Chapter 80
EMMA
"On your knees," Jake says as he closes his bedroom door.
The lock clicks shut, making me shiver.
I fall to my knees—not because he told me to but because I want to. Because here, on my knees in front of him, I have all the power.
He doesn't know that yet. Maybe he never will.
Jake's hand moves to his belt, his eyes locked on mine. Dark. Hungry. Possessive.
He thinks he’s going to punish me. He thinks he's in control.
He touches himself through his jeans, and my breath catches. The outline of his cock is already hard, straining against the denim.
"You want this?" His voice is rough.
"Yes." Oh, hell yes.
He unbuttons his jeans slowly, deliberately, watching my face the entire time. The zipper comes down, and then he's pulling himself free.
His cock is thick and hard, the tip already glistening.
He strokes himself, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "Open your mouth."
I do.
He walks toward me, still stroking, and the sight of him—this dangerous, deadly man reduced to need—makes heat pool low in my belly.
He rubs the tip against my lips. Once. Twice.
"Taste me."
My tongue darts out, licking the bead of moisture from the head of his cock, and he groans.
The sound goes straight through me and throbs in my pussy.
He thinks he's the one in control because I'm on my knees—because he's standing over me, his hand in my hair, guiding me—but we both know the truth.
I could destroy him with a word. With a phone call. With the files hidden in my house. But that’s not what I choose.
I choose him.
I choose to take him in my mouth. I wrap my lips around him and suck, slow and deliberate, and his entire body goes rigid.
"Fuck, Emma." His hand tightens in my hair, not pulling, just holding. Anchoring himself.
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, using my tongue the way I know drives him crazy.
His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and I hum around him.
"Jesus Christ." His voice is wrecked. "You're so fucking good at this."
I am.
And I like it.
I like the way his control fractures when I lick him. The way his breathing becomes ragged when I suck. The way his hand trembles slightly in my hair as my fingers caress his skin.
I like that I can reduce this man—this soldier—to desperate need.
I pull back slowly, letting him slide almost all the way out, then take him deep again. Fast. Hard.
His groan is guttural. "Emma. fuck—"
I do it again. And again.
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and his entire body shudders.
"That's it. Fuck, that's it."
His hand tightens in my hair, and I let him guide me now. I want to feel him come apart.
His breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts more erratic. "Emma, I'm close."
I hum around him, and that's all it takes.
He comes with a groan, his fists pulling my hair, his entire body going rigid.
I swallow, taking everything he gives me, and the taste of him—salt and musk and Jake—fills my mouth.
When he's finished, I pull back slowly, licking my lips.
His eyes are dark, glazed, his chest heaving.
"Fuck." The word comes out reverent. He pulls me to my feet, his hands gentle now, and kisses me. Deep. Possessive.
Like he's claiming me all over again.