Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Iwasn’t exactly expecting Emmanuel to live in a straw shack.
But this house, mansion, palace… I’m not sure what this place is even classed as.
Whatever it is, it’s not what I was expecting.
It’s nice, excessively so. Then again, with all the men he has around the place, I’m not surprised it’s so huge.
“Do they all live here?” I ask Emmanuel as he guides me through the interior.
“No,” he says. “The only one who lives on the compound is Paz, in a separate house. Everyone else is here on shifts.”
I look around, taking in as much as I can while keeping up with Emmanuel’s pace. “You know, I remember how it feels. To see this place for the first time. I was fourteen when my father made me move here.”
“Did you like it?” I ask.
“No,” Emmanuel says.
“Was there anything about your father you liked?”
“His money wasn’t the worst.” Emmanuel chuckles. “When you spend the first part of your life with a single mother struggling to make ends meet, it can be blinding. But nothing in life comes without a price, Evie.”
“What price did you have to pay?”
“Freedom,” E says.
I can’t begin to imagine the pressure he’s under. I don’t want to add to it. “Sooo, have you ever brought a girl here?” I smile.
“No,” he says.
“Good. That means we have a lot of rooms to christen.” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “If this is going to be my home too, then I want memories in every single room. The naked kind of memories, E. I mean, that’s if you’re up to it.”
“If I’m up to it? Are you trying to poke the bear, mi alma?”
“Maybe?” I laugh.
The next thing I know, my feet are leaving the ground and I’m dangling upside down over Emmanuel’s shoulder. His palm comes down across my ass, while also holding my dress so no one sees my butt. Ever the gentleman, right?
“You know, if you didn’t have to show off and have such a massive house, you’d have me on a bed already,” I taunt.
I hear a door open, and then I’m flying through the air before I land on something soft. A mattress.
“Wait,” I tell Emmanuel when he goes to climb on top of me. I want something, and I want it now.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I crawl off the bed. “Just… stay still. I want to do something.”
I unbutton his suit jacket and slide it off his shoulders until it hits the floor.
I remove the cufflinks from his shirt—they’re gold with the letter E on them.
After removing his vest, I loosen his tie and yank it over his head.
Emmanuel bends to make it easier for me.
I feel like a kid on Christmas morning, unwrapping the best gift.
The first three buttons of his shirt are undone, but then I get impatient.
I want to see all of him. Grabbing the fabric between my fingers, I tear at it.
Buttons go flying across the room, but I get my eyes on his entire torso.
“Sorry,” I tell him as his now-ruined shirt hits the floor.
“Don’t worry about it. I have plenty more,” he says.
I run my lips over his pecs, then drag my tongue right down the middle of his body. Every hard groove under my fingertips. I need him, so bad I can feel my thighs quivering.
“You really are carved to perfection,” he says as I drop to my knees.
“I bet you say that to any girl who gets on her knees in front of you.” I smirk.
“I would never allow another woman to be in this position, Evie. It’s only going to be you,” he tells me. And I believe him.
I undo his belt, flick the clasp of his pants, and lower the zipper, sliding the material down over his ass.
His cock bounces free, proud and hard, right in front of my face.
I wrap my hand around his length, watching as precum leaks from the tip.
My mouth waters at the sight. As much as I want to tease him, draw it out, I need this more than I need air right now.
I flatten my tongue along the underside of his shaft.
His salty flavor explodes on my tastebuds, and my moan vibrates around him.
Emmanuel’s hand wraps around my hair and he tilts my face upwards slightly.
My eyes connect with his lust-filled gaze.
Dark. They’re always darker when he’s turned on.
Which is a lot of the time. Emmanuel never takes his eyes off my face as I continue to suck up and down his shaft.
I keep one hand wrapped around the base, pumping with the motion of my mouth, while I use my other hand to cup his balls, rolling them around, gently massaging them.
“Fuck. Fuck!” Emmanuel’s fingers tighten in my hair.
His hips jerk forward, pushing more of his cock down my throat, until I’m choking.
He pulls back slightly. “Breathe through your nose and relax,” he says before shoving it all the way back in.
He takes over the movements, holding my head still as he fucks my face. And I let him.
My hands cup his ass cheeks. He has the best ass. I love watching him walk in front of me.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.” Emmanuel goes to pull out of my mouth.
I stop him with a slight shake of my head. I want everything he has. Seconds later, ropes of cum are squirting down my throat. I swallow as much of it as I can, proud when Emmanuel does pull free and not a single drop leaks out of my mouth.
“I fucking love you,” he says.
“I know.” I smile.
After we showered and ate together, Emmanuel sat me down and turned on some rom-com. He knows I love them. My fingers aimlessly roam around his bare chest. “I like touching you,” I say.
“That’s good.” He chuckles. “Don’t ever stop doing it.”
“I won’t, not even when you’re old and lose all these muscles,” I tease.
“That’s never going to happen,” he grunts like I’ve offended him.
“We all get old, E.”
“Old, yes, but I’m never going to get fat, Evie.”
“What if I get fat?” I ask him.
“I will love every single pound of you,” he replies without missing a beat.
“Okay. Let’s hope that never happens. I don’t know what I’d do if I weren’t pretty,” I admit. “I mean, when you spend so much of your life focused on always being perfect, always being the pretty one, what happens when that prettiness fades?”
“Evie, your beauty goes far beyond surface level.”
“That’s what you say to ugly people, E.” I roll my eyes.
“I’ve never lied to you, Evie, so why would I lie about your beauty?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s shallow. I get that. But it’s just how I was taught to be. I’ve tried not to be so focused on how I look, but I feel better if I look better. So I gave up on fixing that part of myself.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with wanting to look good,” E says. “Do you think I like wearing fucking suits all day? In the heat? No, I do it to maintain an image.”
“Mmm, you do wear them really well.” I grin.
Emmanuel’s phone rings. He picks it up, holds it to his ear, and listens. He says something in Spanish before setting the device down. I really do need to learn this language. “I have to go deal with something. Make yourself at home. Maria is here. Anything you want, just ask her.”
“Maria is here? Did you clone her or something?”
“No, I had her flown out. I thought you could use a friendly face, and she wanted to visit family,” he explains.
“Thank you.” I lean forward, straddle Emmanuel’s hips, and press my lips to his. “I’m going to do some work, start ordering things for the store. I’ll need the Wi-Fi password.”
“Your devices are already connected. I won’t be long,” E says, rolling us over so he’s on top of me. “There are shirts in the closet. You should put one on and cover these.” His lips then latch on to one of my nipples.
“Okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him.
Five minutes later, Emmanuel is walking out of the bedroom, fully dressed in a custom suit. How does he look so good in such a short amount of time? It’s really not fair. It takes me hours.
I decide to get up and put on some clothes.
Then I’ll find the kitchen and make a coffee before settling in and ordering things to fill a new store.
It’s a big project, but I’m glad I have something to keep me busy.
I can’t make Emmanuel feel like he needs to babysit me 24/7.
That’s not me. I’m not clingy. At least I wasn’t until I met him.
I walk into his closet and pause. What the actual hell? Spinning around in a circle, I feel like I just stepped into a department store. Everything is so neat, organized. And this closet is the size of some people’s entire homes. Who lives like this?
Emmanuel apparently.
I don’t even know where to start, but my fingers trail along the fabric of jackets, then shirts. I open a drawer and find neatly-laid socks. Another drawer houses ties in a range of colors. All folded to perfection. I pull down a white dress shirt and throw it on. I swim in it.
Once I have it buttoned up, I fold the sleeves up to my elbows.
I’m about to walk out when something catches my eye.
A drawer that’s not fully closed. It’s on the opposite side of the room.
I walk over with the intention of closing it, but then I see a picture frame.
I slide the drawer open and find many more pictures.
My hands shake as I pick up the first one, then the next.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, dropping the photos to the floor.
I keep digging through the drawer. These images are of all the same person. Me. They start from when I was a teenager, and go all the way through to this year. Why does Emmanuel have these?