25. Emory
EMORY
I'm curled up on the bed with my eyes shut when Rashid stomps in almost thirty minutes later.
I peek at him, but he doesn't turn toward me at all.
I can tell by the slump of his shoulders that he's not happy, probably because I rejected him.
But seeing that blood shocked me. And he walked right into Lex's room where my tiny toddler could be exposed to his violent job.
I get that he is a criminal and he has difficult tasks, but he can't do that.
The past month has felt like a tornado hit my life, and if it feels like an upheaval to me, I can only imagine how Lex feels. He's just a baby; he hardly understands meeting one new person, let alone several at a time, along with his entire environment shifting and changing around him.
Rashid stalks into the bathroom after removing his shirt and slacks, leaving his boots by the door like normal, and I listen to the water turn on.
My eyes land on the pile of clothing across the room, by the armchair he sits in to put his shoes on in the morning.
It's got blood across the chest where I noticed it before, but there is also blood along the sleeve, which I hadn't noticed thanks to his suit coat.
Guilt wraps around my heart like barbed wire as I realize I was so protective of Lex, who was sleeping and saw nothing, that I completely ignored the fact that Rashid was covered in blood.
I took for granted that it was someone else's blood and never stopped to think that maybe Rashid was injured. And now I feel like a fool.
He reached for me for comfort, and though it meant sex and connection, I pushed him away. What if he got shot and I just rejected him? No matter what the man has done, we do share some sort of bond now, and that was a horrible thing for me to do to him.
I lay there with the weight of guilt crushing me for a few minutes, and then decide I have to go check on him and see if he's hurt.
My father trusted this man and his power enough to purposefully provoke him just to get me away from the Gusevs.
It was a despicable move on Batya's part, but Rashid has done exactly what Batya hoped.
I am safe, and so is Lex. In fact, so is Batya, which I'm sure wasn't part of his plan at all. The least I can do is be a kind human.
Sliding off the bed, I creep over to the door and peek in.
Rashid stands in the shower under the flow, washing his arm.
The glass is fogged, but even through the steam I can see what looks like a laceration across his bicep.
I watch him for a second, admiring his strength, but he looks up and sees me.
His scowl isn't exactly inviting, but I mumble, "I'm sorry... I wanted to check on you. Are you hurt?"
Instead of answering me, he slides the glass door open and continues washing his body. I'm not sure if it's an invitation, but I walk closer, leaning around the shower door to see the wound on his arm. It's not deep at all—it probably had already scabbed by the time he got home—but it's angry.
"Is it bad?" I ask softly.
"Nothing a little TLC can't fix." He reaches for me, extending a soapy hand toward me, and as much as I'm not in the mood for sex right now, I know he is.
Me just walking in here in my t-shirt and shorts has made him start to swell.
Besides, I know how generous of a lover this man is, and if he can't get me in the mood then there's something wrong with me.
I strip off my clothes and toss them in the hamper, then step into the shower, and Rashid gives me no time to adjust to the temperature.
He pulls me under the flow and kisses me hard, grabbing my ass to grind his pelvis against mine.
I return the kiss and drape my arms around his shoulders, careful to avoid his injury.
"You changed your mind?" he growls, nipping at my neck.
"I felt bad... I'm sorry for snapping at you." He attacks my neck with kissing and sucking, greedily groping me all over as the water soaks my hair and sluices over my curves.
"Don't be," he mumbles, before sucking a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it and lets it go with a wet pop before he says, "You're right. Aleksander should be at least fifteen before he sees the darker side of my business."
Fifteen is still young in my mind, but at least he's getting the point. I feel a smile tug at my mouth as he curls his fingers around my neck and tries to kiss me again. But I put a finger over his eager lips and say, "We have to discuss that—at a later date."
When he sucks my finger into his mouth I get the point. He's too hungry for me to wait anymore. I stroke him, allowing him to kiss me and suck my lip into his mouth, and when he growls I find myself feeling eager to please him. He usually takes such good care of me, that I want to do that for him.
I drop to my knees and wrap my hand around his thick girth, sliding him into my mouth until he nearly gags me. The hot water runs over my face as I slide my lips up and down his shaft, sucking gently and stroking as I go. His hips jerk and he braces himself on the wall as his head rolls back.
“Fuck, Emory,” he groans, his hand threading through my wet hair. “Oh God, yeah, suck me." My eyes stay fixed on his face, watching him as he looks down now, eyes hooded with lust. "Your lips look so fucking amazing around my dick."
I moan around him, taking more of his length, my tongue swirling along the underside.
He tastes clean from the shower, but the familiar masculine musk still makes my core start to ache and clench.
I bob my head, hollowing my cheeks as I work him deeper, and every time he slides into my throat I relax, but end up gagging anyway, squeezing him.
“You look so fucking good on your knees,” he growls, voice rough. “That pretty mouth was made to take me.”
I push forward until he hits the back of my throat again, and he curses under his breath, hips rocking gently.
I feel his balls with one hand, measuring how close he is by how far they've drawn up, and realize he's so close he could go any second.
So I slide back, teasing just his head with my tongue.
Rashid pulls me up and turns me around, pressing my chest against the cool shower wall.
The tile is slick under my palms as he slides my legs apart and pushes into me from behind in one hard thrust. I gasp and crush my forehead onto the tile as I rock my hips back onto him.
From this angle he isn't going very deep, but it feels good against the hot ache in my core.
“Tell me how that feels,” he demands, starting to thrust into me.
“God, so good,” I moan, pushing back against him. My body does feel like it was made for him, and I'm on the edge so fast. Sucking him and watching the pleasure on his face made me want him even more.
Rashid pushes into me faster, one hand sliding around to rub my clit while the other braces beside my head on the wall. The angle makes every thrust hit that perfect spot inside me, and pleasure builds quickly.
“Fuck,” I gasp, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. The heat in the shower makes it almost difficult to breathe as I pant, “Right there… that feels really good.”
“Yeah?” he growls against my ear. “You like it like this?”
I groan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. It’s better than I thought. I can feel every ridge and vein in his dick. “Mmm, yes." My eyes flutter shut as he starts going faster, and I moan softly as the pressure builds. “Oh God... yes..."
He grunts and rubs my clit a little faster. “Come on, let go.”
My legs start shaking as the orgasm rolls through me.
I moan, clenching around him as waves of pleasure hit.
“Oh God... yes…” I manage in a shaky voice, but I'm not even sure if he hears me. My hands slip a little as my body tenses and releases but he holds me up, thrusting through it, letting me ride it out until I’m panting and fully using him for support.
When he slows, I feel his hands grab me hard at the hips and he backs up, taking me with him. “Bend over more,” he grumbles, pressing one hand on my shoulder blade to force me forward.
I lower my hands farther down the wall, arching my back and pushing my ass toward him. He grips my hips firmly again and slides in deeper. The new angle makes him feel so much bigger, like he's hitting my lungs. I let out a long moan.
“Shit,” he groans, starting to thrust again. “This feels so fucking good.”
“Yes...” I breathe, rocking back against him. “Deeper..."
Rashid starts fucking me harder, hips slapping against my ass with each thrust. He keeps one hand on my hip for leverage while the other occasionally reaches around to touch me again. I'm so hot and my body is so sensitive, when he does touch my clit I could almost come again already.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Oh my God, don't stop."
He goes faster, thrusting with more force. My arms are starting to burn from holding myself up, but it feels too good to stop. I push back against him every time he drives forward, meeting him halfway, and it makes him growl and groan so loud I'm afraid we'll wake the house.
“You feel so good,” he mutters. “Fuck, Emory.”
I squeeze around him on purpose and he swears under his breath. The steady rhythm is pushing me toward another peak even though I just came. My legs are trembling again, but I focus on the feeling of him moving inside me.
“Oh shit,” I whisper. "Oh fuck..."
His breathing is ragged now. I can tell he’s getting close too by the way his thrusts start losing their steady rhythm. He's snapping his hips erratically, which only makes me want it more.
"Fuck... yes," I mumble, feeling the second climax wash over me. I barely stay upright and Rashid's grip is almost crushing as he holds me up, but it's amazing. I twitch and jolt, and in the middle of it somehow I feel the heat of his release as he floods me with his seed.
"God," he growls, slowing his thrusts until my body comes down.
He eventually pulls out and helps me stand, then turns me around to face him.
Without a word, he reaches for the soap and starts washing me, his large hands moving gently over my shoulders, down my arms, then across my breasts and stomach.
After he washes his cum off of my folds and my thighs, I take the soap from him and return the favor, running my hands over his chest, careful around the cut on his bicep.
The touch feels intimate and soothing after the intensity.
As I wash his stomach, I look up at him. This man is a mystery to me, but more human than I ever thought possible. "My father was right, wasn’t he?"
He jolts a little as I stroke his dick, washing it with soapy suds. Then he gives me a half-drugged look and nods. "Yeah."
"You'll protect me and Lex, just because he's your blood?"
He pauses, his dark eyes meeting mine. For a long moment he doesn’t speak, like he’s struggling to find the right words. His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing my wet skin.
“You belong to me,” he says quietly, "and no one will ever touch you or Lex. Not while I’m alive. I swear it.”
Somehow I know he means that. Especially when he leans in and places a kiss on my forehead. I'm tired; I feel a yawn coming on, so I smile at him and rest a hand on his chest. "I'm going to lie down. I'll wait for you."
He grunts in acknowledgement, looking too tired to speak, so I step out of the shower and dry off quickly.
After squeezing the water from my hair, I walk into the bedroom and drop the towel, then climb naked into bed and pull the sheets over me, settling into the pillows as fatigue pulls at my eyes.
Several minutes pass, but Rashid doesn’t come out.
Instead, I hear his voice from the bathroom, sounding like he's taken a call. And he doesn’t sound happy.
He emerges with his phone pressed to his ear and quickly dresses in black slacks, buttoning on a fresh shirt.
I sit up, hoping he'll explain, but he seems very angry.
“Get everyone together right now,” he barks into the phone. “I don’t care what time it is. If they hit the warehouse, we move tonight.” He pauses, listening, then growls, “No excuses. Eyes on every exit. Call me when it’s done.”
My stomach tightens. The gentle man from the shower has vanished and the monster has returned. He straps on his holster and shoves his feet into his boots, taking the sidearm from the bedside table.
“Rashid?” I ask quietly, scooting closer to him.
He barely looks at me. “Go to sleep, Emory.” Then he leans forward, kissing my forehead roughly, and says, "I'll be out late."
I can't even protest as he heads for the door.
Something serious is happening, and I have no idea what it is.
But whatever is happening, I really hope he'll be safe.
I'm starting to wonder if I can survive this life now—not because I hate him bringing home violence or the fact that someone could come after me.
I'm afraid maybe one of these times Rashid might not come home.