Emily paced the length of her room, her socks whispering against the wooden floorboards. Every few seconds, her gaze snapped back to the glowing numbers on her wristwatch.
The seconds dragged painfully slow.
Downstairs, she could hear the familiar sounds of her mother preparing for another night shift.
Drawers opening. Keys jingling. The tired laugh her mother always forced after a long day.
Emily stopped near her bedroom door, holding her breath.
"I'll be back in the morning," her mother called downstairs.
"Drive safe," Jack answered
A knot twisted in Emily's stomach.
Then came the sound she had been waiting for-the front door shutting. A moment later, headlights swept across her bedroom wall. Emily hurried to the window and pulled the curtain aside just enough to see her mother's car backing out of the driveway before disappearing into the dark street.
Relief washed over her first.
Then adrenaline.
The house suddenly felt too quiet.
Emily pressed her lips together and stepped away from the window. Her thoughts raced despite herself. Ever since the tension between her and Jack had started growing stranger, heavier, she couldn't stop wondering what would happen when they were alone together.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Nothing.
No footsteps outside her door. No voice calling her name.
Her impatience slowly turned into confusion.
Finally, unable to stand the silence anymore, Emily slipped out of her room and moved cautiously down the dim hallway. The lights downstairs were low, casting long shadows across the walls.
She froze.
A strange sound came from Jack's study. Low grunts. Frustrated muttering.
The door was slightly open.
Emily hesitated before inching closer. Through the narrow gap, she saw Jack sitting at his desk, shoulders tense, one hand clenched tightly in his hair while photographs and papers were scattered across the table in front of him. He looked furious-unsteady.
Emily's breath caught.
The floor creaked beneath her foot.
Jack's head snapped toward the door instantly.
Their eyes locked.
And whatever emotion crossed his face made Emily's blood run cold.
Emily swallowed hard before coming in, she was shocked by the sight in front of her, her picture was on the desk, his shirt looks disheveled with his hair also and he was trying to act casual.
"Is everything okay here?" She asked cautiously keeping a small distance.
"It's not baby girl" jack said his eyes moving down to the boner in his jeans.
Before she could respond, Jack's command "Go down on your knees" echoed in her skull, a primal drumbeat.
She did not think.
Her body moved. The plush carpet pressed against her knees, a sudden, grounding reality. Her gaze was locked on the worn denim of his jeans, on the formidable bulge straining the fabric.
Her fingers, trembling, reached for his belt buckle. The metal was cool. The click of the buckle releasing was a tiny, significant sound in the vast quiet of the room.
"Unzip it," he said, his voice a low, graveled order.
Her thumb and forefinger found the zipper tab.
She pulled it down, slowly, the metallic teeth separating with a quiet, steady shhhhk. The fabric parted.
And there he was.
Jack's cock sprang free, thick and veined and already glistening at the tip with a bead of clear pre-cum.
It was as she'd imagined in her darkest, most secret fantasies, but reality was more potent. The scent of him-masculine, clean soap mixed with something musky and deeply erotic-hit her senses.
The sheer presence of it, curving up towards his stomach, made her mouth flood with saliva.
"Touch it," he instructed, not a request.
Emily's hand lifted, her fingertips brushing the hot, smooth skin of his shaft. It was like velvet over steel. A shudder ran through her. She traced a vein, feeling it pulse under her touch. She circled the broad head, smearing the pre-cum with her thumb, her movements timid, exploratory.
Jack's breath hitched. "Teasing me, little girl?" His hand came down, gripping the back of her head, fingers tangling in her long blonde hair. The pressure was firm, possessive. "Now suck it. Like your life depends on it."
She leaned forward, her lips parting. The first touch of his flesh to her mouth was electric. She opened wider, taking the head inside. The taste was salty, tangy, uniquely him. She began to move, a slow, tentative bob of her head.
It wasn't enough.
He tightened his grip on her hair. "No. Like this."
And then he moved. He didn't let her lead; he took control. His hips pushed forward, driving his cock deeper into her mouth. She gasped, the intrusion sudden, filling her.
He pulled back, then thrust again, setting a rhythm-deep, demanding. Emily's world narrowed to this: the pressure of his hand on her scalp, the thick invasion of her mouth, the gagging reflex that sparked each time he pushed to the back of her throat.
She gagged, tears springing to her eyes. The sound was raw, wet. Jack grunted, a sound of pure satisfaction. "Take it all. You wanted it. Now you get it."
He fucked her mouth with relentless, piston-like strokes. Emily's mind dissolved into sensation. The stretch of her lips, the salty taste flooding her tongue, the overwhelming fullness, the sheer submission. She moaned around him, the vibration earning a deeper groan from Jack.
After a brutal, breathtaking minute, he pulled out abruptly. Her mouth was empty, wet, aching. She looked up, dazed.
Jack's eyes were dark pits of hunger. "Good," he rasped. "Now beg for what you really want."
Emily, panting, her voice hoarse, didn't hesitate. The embarrassment was burned away by need. "Please... please fuck me. I need you inside me, Jack. I've wanted it for years."
A cruel, pleased smile touched his lips. "On the couch. On your back. Legs spread."
She scrambled onto the couch. She lay back, pulling her shorts and panties down in one frantic motion, kicking them away. She opened her legs, exposing herself to him-wet, glistening, completely vulnerable.
Jack loomed over her, his cock gleaming. He didn't enter her immediately. Instead, he knelt between her thighs, his large hands pushing her legs wider. "You said you wanted my tongue too," he murmured, before lowering his head.
His mouth on her clit was a shock of pure, sharp pleasure. He didn't just suck; he devoured. His tongue flicked rapidly, then pressed flat, then circled with torturous precision.
Emily cried out, her hands flying to his head, her hips bucking off the couch. "Oh God! Jack, yes!"
He worked her, building the pressure, the coiled tension in her belly until she was teetering on a precipice. Then he stopped, lifting his head. Her clit throbbed, abandoned.
"Beg again," he ordered, his face wet from her.
"Please! I'm so close... please let me come! Please fuck me!" she sobbed, the words tearing from her.
"Not yet." His voice was final. He rose up, kneeling again, his thick cock poised at her entrance. He rubbed the head against her soaked opening, teasing, making her shudder with frustration. "You'll come when I say. When I'm buried in this tight little pussy."
He pushed.
Just the head. A thick, stretching invasion that made Emily gasp. He held there, letting her feel the relentless pressure. "More," she pleaded, her nails digging into his forearms.
Jack smirked, then drove forward in one long, deep, conquering stroke.
Emily screamed. It was a cry of pure, shattered pleasure. He was in her, completely, filling a hollow she'd carried for years. He was huge, the stretch bordering on pain, but it was swallowed instantly by a wave of devastating, perfect fullness.
