Chapter 14 #2
When she rolls her hips, we both groan into each other’s mouths.
The slight movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
I pull almost all the way out before sliding back in with deep, slow strokes that make us both groan.
This is nothing like the frantic coupling in my office.
This is intimate and intense and I can feel every inch of her, every flutter of her muscles around me.
“You feel so good,” I tell her, my voice rough. “So perfect.”
“Harder,” Emma gasps, and she’s rocking her hips to meet my thrusts. “Harder—I need—”
“No,” I say, and I kiss her to soften the denial. “Slow. I want to feel all of you.”
I keep the pace slow and deep, building the pleasure gradually instead of racing toward it.
Emma’s making these continuous soft sounds that are driving me crazy, her nails digging into my shoulders, her legs tight around my waist. She’s hot and slick and the sounds filling the room are obscene—skin on skin, her breathy moans, my ragged breathing, the mattress squeaking.
“Look at me,” I tell her, because I need to see her eyes. “Emma, look at me.”
Her eyes open, green and bright and so full of emotion that it makes a lump settle in my throat. We hold eye contact as I move inside her, and I realize this just isn’t sex anymore. This is something more, something bigger, something that I’ve never felt before.
“I see you,” Emma whispers, her hands still cupping my face. “Leo, I see you.”
The words hit me harder than they should. She sees me. Not the monster who kidnapped her. Not the mob boss. Not the man consumed by revenge. She sees the broken man beneath all of that, and somehow she’s still here, wanting me, and looking at me like I’m something worth seeing.
“I,” I start to say but break off. I don’t know what else to say or express what’s happening with me.
She shushes me and pulls me down for a kiss.
I speed up my thrusts, still deep but faster now, chasing the pleasure building between us. Emma breaks the kiss to moan, her head falling back, giving me access to her throat. I kiss down the column of it, teeth scraping the soft skin while I snap my hips against hers.
“Fuck—Leo—so deep—”
“That’s it. Take all of me.” I can feel sweat beading on my skin and can feel her clenching around him with every thrust. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Perfect—you feel perfect—” Her words dissolve into incoherent whimpers as I somehow increase my pace.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her, my voice rough. “I want to feel you come.”
Emma’s hand slides between us, her fingers finding her clit, and the sensation of her hand against my stomach combined with the way she tightens around me is almost too much.
“That’s it,” I encourage, watching her face. “Emma, you’re so beautiful like this. Taking me so well, getting so close—”
Emma gasps, and her free hand grips my shoulder hard. “I’m—oh god—”
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Come for me, Emma. Let me feel it.”
Emma falls apart with a cry, her whole body shaking, clenching around me so tight I nearly lose control.
“Fuck—Emma—I’m—”
“Inside,” Emma gasps, grabbing at me wildly. “I want you to—” Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine—dark and glazed with pleasure. I don’t need to be told twice. Three more thrusts and I follow her over the edge, spilling inside her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.
For a long moment we just stay like that, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Emma’s hands are gentle now, one in my hair and one stroking down my back, and I realize I’m trembling.
“You okay?” Emma asks softly.
“Yeah,” I manage, but my voice is rough. “More than okay.”
I pull out carefully and roll to the side, pulling Emma with me so she’s tucked against my chest. She fits perfectly there, her head on my shoulder, one leg thrown over mine, our bodies still slick with sweat.
“That was…” Emma starts, then trails off.
“Yeah,” I agree, because I don’t have words for it either. My body is still buzzing and I’m suddenly very tired.
We lie there in the quiet, neither of us willing to move or break the moment. The afternoon light is shifting, getting lower, turning everything golden. I trace idle patterns on Emma’s bare shoulder, following the curve of it, marveling at how soft her skin is.
“Leo?” Emma says after a while.
“Mm?”
“What are we doing?” she asks quietly, almost hesitantly.
I’m silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer that. “I don’t know,” I finally admit. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Emma props herself up on her elbow to look at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t either,” she says. “But we should probably talk about—”
“Later,” I interrupt, pulling her back down against my chest. “We’ll talk later. Right now I just want to hold you.”
Emma settles back against me with a soft sigh. “Okay. Later. Just…don’t disappear again.”
We fall asleep like that, tangled together in my bed with the late afternoon sun warming our skin.
After that, sleeping with Emma becomes a regular occurrence.
We don’t talk about what it means. We don’t define it or put labels on it or examine it too closely. We just…exist in this space we’ve created where she’s still technically my captive but the lines have blurred to the point of meaningless.
Emma has free run of the estate now and she sleeps in my bed most nights anyway. I ask her opinion on business matters during breakfast, and she gives me thoughtful, intelligent answers that make me see things from new angles.
We have dinner together every night, debating everything from politics to philosophy to whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie—it absolutely is, but Emma disagrees.
We read in the library together, each in our own chair but close enough that our feet touch.
We watch movies in the screening room, sharing popcorn and arguing about plot holes.
And at night, we come together in my bed, our bodies learning each other in the dark.
I learn that Emma likes it when I kiss the spot just below her ear. That she makes this specific sound when I touch her a certain way. That she’s self-conscious about the small scar on her hip from when she fell off her bike as a kid, but I kiss it anyway until she stops trying to hide it.
Emma learns that I can’t sleep without touching her—my hand on her hip, her head on my chest, our legs tangled together. That I like it when she takes control sometimes. That I have nightmares about Gabriel but her presence somehow makes them less frequent.
Something’s changing. I can feel it happening even though I don’t want to name it. This thing between us that started as revenge and captivity has transformed into something I don’t have words for.
A month ago, I took Emma Brennan to hurt her father.
Now, I wake up with her in my arms and can’t imagine my mornings without her. I look forward to our debates over breakfast more than any business meeting. I find myself thinking about her during the day, wondering what she’s doing, what she’s thinking.
I know this can’t last. I know eventually I’ll have to make a decision to either let her go or keep her, and if I keep her, figure out how to do it in a way that’s not kidnapping. I know her father is still out there, planning war, and making deals to get her back.
But for now, in this bubble we’ve created where nothing outside these walls matters, I let myself have this. Have her.
And for the first time in five years, I feel something close to peace.