Chapter 12 Bones
BONES
Emma rides me like she’s trying to prove something.
Her hands are braced on my chest, nails digging in just enough to sting.
Her head is thrown back, dark hair cascading down her spine, and the morning light coming through the window turns her skin golden.
She’s fucking gorgeous like this—taking what she wants, using my body for her pleasure, completely unashamed.
“That’s it, swan,” I groan, hands gripping her hips as she bounces up and down. “Fuck, just like that.”
She grinds down harder, rolling her hips in a way that has my vision blurring.
I shift one hand up to cup her breast, thumb flicking across the tight peak before I pinch.
She gasps, eyes squeezing shut, and I feel her clench around me, nearly tipping me over the edge.
I hold on by a thread, watching her—cheeks flushed, lips parted, sweat slicking the line between her breasts—and there’s nothing in this world or the next that could compare.
Six months without her. Thirteen years of wanting her. And now she’s here—promised to stay, mine in every way that matters.
I still can’t quite believe it. Keep waiting for her to say it was a mistake, that she needs to go back to New York, that this was just a moment of weakness.
But she’s not running. She’s riding me like she owns me as much as I own her.
And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You fill me so good, Bones,” she gasps, her pace picking up. “So fucking deep like this.”
I thrust up to meet her and she cries out, her nails raking down my chest. The sting just adds to the sensation, makes me want to flip her over and pound into her until she screams.
But I don’t. Because watching her like this—tits bouncing in my face—is better than any fantasy I’ve had.
“Touch yourself,” I order, moving my hands back to her hips. “Want to watch you play with yourself while my dick disappears into that tight cunt.”
Her hand slides between her legs without hesitation, fingers finding her clit. I can feel the change immediately, the way her inner walls start to flutter around me, the way her thighs tense.
“That’s my girl,” I growl, grinding up into her and watching the space between us. “Show me how much you love riding my cock. You take it so good.”
“Bones—fuck—I’m close—”
“Not yet, swan.” I still her hips with my hands, stopping her movement even as she whimpers in frustration.
“You’ve been pretty reckless lately. Not only did you drive for hours high as a kite on caffeine and refusal, you also tried to butter-knife a foreign object out of your body in a motel bathroom.
That’s two counts of self-endangerment in the last forty-eight hours alone. So you don’t come unless I say so.”
She glares, open and defiant even as her thighs tremble with the effort of staying poised. “You’re not my fucking parent—”
“No,” I say, voice low and shot through with need, “I’m the guy who never lets you go until I get mine. And I’m not close yet.”
The look in her eyes is pure challenge, but also trust—the kind you can only give to someone you know will never really say no to you.
“Then you better fuck me harder, Bones,” she spits. “Because I’m about to come whether you like it or not.”
Game on.
I flip her, rolling her beneath me so fast the mattress squeaks in protest. I pin her wrists to the bed and slam into her so hard she gasps.
Her eyes roll and her mouth drops open, stunned.
I fuck her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive and I need her to remember it.
My hips slam into her again and again, the slick heat between us obscene and perfect.
She claws at my shoulders, desperate, her whole body arching to meet every thrust. “Bones—please. Please, I’m so—”
“You don’t come until I say,” I growl, squeezing her wrists together above her head. I lean in and bite her neck just hard enough to leave a mark.
“Please—”
“Beg me.”
“Please, Bones. Please let me come. I need it so bad—”
My whole body is shaking from the effort of holding back.
I want so fucking badly to let her come, to watch her unravel for me, but the will to dominate is stronger.
Maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s something feral in my DNA, but I need her to know who owns every orgasm in her body.
Especially after what she tried to do to herself—cutting at the tracker, walking through dangerous neighborhoods like she had a death wish.
She’s so fucking reckless. Always has been. And I don’t want to change that. Don’t want to tame it. I just want her to understand that her recklessness belongs to me now. That if she’s going to be wild and chaotic and impossible, she’s going to do it with me right fucking there.
I let go of her wrists and grab her ass with both hands, anchoring her in place while I piston in and out, each thrust drawing a broken moan from the back of her throat. Her head twists on the pillow, jaw clenched, teeth bared. I drive in deeper, again and again, and the pressure is blinding.
Her nails rake my forearms, my chest, anything she can reach. I want every scratch and bruise she leaves. I want the world to see them and know I’m hers as much as she belongs to me.
“You want to come, swan?” I lean forward and grunt the words, right in her ear.
She nods, breathless, eyes wild. “Yes. Please. I’ll do anything—”
“Then say you’re mine,” I growl, one hand locking around her throat so she can’t look away from me. “Say it and make sure I fucking believe it. Then I’ll let you finish.”
A deep shudder runs through her and she doesn’t fight the grip, just stares me down, eyes almost black. “I’m yours, Bones. Yours. All of me. Always.”
A rush like nothing I’ve ever felt, this combination of power and worship and complete surrender.
I hold her gaze, my hand still on her neck, then I thumb her clit hard and fast. She detonates.
Body spasming, legs locked around me, the aftershocks making her whole body quake.
Her pussy clamps down so tight it damn near milks me dry and I can’t hold back any longer—I slam into her one last time and empty myself, hips stuttering as I fill her up.
The sound she makes is pure animal. Mine almost matches it.
For a minute we just stay like that, neither of us moving except to breathe. Our bodies are sticky, tangled, drenched in sweat. I want to stay inside her forever. But eventually, I slide out and collapse beside her, breathing hard.
She laughs, a ragged thing that’s more exhale than anything. “You’re such a bastard,” she rasps, voice raw.
“You listing your favorite things about me, swan?”
“Something like that.” Emma’s voice is still breathless as she rolls toward me. “Let me see . . . Right now, number one has to be how smug you look when you get your way. Number two is . . .”
She trails off, rolling onto her stomach, arms folded beneath her head. “Number two is the way you still call me swan even when you’re pissed at me.”
I want to tell her that it’s not even a conscious thing. That somewhere along the way, her name and that word fused together in my brain and now I can’t untangle them. That when I say swan, what I mean is the only person on this earth who matters.
Instead, I reach out and run my hand down the line of her spine, tracing every small vertebra, every scar and fading bruise—not all from me, career dancing is some serious business.
“Number three better not be something dumb like my perfect dick game,” I say, my hand coming to rest on the globe of her ass.
She snorts. “That thing you wield is in a league of its own.”
“Want to test that theory?” I ask, lazily flexing my hips against her. “I could go again.”
Emma makes a wounded sound, muffled by the pillow. “You’re actually going to kill me.”
“I don’t think you’d mind.”
“Not if I get to haunt you and make your life hell for eternity.”
I grin, sweeping her hair off her cheek. “You already do.”
She laughs, and this time it’s lighter. She shifts onto her side, tucking herself against my chest, her knees brushing mine. I tuck the mess of her hair behind her ear and she blinks up at me, all smug and soft and so fucking beautiful I can’t stand it.
For a second, I just hold her and breathe, thinking about how this, right here, is why I called Bennett Construction at six this morning to say I wouldn’t be in.
First time I’ve ever called off work. But holy fuck, it was worth it.
“We should probably get up,” Emma mumbles against my chest.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves.
Eventually, though, my stomach growls loud enough that she laughs and pushes herself up. “OK, that’s our cue.”
I help her up and watch her wince a little as she finds her footing. “Want me to get you an ice pack?”
She grins and shakes her head. “I want you to get me coffee.”
“Done,” I say, kissing her forehead and watching as she heads for the bathroom and I pull on a pair of sweatpants.
In the tiny but functional kitchen, I start the coffeemaker and dig through the freezer looking for something resembling breakfast. Normally, I grab something on the way to work.
So I don’t really keep a stocked fridge.
But when I find a box of toaster waffles with just enough in it for two, I figure that’ll get us through until I head to the store later.
I’m waiting for them to pop up, watching the coffee drip into the pot and thinking about how good it feels to have Emma in my space, when there’s a knock at the door.
My whole body goes tense.
Mrs. Yu doesn’t risk coming up the stairs. Too deliberate to be a delivery. And there’s only one person who’d show up at my apartment at eight in the morning unannounced.
Stone.