Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
When I agreed to come and stay with Emmanuel for a week, I honestly thought I’d get bored.
I figured he’d be off working all the time and I’d be left to my own devices.
I was wrong. He has left me a couple of times, but it’s never for long.
When he said he wanted us to get to know each other, he really meant it.
We’ve talked about everything—well, everything except for the one thing he really wants me to talk about. My past. I can’t do that. Not yet. I’m not ready to ruin whatever it is we have. My week is coming to an end, though, and I know I have to go back to reality. Back to my life.
Will it hurt? Probably. But I’ll be okay. I’ve survived far worse.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Emmanuel asks.
We’re both completely naked under the covers.
He also wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to keep me naked and in his bed as much as possible.
Again, I’m not complaining. The man knows how to give an orgasm.
The world could be ending, and I wouldn’t care, because nothing else matters when he’s touching me.
My only thought is more. I want more of him.
“I was thinking about how our time is almost up and I have to go back home,” I admit.
“Our time is only just beginning, mi alma,” he says.
“I have to go home, E. I have responsibilities.” I also have no intention of staying in this cocoon. As good as it is, it’s not something that can last.
“I know. But you going back home doesn’t make you any less mine.” His eyes bore through me. When he looks at me like this, I feel like he can see right into my soul, like he can see all the ugly beneath the beauty and looks right past it.
Wishful thinking on my part. No one would look past the ugliness I carry within me. I wouldn’t expect him to either.
“Long-distance relationships don’t work, Emmanuel.”
“Says who?”
“Statistics for every long-distance relationship ever.”
“Fine. I’ll move to your little country-bumpkin town.” He smirks.
“You’re going to move your entire empire to a small country town? That’s not going to work.” I laugh. I can just picture it now. My little neighborhood surrounded by Emmanuel’s men.
“I would give it all up for you,” he says quietly.
My eyes widen. “I would never ask you to do something like that.” I wouldn’t. He might not have chosen his life, but I do know he doesn’t hate what he does.
Emmanuel looks at me pensively. “You wouldn’t?” he asks, appearing almost puzzled.
“Why would I want to change you? If I did that, you wouldn’t be you, who I happen to like. A lot.”
Emmanuel smiles at me. It’s a genuine smile I never see him give anyone else. It’s purely mine, and every time I see it, my heart melts a little more for this man.
“You like me, huh?” He quirks a brow.
I roll my eyes. “If you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it until my last breath.”
Something shifts in Emmanuel’s mood. His entire face hardens in an instant. “Your last breath isn’t something I want to think about.” He places a hand over my heart. “I don’t want this to stop,” he says, looking down at my chest.
“Want what to stop?”
“Your heart, your life. I don’t want to end it,” he says cryptically.
I don’t understand what he means. “Are you planning on killing me, Emmanuel? Because if you are, can you at least give me a few more orgasms first?” I roll over and straddle him.
I’m joking. I don’t actually believe he is going to kill me. If I did, I wouldn’t be in bed with him. Do I believe he’s capable of it? Sure. But I’m not afraid of him.
“Not planning on it, no,” he says, his hands moving to my hips as I grind my pussy down on his cock. I swear the man is a walking hard-on. He’s always ready to go.
“Well, thank god for that because I’m not ready to die yet. I have a long list of shit I need to do before I go,” I tell him. My fingertips trail over his pecs, down across his abs, tracing each dip between the muscles.
“What’s on this list?” Emmanuel asks. His own hands start moving up my torso until they’re cupping each of my breasts.
“It’s a long list.”
“I’ve got time,” he urges.
“I want to go to Paris fashion week. I want to spend my birthday in a villa overlooking the ocean in the Maldives. I want to be able to do charity work for orphanages and help children. I want to be able to make a difference in someone’s life that has been dealt a shitty card. I want to live,” I rattle off.
“I want to be the one to make all of those things possible for you, Evie.” Emmanuel reaches higher and grabs behind my neck. He pulls me forward until his mouth is crashing onto mine.
My lips part, allowing him the access he’s seeking. I’ve always enjoyed kissing when I’ve had a man who is decent at it. But I fucking love kissing Emmanuel. I can’t get enough of him.
My pussy grinds on his cock before I lift slightly and move one of my hands between our bodies. Wrapping my fist around his shaft, I line the tip up with my entrance and slide down on him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says, breaking away from the kiss. His hands grip my hips, holding my body still as he thrusts upwards. My clit grinds against his pelvis when he bottoms out inside of me.
“Oh, fuck!” I grunt out as he repeats the movement.
“Fuck, I love fucking you, Evie. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking warm. Your cunt was made for me. It wraps around my cock like a glove.”
“Oh god, don’t stop.” I know I’m going to miss this, the connection I feel when he’s inside me. The way my body heats up. I’m almost certain I’ll spend the rest of my life reminiscing about the week we’ve had.
“Fucking you is my new addiction. One I don’t plan on curing.” Emmanuel rolls me over, pulling out and then flipping me until I’m on my stomach.
He moves my body as if I weigh nothing, until I’m on my knees. His cock slams into me from behind, fast and hard.
“I want you to come all over my cock. I want to feel your juices running down my fucking balls.”
Oh god…
My body shakes. Goose bumps cover my skin, and a light sheen of sweat forms on my forehead. Emmanual slows his movements. Positioning a hand underneath me while his fingers find my clit, pinching my most sensitive part and sending a tsunami of pleasure through me.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me, mi alma? Are you going to come? Drown my cock with everything you have?”
“Yes!” I cry out. My legs shake, and if it weren’t for Emmanuel’s hold on me, I wouldn’t be able to stay upright.
He picks up his pace, hitting that spot that no one else has ever found. “Oh, fuck! I need you to come now, Evie,” he grunts.
Seconds later, my entire body tenses up as I come apart for him. I’ve never experienced orgasms like the ones he manages to draw out of me, and I doubt I ever will again.
He pulls out quickly, and then he’s spilling his seed all over my ass.
Rolling me over so I’m lying flat on my back, Emmanuel covers me with his body as his lips press against mine.
“I will never tire of fucking you, mi alma,” he says.
They’re not the sweetest words, and yet, they have a way of making me feel more cherished, more loved than I ever have before. “I’m going to run a bath.”
I then watch as Emmanuel climbs off the bed and walks naked into the adjoining bathroom. “You know, you spoil me. Who is going to run my baths when I go home?” I call out after him.
Emmanuel’s head pops around the doorframe. “Easy. Don’t go home.”
I laugh off his suggestion. Because, unfortunately, not going home isn’t an option for me. He’d get bored with me eventually or find out the secrets he’s desperate to know.
Emmanuel disappears into the bathroom, and I lie here staring up at the ceiling. I don’t know what to say to him. I have no doubt he’s serious, and if I said I wanted to stay, he’d make it happen. I can’t put that on him, though. It’s best that we end this thing after the week I promised him.
I shift onto my side, reach for my phone, and scroll through my emails.
When I find my latest bank statement, I open it.
It’s not something I check often. Bookkeeping is the worst part of my business and my personal finances—well, they’re not much better.
I hate anything to do with budgeting and accounting.
I do, however, make sure there’s always enough money in my account for a rainy day and that my bills are paid. That is what being an adult is all about, right?
When I open my bank statement, I blink and then zoom in on the document. That’s not right.
Closing out of my emails, I log into my banking app and, sure enough, the number with all the zeros remains on my balance.
“What the fuck?” I mutter as I sit up and click into the account. This money isn’t mine. Someone’s made a mistake.
But when I scroll down a little, and see a deposit from Lopez Enterprises, I know it’s not a mistake. Well, not a bank mistake. It’s an Emmanuel mistake. Jumping off the bed with my phone in my hand, I storm into the bathroom.
“What the hell, E? Is this for real?” I yell at him, turning my phone screen around so he can see it.
“Yeah, I was wondering when you were going to notice that.” He smiles proudly, as if he’s done something good.
“I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but I am not a whore. You can’t pay me for services rendered. I’m not some trophy you can pay to go along with whatever the fuck you’re doing.” I’m yelling. I have no doubt that the entire estate can hear me.
“When have I ever treated you like a whore, Evie?” he asks me.
I wave the phone in the air. “Right now. This,” I say. “I don’t want your money. I don’t need your money. You can shove it right where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m sending it back.”
Emmanuel closes the distance between us. His hand snatches the phone from my grip and he throws it onto the counter. “You. Are. Not. A. Whore,” he repeats, emphasizing every word. “You. Are. Mine. My girlfriend. And if I want to give my girlfriend access to fucking money, I will.”
I shake my head back and forth. “I don’t want it.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m not having you need for a single thing, Evie. Try to send it back. I dare you.” He smirks.
Does he really think he can threaten me into keeping his money? Yeah, that’s not happening. One way or another, the twenty-five million dollars currently sitting in my bank account will be returned to sender.