4
EMILIA
The screen went black for half a second before it lit up again. His face, clear and sharp in the glow of his own screen, came into view. He looked impossibly handsome. So unreadable too, as always. His usual grey eyes were dark, and they found me through the camera. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched me.
My throat dried up. He looked too good for someone who’d worked all day. It wasn’t fair. His dress shirt was undone at the top, revealing just the edge of his collarbone. His tie was gone, and his jaw was dusted with his usual stubble. Casual. Dangerous.
His eyes dipped low, and I knew exactly what he was looking at before he said a word.
“You’re still in your work clothes,”
he said, voice low and smooth. Almost too calm.
Shivers ran down my spine. Because, apparently, that’s the effect my body had on him.
I shifted slightly on the couch, my blouse tightening around my shoulders as I did. “I haven’t had the time to change yet,”
I replied, pretending my voice wasn’t doing that breathy thing it always did when he was around. Even through a damn screen.
Dean leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Why?”
I gave a small shrug. “Came home, had to cook dinner, cleaned up around the apartment a little.”
I stopped then, unsure why I was telling him all of that when he surely wasn’t interested. I bit my tongue.
“You’ve been sitting there with your laptop for a while though,”
he stated, as if he had seen me sit here for the past hour.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you answered my email pretty quickly. What were you looking at before I messaged you?”
“Nothing, really—”
“Emilia.”
His voice had a mocking undertone, and it made me press my thighs together again. “Tell me the truth. What were you looking at?”
“I-I…”
Swallowing the spit that had puddled on the back of my tongue, I looked at the open window behind the one he was displayed. The window through which I had almost booked a flight to Tokyo. “I was looking at flights.”
Dean raised a brow. “To where?”
“Tokyo.”
“To visit family?”
I nodded, my lips in a tight line.
“You’re running away,”
he then said, not giving me a chance to take a breather. He wasn’t giving me space. None at all. He kept pushing, kept taunting, and I let him like a fool.
“I’m not running away,”
I said, furrowing my brows. “Why would I want to run away?”
“Because of me.”
He had no shame. No filter. He said exactly what was on his mind, and he didn’t care about the consequences. Not that there would be any coming from me. Still, he was ruthless and so. Damn. Arrogant.
I lowered my head. “You’re wrong,”
I whispered with a small shake of my head.
“I’m not, but you believe whatever you like, Emilia.”
I looked up again, watching his intense eyes darken even more. A smirk tugged at his lips, sending immediate shivers down my spine. God…
I swallowed hard, pulse thudding in places it had no business reacting. “Is this a work call?”
I wanted to change the topic.
He gave a slow shake of his head, lips twitching. He gave me a look. The kind of look that said he already knew the answer to every question I hadn’t asked yet.
“No, kitten. It’s not.”
There was a shift, and the air thickened—even through the damn screen. I picked at the skin around my nails, nervously avoiding his stare.
“Look at me,”
he commanded, his voice dropping an octave lower.
I forced myself to meet his gaze, my heart hammering against my ribcage so hard it almost hurt.
“Take off your blouse.”
“What?”
I whispered.
“You heard me, Emilia. Unbutton your blouse and take it off.”
His tone left no room for argument. “Now.”
My body stiffened, and I hated how much my fingers twitched, ready to strip without him needing to ask for more. And because I clearly had no damn self-control, I reached for the top button.
“Slowly,”
he demanded, leaning back in his chair. His eyes never left me as I slowly undid each button, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
I couldn’t stop the heat from rising. Everything about this was intense. Him, sitting there in his office, with the skyline of Montreal glowing behind him. His hand resting right above his crotch, ready to touch himself. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. Not just yet.
When I was finished, I slipped the silk fabric from my shoulders, letting it fall behind me on the couch. Although the air in my apartment was usually warm, it felt cold this time, raising goosebumps across my exposed skin. I sat there in just my bra, feeling more vulnerable than I’d ever felt.
Damn him and his ability to make me feel this way.
“The bra too,”
he said, his voice rough now.
I reached behind me with no hesitation, unclasping it with ease. I let the straps slide down my arms, revealing myself to him completely.
“Beautiful,”
he murmured, his eyes darkening further. “Now touch yourself. I want to see you play with those perfect tits.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but something in his gaze made it impossible to refuse. Slowly, I raised both hands, cupping the weight of my breasts. My nipples hardened against my palm.
“Like this?”
I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Pinch your nipples,”
he instructed. “I know you like when I do it.”
He wasn’t wrong. I loved his hands on my tits. His mouth, too. God, and he loved my tits too. He always gave them extra attention, and oftentimes, he left my nipples sore after sucking on them so hard.
I did as he commanded, a small gasp escaping my lips at the sensation. I imagined it was him touching me, which only made me want him more. His eyes tracked every movement, every reaction I had to my own touch.
“That’s it, kitten. Does that feel good?”
I nodded, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through me. The hand just above his crotch moved further down where I couldn’t see it anymore, but the knowledge of what he was doing excited me.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,”
he confessed, his breathing becoming more labored. “Wanted to fuck you before you left because having you suck my cock wasn’t enough for one day. But I have to admit…” He licked his bottom lip, adjusting himself on his chair. “Watching you touching yourself through the screen might just turn me on more.”
A breath caught in my throat as I whispered his name. My body responded to his words more than my own touch did.
“Do me a favor.”
Anything for you.
“Put your laptop in front of you. I want to see all of you.”
I looked at the coffee table in front of me, only hesitating for a split second before I removed my hands from my body and put the laptop on it. I adjusted it so that he could see me sitting on the couch. “Like this?”
“Just like that, kitten. Good girl. Now, take off your skirt.”
I nodded, ready to do whatever he asked me to. His hand was still under the desk, but I couldn’t see more. “Are you touching yourself too?”
His jaw twitched. “This isn’t about me, Emilia. We’ll focus on you right now.”
“But I don’t mind if you do,”
I told him, furrowing my brows at him. “I want you to.”
“Emilia.”
His expression darkened. “Do what I say.”
He left no room for arguments, and like I always did, I simply accepted his demand.
I got up from the couch and unzipped the side of my skirt, then let it slide down my legs until it pooled at my feet. Stepping out of it, I stood there in nothing but my black lace panties, suddenly aware of how exposed I was.
He couldn’t see my face, but he still murmured, “Beautiful.”
His eyes took in every inch of my body. “Now sit back down on the couch.”
I lowered myself onto the cushions, my skin prickling with anticipation. Dean’s breathing had grown heavier, the movement of his arm beneath the desk more pronounced.
“Take those panties off and spread your legs for me,”
he commanded. “I want to see how wet you are.”
With trembling fingers, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, kicking them aside. The cool air against my heated center made me shiver.
“Wider,”
he urged, and I complied, opening myself completely to his view. “Touch yourself. Show me how you like to be touched when I’m not there.”
I hesitated only briefly before sliding my hand down my stomach. When my fingers found my slick folds, I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped my lips.
"That's it," Dean encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Circle your clit. Slowly."
I did as he instructed, my eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.
"No," he said sharply. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you pleasure yourself."
My gaze snapped back to the screen. His hand was moving more deliberately now, his jaw tight with restraint.
"Put two fingers inside," he directed. "Imagine it's me."
I slipped my fingers into my entrance, gasping at how easily they slid in. "Dean," I whimpered, unable to hold back.
"Fuck," he groaned, no longer trying to hide what he was doing. "You're so perfect like this, Emilia. So fucking perfect."
My fingers moved faster, matching the rhythm of his arm. The knowledge that he was stroking himself while watching me pushed me closer to the edge. But I hated that I couldn’t see his cock.
“Dean,”
I croaked out, sighing at the frustration that was building inside of me. “I want to see you too.”
He shook his head, jaw clenched. “You don’t get to see shit until I allow it.”
I bit my lower lip, letting his words sink in. I could’ve stopped fingering myself. Could’ve told him to go to hell and close the laptop. But I didn’t. Because sitting here, with my fingers inside of me, and him watching me, was way more exciting. It was what I wanted.
"Are you close?" he then asked, his voice strained.
"Yes," I panted, my hips rising to meet my hand. "I’m close."
"Don’t come yet," he commanded. "Slow down. I'm not ready for this to end."
I whined but complied, slowing down to a painful crawl that kept me just on the edge without going too far.
"Good girl," he praised. "Now add another finger."
I slipped a third finger inside, stretching myself further. The fullness made me gasp.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he demanded.
"I'm thinking about you," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "About how much better your fingers feel than mine. How much I wish you were here instead of just watching."
"That's what I like to hear," he growled. "You're always thinking about me, aren't you? Always wondering what I'd do to that pretty pussy if I was there." His voice dropped even lower. "I'd push you down on that couch, spread those legs wide, and fuck you until you screamed my name."
I moaned, my fingers moving faster despite his earlier command to slow down.
"If I was there," he continued, "I'd have my mouth on those perfect tits while I filled you up. Would you like that, kitten?”
"Yes," I gasped, my free hand moving to my breast, pinching my nipple the way he would. "God, yes."
"Look at you," he said, his breathing ragged. "So desperate for me. So fucking beautiful when you're falling apart. I bet you're dripping all over that couch."
My hips bucked against my hand as pressure built low in my belly. "Dean, please," I begged. "I need to come."
"Not yet," he ordered, though his own restraint was clearly slipping. "Tell me what you want first. Tell me exactly what you need."
"You," I whimpered. "I need you inside me. I need your hands on me, your mouth, everything. Please, Dean."
His eyes darkened impossibly further. "Touch your clit with your other fingers. I want to see you fall apart for me."
I did as he said, and the added stimulation sent sparks shooting through my body.
"Now," he commanded, his voice strained. "Come for me now, Emilia."
The permission was all I needed. Pleasure crashed over me in waves as I cried out his name, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. Through half-lidded eyes, I saw Dean's head fall back, a deep groan tearing from his throat as he found his own release.
For several moments, the only sounds were our labored breathing. I slumped against the couch, feeling weak but satisfied.
"Fuck," he finally said, looking at me with something like awe. "You're incredible."
I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my lips.
He ran a hand through his hair, composing himself with remarkable speed. He moved closer to the desk, not giving me the chance to see the mess that he had created in his pants. His hands weren’t glistening with cum, and I wondered if he had released himself in his shorts. “Dean,”
I said, keeping my hands on my body. “Did you really come?”
He furrowed his brows, not giving me the attention he had just seconds before. “Don’t.”
I swallowed, watching him closely. “Did you make yourself come in your pants? Please, Dean, this isn’t fair—”
“Stop, Emilia.”
His body tensed and his hands curled into fists. “Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was no time for me to even try and stop him. He reached up, and my screen went dark instantly. He left me alone with the afterglow and the anticipation of what tomorrow would bring. I knew I should be concerned about the power he held over me, how easily I submitted to his every command.
But I wasn’t. I wanted him to treat me that way. I wanted him to keep giving me his attention. Even if it only was in secret.