Chapter 12 #4
“Fuck, Emma,” I grit out as she strokes me, learning the feel of me.
“I want—” Emma starts then stops, biting her lip.
“Tell me,” I demand, my hand covering hers on me. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to taste you.” The words combined with the look in her eyes nearly does me in. “But I don’t think I can wait. I need—Leo, I need you inside me. Now.”
“Yeah,” I agree, because slow can wait. Slow can be later. Right now I need her as badly as she needs me. “Okay.”
I line myself up and push inside her in one slow thrust, and we both make these desperate sounds as I bottom out. She’s so tight and wet and hot around me, and for a second I can’t move or breathe or do anything except feel.
Emma’s nails dig into my shoulders. “Move,” she demands breathlessly. “Leo, please move.”
I pull out almost all the way and thrust back in, and Emma’s head falls back with a moan that makes me want to pull every single one of those sounds out of her.
I start with a slow, deep rhythm, wanting to feel every inch of her and make this last even though my body is screaming at me to go faster and harder.
“You feel so good,” I tell her, one hand gripping her hip and the other braced on the desk beside her. “So fucking perfect.”
“Faster,” Emma gasps, her legs wrapping tighter around my waist. “I need—harder—”
I pick up the pace, giving her what she’s asking for, and the sounds she makes are so fucking obscene and perfect it’s going to make me go actually crazy. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and I can’t help but lean down to suck one nipple into my mouth again.
“Yes,” Emma moans. “Just like that, d-don’t stop—”
I shift the angle slightly, hitting deeper, and Emma cries out. “There! Right there, Leo, please—”
I keep that angle and rhythm, watching her face as I take her apart. Her hair is spread across my desk, her skin is pink, and her lips are swollen from my kisses.
She’s so goddamn beautiful. No one can hold a candle to her.
“Look at me,” I demand, because I need to see her eyes. “Emma, open your eyes and look at me.”
Her eyes flutter open, green and dark with pleasure. The sight of her like this—completely undone, taking me so perfectly—almost breaks me.
“I’m close,” Emma warns, her nails raking down my back hard enough that I know I’ll have marks. “Leo, I’m so close—”
“Come for me,” I gasp, shifting my hand between us to circle her clit. “I want to watch you come. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
It only takes a few circles of my thumb before Emma falls apart, her whole body tightening around me as she comes with my name on her lips.
The sensation of her clenching around me, pulsing, combined with the sound of her pleasure, is too much.
I thrust into her twice more before I follow her over, spilling inside her as pleasure crashes through me.
For a long moment neither of us moves. We just stay there, both breathing hard, her legs still wrapped around me, my forehead resting against hers as we try to catch our breath.
I pull out carefully and Emma makes a small sound. When I look at her face, I see confusion and satisfaction and the beginning of something else. Is it regret? Or fear?
Reality starts to filter back in slowly. What we just did. What this means.
“Leo,” Emma starts, her voice quiet. “We should—we need to talk about—”
“No,” I interrupt, stepping back and reaching for my clothes. I can’t do this right now or process what just happened or what it means. The shame is already starting to creep in.
I just fucked my captive.
“No?” Emma repeats, and I can hear the hurt in her voice as she sits up and reaches for her own clothes. “We just—Leo, we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, pulling my pants up and buttoning them with trembling hands. I can’t look at her.
“Nothing to—there’s nothing to talk about?” Emma’s voice rises with disbelief and anger. “We just had sex! You just—I just—how is there nothing to talk about?”
“It was a mistake,” I say, and the words feel like ash in my mouth even though I know they’re what I should be saying. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“A mistake,” Emma repeats flatly, and when I finally look at her, she’s fully dressed and her expression is carefully blank. “Right. Of course it was a mistake. What else would it be?”
I wince at the acidity in her voice. “Emma—”
“No, you’re right,” Emma interrupts, her voice cold. “This was definitely a mistake. I forgot for a second that I’m just your prisoner and you’re my kidnapper. Thanks for the reminder.”
She heads for the door and I want to stop her and explain that I don’t regret what happened, that I don’t know how to process it, but the words won’t come.
“Emma, wait—”
Emma pauses and turns around and the hurt and hatred on her face actually makes me recoil. “Go fuck yourself, Leo,” she tells me before she turns on her foot and heads out the door, slamming it so hard it reverberates around the room.
Leaving me standing there trying to figure out what the fuck I just did and why calling it a mistake feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told.