front pocket of my jeans.

And then I looked at the jeans I
was wearing – the same pair from the previous night – and I cursed myself for
my stupidity. These were the jeans that my phone always fell out of when I was
on my bike. The design of the pockets meant the phone sat at an angle when I
was on the motorcycle which, unfortunately for me, was the perfect slant for it
to work its way out of the pocket while I was riding.

It had happened twice before but,
luckily, I had noticed the phone falling out and been able to retrieve it. For
that reason, I’d always tried to avoid wearing this particular pair of jeans
when riding. However, in my haste and early morning grogginess, I had kept them
on. And now, my phone had fallen out, possibly a hundred miles back or
something. It was gone for sure, probably smashed to bits under the wheels of
cars and trucks.

I shook my head and cursed. Not
that there was anything I could do about it. I'd just have to wait until I got
back to talk to Brooke. I headed into the diner for some coffee and a snack,
losing my phone just one more thing to add to my feelings of uncertainty about
the twenty-four hours ahead of me. Despite my worries about Dad, Brooke was
occupying my thoughts, as well. In fact, I found myself replaying the previous
night over and over in my head as I drove the final three hours. Thankfully,
when I arrived, hanging out with him kept my mind off of her for a bit.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

Brooke

I rolled over and brought my hand
down on my alarm. My head was still a little foggy. I definitely wasn't used to
drinking that much wine. I rubbed my eyes and tried to make sense of the
partial memory of Emerson kissing me and saying he had to leave while it was
still dark at five o'clock in the morning. And then all the memories of what
had happened the night before came flooding back.

Emerson and me.

His hands, all over me. The
warmth of his mouth on mine. Our bodies pressed together, writhing, sweating,
moaning with the intensity of it all.

A smile grew on my lips and my
cheeks warmed at the thought of it. I couldn't wait for it to happen again.

I lingered in bed, replaying the
events that had led up to the best sex I’d ever had. While I did, it hit me.

I was ready. I was finally ready
to move on. Everything that had happened with Andrew had finally been consigned
to the past.

I smiled. Just knowing I had
moved on made me happier than anything I could think of with the exception of
last night. It was going to be a long two days.

I was eager to see Emerson. In
fact, I was positively craving his presence. I had no idea what had come over
me. And as selfish as it was to want him with me knowing how serious the
situation with his father was, I still wished he hadn’t left.

That didn’t mean we couldn’t at
least talk, though. I checked the time and picked up my phone. I'd need to get
ready for class. I dialed his number anyway. But it went straight to voicemail.
I didn't bother leaving him a message. Instead, I shot him a text message and
then put my phone in my bag as I headed to the bathroom to get ready for the
day. I figured he was probably on the road and he'd see the message and reply
when he stopped.

Still, when I came out of the
bathroom, I checked my phone to check if he'd replied. I shook my head at my
behavior and looked myself in the mirror.

“Stop it, Brooke. Just because
the sex was amazing doesn’t mean you should stalk the guy. You know better.” I
nodded at myself as if I understood and walked away. After last night, I needed
food.

***

It was almost six o'clock in the
evening when I finally got home. I was tired, cranky, more than a little
hungry, and there still had been no word from Emerson. At first, I'd chalked it
up to him being on the road. It’s hard enough to drive a car and text, it was
impossible to do that on a motorcycle and I didn’t expect or want him to. But
he surely had to have reached his destination by that time and would have seen
the message waiting for him on his phone. I had tried calling a couple more
times, but it always went straight to voicemail.

In my head, I started going
through all the possible reasons he wasn’t answering or texting back. Perhaps
he was feeling too emotional to talk to anyone, especially considering how
worried he had been about the surgery scheduled for the following day. Maybe
he’d been in an accident. Maybe his battery had died and he just hadn’t gotten
around to charging it.

Then, there was the possibility
he could have been ignoring me deliberately.

That thought sent flushes of
uncomfortable heat prickling along my skin. What if my initial suspicions about
him had been right all along? What if he'd been acting like a caring, decent
guy just so he could get me into bed?

Of course, the way he had made
love to me had been entirely unlike the way a self-centered, egotistical player
would have done it. Or, at least, I didn’t think that would be the case. Not
that I had a lot of experience with the sort. It was, however, getting harder
and harder to keep the doubts from slipping in. Then, naturally, the memories
of what Andrew had done to me starting clawing their way back into my mind.

I plopped down on the couch, heat
bubbling like acid through me. What was going on? Could my worst fears about
this situation really be the reality of it?

I picked up the phone and tried
to dial one more time.

Straight to voicemail, yet again.

I was just about to lose it when
Leslie walked in the front door. She knew I'd been getting closer to Emerson
and that he'd made me dinner the previous night. What she didn't know was that
he had stayed the night. I debated briefly whether I should tell her about it
or not. I decided not to. Not yet. Not until I had a better idea of what was
going on.

“Hey, Bee,” she said as she
walked into the living room. “How was your day?”

“Uh, it was a day,” I replied.

She stared at me with her head
tilted for a few moments.

“Something’s not right with you.
What's the matter?” she asked.

“Um, I've just got a headache,” I
lied. “I've been going all day and don't think I had enough water to drink.”

“Oh, well I think there's
Gatorade in the fridge. You should have some. Electrolytes will help you
rehydrate.”

“Yeah, good idea,” I replied.
“What about you? How was your day?” I added quickly, trying to shift her
attention away from me.

“Oh, probably like yours,” she
said with a sigh. “A million things to get done and not nearly enough time to
do 'em all. And, this week is gonna be hell, too. I've got so many tests, I
think my head's gonna explode. Seriously, I'm about to go crazy. I'm gonna have
to spend every damn night this week studying late. And if that jerk next door
makes a single peep, I swear I'm gonna rip his steroid-filled head off.”

I chuckled nervously. “Let's hope
he doesn't,” I said.

“Maybe you should tell Emerson
that. You know, to pass the message on to his not-so-considerate buddy. Ya
know, so I don't have to go over there and tear things up when that fool makes
a racket.”

“I can't,” I announced.
Immediately, I felt as if I'd said too much.

“Huh? Why not?”

“He's away until tomorrow night.
He had to go see his dad. He’s having some pretty major surgery tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow, alright. Well, I hope
his dad ends up being okay.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Well, like I said, lots of
studying to get done. Drink some Gatorade to rehydrate; you look a little pale.
Then, hopefully, your headache will go away. And eat something.”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

Leslie smiled. “I'll be in my
room with my head buried in these books for the rest of the night if you need
me.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

I watched her until she closed
her door, then I took out my phone to check it one last time. Still no word
from Emerson. I felt like an idiot. There was nothing I could do about the
situation, so I curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV. There was no point
in trying to concentrate on studying. All I could do for the moment was simply
distract myself.