Chapter 24 The Wild Animal
THE WILD ANIMAL
DAMON
She’s going to be the death of me. But I don’t care. I would gladly die if it meant that the last thing I saw was those dark green eyes. Eyes that are staring at me, screaming, pleading, fucking begging me to stop.
I turn the dial to fifteen, and Emery grips the edges of the podium, lips parting as she struggles to speak, to breathe, to focus on the dozens of colleagues seated in front of her, all of them eagerly taking notes on her presentation.
I shift in my seat, willing my blood to flow away from my throbbing cock. This was supposed to be her punishment, not mine. Yet here I am. Just as uncomfortable. Just as desperate. Just as disgustingly deprived as the minx on stage.
She doesn’t follow the rules. My rules. And that infuriates me.
Not because she’s blatantly disrespecting me.
No. It infuriates me because I like it. It’s sick and twisted, but goddamn, I fucking love it.
She likes being bad. She likes watching my face redden with anger when she doesn’t listen to me.
She enjoys it. The pain. And the inevitable pleasure it’ll bring. Pleasure that I alone will bring.
No one else.
A blast of fury tingles in my thumb, and I kick the vibrator up to seventeen.
Her tiny moan echoes through the surround sound speakers, and she quickly covers it up with a cough.
But I know better. I know that her pretty little cunt is drenched right now.
Soaked. Waiting to be destroyed. And I will destroy it.
I’ll ruin her so that she won’t have the desire to look at another man.
To think of another man. To fucking talk to another man.
Doctor Marquis.
I inwardly wince. His name on her tongue is like a knife through my goddamn heart. A heart she has no intention of protecting. Not yet. But I refuse to give up, to give in, to accept that she’ll forever remain inches away from my grasp.
I want to consume her, body and soul, and when I do, Quinton Marquis will be a mere memory. He has no right to occupy her mind. He knows that. He knows that she’ll forget about him. That’s why he’s chasing her, making himself visible. So that she has no choice but to see him.
That’ll end. That’ll stop today. It must. For the sake of my heart and my fucking sanity.
“Questions?” Emery whimpers, scanning the audience. A few hands shoot up. She feigns a polite smile, knees twisting as I turn the dial to the highest setting. A sheen of sweat coats her forehead, and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. She points to Ferris in the back row. “Yes, go ahead.”
I should stay seated. I should enjoy watching her suffer the consequences of her foolish actions.
This isn’t supposed to be pleasant. This isn’t supposed to bring her joy or relief.
This is supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to teach her a fucking lesson.
But I can’t control my legs, my tongue, my mouth as I stand up.
“That’ll be enough,” I state, addressing the audience.
“If anyone has any questions, send them to Miranda and we will issue a company-wide response.” I subtly power down the device.
Emery gives a look of unveiled gratitude, looking at me for the first time like I’m a hero, a fucking savior.
“Thank you for attending.” I glance up to the stage. “Miss Jones? A word?”
With uncoordinated and sloppy steps, Emery descends the stage. “Thank you,” she mutters, defeated and drained. “That was—”
I lift an amused brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you just say thank you to me?”
A little life returns to her voice. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Tread lightly, Miss Jones. I could make you come all over the hallway in mere seconds,” I say, placing my hand on the small of her back. “Let’s go chat in my office.”
“I need to use the restroom,” she says, glaring at me. “I have a foreign object stuck up my vagina.”
“And whose fault is that?” I ask, leading her out of the conference room and toward my office. Emery rolls her eyes at me, and I click my tongue. “Watch it, Emery. Last warning.”
“I truly loathe you right now,” she mutters, crossing her arms like an insolent brat. “I can’t believe you did that to me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to stand in front of fifty-plus people while on the verge of an orgasm for twenty minutes?”
Verge. I mentally pat myself on the back for impeccable timing.
“Well, why don’t we fix that,” I say, ushering her into my office and locking the door behind us.
I turn around, features darkening as she stands in front of me, teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip.
I’m helpless. So pathetically hopeless. “Come here.”
She tilts her head, her combative gaze flitting down to my hardening cock. “Why don’t you come here?” My hands are around her throat so fast she chokes on her words. “Dam—”
“No more talking,” I rasp, heavy breaths struggling to escape my lungs as I slam her against the wall, my thumb scraping against her bottom lip, coaxing it open, her tongue darting out to greet me like a gracious host. “Did we learn our lesson, Miss Jones?”
“Mhmm,” she hums, sucking on my fingers as I dip my hand between her thighs and tug on the dangling string, the vibrator slipping out of her wet pussy with effortless ease. God, she’s fucking soaked.
“From now on…” A deep, feral growl reverberates in my chest as her clumsy fingers unbuckle my belt.
My cock spills out, her needy hand tugging at the base.
I arch over, intoxicated by her smell as I grunt, tightening my grip around her throat, “From now on, you will say thank you every time my cock makes you come. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” I loop my hand around her thigh, nails scratching along her skin as I hoist her up and slam her against the wall, my dick grazing her crying cunt.
“Yes, sir,” she moans, fisting the roots of my hair as I move her panties to the side and surge inside of her. “Oh, God!”
“Does this feel good?” I ask, covering her mouth as I thrust in and out of her, my balls slapping that untouched ass of hers.
Her silenced screams dampen my palm, her pussy clenching around me.
“You want to come? You want to come all over my fucking cock?” She nods, eyes wide and raw and glorious. “Okay, mami, come. Come for me.”
Emery explodes around me, whimpering through the cracks in my fingers, “Thank you, thank you.” I let her release reach her toes before I quicken my pace against her. “I—”
“Take it,” I grunt, dipping my head into the crook of her neck as I plant sloppy open-mouthed kisses all over her soft skin, my balls heavy and full with an impending explosion.
“Take it. Yes, fucking take it.” Her legs quiver around me, tightening around my waist, squeezing the cum out of my fucking cock. “Come with me. Come with me…”
Her thank yous are muffled whispers as I unload inside of her, my cum dripping from her pussy and onto my cock as we clasp onto one another for stability, support, and grounding.
“Again,” she breathes into my ear, panting and insatiable. “I want more.”
I smile, resting my forehead on hers. “Later,” I hum, catching my own breath. “I have some business to take care of first.”
“Mr. Cavanaugh!” Gretchen frantically hops out of her chair, leaning over the front desk of NovaTech as I storm past reception. “Where are you going?! Mr. Cavanaugh!”
“Is he in?” I ask, gaze darting to Quinton’s office.
“He’s, uh…” Gretchen swallows. “Indisposed at the moment.”
“Of course, he is,” I scoff, turning down the hallway as Gretchen calls out after me. “Relax. This won’t take long.”
Quinton is behaving like a fucking child.
Testing boundaries. Trying to understand just how far he can push me before I snap.
Does he think I’ll allow him to send Emery gifts?
Does he truly believe I’ll turn my back on his attempts to undermine me?
He’s a fool. A fucking idiot. I know how to guard what I value the most. And it’s not with fucking hay.
It’s with a gun and armor and a fully stocked artillery.
I slam open Quinton’s office door and cringe.
Classy. His head snaps in my direction, a grimy smirk on his face.
“Cavanaugh.” My gaze flits down to the young woman in a lab coat on her knees in front of him, his dick so far inside her mouth I can practically see it poking out of her damn head.
“What a surprise. I don’t believe I have you on my schedule for today. ”
“I see you’re putting your interns to good use,” I jeer. “Some things never change.”
“Always so uptight,” Quinton chuckles, patting the blonde’s head.
“That’s enough, darling.” She pulls away, wiping the spit from her chin as he zips up his pants.
“Run along now.” The intern scrambles to her feet, covering her face as she dashes out of the office.
Quinton buckles his belt, sauntering over to the mini bar at the far end of the room. “So, how can I help you, Cavanaugh?”
“Stay away from Emery,” I say, voice level and calm despite the rage brewing inside of me. “Do not call her. Do not send her presents. Don’t even fucking look at her.”
“She called me,” he says, pouring a glass of scotch. He shrugs, swirling the amber liquor around. “It appears to me that you’re speaking to the wrong party regarding your request.”
“Stay away from her,” I repeat myself, this time more aggressively, more assertively. “I mean it.”
Quinton rolls his eyes, sighing. “Put your feathers away, Cavanaugh, you look like a bloody peacock right now.” He takes a small sip of his drink, rounding his desk.
“All I did was send little Emery a welcome gift.” My teeth clench.
“If I recall, you did the same thing to Alison when she joined the club, did you not?”
“She was mine,” I grunt, fisting my hands. “It was my job to welcome her.”
Quinton blinks, lifting a brow. “Yours? Bloody hell, that accident must’ve caused you some severe head trauma if you can’t recall simple facts.
” He tilts his head. “I found her, Cavanaugh. I saw her first. You…” A tinge of emotion flashes across his vile face.
“You stole her from me.” He pauses. “Twice.”
“Jesus Christ,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “This again? Are you serious?”
“As serious as a DUI,” Quinton chirps, casting me a knowing smile. “Would you like a drink, Cavanaugh? I know how much alcohol soothes you when you’re distressed.”
Pain zaps my gut. “Don’t go there,” I say, stalking toward him. “I could bleed you for millions.”
Quinton clicks his tongue. “Oh relax, I have no desire for a lawsuit. Your secret is safe with me and my father.” I remain silent, guilt crippling my ability to speak.
“Although…” He taps his lips. “If I did leak the truth, perhaps my chances with Emery would skyrocket.” He grins. “Given you’d be in prison and all.”
“As would you,” I hiss, my hatred for him oozing through my pores. “And your father. You’re not so innocent yourself, Quinton. Don’t act like a fucking saint.”
His expression hardens. “But I am innocent, aren’t I? I didn’t—”
“Enough!” I can’t relive this. I can’t keep coming back to this fucking memory. “I didn’t come here to dig up the past.”
“No, you came here to threaten me.” Quinton perches on the edge of his desk. “Well, go on now, Cavanaugh. Threaten me. What will you do if I don’t heed your incredibly menacing and awe-inspiring demand to stay away from little Emery? Well?”
I straighten my shoulders. “Diazenix. You knew.”
“Fuck you, Cavanaugh. You know that’s a lie.
” Quinton’s lip twitches. “I dare you to utter another word on that subject. Have you heard the phrase tit for tat, my friend? While I love my father dearly and would hate to see him incarcerated for a cover-up, I will not lose my reputation and my company for a man with no morals.”
I snort. “That’s rich coming from you. You are your father’s son.”
“I fix my problems,” he grunts. “I do not bury them in the dirt like a coward.” He pushes himself off his desk, shoulders widening as he stalks toward me.
“There is nothing you can do or say to scare me, Cavanaugh. Our closets carry far too many skeletons to start a war. You must have known this coming here, and yet, here you are.” He scans my face with keen intent.
“Are you falling in love with her? Is that the problem?” He chuckles under his breath.
“You’re a bloody fool, Cavanaugh. You cannot tame a wild animal, and that’s what Emery is—wild. ”
“Don’t say her name as if you know her,” I spit, heart racing as we come face to face. “You know nothing about her.”
“Perhaps, but,” he cocks his head, “I know you, Damon, and I know how much you like a tight leash. A woman like Emery doesn’t thrive in captivity, in a cage. She’s meant to run free.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grunt. “Emery is—”
“You know what I think?” he asks. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, and that scares you.
You know she’s wild. You know she will never fully belong to you.
” A pause. “Let me give you a word of advice: the more you attempt to tighten said leash, the more she’ll resist.” He smiles at me.
“Perhaps allowing her to roam free would be most beneficial.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I ask, resisting the urge to punch him square in the jaw.
“Not only me.” He shrugs coyly. “I think she’d like it too.
” He checks his watch. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat some more, but I’ve got a meeting in five minutes.
” He blinks. “Is that all for today?” I bite my tongue, swallowing back the bile in my throat.
“Lovely, I’ll see you and little Emery at my gala on Friday.
” He places his drink to the side and waltzes past me.
“Close the door behind you when you’re done sulking. Toodles!”
I stay frozen in his office for several minutes, his words running on repeat. I don’t want to accept it. I can’t accept it. I won’t. But he’s right. The more I think about it. He’s right. She is a wild animal.
But even lions can be tamed.