“Emerson!” Charlotte squeals, fixing the neckline of her dress to cover her tits, and I know I should consider the crowd beyond the glass, but all I see is her. Her innocent brown eyes widen as I cross the room, her bottom lip dropping from the top as she stares in shock. But I don’t stop.
“Eden,” I reply in a gruff tone with my eyes focused on Charlotte.
“Hello, Emerson,” Eden replies sweetly.
“Get out.”
She replies with a knowing smile before walking steadily to the door. I don’t even hear it close behind her before I’m gathering Charlotte—my Charlotte—up in my arms. I had other plans when walking in here, mostly involving driving her home, getting her as far away from this place and all of the sins that could find her, but right now, with her in arm’s reach, I’m powerless.
My hands scoop her up by the waist, dragging her against my body as I crash my harsh, unforgiving lips against her supple, delicate ones. For one second, she lets me kiss her, clutching eagerly to my neck, and my body grows hot and tight with anticipation.
But it only lasts a heartbeat. One beat. Enough to let me feel hopeful before it crashes to the floor, breaking like glass.
“Emerson, stop!” she screams, clawing at my chest and pushing away with enough force for me to stop. I pull away from our embrace and stare into those familiar doe eyes, begging and pleading with my soul for one more chance. “You can’t just barge in here and expect me to run back into your arms.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “Then you need to go home.”
She reacts like I’ve slapped her, tilting her head in disbelief. “You don’t own me,” she spits out with enough venom to make the words hurt like daggers. “Not anymore.”
As she tries to move around me toward the door, I grab her by the waist, but she struggles against me again.
“I may not own you, but I own this club.”
“I belong here just as much as you do,” she yells, shoving away from me, but I’m pulled into her gravity, and I can’t move away. Before she reaches the door, I corner her and guide her chin up, so I can level her with my gaze.
“What are you going to do, Charlotte? Did you come here to let Eden fuck you for fun?”
“So what if I did? You were the one who made me believe I was sexy and beautiful enough.”
The way she’s holding her head up, the strength of her convictions, is like ecstasy in my bloodstream, but I hate seeing her directing this animosity toward me.
“You are sexy and beautiful, Charlotte. And you’re also mine.”
“Not anymore,” she snaps, but I catch the slightest quiver in her response, enough to make her stay in this spot, in my hands, until she stops saying that.
“Yes, you are,” I grumble, grasping the fabric of her dress in my fists.
“You called us nothing, Emerson. When Beau stood in your living room and you had the opportunity to tell him everything, you said it was nothing.” Her voice shakes, and I can’t keep my hands away from her face, touching her jaw and neck. The time away from her has turned me into a desperate man, needy for the touch of her skin and the taste of her lips.
“I am not a perfect man, Charlotte, and I let you down. I’m sorry.”
“You told me the relationship we built, being your sub, meant that I could trust you, always.”
Those words slice through my tough exterior like daggers.
“You can trust me, Charlotte. I was wrong for what I said. Let me make it up to you. I can earn your forgiveness.”
“How?”
There is a far better answer she is looking for, but I’m not exactly thinking with my brain at the moment. I’m thinking strictly with my heart and my cock, both of them fighting for dominance, and while this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, it serves us well in the moment.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks as I hoist her up and toss her over my shoulder. Carrying her to the middle of the room, I lay her gently on the throne. Once she’s sitting, I unbutton my shirt at the neck, just a couple buttons, so I can move and breathe. Then, I unclasp each cuff of my shirt and roll the sleeves to the elbow. She doesn’t leap from the chair and try to escape the room, so I guess that’s a good sign.
“Emerson…” she tries to argue.
Resting on my knees in front of her, I glide my hands up her thighs, rucking her dress up to her hips as I do. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and watches me with an uneasy, yet curious expression.
“I’m on my knees for you, Charlotte. I know I promised to take care of you, and I made a mistake. Let me make it up to you.”