Chapter 11
Emmett guides me to the conference room on the second floor of his office building. When we get inside, a pretty redhead is already seated at the end of a large table, a stack of papers piled in front of her.
“I’m so sorry for being late,” I say as I walk up to the table and extend my hand to her. “I had some car troubles on the way over.”
She stands up and reaches across the table to shake my hand. “It’s no trouble at all,” she says with a kind smile on her face. “I’m Emery, and I’ll be walking you through the closing today.” She sits back down, adding, “There’s a ton of forms here for you to sign, so bear with me, but this shouldn’t take longer than half an hour.”
I return her smile and sit across from her, grabbing the pen she offers me. I have butterflies in my stomach from how excited I am right now, and I’m having a hard time sitting still in my seat.
Emmett notices, sitting down between us at the head of the table and asking, “Have a bit of caffeine today, Riley?”
I can’t hide the grin splitting my face. “Sorry, I’m just really excited about this. I never thought I’d actually be buying a house.”
“Cute place, too,” Emery says. “I looked it up. It’s got the whole homestead vibe everyone likes these days.” She pauses, contemplating, before adding, “You should get some chickens.”
A laugh gets caught in my throat, and I nearly snort. “I can barely keep a houseplant alive. Those poor chickens wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“They’re easy,” she explains. “Put up some fencing around a coop to keep predators out, and they’ll basically take care of themselves.” She hands over the first stack of papers.
Emery begins explaining what they are, and I sign them. Then she hands over another stack, explaining again and showing me where to sign those. The process continues, but before I know it, I’m signing the last form and handing it back to her.
“And that’s it! Congratulations, Riley,” she says, gathering up all the documents I just signed and putting them into a file. “You’re officially a homeowner.”
“Eeee!” I squeal, much to my embarrassment, before shyly adding, “Thank you.”
She laughs, the sound hearty and warm. “Just let Tracy know if you have any questions or need anything else. Otherwise, you’re all set.”
Emmett follows her out of the conference room, leaving me alone as my mind whirs with excitement.
This is real.It finally starts to sink in, a thrill flooding through my body.
And something more than that. There’s a feeling of accomplishment–like this is the first big milestone toward a better life for myself. I’m all but jumping out of my skin, anxious to move in and make the house my home.
Grabbing my purse, I stand when Emmett returns. He closes the conference room door, shutting us in together, before striding over to me. The hard ridges of his body flex under his slacks and button up, and I silently scold myself for even noticing.
“How do I get the keys for my house?” I ask, eager to get back to my apartment so I can pack.
He smirks, pulling a key ring from his pocket and dangling it out in front of me. I go to grab it, but he pulls it away before I can reach it, clicking his tongue.
“I think you need to earn these, Riley.” His voice is smooth as sin and his gaze dark.
The high I just felt from closing seeps out of me, replaced by a sudden sense of unease. Seriously, who the hell does he think he is right now, withholding my new house keys from me? Any feelings I thought had softened toward him earlier evaporate into thin air.
I try not to let him get under my skin and ruin this moment, snapping back, “I think I earned them when I purchased the house.”
He just shakes his head, shoving the keys back into his pocket, his eyes never leaving mine. “Get on the table,” he says, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, loathing the way my voice gives away all the uncertainty flowing through me right now. The man is out of his goddamn mind.
Emmett closes the distance between us, reaching out a hand and cupping my jaw. “Sit on the table,” he says as he walks into me, forcing me to step backwards until my ass hits the edge of the table.
Half of me is screaming not to do it, not to give in, not give him the satisfaction of doing as he commands. And the other half of me is curious. Excited to see what he might do. Aroused at the prospect of where this might be going. And I hate it. I hate how he can turn me into a crumbling, pathetic mess, incapable of standing my ground.
I lift myself up onto the edge of the table.
Emmett takes a step back and begins rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. I can’t look away as I take in the dark ink on his forearms, a sharp contrast to the crisp, white material of his dress shirt. The way his muscles flex as his deft fingers work the material up. The way the fabric pulls tight across his chest and shoulders. The way his dark gaze never leaves my face while he does it, feeling like it’s piercing into my very soul.
I shudder.
When he steps forward again, my breath catches. He leans down, tugging off my shoes before placing a hand on my chest and gently pushing. “Lie down.” His voice is softer this time, but no less demanding.
I do as he says, laying back onto the cool, hard surface of the table. When I feel his hands at my hips, I freeze, and before I can even comprehend what he’s doing, he pulls my leggings and underwear down my legs in one swift movement. I hear them being tossed to the floor, and I prop myself up on my elbows to look at him.
Embarrassment floods through me that I just let him get me half naked, and my skin starts getting hot. My mind is racing as I try to process what he’s doing right now. Where this is going.
This is wrong. I should tell him to stop. Instead, barely managing a whisper, I ask, “What if someone comes in?”
I feel exposed. So very exposed. I think I would die of humiliation if someone walked in and found me sprawled on the table half naked. The idea of being caught has my heart racing, my mind in a flurry. If he asked me my name right now, I’m not sure I could give it to him.
“It’s locked,” he states as he takes me in, the hunger in his eyes evident as his gaze lands on my pussy.
I clench my thighs together in a sad attempt to hide myself. He chuckles before putting his hands on my knees and spreading my legs again, stepping between them. Heat burns my face, and it’s only made worse when I look down between my legs and see the bulge in his pants.
“Lie down flat,” he commands as he kneels to the floor. I obey without question, my body moving of its own accord.
What are you doing, Riley? Tell him no. Tell him to stop. You don’t even know him.
I feel his arms loop around my thighs, grabbing on as he pulls me to the very edge of the table, and I let out a squeal as I slide down the smooth surface. His hands come back around my legs to rest on the backs of my thighs, and he pushes on them, bringing my knees toward my ears and spreading me wide.The cool air kisses my hot skin, and I can feel how wet I am already. My body thrums with anticipation.
If I thought I felt exposed before, I can’t even describe how I feel right now. Completely spread open for him and at his mercy. I feel lost, like drowning in a deep abyss. Not knowing who I am or what I’m doing. My body completely taking over as my mind tries desperately to claw to the surface.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this, Riley.” His voice is pure sex and sin. “This pussy is just begging to be touched.”
I moan as his fingers slide over the length of me. They move slowly, exploring every inch, before finding my clit and starting slow circles around it. I can feel that pull in my stomach, coiling tighter and tighter as his fingers move over me.
“So wet for me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you”re enjoying this,” he taunts.
I try to come back at him, to fight him, to tell him he’s right, I’m not enjoying it. But we both know it’s a lie. And I can’t seem to get my brain to form words while his fingers are moving over me in such delicious strokes.
He removes his fingers abruptly, and my hips lift in frustration, seeking out the contact again. When he comes back to me it’s with his mouth, his tongue making a long, slow sweep up the length of me, and I can’t help but gasp. When his tongue finds my clit, my back arches off the table. I feel more than hear his groan against me, the vibrations making me shiver.
“So fucking good,” he says against me, before flicking his tongue over my clit again. “The sweetest drug I’ve ever had.”
When his mouth returns to me, the teasing flicks of his tongue are gone, instead replaced with a greedy desire to consume. His arms circle my thighs again, pulling me into him. He eats me with abandon, and I can’t help as my hips start to roll, grinding into his face, overcome with an urgent need for more, more, more.
“So needy,” he murmurs against me, his lips dancing over my clit as he speaks. “Riding my face like a desperate little slut.”
I whimper at his filthy words and my legs start to clench around him as he builds that fire in me, his stubble rubbing the insides of my thighs raw. My body writhes on the table, hands sliding across the surface, desperate, exactly like he said.
Just when I’ve reached the edge, when my body can’t take anymore, when I’m sure I’m going to fall apart into a million pieces, he pulls back, and I nearly cry out at the loss of contact again.
“You want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?” he asks, repeating what he had asked me yesterday in the loft.
I lift my head and nod, needing to feel him inside me. Now.
He doesn’t move, his eyes locked on mine as he says, “Yes or no. Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
Confusion clouds my mind for a second as to why he asked me again before it hits me like a ton of bricks, his words coming back to me in a rush. ‘I always get the yes’.
That’s what this is. A game. Trying to get me to submit. Trying to show me he’s the one in control. But I refuse to give him what he wants.
“Please…” I say instead, swallowing my pride. My body squirms on the table, needing the release he’s denying me right now.
He looks at me long and hard, his face dark with an expression I can’t quite read. He tightens his grip on my thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh, and I can’t help the moan that escapes at the bite of my skin.
“Beg,” he says finally, after what feels like an eternity.
I don’t hesitate, my desperation making me weak. “Please, Emmett.”
“You can do better than that.” He removes his arms from around my legs and surprises me when he slaps the inside of my thigh. I jolt at the contact and the light sting it leaves behind, then squirm at the way I like the burn.
“Please, Emmett. Please, please fuck me with your fingers. Please,” I beg, delirious, unable to bear the edge he has me riding on anymore.
He says nothing as he inserts his fingers harshly, not giving me any time to adjust. I let out a yelp, but he continues the assault, his fingers pumping in and out of me at an unforgiving pace. I thrash on the table, my body coiled so tight it’s only a matter of time before I come completely undone.
He adds another finger, and the stretch has me feeling so full I cry out. When I feel his tongue run over my clit again as he continues pumping into me, I shatter.
My body shakes as I ride out the pleasure erupting from every nerve in my body. My thighs clench tightly against his head, and I grab onto his hair, holding tight as I rock against him, my hips meeting every hard thrust of his fingers as I soar into the abyss. His tongue continues working my clit as I ride out the waves, one after another, until finally I come back down.
My legs fall open, my body lax from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Emmett removes his fingers, and I wince at the slight ache left behind.
I’m still breathing hard when he leans over me, his forearm beside my head, propping himself up on the table.
“Open your mouth,” he orders, and my lips part. He shoves three fingers into my mouth, and I gag as they reach the back of my throat, the taste of my release on my tongue. “Clean up your mess. Show me what a good little slut you are for me.” His fingers are anything but gentle as he holds them at the back of my throat.
Tears escape the corners of my eyes as I continue gagging. He pulls back slightly, and I close my lips around his fingers and suck the best I can, but it’s hard with my mouth so full. I move my tongue along the length of them, trying to clean them as he pushes them deeper again, and I gag.
It’s too much. I start to panic, my eyes darting to his. Shame and humiliation course through me at what he’s doing, and more tears run down my temples.
“Breathe through your nose,” he instructs, and pulls his fingers back just enough for me not to gag anymore.
I do as he says, breathing through my nose while I continue to suck my cum off his fingers.
“I can’t wait to see these lips wrapped around my cock. I think you’d like that. Gagging on my dick while I pump into you. It’d be so fucking pretty.” I close my eyes at his dirty words, mortified by the heat starting to build in my core again as he says them.
He pushes his fingers deeper one last time, before finally pulling them out of my mouth, leaving a trail of saliva running down my chin. He gets up then, pulling me with him into a sitting position. As he stands between my legs, he cups my cheeks and wipes the tears from my face.
“You did good, baby,” he says, his voice softer this time.
I lean back from his grasp and use the sleeve of my sweater to wipe the spit from my face. He doesn’t stop me when I slide off the table, stepping back to allow me to move to my discarded clothes. I’m unable to look at him as I dress and put my shoes back on. When I stand back up, it’s just in time to catch the keys he tosses at me.
Shame heats my skin and burns a hole in my gut. I look at the house keys in my hand, and can’t help the tears that escape again. I’ve never felt so cheap in my entire life.
Looking back up at him, I say the words I’ve been stewing over for the last week. “I never want to see you again.”
The corner of his mouth twitches in response, like he’s trying to refrain from laughing at me, and it just fuels my desire to run away.
I dart for the door, trying to escape with any shred of dignity I can find, when I remember how I got here. That my car is being towed to a mechanic and I don’t even have a means of escape. I hear a shifting noise behind me and turn around to see Emmett pulling his car keys out of his pocket. He tosses those at me, too.
“Take the Audi until you figure out what’s going on with your car,” he says nonchalantly. Like he didn’t just force himself on me in exchange for my house keys. Like he didn’t just humiliate me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.
I throw the key fob back at him. “I’ll call an Uber.”
He catches it and strides over to me, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a small grin. “Are you upset, Riley?” he asks, tone smug. He reaches a hand out to thumb a tear away from my cheek.
This prick.
I straighten my posture and lift my chin. “Why on earth would I be upset?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I don’t expect him to answer, so when he does, it catches me off guard.
“I don’t know. Why would you be? You seemed more than willing to get on that table for me. To spread your legs for me. To beg me to get you off.” He smirks and I look away, hating that everything he’s saying is true. He grabs my chin in his fingers, forcing me to look at him as he continues. “So what part exactly are you upset about? Was it the orgasm I so selflessly gave you? Or is it because you know your body can’t say no to me, even when you want it to?”
I tear my chin out of his grasp and grab the key fob from him. “Fuck you,” I hiss, before turning around and marching out the door.
“Please do.” I hear him say over my shoulder, a laugh leaving him as I walk down the hallway and to the stairs.
I rush down, amazed I don’t end up falling with how quickly I’m moving. I don’t acknowledge the woman at the front desk as I push through the doors and out into the parking lot. My body shakes as I walk toward Emmett’s car, so many emotions swirling through me that I feel nauseous.
When I’m finally tucked away safely in his car, I let it all out. Everything I’d been feeling since he threw those keys at me and made me feel worthless comes out as a scream, and I give myself the moment to just feel. To get the emotions out into the universe in hopes that it lessens the tightness in my chest and the churning in my stomach.
When I’ve finally calmed down again, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and start the car. I’ve come too far these last months to be bullied into feeling this way by a man I barely even know. I can’t let him have that kind of power over me. This stops now.
My shoulders feel lighter with a new sense of resolve as I back out of the parking spot. I let myself have my moment of weakness, and now I’m ready to fight. No more running. No more hiding.
This is all a game to Emmett. But if he expects me to let him win, he’s got another thing coming. I’m here to fucking play.
He’s arrogant–psychotic, really. He likes to be the one in control. And apparently he thinks he can just do whatever he wants and get away with it. This is all becoming increasingly obvious. So maybe we should see what he does when he’s not the only player in the game anymore.
I pull out my phone and send out a group text.
Me:Hey guys! Thanks again for helping me move. I’m grabbing pizza and booze, and I’ll see you at my place soon! Any drink preferences, Jeremy?
Jeremy’s response is immediate.
Jeremy the Hot Grocery Guy:I’ll drink anything. Didn’t realize it was a party ;)
I grin, waiting for Emmett’s response. I can imagine his confusion at my text after the way I’d left him. The typing bubbles pop up on my screen, disappear, reappear, then disappear again. Finally, after a few minutes, he responds.
Emmett:Don’t worry about pizza for me. I just had the best meal of my life. Beer’s good.
Emmett:Also, don’t text and drive my car.
My smile falters and my face heats as I read and reread his texts. My half-assed idea to get under his skin by making him jealous suddenly seems like the worst idea I’ve ever had. Can I uninvite him, or is it too late now?
Shit, shit, shit.
Wishing I could take it back, I instead send another text, digging my grave a little deeper.
Me:Well, I’m starving. Nothing has seemed to satisfy me today, so I’ll grab two pizzas. I should be back at my place by 6:00, Jeremy, but if you beat me, let yourself in. Extra key for the front door is under the pot on my patio.
Jeremy the Hot Grocery Guy:Great, see you soon
Emmett never replies, so I call in my order for pizza, then put my phone away and head toward the store for beers, hoping I didn’t just start something I can’t finish.