The limo's leather seats creak beneath us as I pull her closer, my fingers tangling in her platinum blonde hair. We've been lost in each other since the moment we escaped Boston. Magik refused to drop us at the mansion, muttering something about "not being a goddamn chauffeur for horny idiots" before dumping us back at the apartment. Emma just smirked, made a call, and fifteen minutes later we were climbing into this ridiculous stretch limo.
"Jack," Emma whispers against my mouth, her British accent making even my name sound fancy. Her ice-blue eyes are half-lidded, darkened with something that makes my heart hammer against my ribs. "I've wanted this for so long."
I laugh, breathless and a little delirious. "Pretty sure you've been extremely clear about wanting this."
Her lips curve into that dangerous smile that always makes my stomach flip. "Perhaps. But wanting and having are very different things, darling."
She leans in again, and I meet her halfway. Her mouth is insistent, demanding in a way that should probably scare me but instead just makes me want more. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer as she nips at my bottom lip.
An hour has passed in what feels like minutes, the Manhattan skyline giving way to the wooded roads of Westchester County. I should probably be thinking about what happens when we reach the mansion, about what all this means, but I can't focus on anything except the way Emma's body feels pressed against mine.
The car slows, gravel crunching under the tires. Emma pulls back slightly.
"We're here," she says, smoothing down her white blazer with practiced precision. Even with her hair mussed from my fingers, she manages to look like she's stepping off a runway.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach as the car comes to a complete stop. The mansion looms ahead, windows glowing with warm light against the evening sky.
"Ready?" Emma asks, her fingers already reaching for the door handle.
I nod. My body's still humming from our makeout session, my lips feeling slightly swollen from her kisses.
The door swings open, and Emma's hand clamps around my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong as she practically yanks me out of the limo. She strides toward the mansion, pulling me along like I'm a particularly stubborn dog on a leash.
"Eager much?" I laugh, stumbling to keep up with her purposeful stride.
"I can read your thoughts, Jack. I see you are too," she purrs, throwing me a look over her shoulder that makes my knees weak.
We burst through the front doors, and I immediately notice a crowd of faculty members gathered in the living room. Their faces are drawn, serious. Something's clearly happened, but Emma doesn't slow down, dragging me straight past them like they're furniture.
Scotty breaks away from the group, her visor gleaming under the chandelier lights. "Emma," she calls, her voice tense.
Emma sighs dramatically, stopping but not releasing her grip on my wrist.
Scotty's head turns slightly, registering my presence. "Oh, hey Jack," she says, the greeting oddly casual given the serious atmosphere.
"Hi," I manage, acutely aware that Emma's fingernails are digging into my skin with impatience.
Scotty turns her attention back to Emma. "Someone killed Norma Osborn. They blew up the entire Osborn mansion in Lake George."
Emma's face remains completely neutral, like Scotty just commented on the weather. "Crazy stuff," she says flatly, already turning to leave.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Scotty insists, her voice dropping lower.
Emma's already moving again, pulling me toward the staircase. "It's a good thing if the Green Goblin dies," she calls over her shoulder, not bothering to look back. "That's called good luck."
We practically sprint up the stairs, down the hallway, and finally through the door of Emma's bedroom. The door slams behind us, and suddenly we're alone, the sounds of the concerned faculty fading into the background.
"Wait, who died?"
Emma turns to face me, her eyes darkening with desire as she shrugs off her white blazer in one fluid motion.
"It really doesn't matter, Jack," she purrs, her fingers already working on the buttons of her blouse. "Some villain who should have died years ago."
My mouth goes dry as I watch her. Without thinking, I'm yanking my own shirt over my head, not bothering with the buttons. There's an urgency between us that feels almost primal, like if we don't get our clothes off this second, we might combust.
Emma's pants pool around her ankles as I fumble with my belt. She steps out of her underwear with the grace of a ballet dancer while I nearly fall over trying to get my pants off. We're moving at breakneck speed, clothes flying in all directions like we're in some kind of race.
As soon as we're finally naked, Emma grabs me and throws me onto her massive bed. Before I can even bounce on the mattress, she's on top of me, straddling my waist with a predatory gleam in her blue eyes.
A flash of panic surges through me. "Wait, no… I can't be on the bottom," I blurt out, my hands instinctively pushing against her hips.
Emma doesn't budge. Instead, her lips curve into her classic knowing. "I know all about your little trauma response, Jack," she says, her voice gentle despite the hunger in her eyes.
She leans down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that somehow manages to be both tender and starving. She shifts her weight, and I feel her positioning herself above me.
"I get it, you're afraid," she whispers against my lips. "But you don't have to be. Not with me."
Before I can respond, she sinks down just enough for the tip of my cock to press against her entrance. My eyes go wide at the sensation, a strangled sound escaping my throat.
Emma laughs, the sound rich and triumphant. "Ah, I see you already like your new home," she purrs, her accent making the words sound impossibly dirty.
"Wait, Emma, please…" I'm not even sure what I'm asking for anymore, my body and mind wanting completely different things.
She takes both my hands in hers, interlocking our fingers as she agonizingly slowly, moves her hips downward. I can't help the pathetic whimper that escapes me as she envelops me completely.
"Yes," she breathes, her eyes locked on mine. "Music to my ears."
Holy shit. I've been with a few women, but this. This is something else entirely. It's like Emma's body was custom-made for mine, every sensation amplified to the point of madness. I can barely think straight as she begins to rock against me.
She pushes my hands up over my head, keeping our fingers interlaced as she establishes a rhythm that has me seeing stars. Her lips find mine again as she moves, swallowing my moans.
"You're afraid of your mother," she says against my mouth, her voice knowing and analytical even now. "That's why you don't want a woman on top of you."
I try to protest, but then she squeezes around me, her internal muscles clenching in a way that makes me gasp and groan involuntarily.
"That's not…" I try to argue, but Emma's body tightens around me again, sending a jolt of pleasure that short-circuits my brain.
She leans down, her platinum hair falling around us like a curtain, her lips brushing against my ear. "It's okay to be afraid, Jack. I understand better than anyone."
I'm trembling beneath her, not just from the physical sensation but from the vulnerability of being pinned like this. Yet somehow, with Emma, it feels... safe? The thought makes no sense, especially given what she's capable of, but my body seems to have made its decision already.
"Just let go," she whispers, her rhythm never faltering. "Give yourself to me completely."
Her lips find mine again, hungry and possessive. When she pulls back, there's something different in her eyes, something wild and unrestrained that makes my heart skip a beat.
"Starting today," she says, her voice taking on an eerily tender quality, "I'll be your new mommy, Jack."
My blood turns to ice. "What did you just…"
"Shhh," she silences me with another kiss, her hips still moving in that maddening rhythm. When she pulls back, her face is transformed, her eyes wide and intense, her smile stretched too wide across her perfect face. It's loving but there's something unhinged about it that sends shivers down my spine.
"I'm going to protect you," she whispers, her fingers tightening around mine. "I'll keep you happy. I'll make sure you make smart choices. I'll even make sure you sleep well every single night."
Her internal muscles clamp down around me with shocking strength. The sensation is so intense it borders on painful, but in the most exquisite way possible. I feel the pressure building inside me, unstoppable now.
"Emma, I'm…"
"Yes," she hisses, her movements becoming frantic. "Give it to me, Jack. All of it."
Something inside me snaps. The orgasm hits me like a freight train, tearing through my body with such force that my vision blurs at the edges. Emma throws her head back, her own climax washing over her as she rides me through the waves of pleasure.
As she cums, her expression contorts into the most delirious smile I've ever seen, ecstatic and possessive and somehow perfect. It's terrifying and beautiful all at once, like watching a storm from the edge of a cliff.
As my body convulses with pleasure, Emma's eyes lock onto mine, her gaze intense and consuming.
"I love you, Jack," she whispers, her voice raw with emotion as I continue emptying myself deep inside her.
The words hit me harder than the orgasm still wracking my body. In this moment of total vulnerability, with her body clenched around mine, I know it's true for me too.
"I love you too, Emma," I gasp, the confession tearing from somewhere deep inside me.
She crashes her lips against mine again, kissing me with renewed hunger as our bodies continue to pulse together. Her tongue slides against mine, claiming me completely as the aftershocks of our shared climax ripple through us. I'm still releasing inside her, each pulse drawing a satisfied moan from her throat that vibrates against my mouth.
When we finally finish, she pulls her lips from mine, her hair falling around us like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world.
"That was the best," I breathe, my chest still heaving from exertion.
Emma laughs, the sound sinister.
"Do you think we're done?" she asks, her ice-blue eyes glittering with something dangerous.
Before I can respond, she presses one finger against my forehead, the touch feather-light yet somehow electric. To my complete shock, I feel myself hardening again inside her, my spent cock miraculously rejuvenating as if she'd flipped some hidden switch in my brain.
"What the…" I gasp, staring up at her in disbelief.
"If I had my way, Jack," she coos, her internal muscles squeezing around my newly awakened erection, "I'd never let you go soft again."