Chapter 29 #2
“I want you,” Amelia moaned with a smile and rocked her hips to take more of him in, a subtle demand to be fucked deeper.
Emory obliged until everything constricted and he felt he might snap. His arms coiled around the small of her back, and he buried his face against her neck.
“God, fuck me harder, Emory. I’m so close.”
Emory sat up, pinned her hips to the bed, and pounded into her mercilessly. Amelia cried out as she came, her body squeezing around his shaft. The sensation was all-consuming, enough to take him under, so he surrendered to it.
Emory let it wash over him as his cock pulsed inside her, enthralled at claiming her that way, feeling every inch of her tight around him. He came with a woozy rush. His body buzzed and limbs ached, and Amelia’s name escaped him in one heavy groan.
On his knees, his head fell back. Emory scrubbed his hands over his face and sent quiet breaths to the ceiling until the world stopped spinning.
Delirious in the comedown, Emory pulled out of her and would’ve collapsed to the bed, but Amelia smiled up at him.
He knew that smile. She wasn’t done with him yet and was well-practiced in all the delicious ways she could quite literally bring him to his knees.
She reached between her legs and kept his gaze as she traipsed her fingers through his cum. Emory didn’t know what she loved watching more—him fucking her or his cum soaking her pussy. She had his attention. Emory sat back on his heels as Amelia massaged her clit, her lips, her opening.
Enraptured at the sight, his chest heaved, and he stroked his cock until he was hard again. Amelia bundled two fingers and slipped them inside herself. She was drenched between the legs and reaching for him with her free hand.
“I need you,” Amelia sighed. Her small fingers clearly weren’t enough anymore, so she pouted about it. Poor baby would never be fucked this good again. He’d ruined her in that way and set the bar too high to reach. Good.
Emory took her hand from between her legs and guided it to her lips.
“Suck,” he rasped and laid down beside her.
Amelia did as she was told, sucking her fingers clean as he rolled her to her side and entered her from behind. He held her in his arms with one hand propped on her hip to keep her still. The other clamped over her mouth as he buried his cock deep inside, deeper than he’d been before.
“You’re such a good girl begging for it like this,” he panted. His lips crushed against her cheek and hand slipped to her neck. “Don’t you ever forget who owns this pussy.”
To prove it, he thrust hard until her breaths escaped her in a sharp gasp, almost a scream. His grip on her throat tightened. He demanded an answer.
“You do.” Amelia tensed and clutched his hand at her hip. “Fuck, you do!”
Emory grinned and rewarded her with the softness she craved. He kissed her cheek and slowed his speed, grinding in long strokes until only his tip remained inside her before plunging back in.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he whispered and slipped his tongue into her mouth. “Look at me. I want to watch you come.”
Out of breath, Amelia nodded and kept his eyes through a heavy-lidded gaze.
Her brows knit and lip quivered. A sweet moan caught in the back of her throat, and her pussy tightened around his shaft, the sensation more exquisite and mind-blowing than he could ever recall, as if her body was made for him. Mine.
He surrendered to it and came hard with his eyes locked on her. She collected the sight with a hand on his cheek and her lips brushing his for another kiss.
Emory never stayed long in the aftermath and not for lack of affection.
It wasn’t his speed, but he lingered in it now just to marvel at their connection, the taste of her mouth, the heat of her body.
The need to be closer, though, surprised even him.
Emory rolled Amelia to her back and eased down on top of her.
“I wanna hold you,” he muttered, though her arms were already securely wrapped around his shoulders.
The double-talk existed there too, and Emory didn’t know how to carve out the parts of himself that avoided the truth. Wanting to hold her was just a substitute for never wanting to let her go.
Amelia understood. She hitched a leg over his hip and whispered as she cradled his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
Emory placed a soft kiss to her lips before rolling off of her. Amelia settled contentedly in his arms as his palm roamed her naked silhouette. Echoes of her remained on his body—her smell on his fingers and the fading sensation of her limbs coiled around him.
In the crook of his arm, Amelia propped herself up on her elbow.
Her fingertips traced small circles against his chest, and she looked at peace.
If his world of death and violence could disappear, he imagined that was how he’d find her—lost in some thought and a faint smile on her lips as she daydreamed in the dark.
“What is it?” she asked. He might’ve asked her the same.
“This is gonna get complicated,” Emory said and mostly meant his phone on the nightstand vibrating with another text. The statement was nebulous enough to apply elsewhere, though.
“How so?”
Amelia rested her head against the heel of her hand. The fingertips of the other continued their caress that might’ve soothed if not for Emory’s heart faintly racing.
“I’m gonna fall for you,” he said quietly as if the descent hadn’t already started. The future framing was a ruse that Amelia swiftly sussed out.
With an adoring smile, she steadied her palm against his chest. “I think you’re already falling.”
A culture of fear existed around the grand confession. Give your heart, get gutted in the end. The exposure no longer frightened Emory. He rested easy with it and found safety in Amelia that’d eluded him before. It seemed abnormal that love and fear once came as a pair.
“I am,” Emory agreed. “I think you might be falling for me too.”
With his fingertip, he traced lines between the freckles dusting Amelia’s shoulder. She settled down beside him, her bare skin soft and warm against his.
“I am. Love doesn’t have to be a complication, Emory.”
“I’m not afraid to love you,” he told her as his phone buzzed on the bedside table, this time with a call. They both ignored it.
“Then what are you afraid of?”
The question came sweet as if Amelia intended to chase away his fears, whatever they may be. There were too many to choose from, but they all distilled down to the same thing.
“Losing you,” he replied honestly, though it sounded like a cop out.
Anyone truly in love feared it falling apart.
That wasn’t what he meant. He could withstand the usual pathways to heartbreak, those bittersweet ends of an ill-matched love.
But there was another path promised to him, one shaded with tragedy and horrors too far ahead to fully see. “I will destroy everything you love.”
“You won’t lose me,” Amelia assured with a kiss and, for tonight, Emory could believe her.
For a while, it ended as it began—caresses in the dark and softly spoken words of affection—until Amelia fell asleep. Careful not to disturb her, Emory reached for his phone and returned the missed call.
“My house is in order,” Disco said when the line connected, no emotion coloring the lofty declaration. Only time would tell.
“Corey is taking over your post,” Emory told him. “For now, you’ll be his number two. This will never happen again, understood?”
Muffled static filled the line. “Yes,” Disco replied dryly. “I’m sorry, Chief. I had no idea about Torres.”
Part plea, part protest, neither was quite contrite. It wasn’t about being sorry but saving face. Hit with heat, Emory would’ve rained down hellfire. Only his temper ever made him stupid, and it might’ve then, but Amelia stirred in his arms.
Her long legs stretched, and she burrowed close with a slumberous sigh.
Emory kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.
Her serenity in sleep, the way she held onto him, her small hand placed over his heart, it tamed something in him, and Emory found words far more merciful than he might’ve otherwise.
“For your sake, that’d better be true. Tonight, I expect you to send a message down your ranks about what happens to rats. The other captains will do the same.”
Emory hung up and turned off the TV. As the wind howled outside, he and Amelia slept peacefully in one another’s arms. By morning, word had spread in gory detail about the price of treachery.