Chapter 15 – EMMA
EMMA
One hand stays tangled in my hair, angling my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist and hauls me against him.
I melt into the kiss, into him, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, desperate to get closer.
Without breaking the kiss, he moves us sideways, his massive frame angling to cover me. As we pivot, his eyes flick over my shoulder for just a fraction of a second, toward the bed, before returning to mine.
Curious, I follow his gaze to the ornate headboard.
And suddenly, another memory surfaces. Him in the kitchen, watching me suck my finger. The rough edge to his voice. I hope you washed those hands.
At the time, I thought it was just Bodhi being uptight. But now...
I pull back, studying his face. “Have you been watching me?”
Something flickers in his expression. Guilt. Heat. He doesn’t answer.
I remember that first night, how he tossed me on the bed and loomed over me, hand resting on the headboard in that exact same spot.
“No?” I raise an eyebrow, a reckless thrill building in my chest. He’s been spying on me, and if I’m not wrong, it started even before my failed attempt at seduction. “So, there’s no camera above my bed?”
Still nothing. But his jaw tightens, and his grip on my waist flexes.
“Then it doesn’t matter if I do this.”
I step sideways, out of his shadow and directly into whatever sightline he’s been protecting me from.
Holding his gaze, I slide one hand slowly down my stomach, past my waistband, and into my underwear.
Letting my head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, I bring my other fingers to my breast, circling my nipple agonisingly slowly.
And I moan.
The sound that tears from his throat isn’t quite human.
He moves impossibly fast, his body blocking me from view of the bed again, one hand catching my wrist while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise.
“Bad boy,” I whisper, grinning up at him. “You have been watching.”
A flicker of unease cuts through the playfulness. “Just you, right?” I search his face.
“Just me.” His voice is fierce, immediate. “No one else sees you. Ever.”
“Good.” I trace a finger down his chest. “Then I don’t mind.”
His eyes are blazing, that strange gold flickering at the edges. For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. Instead, he groans, low and broken, and manoeuvres us both until his back is shielding me, his body a wall between me and the device.
“Did you enjoy it?” I whisper, stretching up to nip his lower lip. “I was thinking of you.”
I’m still riding the buzz of adrenaline, making me feel uninhibited in a way I’ve never been before.
“Fuck yes.” He growls against my mouth.
When his tongue sweeps against mine, I whimper into his mouth, and the sound seems to drive him wilder. He tilts me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, his massive body caging me in, and I’ve never felt safer or more desired in my entire life.
His mouth breaks from mine to trail down my jaw, my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear.
I arch into him, gasping, my hands clutching at anything I can reach.
“Bodhi.” His name comes out as a plea. “Please. I need…”
With one hand planted on either side of my head, he stares down at me.
“What do you need?” His voice is a rasp against my throat as he clutches me to him, his beard scraping deliciously against my skin. “Tell me.”
“You.” I pull at his shirt, trying to get it off, trying to get to skin.
When he yanks it off with one hand, and I finally get to see his broad chest, those bulging pecs, the dark hair, in all its glory, I purr in satisfaction.
“I need you. Please, just… finish what I started.”
He goes still as I stroke my hands over each ridge and ripple, through the soft hair that covers his chest and tapers off, running in a narrow strip down to his belt. The belt that’s now my enemy number one.
“Emma.” His voice is strained, rough with want, but edged with something else. Something that sounds almost like pain. Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me squirm.
“If Kozlov found out, if anyone found out… it would be your death sentence.”
My fingers wrap around the dark leather and tug, desperate to get his trousers open so I can see where or what lies at the end of his happy trail.
“Maybe that’s the point.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, too distracted by his glorious body to filter my thoughts. “It’s better than the alternative. And this doesn’t seem like the worst way to spend my final hours.”
His expression darkens, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes as his hand finds the base of my neck, and he pins me back to the wall, keeping my lips from his salty skin.
“Don’t.” The word comes out as a growl. “Don’t talk about dying like that.”
Easy for him to say. Nobody’s talking about examining him and how to dispose of his body after they’ve had their fun. His thumb traces up my carotid, following the artery that runs the length of my neck.
“Fate brought me to you for a reason.”
He nuzzles my head to the side, teasing my earlobe with his tongue and teeth; the mere brush of his breath enough to make me shiver and squirm.
“Fate?” I almost laugh. “I’m not so sure. But if this is the only thing I get to choose before the end, I choose you.”
His jaw twitches, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
“You’re not dying.” His voice has dropped to something barely human. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Before I can process his words, he’s lifting my arms above my head, my small hands captured in one of his. He pins them against the wall, pressing me against it with his hips while his other hand tears at my blouse.
Buttons scatter across the carpet, glittering as they roll through the shards of light, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except his mouth on my collarbone, my breast, his teeth scraping against my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.
“Bodhi…” I gasp, my head falling back as all coherent thought flees my mind, lost to nothing but pleasure. To him.
“No more talk of dying.” He demands as he unclasps my bra with one hand, and then his mouth is on my bare breast, hot and demanding. “You’re going to promise me.”
A knee pushes my thighs apart, adding pressure to my needy core, and much-needed friction to my swollen clit. I grind against it, chasing the release I need to end this insanity.
“I…” My thoughts scatter as his tongue traces my nipple. “Promise what?”
He switches to the other breast, and I cry out, my hips rocking against him instinctively. He’s hard beneath his trousers, pressing against my core, and even through the layers of fabric, the exhilarating friction is making my eyes roll back.
“Promise me you won’t let anyone else touch you.” He lifts his head, his eyes blazing into mine. “Not now, not ever. Not Piotr. Not some dumb guard you convince to help you end your life. Not some faceless buyer. No one but me.”
His possessive words make no sense. He knows I’m powerless here, that what happens to me after I leave here is out of my control.
“I promise,” I breathe without hesitation, happy to play his game if it gets me what I want. “No one but you.”
I imagine a different life. One where this isn’t a stolen moment of joy before the end, but the beginning of something, something spectacular.
“That’s my girl.”
The praise sends a shiver down my spine.
He rewards me by sliding one hand up my thigh to push my skirt higher, his fingers trailing along the edge of my soaked underwear.
Leaning back to look down at my crotch, at the wet patch dark on the pink fabric, his chest rises, looking proud of the effect he’s having on me.
Embarrassed, I try to squeeze my thighs shut, but he’s having none of it.
“So wet.” His voice is awed. “All this for me? Has your sweet pussy been dripping for me since the pantry?”
Lord above, what is going on?
Bodhi seems to have forgotten I’m completely clueless. He’s acting like I’m a sex goddess who’s used to talking about how aroused she is and letting a man stare at her barely concealed pussy.
“Yes. I… I can’t stop thinking about it.” I can barely form the words, never imagining in my wildest dreams that I’d be willingly engaging in dirty talk and loving it.
“You wanted more. You wanted me.” His lips curl around my nipple, and his warm breath cools the wet skin as he speaks, making my mind spin, and my peaks stiffen even more.
“Yes. You. Please, Bodhi, please…”
His fingers stroke over me through the thin fabric, and I keen, my hips bucking into his touch, before they slide, just a fraction, under the trim of my panties, and my skin quivers under his touch.
“Yes. More.” I beg before he swallows my pleas with his mouth, his talented tongue keeping me distracted while his skilled fingers find my clit with unerring precision, circling it slowly.
I think I might actually die from the pleasure.
“Promise me.” He’s watching my face, drinking in every gasp and whimper. “Promise me you won’t do anything to get yourself killed.”
Stubbornness flares within me. He’s not in my position. How dare he try to dictate what I do?
“I…” As if sensing the fiery words on the tip of my tongue, his thumb presses harder against my clit, silencing me, and I lose my train of thought completely.
“Promise me,” he growls against my ear.
A shiver runs down my spine, making me curl up into him even as I shake my head. “I can’t… promise…”
He stops. He actually fucking stops.
I cry out at the loss of sensation, grabbing his hand. “No, don’t stop, please.”
“Promise me.” His voice is implacable. “Promise me you’ll fight.”
I am fighting with the only weapon I possess.
“You can’t demand…”
His thumb circles my clit again, light and teasing, and I whimper, knowing he’s taunting me. I’ve never known anything like this. I haven’t even come yet, and I’m addicted. Is this what I’ve been missing out on all these years?