Chapter 8
8
M alcolm
“What do you mean, you have to leave?” I kiss Emma’s bare shoulder.
She pulls the sheet up to cover her body, tossing me a look over her shoulder. After three hours of nonstop fucking, we’re still in bed. My bed.
Rationally, I understand we both have lives, and I can’t keep her hostage. But that doesn’t change the warm sensation that sweeps over me whenever she looks my way. I don’t want to share her with the world, or with anyone, or anything. The visceral need to make her permanently mine is as crazy as it is real.
She motions to move, but I can’t resist and embrace her from behind, coaxing her into a horizontal position. She chuckles but doesn’t fight me.
“Not yet,” I murmur.
“In case you forgot, I’m house-sitting next door. So I have to go back and make myself available,” she says, then adds with a dramatic flair, “Be responsible.”
I prop myself on my elbows. “Rick will be sleeping by now.”
She runs a finger down my nose, her facial expression growing serious. “Yes, but that’s beside the point. I agreed to be there every night, and I have to make good on my word.”
I nip her chin. “What an annoying time to be ethical.”
She strokes my cheek. “I know. Also, while we’re on the subject, there’s something I meant to tell you.”
“Yeah?” My heart skips a beat. Please don’t let this be her telling me she’s going back to her stupid ex or that she’s legally married and didn’t tell me. Worst-case scenarios haunt my brain, but I will them away. “What is it?” I hiss, unable to conceal the impatience in my voice.
She looks at me and starts playing with the hair on my chest, running her fingers up and down my skin. A shiver goes through me. Damn the woman, if she’s about to tell me she robs elderly ladies of their pensions, I’ll still probably forgive her. Fuck. I am totally hooked.
“You know how I told you about my adult site idea?” Emma asks, yanking me from my thoughts.
My gut clenches. I prop myself on my elbows, bracing for what’s to come. I don’t want her to do it, but a part of me knows letting her go isn’t an option. “Yes.”
Her facial expression softens, and she taps my chest. “I wasn’t serious. I meant it as a prank.”
Relief pours over me, and I exhale loudly. This is infinitely better than any other possibilities menacing my thoughts seconds earlier. “Really?”
“Yes, things just got out of hand. Anyway, that’s the truth.”
“I like that truth.” I outline her jaw and drag my index finger down her neck to her tits. I don’t want to share her with anyone, online or in person. She’s mine. Is she ready for that, though? Will I scare her away if I tell her how I feel?
I scared Erin away after one year. Emma seems like she would be more on board, but what if it’s all fun and games until things get serious? I told her I didn’t want a hookup, and she implied that neither did she. That doesn’t mean she’s ready for commitment off the bat. And it doesn’t mean she’s ready for what I have to offer.
“You like that I’m a struggling wanna-be designer without a prospect who’s not ballsy enough to make quick cash online selling her body?”
I tip up her chin. She delivers those words in a playful tone, but I sense the undercurrent of hurt. “You’re a pre-famous designer.” I make a mental note to put in a few calls and find someone to help her in her career path. I’ve invested in fashion before, not specifically in a wedding gown business, but I’m sure I can use some of my contacts to dig deeper.
“You haven’t seen any of my designs. What if I’m terrible?”
I run my finger down her nose. She’s right. I haven’t seen anything. And it takes more than determination and wit to make it in the fashion world, which grows more brutal by the day. But even if she needs more coaching, I can help her get there. I can show her work to someone from the industry and get their opinion and advice on what the next steps would be. “I’m not an expert. But show them to me.”
Her smile reaches her eyes. “I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, huh? So I’m securing another date?” I nip her chin again.
She taps my chest, then lowers her hand to stroke my cock. “Unless you’d rather not. You’re probably busy.”
I suck in a breath, my blood rushing to my dick at a pace that’s hard to follow. She squeezes me lightly, and heat stirs in my balls. Zings of awareness stab every part of me, my pulse quickening.
“Not that busy,” I say, coaxing her thighs open, taking control of my dick, and thrusting into her pussy. We moan at the same time, and she wraps her legs around me.
“I love how flexible you are,” she says.
I pump into her a couple of times, then retreat and flip her onto her tummy, slamming into her from behind. “I was about to say the same thing.”
She yelps, surprised, and I lift her ass to deepen my thrusts into her pussy. She’s wet and clamping my dick every time I plunge inside, which sends me close to the edge.
“Malcolm,” she whispers.
“Yes, baby?”
“You’re definitely securing another date,” she says breathlessly.
I undulate my hips and thrust hard. Every part of me burns as lust brands me, just as I want to brand her. I swat her ass once, twice, and she doesn’t flinch. Her skin heats, and I knead her cheeks to ease the sting. The need to make her mine is followed by a much deeper one—to take care of her in every way.
“Maybe even a third,” she says, her breathy voice interrupting my thoughts.
“A third, huh?” I remove my cock all the way, knead her ass some more, and swat it a third time.
Emma moans as I smash into her again. This time, I don’t let up, fucking her without mercy with deep, hard thrusts. I fuck her like I’m fucking this addiction for her out of my system. But it’s already too late.
“Yes. Oh, yes,” she whispers.
She comes, and I follow, spilling inside her until I’m trembling.
“A fourth date is definitely a possibility,” she huffs, turning her face to see me.
I brush the hair from her forehead and kiss her, my heart still pounding. “I’ll be demanding a lot more than that.”