Chapter 17 #2
His arms moved from my face, sliding over my shoulders and down my spine. His hands moved much like his tongue, in fierce, bold movements. I wouldn’t let tonight ruin the memory of his gentle caresses. The way a man so large could be so tender.
Emmett’s hands dropped to my ass, molding to my curves. Then he squeezed so hard I felt the indents of his fingerprints through my dress. He pulled me into his body, slamming us together so I could feel his arousal against my hip.
Maybe a smarter woman would have pushed him away. But Emmett needed an angry, hard fuck, and there was no chance in hell I’d let him walk out this door and find it somewhere else.
My hands went to his shirt, shoving up beneath the hem and finding his washboard abs. I raked my nails over his skin, digging in to leave a mark.
His response was to stretch those long arms to the hem of my skirt, grip it between his strong fists, and shred it up the seam.
I gasped as a rush of desire pooled between my legs.
If Emmett needed to tear the clothes from my body, so be it.
The tear went from my knees to the small of my back. His hands instantly found my skin, his grip bruising.
I moaned, the throb in my core almost unbearable as he kneaded and palmed my upper thighs. In one swift hoist, he had me up and walked me to the island, setting me on the cold granite counter.
Not once did he break his mouth from mine. He devoured and conquered and punished.
I fumbled with his shirt, doing my best to get it up and over his head. But he wouldn’t let me. He kept his arms locked and no matter how high I lifted the cotton, he refused to take it off.
He was staying clothed.
I was not.
He yanked the zipper on my dress, the sound a whizz rather than the smooth clicks from when I’d put it on earlier. Fisting the ripped edges from the skirt, he jerked the entire garment over my head, leaving me in nothing but a bra and lace thong.
The panties were shredded in a quick snap. The bra was unclasped and torn off my arms, leaving me completely exposed and bare.
But that was the point of this, wasn’t it?
Emmett tore his lips from mine and stared at me, our chests rising and falling in the same desperate heaves to suck in some oxygen.
His gaze bored into mine and in it, a plea.
Tell me.
All I could do was send my own plea back.
Forgive me.
I lifted a hand to cup his face, feeling the scratch of his beard. He leaned into my hand and for a brief second, I glimpsed the Emmett I loved.
Then, quicker than I could snap my fingers, it was gone. That wall was in place and he was here for a purpose.
Without a word, he unbuckled his belt, opened his fly and fisted his hard cock.
He inched forward, fitting the crown to my entrance. He didn’t bother moving his jeans or boxer briefs down his thighs.
He knew I was a liar and this was a fuck to balance the scales.
Forgive me.
I widened my legs, holding on to his shoulders as he thrust inside, driving hard and deep.
I moaned, the sound echoing in the kitchen as he moved, in and out.
He didn’t kiss or caress me, keeping his hands on the counter beside my hips.
Other than where we were joined, he didn’t so much as touch me.
And with every one of his strokes, it broke my heart.
I’d done this to us. I’d ruined us.
We’d been doomed from the start.
I held his gaze, the fury rising in those beautiful eyes. All I could hope was that he’d hear my plea and see the love and apology in mine.
Forgive me.
My body reacted to him the way it always did, with a blind and insatiable desire for more, more, more.
Whether he wanted my touch or not, I clutched his shoulders and held on as long as I could before the pleasure became too much.
I closed my eyes and pretended he wasn’t hate fucking me in my kitchen.
I surrendered to him, coming on a cry, spasming and clenching around him so hard I worried I’d slip off the counter. He’d probably let me fall. But I managed to keep my seat until Emmett let out a groan of his own, squeezing his eyes shut as he poured into me.
The stars had barely cleared from my eyes as he pulled out. I forced my eyes open and hopped off the counter onto unsteady legs.
Emmett took two steps backward. He tucked himself back into his jeans, zipping himself up and refastening his belt. Then he stared, his hands on his hips, waiting for my confession.
My eyes flooded. No matter what I said tonight, it wouldn’t be enough. “I’m sorry.”
He hated me.
I saw it on his face. He hated me, and I didn’t blame him.
Without a word, he marched to the door, flinging it open and slamming it behind him.
He left me standing in my kitchen, his come leaking down my thighs as the tears streamed over my face.
I listened for the sound of his bike but it never came. I waited, hoping against all hope, that he’d come back and I could find the words. That he’d calm down enough to hear them. But there was nothing. Only the sound of my ragged breaths and shattering heart.
I stood there until I began to shiver, then turned to pick up the tattered remains of my dress. As I took it to the garbage can and tossed it inside, my eyes landed on the stack of unopened mail on the island.
Each piece was addressed to June Johnson.
There’d been a utility bill on top. I kept meaning to opt into paperless billing from the power company but every month, I’d get the bill and smack my palm to my head for forgetting. As I’d gone through the stack, I’d set that bill on top, vowing to do it this time.
The bill was gone.
Emmett had taken it.
Because he’d known I was nothing but a lie.
I swept my bare arm across the counter, the stack of mail flying before the pieces landed on the floor. Then I dropped to my knees, no longer having the strength to stand.
It was over.
I’d lost him.
He was better off without me.