Page 81 of Holding Ground

“It’s time for me to go back to the bunkie. I know, Elliott.”

My chest squeezes, and I frown. “It’s not because I want the separation.”

“Elliott, you don’t have to explain. We never discussed it, but I always assumed I’d be moving back in there as soon as the place was done.”

“Baylor is getting more and more attached to you every day. I just think the separation will be good for her. Prepare her for what’s to come.”

She brings her hand to my cheek. “I get it. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Baylor comes first, always.”

I don’t know why I was so nervous to have this conversation. Of course Emelia is understanding. She’s never once bristled when Baylor has to come first.

“I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want you around. If it were up to me, you’d be in my bed every night.”

“Hmm. Well, you can have me in your lounger every night now.”

My forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

Emelia swings a leg over my lap and sits up so that she’s straddling me. “I just thought of something else this new heater is good for.” She settles her weight on my lap, and my dick instantly perks up. “It’ll keep us warm without clothes.”

She pulls the lounger’s back panel a bit so that it’s blocking the view from the house.

Good call. Baylor knows she’s not to go outside at night, and she generally sleeps right through until the morning, but there have been a handful of times that she’s called to me from the sliding glass door. God forbid she wakes up tonight and gets an eyeful of the two of us.

“I like how your mind works.” I grip the back of her neck, tugging her forward for a kiss.

Our tongues meet, and I take control of the kiss. She rocks her hips and groans into my mouth when she feels my length harden underneath her.

My appetite for this woman grows each time we’re together.

When I pull away from her, I shift us so that I’m no longer sitting up, but lying flat along the lounger. I don’t have a light on my dock, but it’s a full moon, so I can see her expression as she looks down at me. Her eyelids are heavy, and her sweater is thin enough that I can make out her hard nipples underneath the fabric.

“Do you have any special attachment to these leggings?”

A crease forms between her brows. “Not really, why?”

Before she can protest, I reach between her legs and tear the fabric along the seam.

Emelia gasps.

“Now come up here and sit on my face.”

She bites her bottom lip and lets out a noise somewhere between a mewl and a moan. When she doesn’t move fast enough for my liking, I shuffle down the lounger so my face is directly under her spread legs.

“Fuck, you’re not wearing underwear.” I drag my gaze from her center to her face.

Emelia has a coy expression on her face. “I usually don’t in leggings. Panty lines.”

“Lucky me.” I lick my lips and wrap my arms around the backs of her thighs, yanking her down onto my tongue.

Fuck. Her taste is sweet and earthy, and I can’t get enough. Emelia moans above me as I lap at her entrance with my tongue. Drawing one hand over her thigh, I use my thumb to gently strum her clit. Not enough to make her come, just enough to make her crazy.

Her hand comes down into my hair, gripping it tightly.

I continue to lap at her until she sounds desperate, then I move my attention up to her clit. I suck hard on it, and she coils forward, all the breath rushing from her lungs. Then I gentle my approach and slowly work her up.

Emelia gets more and more desperate to come, the sounds coming from her more feral until she can’t take any more and grinds herself against my tongue as I watch her from below. With one hand gripping my hair hard and her head thrown back, she rocks her hips against my face.

It’s so extraordinary to watch her lose control and take what she wants. What I’ve made her need.