Dani There are so many reasons for me not to do this. I know, because I’ve been r epeating them to myself from the moment I decided to acc ept this job. None of those reasons, however, are compelling enough for me to care. Hooking his arms under my thighs, Emil stands in a movement that speaks to pure male strength. I grip his shoulders as he walks around the couch and down the hallway, burying my head against his neck and drawing in a de ep breath. He smells like no one else. I think I’m addicted to the scent of him, have been since he walked up to me on that red carpet. When we head de eper down the hallway and enter his bedroom, Emil moves his hands to my waist and sets me down on my feet. He kicks the door closed and cups my cheek with a hand, running his thumb over my lips. “To answer your question,” he starts, his voice dark and dangerous, eyes tracing the curve of my mouth, “yes, I’ve dreamed of your lips on me. I have so many d epraved images of you burned into my head, I should be locked away for good.” Heat sears through me as Emil ducks his head and kisses me. His hands tug at my shirt. “Take this off.” Another command. I should resist it—resist him—but I can’t. As soon as the top is on the floor, Emil’s hands are on my waist, sliding up to cup my breasts. The thin lace of my bra reveals the pebbled peaks of my breasts, ripe for him to bite. And he does. Hungrily, Emil brings his mouth to my breast and sucks it through the material, drawing a gasp from my lips. My fingers twine in the silk strands of his hair, back arching against him. His hands are broad, strong, safe as they splay against my back, holding me tight to him. Then he reaches up to slide the strap of my bra over my shoulder, pulling the material off my breast. His lips are on my bare skin in an instant, and my knees nearly buckle. With his arm banded across my back, though, there’s nowhere for me to go. I cling onto his broad frame, using every scrap of energy to ke ep myself upright. A scrape of teeth over the tip of my breast, followed by a soothing lash of his tongue. I moan, burying my head in his neck, my lips kissing every inch of him they touch. He unclasps my bra and tosses it aside while his hand cups the breast his lips just left behind. His fingers pluck, tweak, stroke, every touch sending me de eper into the throes of pleasure. “I need to taste you,” he growls, picking me up to lay me sideways across the bed. “Yours too. Off.” I tug the end of his shirt, unable to make full sentences. A smug male smile, and the shirt falls to the floor. I reach for the button clasp of his pants, but he grabs my wrists and pins them on either side of my head. Leaning over me, letting me feel the weight and power coiled in his body, he grinds himself against me.
“Not yet, beautiful. I told you I wanted to taste you.” Shifting my arms above my head, he pins them with one hand. His other hand starts a rough exploration of my body, sliding down my chest to cup my breast, owning it, tweaking my nipple so hard it makes me gasp, then moving lower. Heat floods my abdomen when he reaches my navel, and I whimper when he flicks the button of my jeans open. There’s no gentleness in him now. When he slides his hand under my panties, it’s a sure, possessive move, cupping between my legs as his fingers slide through my wetness. He groans, dropping his forehead to my chest, one hand still pinning my wrists to the bed. I writhe, wanting to touch, to feel, to taste. But a warning noise comes from his throat, and he slides his fingers back and forth to feel every bit of my desire. There’s no question we’re way past the line here, but I don’t care. I want him too much to think of the consequences. When he circles the sensitive flesh at my opening, I arch my back toward him. He answers by biting the underside of my breast so hard I moan. “No patience.” A r eproach in his voice that only winds me tighter. The dam is about to break. I’ll be sw ept up in its flood, drowning in pleasure. In Emil. His finger dips inside me the tiniest bit. A tease. Enough to make me realize just how much I want something hot and male and hard between my legs. But his fingers move up to my clitoris, circling it once, twice, barely grazing it, making me whimper. I’m wound up so tight I feel like I’m going to snap. I need... I just need. “Emil.” It’s a plea. “Tell me.” His tongue laves over my breast as his fingers circle my bud again, closer, harder. “Please.” I’m begging, and I don’t care. Releasing my wrists, Emil moves so fast I can barely react. He unzips my jeans and hooks his hands into the waist, pulling my pants and underwear down to my feet. He’s still standing beside the bed, towering over me as I lie before him, naked. Tossing the clothes aside, he grabs my knees and spreads me wide. It hasn’t es caped my attention that I’m completely naked while he’s still wearing most of his clothes. I’ve never felt so exposed. So... admired. Dropping to his knees beside the bed, Emil tugs me to the edge, throwing my legs over his shoulders. I gasp, closing my eyes for a moment as his lips graze the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Closer and closer, stubble rasps over my skin, then switches to the other leg. I groan. “So demanding,” he says, smiling against the crook of my hip. His hand smacks the side of my thigh in r eproof. Another kiss, teasing the edge of my labia. I arch my back, shimmying closer to that mouth. In response, Emil clamps his hand over my hips and holds me in place. And devours me. His tongue slides through my wetness in one long swe
Ep I arch my back, crying out, reaching to tangle my fingers in his hair. I don’t know if I’m pushing him away or pulling him close, but he grunts in approval and starts worshipping my body, licking and sucking and gently nipping in ways that make me burn up from the inside out. “You taste better than I could have ever imagined,” he says, his lips brushing over my flesh. Then he licks me again, all the way down to my opening. His tongue slides in, thumb moving to tease my clit, and I crash against a wall of pleasure.
Hands twisting into the sheets, into his hair, back arching, I shatter into a million pieces. Emil doesn’t move, doesn’t stop until I quiet down. When my breath comes in pants, his touch turns gentle and his eyes open to meet mine. Seeing this gorgeous man with his head between my legs is an image I won’t forget. Not for a long time. Neither of us speaks as he stands, my legs falling to either side of him, feet resting on the floor. I’m hanging half off the bed, but my body is in no shape to move. My eyes drift from the satisfied look on his face, his gleaming lips, all the way down his broad chest to the erection pushing at his pants. The tendons in his hands flex as he unfastens his pants, moving slowly but inexorably closer to revealing every hard male inch of him. His briefs drop to the floor with his pants, and another wave of desire burns through me. His cock is steel-hard and proud as it juts from his body, his hand moving to grip the shaft in a strong hold. And it’s big. So big it makes me pause, wondering if I’ll be able to take all of it inside me. My breath catches at the sight of him holding himself, pumping once, twice. His eyes eat me up, moving to my breasts, my stomach, down between my legs. Still standing between my splayed knees, he kicks them wider and lets out a satisfied groan. I’ve never felt sexier than I do now. I’ve never had anyone look at me with such raw hunger in their gaze. Sitting up, I make to reach for his cock, but Emil stops me with a hand on my shoulder that slides to grip my neck. I pout when he shakes his head. “I want to taste.” He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. “Not yet. I need... I need to feel you.” I wonder if he feels the way I do—that this might change things between us so completely that we need to do everything we can before this moment ends. He wants to taste me, fuck me, love me, because we might not have tomorrow. This little bubble of safety, of sex—it might burst as soon as the haze of desire clears from our lust-addled brains. So I don’t protest. Maybe I’m greedy, wanting to feel him inside me just a little bit more than I want to taste him. I just lie back and prop my feet on the edge of the bed, spreading my legs for him. Unabashed, I let my hand drift between my legs to touch myself. His breath trembles, and he squeezes the base of his cock so hard I wonder if he’ll hurt himself. With jerky movements, Emil lunges to the side table and comes back with a condom. In an instant, it’s sliding over his cock and he’s positioning himself between my legs again. I haven’t had sex with anyone in a long time. Literal years. No one since Rich, and I’m worried... I don’t know what I’m worried about. Not that Emil will hurt me, but that doing this will snap something inside me. Some last restraint that has held strong for so long. His hands slide under my legs and haul them up to his shoulders. A tremor passes through my body, knowing I’ll feel every inch of him at this angle. Even as my nervousness ratchets up, the pure eroticism of the position makes desire unfurl in my core. Leaning over to take my lips in a dominating kiss, Emil positions himself between my legs. When the tip of him enters me, I gasp, body locking up. His hands slide over my thighs, soothing, soft words
whispered against my lips. Another inch. “Emil—” He freezes. “Am I hurting you?” Pulling back, I see real worry in his eyes, and my heart melts. He’d stop if he was. I know he would. That care—the knowledge that my comfort is more important than his pleasure—relaxes me. I shake my head and let my legs soften against him, and he pushes in. Inch by inch by delicious inch, he invades my body and draws another moan from me. When he’s buried to the hilt, we pause. My body takes a moment to accommodate him as I cling onto his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle covering every bit of him. “Dani, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.” His voice is strained, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark, hard lines. I kiss his cheek, his lips, his jaw, and I nod. “I want you.” Dragging out of me, he pauses, then drives himself home. I arch, crying out before I can stop myself, then biting down on every scream that threatens to fall from my lips. The pleasure of his body inside mine, of his palms on my thighs, his lips on my skin—it’s a sensory overload. It’s too much for me to handle. I come apart again as he urges me on, the sound of his rough voice and guttural grunts only increasing the heat that explodes through me. And when I’m at the peak, I hear a change in his voice, feel an insistence in his movements, and as the tension between us stretches so taut I want to cry out, I feel his release inside me. Another wave of pleasure crashes through me, one I’m not used to. More intense, more primal than any orgasm I’ve had before. Feeling him spill inside me makes me shudder, warm pleasure coursing through my veins. Sated, exhausted, I fall back on the bed as Emil pants above me, hands supporting his weight on either side of his head. I trace the line of his jaw with a finger, then move my hand lower to catch a bead of sweat traveling down his chest. “Dani,” he says, shaking his head. “Better than the dreams?” “So much better.” He kisses my mouth, a slow, sensual claiming, then straightens up and slides out of me, gripping the condom at its base. When he st eps away from me to discard it and clean himself up, I sit up on the bed and look around. I saw this room the first day I was here, but I didn’t know it was Emil’s. Now, the utilitarian, sparse decor makes sense. He’s so tightly controlled that I wouldn’t expect him to have a messy room or thousands of decorative touches. What I missed the first time, though, is that this room is still warm and comfortable. Standing up, I reach for my undies in the tangle of our clothes on the floor when I hear him re-enter from the attached bathroom. “What are you doing?” “Getting dressed,” I answer. Disappointment flits across his face, but he hides it in an instant. Padding toward me, totally naked, Emil wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me close. The still-hard length of his erection presses against my lower back. “Stay the night.” I smile sadly. “You know I can’t.” “You can get up before the kids and head across the apartment. It’s not like you have far to go.” “What if they come in here? What if Kathryn arrives before I wake up?” Emil hums, then ducks down to kiss my neck. My knees turn to jelly, and I almost give in. I want to stay here. I want to cuddle up against him and feel the warmth of his body through the night.
But the bubble has burst—reality is se eping in. If anyone caught us, we’d have to answer questions I know neither of us are ready to face. “Dani,” Emil says, sliding his fingers across my abdomen, hand moving to cup my breast. “Hmm?” I lean my head against his chest. “I don’t want you to run away from me.” Freezing, I let those words sink in. How this man can see my soul so clearly, how he can speak words that strike lightning to my very core, I’ll never know. I just relax against him and say the first words that come to my mind. “I won’t.”