7. Emerson
Emerson
It was almost painful to tell her to stop.
Especially when she looks that good riding my thigh.
But she’d caught an attitude, and if I didn’t address it the first time, what use was I?
I pulled away to watch her reaction. Her eyes were open wide, her movements frozen as her body caught up to the command before her mind did.
“Wha—”
“Your punishment,” I said. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”
“I didn’t think—”
“That I’d leave you hanging?” I asked as I ran my fingers down her body and forced them between her cunt and my leg. “Maybe you shouldn’t assume so much.”
Her gasp was like music to my ears, and fuck, I knew I was supposed to be punishing her, but moving away felt like I’d be punishing myself.
So I slipped two fingers inside her instead. She was so wet. So warm. So inviting. Her cunt squeezed them so perfectly as she threw her head back.
“Ride them, my pretty slut.”
Her hips jerked against me as she attempted to find her rhythm again.
“Remember how good this feels—and how I can make it stop—next time you try to do whatever you want and be a brat, hm?”
Her eyes flashed, telling me she would definitely be doing that again, and I tried not to let it show I was excited about all the ways I could punish her for it.
I curled my fingers inside her, massaging a spot that made her cry out. I had to stop myself from going further. It was painful when all I wanted to do was ravage her. Delayed gratification and all that.
My own wetness started to flood my underwear. An ache started between my legs. I had never been as turned on as right now as I watched Pearl use me for her pleasure.
Her cunt started to pulsate around me.
“Stop.”
She let out a groan. Music to my fucking ears. Her wetness gushed down my fingers, letting me know just how desperate she was.
“Please, Emerson,” she whined. “Please make me come.”
“But I’m not supposed to make you come, remember?” I brought my thumb to her clit, putting pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and her whole body jerked.
“Emerson…”
“Use your words, Pearl. Don’t tell me that smart mouth of yours doesn’t work now that my fingers are deep inside you?”
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. Her breath hitched. Tears were forming in her eyes. I wanted to watch them fall. Wanted to watch her make a mess of herself as she cried for me.
So beautiful. Especially when she begs.
“I’m sorry, Emerson, I’ll be your good little slut. I’ll fuck myself like you want me to. Please. Please let me come.”
Heat burst through me, curling in my belly. From the moment she bent down to get in my car, all I wanted was to ravish her. Fuck that—from the moment she walked out of my office, moving those hips, making my mouth water.
She needed to get used to how this would work between us.
“Better,“ I praised as I bit on a nipple. “Now make yourself come. I won’t stop you this time.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She fucked my fingers in earnest, her moans filling the room. I looked up to take in her beautiful face. Sweat dripped from her brow. Her breathing was heavy, coming in gasps between her moans.
“That’s right,” I groaned. “Come for me, my pretty slut.”
She fell apart then, her cunt fluttering around my fingers. Her hips gave a few jerks before she froze against me as the orgasm ran through her body. Her sigh of relief was sinful.
And when she finally opened her eyes to look at me, I grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her lips to mine as my fingers still rocked into her.
She groaned against my lips but met my kiss with equal ferocity.
This is dangerous, my mind told me as I got lost in Pearl.
But I didn’t give a fuck about that voice.
The clack of Pearl’s heels let me know she was coming down the stairs, and I braced myself, knowing any of the outfits I’d picked would look perfect on her.
I wanted to pamper her every chance I got. It wasn’t just clothes. I’d also bought her skincare products, hair products, makeup, and I’d buy her whatever she wanted. She deserved it.
I remember watching her wear the same clothes over and over again. She kept them pristine, but because I was constantly watching her, I noticed she rarely got new clothes. Never got a new backpack.
I made sure she had a choice. She had a closet full of clothes, but I carefully laid out a few options I would like to see her in. I did it while she was in the shower, and, fuck, it had taken all my willpower not to go in there and just watch.
Touching would be better, but watching would tide me over until I could.
So I left.
But even knowing what she’d be wearing, it didn’t stop the breath from leaving me when she came down in a tight white shirt and a flowy dark green skirt, belted at the waist, accentuating her hips.
It was simple—innocent even. But that was what made it so perfect on her.
She gave me a twirl.
“How’s this? Do I get the Emerson seal of approval?”
Anything she wore would—especially when she wore nothing at all—but I didn’t tell her that.
Instead, I nodded and stood.
“Let’s get going.”
She followed me, silent all the way down to the garage and even as I started driving to work.
“I have to work tonight,” she whispered after some time. “Did you… think about what I said?”
It rubbed me the wrong way that she wanted to keep that job. I knew she probably hated it, and there was no way they treated her well enough to deserve her loyalty.
But it was what she wanted. And if Pearl wanted it, she got it.
“If you want to continue torturing yourself, be my guest. But don’t forget about our contract.”
I looked over just in time to catch her little pout. It annoyed me how cute I found it.
“That's not something I could forget,” she said, her eyes slowly coming to meet mine.
I let the smile spread across my face as I looked back to the road. We were close to the office, but instead of turning right at the intersection, I went straight.
Who cares if we're a few minutes late?
I wanted to soak up this time with her. I wished I could reach out and grab her leg so I could feel her skin. The memory of her riding my thigh was fresh in my mind, and I wished she could have done it all night long.
I could barely sleep last night, knowing she was just a room away. It was a strange feeling. I finally had her close, but I couldn’t have her close all the time.
The whole fucking night felt more like torture.
“I have to get my stuff from my apartment tonight, after work. I also need to end my lease soon.”
I nodded.
“I'll take you there.”
“It's okay. It's really close to my work. I can just walk.”
My hands tightened against the wheel.
“You're not walking at night, alone.”
“I do it all the time—”
“Let me rephrase. You're not walking at night alone while under my contract. How's that?”
This time, when I looked at her, her jaw was set.
Am I… making Pearl angry?
“You could get hurt,” I said, suddenly feeling the need to explain myself. “It's not safe. You can get robbed, or worse.”
“I've been here for years, Emerson. I can handle a small walk home. How about tonight I pack up my stuff and sleep in my apartment and you come pick me up in the morning?”
Oh yeah, she’s definitely mad.
There was nothing in the contract stating that she couldn't stay at her apartment. In fact, I tried to make sure that she didn't feel like I was trying to control her entire life.
But I wanted her with me. And it was starting to show.
Rein it in.
“Scared of what will happen if you come home with me tonight? You didn’t look afraid last night when you were riding my thigh.”
I knew that was the wrong thing to say as she kept silent, and I also knew I needed to get to work. The detour had given me just a few extra minutes with her, but it was time to go back to the real world.
I pulled into my spot and looked at her just before she got out of the car.
“Pearl, do what you want to do. Go back to your apartment. Spend the night. Your actions have consequences. One of them will be that you will have to make yourself come… without me.”
She looked at me for a second before getting out and shutting the door behind her.
That had also been the wrong thing to say. For some reason, I felt like I had to apologize to her. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I had learned the hard way that apologizing was for the weak, and showing weakness only made everything worse.
People would latch onto it as soon as they saw even a hint of it and exploit it for all you were worth.
People would beat you up because they knew you wouldn’t fight back.