Chapter 2 The Peacock
THE PEACOCK
EMERY
Damon’s eyes darken as I straddle him, grinding against his hard, thick erection.
His large, warm hands palm my breasts, massaging them, my nipples helpless under his calculated ministrations.
I throw my head back and moan, my pussy gliding up and down the length of his cock, getting it all nice and wet.
He needs this. He needs to be touched and used and fucked.
It gives him purpose. Meaning. I can tell that he’s drowning.
That he’s one nightmare away from total destruction.
I’ve tried to soothe him with my words, with whispers of absolution, but it all falls on deaf ears.
This. This is what I can do to help him.
Make him forget. Make him feel unbridled ecstasy.
If he’s going to drown, it might as well be inside me.
“Fuck, Emery, you’re so goddamn wet…” Damon’s groans are fucking intoxicating. I love when he talks to me. It’s enough to make me come right here and now. With a guttural hiss, he snakes his hand around the nape of my neck and tugs forward. “C’mere.”
His lips crash against mine, urgent and raw, as he takes control, the tip of his cock teasing my sex. His hand circles my neck and clamps down on the base of my throat. He surges upward, oxygen escaping my lungs in a primal moan as he thrusts so fucking deep inside me that I see stars.
“You feel so fucking good, Emery,” he growls against my lips, his tongue battling with my own as he rocks his hips in a chaotically fast rhythm.
I can’t respond. I can’t utter a word as he chokes me in the most beautiful way.
I gasp and struggle for breath, and my head grows lighter, just the perfect amount of deprivation to make his cock feel twice as long, twice as thick, twice as unyielding.
“Look at that pretty little face, mami. So fucking pink.”
“Oh God… Damon…” I cry out, my core clenching, my back arching into a deep curve as I try to sink deeper into him, my hips grinding and rolling and devouring every single delicious inch of him. “Harder! Harder, baby. I—”
“Always so greedy,” he rasps, releasing my throat and slinking his hands around my waist, effortlessly flipping me over and caging me beneath him.
Those decadent brown eyes sweep across my flushed and needy body as he spreads my thigh, his fingers digging into my delicate skin.
“Touch yourself, mami. Play with that swollen little clit of yours.” My mouth gapes open, my spine arching as I rub myself in frantic circles.
Damon leans against his ankles, bucking his hips, and I swear his cock rearranges my fucking organs as he pounds inside of me.
My walls clench and cry at his merciless assaults, and I moan his name, toes curling, legs shaking.
“Say it again, Emery. Scream my fucking name.”
“Damon!” My voice comes out hoarse and raspy and feral as I claw at his chest, panting and writhing as I’m seconds away from coming undone. “Da—”
“Together, mami,” he grunts, nostrils flaring as he quickens his pace and digs his nails into my inner thighs.
He throws his head back, moaning and grunting, the sounds beastly and debilitating.
My pussy quivers around his cock, and I forget how to breathe as I ride a violent wave of release, his cum spilling inside me like a goddamn tidal wave. “Fuck… Jesus Christ… Emery…”
Our breaths sync up, the room swirling in a cacophony of sin and sympathy as he falls beside me, his hand never leaving my thigh as we stare up at the crown on the canopy.
The rich burgundy fabric falls from the center, draping us in a warm cocoon, and I close my eyes, finding comfort in the safety of this room.
A room all three of us built. A room that belongs to us. Only us.
As Damon’s hand remains glued to my flesh, I note its firm grip, the way his touch is so tender, so heavy in its emotion. He doesn’t need to worry. He doesn’t need to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not scared of him. Of his past. Of all the mistakes he’s made.
“I love you, Damon,” I whisper, catching my breath as I twist my neck and look at him. “Every single thing about you.”
His lip trembles. It’s so faint, but I can see it.
But he smiles. He smiles almost as if he believes me.
Before he can reply, before he can tell me for the umpteenth time that he doesn’t deserve my love, a song begins to play from our new stereo system, and we both jerk upright at the unfamiliar tune.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” Damon hisses, abruptly climbing out of the bed and storming toward the device.
I watch him with an amused gleam. At this point, her antics are almost humorous. Damon grabs the speaker and aggressively yanks on its cord, pulling it out of the socket. I raise a brow as he proceeds to use one of Quinton’s favorite antique brass bookends to smash the electronic to tiny pieces.
“Don’t break it.” I slip out of the bed, my inner thighs sticky with a reminder of Damon. I grab a silk robe and slide it on. “Quin said that’s like two hundred years old.”
Damon whips his head at me. “That’s what you’re worried about? Quin’s stupid freaky statue?” His lip twitches. “She’s taunting us, Emery! She’s trying to show us that she’s got the upper hand.”
I roll my eyes. “So, she hacks into our Wi-Fi and fucks with the stereo system every week, so what? If she wants to act like a child, let her. It’s been a month since she sent that text message.
We’ve got a dozen different servers, all of which are monitored by Red.
A little music isn’t going to kill me. Plus, sometimes the songs are quite good. ”
Damon balks. “I don’t…” He stalks toward me. “I feel like you’re not taking this seriously, Emery. She’s dangerous. She—”
“Yes, yes,” I sigh and duck around him, entering the en suite. “I know, Damon, but come on. You and Quin have two guards with me at all times. What is she going to do? She’s a hacker, not a sniper. Let her play DJ. Nothing we can do.”
Damon grits his teeth. “I’m buying our own fucking satellite.”
I glance at him, tilting my head. “That seems excessive.”
He glares at me. “Nothing is excessive when it comes to your safety.”
I acquiesce. Today is a stressful day enough already for Damon, and the last thing I want to do is start an argument. And it’s not like I can change his mind once it’s made up.
“Fine.” I call him over, and he drags his feet as he walks toward me. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips, I add, “Thank you for looking out for me.”
He scowls, his gaze flicking over to the outfit I picked out for today. “It looks tight. I don’t like it.”
I resist the urge to release a loud, frustrated groan. “Drop it, Damon.”
He crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame as I turn on the shower. “He’s going to hit on you. Watch. Within five minutes. I’m betting on it.”
I cock my head. “And so what if he does? I’m not interested. I’ve got my hands full already with two very needy men. I wouldn’t be able to handle a third.”
He snorts. “Right. We’re the needy ones.”
I scowl at him. “Amir Hadid could have a cock made out of gold, Damon, and I’d still pass.
You can relax. Please?” He huffs, and I put on a compelling smile.
“Try and have a good day. You’ve got that art class, right?
Think about that all day, okay?” When his sour expression refuses to fade, I decide to try a different route.
A route very aligned with Luna’s desires.
“Fine, maybe you’re right. Maybe the moment I set my sights on him, I’ll lose all control.
” His eyes harden. “Maybe I’ll drop to my knees, rip his pants off like some animal, and—”
As predicted, Damon charges toward me, and I know I’m going to be late for my first day of work. I wonder if hardcore shower sex is a valid excuse for tardiness under Mr. Hadid’s leadership.
Gliding a nervous hand against the smooth fabric of my pencil skirt, I straighten my shoulders and take a small breath.
The boardroom doors of Cavanaugh Industries stand before me, and I mentally kick myself for choosing sex over my career.
Unfortunately, my vagina is far more persuasive than my brain these days.
I quickly check my watch and wince, postponing the inevitable.
I’m only seventeen and a half minutes late.
It’s fine. It’s not like the meeting request said 8 a.m. sharp or anything.
Fuck.
Okay, just do it. Get it over with.
Mustering up every ounce of confidence that resides within me, I open the heavy door and step inside, five sets of eyes immediately darting toward me.
My gaze flits across a few familiar faces.
Javier—a typical scowl. Miranda—cheery as always.
Yannis—timid and afraid. A woman with a slicked back blonde ponytail gives me a once-over, and then her gaze flicks to the head of the table. And mine follows.
Sitting on his new throne, sporting an iridescent peacock green fitted suit, is the man I’ve been warned about for weeks. Amir Hadid’s light hazel eyes glow with unspoken interest, his left brow slightly perking up as he cocks his head.
“Miss Jones, I presume,” he says, tone verging on playful. “How kind of you to finally join us. Please.” He gestures to the empty chair across the table directly in front of him. “Take a seat. We were just discussing this quarter’s business objectives.”
I give him a short nod but remain tight-lipped.
I force myself to refrain from apologizing for being late.
I’m also an executive, and I intend to be treated as one.
Women tend to apologize far too often. For all they know, I could've been in an important meeting that delayed my presence. Fuck it. If he asks, that’s precisely why I’m late.
The meeting proves to be uneventful. Data, quotas, and KPIs spill from his lips as he attempts to assert his position as our new CEO.
He appears to be well-liked by the others in the room.
Especially the blonde. She’s our new president of Marketing.
Given their familiar banter, I assume they were professionally acquainted prior to both working at Cavanaugh.
“Oh, and Miss Jones,” Amir says, “you’ll be pleased to hear that the SEC completed their audit without finding any significant issues or violations. Thank you for all the work you did on that project.”
“Of course,” I say, tone neutral. “Until the next one.”
Amir lets out a hearty laugh and then changes the subject.
“One last item I’d like to discuss is this year’s Global Leadership Summit.
I’ve noticed it’s been several years since Cavanaugh Industries attended.
I believe it would be beneficial for our organization to make an appearance.
All top executives will be required to attend.
Miranda will send more details later today.
” He gives the table a warm smile. “That’s it. You’re dismissed.”
As we gather our belongings, Amir’s voice cuts through the hushed chatter. “Miss Jones.” I glance toward him, and he beckons me over with the curl of his index finger. “A moment, please.”
I might owe Damon fifty bucks.
“Yes?”
He tilts his head, his gaze sizing me up as he purses his lips. “I wanted to check in and make sure everything’s okay with you.”
I perk a brow.
“What I mean is…” He gives me a deceiving smile. “You took a rather long leave of absence. I would hate for your personal life to interfere with your professional life.”
“I’m an expert in compartmentalization, Mr. Hadid,” I say, mirroring his disarming sneer.
He smirks. “Is that so?” His gaze flits through the frosted glass walls of the boardroom. “I believe someone is waiting for you in your office.”
I bite my tongue. I’m going to kill Damon.
“Welcome back, Miss Jones.” Amir turns his attention to his tablet. “You’re dismissed.”
I scoff inwardly. Dismissed? What is this? High school? Without a word, I exit the boardroom and beeline to my office. It’s been two hours. Can he seriously not handle two hours alone? To come into my place of work and—
As I burst through the doors of my office, ready to give Damon a piece of my mind, I’m stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening with pleasant surprise.
“Good morning, darling. Miss me?”
My heart flutters, and I drop all my shit on the floor and run toward him, leaping into his arms and smothering his face in kisses.
“Quin!”