Chapter 6 Austin
SIX
AUSTIN
Despite the arrogance I portray to the world at large, I’m not a very egocentric man.
I’ve never been the kind of person who cares about keeping up with the Joneses or that, as a firefighter, I make a fraction of what my best friends do in their chosen careers.
I’m just an Average Joe kind of guy leading an Average Joe kind of life.
But Emi, as I found out when I picked her up, comes from money.
Lots of money. The kind of money that I can’t compete with and never will.
That might bother me if I was looking to marry the girl, but we’ve only shared some drinks and a charcuterie plate, so I’m not going to worry about anything other than what we’re doing in this moment.
Charcuterie. That right there is a perfect example of how different our worlds are.
I had to look the word up when I got home the other night.
Leave it to rich people to use a ridiculous-sounding French word that essentially means meat.
As I close and lock the door to my apartment behind us, I try to view my space through Emi’s eyes.
The living room with my couch and big screen TV is to the left with a small but respectable kitchen and dining on the right.
Straight back is a short hallway that leads to a half bathroom for guests and my bedroom with an en suite.
It’s not huge, but it’s not a closet, either.
“This is nice,” she says with a smile as she takes in the pictures and various hockey and firefighter paraphernalia hanging on my walls. “It’s like getting a glimpse into who you are.”
“Who I am isn’t a secret, princess, but look as much as you want. Would you like a drink? I have some wine I keep around for my friends.”
“No thank you, I’m fine.” Emi sets her purse on the console table and walks over to the sliding glass door that leads out to my private balcony. I’m on the eighth floor, so I have a decent view of the park next to my building, though at this hour, it’s shrouded in the dark of night.
I move to stand behind her. In her heels, the top of her head reaches my chin, but she’s still damn small compared to me.
And I like that. I know that, as a dancer, she’s strong, but I like the visual of her as petite and fragile.
Breakable. Not because I’d ever in a million years want to break her, but because it feeds into the fantasies I have of breaking her will, of making it my own.
Emi releases a long sigh and relaxes into me, her back molding to my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her waist and dip my head to taste that spot on her neck that’s haunted me since last night in the studio.
She purrs and cants her head to the side.
I feel her pulse ticking faster beneath her skin as I flick my tongue over it and tease her with soft grazes of my teeth.
“Austin,” she whispers and reaches up to rake her nails through the hair at the back of my head. Tingles from her touch race down my spine to swirl in my balls, and I have to tamp down the urge to slam her up against the glass.
I can’t be that man right now. I’ve seen where Emi comes from. She’s probably been pampered and coddled her whole life, and that’s nothing short of what she deserves. She really is a princess, and that’s exactly how I’m going to treat her, even if it kills me.
My dick is lengthening behind my boxer briefs, and I know she can feel it growing harder against her lower back.
When she slips her other hand between us and strokes it over my dress pants, I nearly come on the spot.
The last thing I want to do is remove her hand, but I do it anyway because I need to retain control, so I don’t do anything either of us will regret later.
“Slow down, we’re not in any hurry.”
“That’s not how it felt in the wine bar.”
I kiss my way down her neck to her shoulder.
“I already apologized for that. I’m going to take my time, worship your body with my mouth and hands.
” Suddenly Emi goes cold. She lowers her arm, and her body straightens, pulling away from mine.
I’m on instant alert that something’s off.
It doesn’t matter how hot she was for me a second ago, her current body language is telling me to back the fuck off.
I take a step away, so she doesn’t feel crowded or threatened. “What’s wrong?”
She turns to face me, her arms wrapping around her middle like she’s protecting herself against me, and my stomach tightens in a knot. The fact that a woman would ever truly be scared of me or uncomfortable with something I’ve said or done…it’s my worst goddamn nightmare.
But I don’t understand what I could’ve done to upset Emi. We’d barely gotten intimate, and I sure as hell didn’t act on any of the desires clawing to get out from the back of my brain.
“Emi? Sweetheart, I won’t lay another finger on you if you don’t want me to. Should I take you home?”
The delicate arches of her dark eyebrows draw together. “Why would you think I want to go home?”
“You went cold on me. I know you were into it in the beginning, but if you changed your mind—”
She interrupts me, stepping in and placing her hands on my chest. “No, Austin, I haven’t changed my mind about anything. I…”
The knot loosens a little knowing I didn’t do anything to upset her, but I’m still not sure what’s going on.
“Emi, I need you to be honest with me. Don’t worry about what I’ll think.
I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with.
But I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what that is. ”
“It’s just that I don’t really want to be worshipped or for us to take things slow. I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of glass. I liked how it felt when we both lost our minds in that bar. Fast and frenzied. You know what I mean?”
Relief loosens the knot bit by bit. Yeah, I know what she means. Not only did I not do anything to offend or upset her, she’s telling me I don’t have to restrain myself as much as I thought. I can’t completely let go, but fast and frenzied is something I’m definitely down with.
I take a step forward, closing the distance I’d placed between us, and run my fingers through her hair.
“Am I safe in assuming that the side of you we spoke about—the one you keep locked away—she likes things a little…” When my hand reaches the base of her skull, I make a fist and give her hair a quick tug to pull her head back, making her gasp. “Rough?”
“Yes,” she whispers on a sigh as her lids slide down over those pools of dark brown I can’t get enough of.
“Open your eyes, Emi,” I command. “I want to see what I do to you.”
She complies, and her obedience is only slightly less arousing than if she would have squeezed them shut tighter in defiance.
I let my free hand roam down her body, pausing to knead each breast through the expensive material of her dress before continuing lower.
Without preamble, I move it under the hem and cup my hand hard over her sex.
“Is your pussy wet for me, Emi? If I shove my fingers in deep, will they be slick with your lust for me?”
“Y—oh my God!”
I don’t bother letting her finish, just push her panties aside and bury two fingers to the hilt, and Jesus fuck she’s so tight and wet.
Imagining the way she’s going to feel around my cock is killing me.
I consider myself a patient man, but right now it’s taking everything I have not to rush this to get straight to the part where I’m riding her like a stag in heat.
“Fuck yeah,” I grind out as I start thrusting my fingers, feeling her channel squeeze around them.
Soft mewling escapes her parted lips, inviting me to taste, to take.
I crush my mouth to hers and assault her tongue with my own.
Our kisses are fevered and all-consuming with only tiny sips of air taken before diving back into each other.
Her hands set to unbuttoning my shirt, but I barely register it as I pick up the pace on my thrusts.
I add a third finger and curl the middle one forward to hit her G-spot.
Her pussy starts to clench, and I can feel her legs begin to tremble.
She fists the open sides of my shirt to help hold herself up as the orgasm builds inside her.
I release her hair to band my arm around her waist and support her as she loses the power to stand on her own. “Come for me, Emi. Come right fucking now, all over my hand. Do it.”
“Oh God, I…I…uhnnnnnnnn!”
She comes—hard—and pure male satisfaction fills me when I see her eyes glaze over and feel her pussy pulsing in vicelike waves.
I whisper words of praise in her ear as I help her ride out the climax that has her whole body doing little involuntary twitches in its aftermath.
After a minute, I slowly remove my fingers, smirking at the tiny sound of protest she makes at their absence.
With her watching me in her post-orgasmic haze, I very thoroughly suck my fingers clean.
At the first taste of her, I have to bite back a groan of tortured pleasure.
I can’t wait to bury my face between her legs and drink my fill until she bathes my tongue in her come.
“Holy shit, that’s so hot,” she says.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I promise and help her lay down on the couch.
I shrug off my shirt and love the way her mouth goes slack when she gets her first look at my body.
I make sure I stay in peak physical condition.
It saves my life and others’ in one job and rakes in money at the other.
It’s a lot of hard work, but worth it for so many reasons, not the least of which is to make this woman’s eyes dance with pure hunger.