Late Call (Call #1)(42)
Author: Emma Hart

“Why not? Do my feelings mean that little that it doesn’t matter to you?”

“Don’t you ever f**king say that!” He storms to me and cups my face. “Don’t ever say that.”

“Then listen to me when I say I can’t!” I push his hands from my cheeks. “I can’t. Okay? Do you hear that? It’s not that I won’t. I can’t. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

His blue eyes are full of anger and pain and heat and what once was.

“I can’t fall in love with you,” I whisper. “Not again. If I have to pretend all the time, I might just do that.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” I find his eyes and hug myself. My voice increases in volume until I’m shouting so hard my throat hurts. “Yes! I loved you before, and walking away from you destroyed me. I nearly didn’t survive you, Aaron. You wrecked me! That summer took every part of me and wound it into something so pure and beautiful, and the day I left, a string holding it together was tugged and I unraveled. Falling in love with you and losing that was losing a part of me. I won’t do that again!” I close my eyes and swallow back the moisture in my eyes. The tears. “I won’t do it again.”

His lips touch mine. Firmly but full of honesty. “You don’t have to. You don’t ever have to walk away again.”

“I do. Call girls don’t fall in love.”

“Fuck call girls. You’re not that. Not deep down.” He curves his hand around my neck. “Look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Look at me. Please.”

The desperate tone of his voice makes my eyes open.

“You’re not that person. Not really. You’re still my Dayton. You’re still the girl I fell in love with who was addicted to vanilla coffee and awed by the Eiffel Tower and loved Bambi with an obsession so unhealthy it rivaled mine with you.”

I grab his shirt because I have to if I want to stay on my feet. “I’m not her. I can’t even remember who she was.”

“I can. I never forgot.”

“I hate vanilla coffee, the Eiffel Tower doesn’t amaze me now, and I’m not obsessed with Bambi anymore.”

“You’re still my Dayton. No matter what. You’ve always been mine.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t belong to anyone except myself.”

His lips crash into mine ferociously. I gasp at the sudden assault of his tongue between my lips, and feel all my resistance leave me for a fleeting moment. Then it’s back and I’m pushing at his shoulders, shaking my head, and he’s shaking his right along with me.

“You can’t fight everything,” he whispers. “Stop trying.”

“I’m not fighting everything. Just you.”

“I am everything, Dayton. Open your eyes and you’ll see it.”

His mouth silences me again, and this time I melt into him fully. His hand cupping my ass and the other holding my head to his means I’m pressed against him, feeling his c**k harden against my lower stomach and my ni**les pebble against his chest. He kisses me deeply, his tongue sweeping through my mouth possessively.

We spin and I’m lowered back to the sofa. My body sinks into the plush material, and the hand that was just on my behind creeps up and around my body. Aaron’s skin is red hot against mine, his lips even more so as they trail a path down my neck. He tugs at the belt holding my robe closed, and the soft towel falls away, exposing my body.

He draws in a sharp breath, sending bolts down to my core, his eyes focused on my hardened ni**les. He lowers his head and takes one in his mouth, his tongue rough against my tender flesh. I arch into him, pushing my breast into his mouth, and he turns his attention to the other.

Every muscle in my pu**y clenches at the unexpected invasion of his fingers, and I’m pretty sure I moan into his shoulder. The slow, torturous caress of his fingers inside me combined with the tugging of his mouth on my nipple is overloading me with an overwhelming sensation.

Heat swamps me and I buck my hips, pulling his fingers deeper into me. I don’t want to come. Not at all.

Not like this.

“Please,” I whisper, burying my fingers in his hair. “Please.”

He removes his shirt and pushes his pants down. I wrap my legs around his waist at the feeling of his c**k resting against my wet opening.

“You just have to be you.” He sucks lightly on my bottom lip. “I don’t want the call girl Dayton or the fake girlfriend Dayton. Just be you.”

“I never wasn’t,” I whisper into his mouth.

Aaron slips inside me. He fills me so perfectly and stretches me in a way that makes my whole body ache. He moves slowly, driving his hips gently into me, rolling them with each thrust. Each movement hits me in the right spot.

Each kiss, each rock of our hips, each mingled breath, and each flick of our tongues against the other’s helps toward the building pleasure in me.

“Aaron.” His name falls from my lips after what seems like a forever of him being inside me.

He takes my mouth roughly. “I can’t. I need to come. Fuck.”

I tilt my hips up and he hits me deeper. “Harder.”

“Jesus, I…” His words are lost as he picks up speed, slamming into me. My head spins with each hit. Sweat slicks my skin and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe for the intensity of the release tightening my body. “Oh, god.”

“Let it go.” He grazes his teeth down my neck. “Fucking hell, woman! Come now!”

He thrusts into me harder than before. I throw my head back as an orgasm swamps my body. Through the pounding in my ears, I hear Aaron yell my name as he empties himself inside me in hot spurts. My muscles clench around him as we come together, both of us riding on a crazy-intense high.

He murmurs against my neck, unintelligible words, and I let go of his back. I run my hands over the spot I was digging my nails into. I swear I had my hands in his hair minutes ago.

“Come here.”

Aaron steps out of his pants and lifts me, staying inside me as he carries me into the bedroom. I cling to him with alternate arms as he takes my robe off.

We fall back onto the bed the way we fell on the sofa, and he rolls us to the side. His arms cocoon me in warmth and comfort, and I snuggle my still-shaking body into his.

He breathes heavily, each exhale ghosting across my hair. I tangle my legs with his and kiss his chest.