2. Rashid
RASHID
Emory is intoxicating—so alluring I knew the instant I saw her I had to have her, and now as I devour her lips, every cell in my body knows she was made for me.
I kiss her harder, tilting her head back with one hand while the other stays wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
Her mouth is soft and eager, tasting of vodka and inexperience, and she lets out a small, helpless whimper that shoots straight to my groin.
I slide my tongue deeper, claiming every inch, teaching her exactly how I want to be kissed.
When I finally pull back just enough for her to breathe, her lips are swollen and her eyes are glazed. “Oh God…” she whispers, breathless.
“Mmmm,” I murmur against her mouth, brushing my lips over hers in a teasing glide. “Say my name."
“Rashid?” Her voice trembles and I reward her with another slow, deep kiss, sucking on her lower lip until she whimpers again.
Then my hand drifts down her side, stopping just under the curve of her breast.
I don’t touch where she wants it yet. I make her wait. “You feel how hard I am for you, Emory?” I press my hips forward so she can feel the thick ridge of my cock against her thigh. “You did this to me just now..."
She shivers, but her hands claw at my shirt, gathering fabric to pull me closer.
I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, scraping my teeth lightly along her skin.
“Tell me what you want,” I demand softly. “Be honest, little one. I won’t touch you until you admit it.”
Her cheeks flush darker, though her lips are stained the color of rubies as arousal floods her body. She tries to look away, but I catch her chin and force her eyes back to mine.
“I… I want…” She falters, panting.
I kiss her again, slower this time, coaxing her tongue with mine until she’s melting. When I pull back she’s panting. “Say it,” I growl against her lips. “Tell me you want my hands on your body. Tell me you want me to touch you.”
Her eyes flutter half-closed, and her voice comes out small and shaky. “I want you to touch me."
A dark smile curves my mouth. “Good girl,” I murmur, then capture her lips again in a deep, demanding kiss. I walk her backward, guiding her step by step toward the bed without breaking contact.
Every time she tries to catch her breath I steal it again, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, until her legs hit the edge of the mattress.
My hands slide under the hem of her short black dress. The fabric is tight, clinging to her curves like it was made to torture me. I bunch it in my fists and pull upward slowly, savoring the reveal.
“Arms up,” I command against her mouth.
She obeys without hesitation, lifting them, and in one smooth motion I drag the dress over her head and toss it aside.
Fuck.
No bra.
Her breasts spill free—full, perfect, and already begging for attention. I groan into her mouth and kiss her harder, palming one breast, thumb brushing over the stiff peak.
Emory gasps, arching into my touch. I keep kissing her as I hook my fingers into the thin white panties at her hips and slide them down her thighs.
She steps out of them obediently, leaving the strappy black heels exactly where they are. The sight of her naked except for those heels makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
I break the kiss just long enough to look at her—flushed skin, heaving chest, white panties dangling from one heel before I kick them away.
Then I’m on her again, mouth devouring hers, one hand tangled in her hair while the other explores every newly exposed inch of her body.
“God…” she breathes between kisses, trembling.
I push her gently onto the bed, following her down until my body covers hers.
My mouth never leaves hers for long—kissing her hungrily as my hand trails down her stomach, teasing just above where she’s already wet for me.
“You’re mine tonight, Emory,” I growl against her swollen lips. “Every fucking inch.”
I kiss down her jaw to her throat, tasting the rapid flutter of her pulse.
She arches when I reach her breasts, sucking one tight nipple into my mouth while my hand squeezes the other.
Her moan is pure sin as I take my time, licking and biting softly until she’s writhing beneath me, heels digging into the silk sheets.
Moving lower, I trail open-mouthed kisses down her stomach and over her hips, then settle between her thighs.
I push them wide, keeping those strappy black heels on.
The sight of her glistening pussy right in front of me makes my mouth water.
“Look at you,” I rasp, "so fucking wet already.”
I drag my tongue slowly up her slit, savoring her taste.
Emory moans and grinds her core against my stubble. I grip her thighs hard to hold her open and do it again, firmer this time, circling her swollen clit before sucking it between my lips.
“Rashid—oh God—” Her hands fly to my hair and her fingers curl into fists, pulling it.
I groan against her, making her tremble at the vibration, then eat her like a starving man—long, hungry strokes of my tongue, sucking her clit, then pushing my tongue inside her heat.
She’s dripping down my chin when I slide two fingers into her, curling them deep while I focus on her clit with relentless suction.
Her moans grow louder and more desperate, then her thighs start to shake around my head. I fuck her with my fingers faster, sucking harder, until her whole body goes rigid and convulsions start rippling through her body.
“Come for me,” I command against her pussy. “Right on my tongue.”
Emory shatters with a broken cry, hips bucking wildly as she comes hard on my face.
Her pussy pulses around my fingers, fresh wetness flooding my mouth.
I keep licking her through every wave, greedy for every drop, until she’s a trembling, gasping mess on my sheets.
When I lift my head, lips and chin shiny with her release, I smile darkly at her wrecked expression.
God, it doesn't get any better than this.
Emory’s eyes stay closed, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
Her cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted, and those long lashes rest against her skin like she’s half-dreaming.
Perfect.
I want her to feel me before she sees me.
I rise from between her thighs and stand at the edge of the bed.
My fingers work the buttons of my shirt before I shrug it off and drop it to the floor.
Next come my belt and trousers.
I push them down along with my boxer briefs, freeing my dick.
It’s painfully hard, already slick with pre-cum, and I give myself a few strokes as I look down at her naked body. So fucking intoxicating.
She doesn’t open her eyes. Good girl.
Then I climb back onto the bed, spreading her thighs wider as I continue to stroke myself and get into position.
The heat of her pussy radiates against my cock when I settle between her legs.
I grip her hips, tilting them up slightly, and rub the thick head of my cock up and down her soaked slit, coating myself in her wetness.
Emory whimpers, eyelids fluttering but still closed.
Her hands fist the sheets as I lean over her, one hand bracing beside her head, and press the head of my dick against her tight entrance.
When I push forward slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching her open, she’s so fucking tight it makes my jaw clench.
A low groan rumbles out of my chest as I sink deeper, feeling her walls flutter and grip around me.
Halfway in she gasps sharply, back arching, but I keep going until I’m buried to the hilt, balls pressed against her ass, every inch of me wrapped in her scorching silk.
“Fuck,” I growl, pausing for a moment to pace myself. “God, your pussy feels incredible." I start thrusting—slow, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside her. "You're a soggy mess.So perfect."
Her moans grow louder with each thrust.
I can feel her getting close again already, her walls starting to pulse and squeeze around my cock.
I keep the pace steady and controlled, fucking her deeper, grinding against her clit on every downstroke, pushing her right to the edge… but not letting her fall.
“Look at me,” I command. “Open your eyes, Emory. I want to watch you while I ruin you.”
Her lashes flutter open as her head tips upward.
Those wide, dazed eyes lock onto mine and the sight nearly undoes me.
I thrust harder, hips snapping forward with more force.
“Oh God... oh fuck—” She claws at my back, nails digging into my skin. Her heels dig into my ass, pulling me deeper with every stroke.
“That’s it. Take every inch like a good girl.” I lean down and claim her mouth in a filthy kiss, swallowing her cries as I pound into her. I can feel her tightening, fluttering, right on the brink.
“I’m—I’m gonna—” she gasps against my lips.
“Come,” I growl. “Let me feel it.”
Emory shatters hard. Her pussy clamps down around me like a vise, pulsing in powerful waves as she comes with a broken scream.
Her whole body bows off the bed, thighs shaking violently around my waist.
Fresh wetness floods my cock, soaking my balls as her walls milk me relentlessly.
Her face is pure ecstasy—mouth open, eyes rolled back, tears of pleasure clinging to her lashes.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Then the pressure at the base of my spine explodes.
“Fuck—” I grunt as I bury myself to the hilt and groan. My cock throbs violently inside her as thick ropes of cum spill deep into her clenching pussy.
I keep thrusting through it, grinding hard, filling her until it leaks out around my shaft with every stroke.
The pleasure is blinding, savage, ripping through every muscle in my body as I empty myself completely.
We stay locked together, panting, trembling.
Her pussy continues to flutter weakly around me, drawing out the last drops of my release, until I collapse over her, careful not to crush her, and press my forehead to hers.
I kiss her lazily as we both come down.
My cum is already dripping out of her onto the silk beneath us, and her heart is pounding so hard I'm not sure if she's shaking me or I’m shaking her.
I stay inside her for a long moment, savoring the way her body still flutters around me.
Then I slowly pull out and roll to the side, pulling her against my chest.
The motion lights click off, plunging the suite into near darkness, and only a faint glow from the one-way glass window filters in.
Emory curls into me, still catching her breath, her cheek pressed to my shoulder.
I keep one arm wrapped around her as I pull the top sheet over us to cover her exposed skin.
God, that was incredible, and I'd go again in ten minutes if she was up for it.
“How did you know the Surikov?” I ask quietly.
“Most girls your age wouldn’t recognize Boyarina Morozova, let alone know it’s the original.
” It surprised me seeing her so stunned at the sight of that painting.
When I procured it, it was under… let’s just say, forceful tactics. The one hanging in Moscow is a replica.
She lets out a soft, tired laugh. “I'm an art history major. I wrote a paper on Russian Realism last year. Surikov was my favorite. The way he captures defiance and tragedy in one frozen moment…” She sighs. “I never thought I’d see the real thing in a nightclub. I still can’t believe it’s here.”
"I can't believe you're here," I tell her, letting my thumb strum her arm as I readjust myself. She is so young; I'm certain her father is out there somewhere wondering where the hell she is and who she's with.
“In my art history classes we spent almost a whole semester on the Peredvizhniki,” Emory says softly, her breath dusting my skin. “I visited every museum I could just to see the originals. That’s when I really fell in love with painting and Russian history.”
I smile in the dark. “You sound like you actually enjoyed it.”
“I did,” she replies, a little laugh in her voice. “There’s something about those paintings… the emotion, the drama. I can’t get enough of it.”
I listen, surprised by how sharp and passionate she is for someone so young.
There's real depth there.
If she's still in college, that means younger than I thought.
Still, I don’t pull away or feel bad.
That was incredible sex, and so far I haven't seen anything I dislike.
She shifts closer. “How did you get the Surikov?” she asks. “I mean… that painting belongs in the Tretyakov Gallery. How does someone even own the original?” When she turns into my chest fully, I roll to my side to hold her.
I stroke her back slowly. “Let’s just say I know the right people, and I was willing to pay what it took.”
Emory lets out a quiet, sleepy laugh. “That’s such a vague answer.”
"Mmm," I offer, but nothing more. I find it doesn’t go well when I explain to women what I do for a living and how I make my fortune.
For tonight I want to just enjoy this moment. Morning, and sunrise, will come soon enough.
Eventually she shifts against me and yawns, trying to sit up. “I should go. Irina’s probably looking for me, and I have to drive home tonight.”
“You’re not driving anywhere,” I say firmly, tightening my arm around her.
“You’ve had too much to drink. I’ll have one of my men take you home safely if you insist on going home.
" I’m not about to let any cop in this city think for a single second that I got this much younger woman drunk at my club and let her drive home.
She hesitates. “I don’t know… I shouldn’t?—”
"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about." I press a kiss to the top of her head. We're not soulmates, and this isn't some love-at-first-sight romance, but neither am I foolish enough to risk my reputation.
I can't see her face, but I sense her relaxing. “Alright.... But I have to get up at sunrise. My father will kill me." She yawns again and snuggles deeper into my chest. In under five minutes she's snoring, passed out cold.
I stay awake, listening to her snoring, and wondering what I'm doing with my life. I’ve spent twenty-five years building my empire from nothing.
Blood, deals, alliances, betrayals—everything to carve out power that no one can take from me.
And for what?
When I die, who takes it over?
I have no son, no heir.
Not a single man in this organization I can trust to lead the way I would.
I could never repeat the mistakes I made with my first marriage. That woman was poison I drank down, and it almost killed me.
But someone like Emory… she understands beauty, history, power.
She has fire in her.
I can already imagine her standing beside me, not just in bed but in life.
Yet she’s so fucking young.
Barely more than a girl.
I’m old enough to be her father.
My time for settling down, for building something real again, feels long past.
I should send her home tomorrow and forget her name.
But as I brush a curl from her face and feel her curl closer in her sleep, something possessive tightens in my chest.
I’m not sure I can let her go.