Instantly, my face relaxes, and the stress slides off my shoulders. I set the picture frame on the shelf as I step into his arms. “Yes, Sir,” I reply.
“I’m going to make you forget every bad thing you’ve ever said about yourself. And if I catch you saying anything self-deprecating, you’ll be punished. Understand?”
There’s a tremor under my skin, from fear or from excitement, or maybe I’m just caught up in this moment and everything he’s saying to me. I quickly reply with a head nod.
His hands cup my face as he arches a brow and tilts his head down toward me. “Your words, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against mine. Then he smiles, and it feels as if the scene has come to an end, and we’re just us again.
As he brushes my hair back, I stare up at him, trying to navigate this place we’re in. What are we? Does he feel what I’m feeling because, right now, my heart feels so incredibly full that it’s terrifying. Someday, Emerson will leave me, either because the novelty has worn off or because his son has made his way back into his life and there’s no room for me there. I know it’s going to hurt like hell when that day finally arrives, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for it.
Almost as if he can sense the erratic fear-laced thoughts running through my head, Emerson kisses me hard. Suddenly, I’m lifted off my feet and carried to my un-made queen-size bed. With my legs wrapped around his waist, he crawls down the center, placing me on the pillows.
“We really don’t have to stay here,” I stammer. “We can go back to your house—”
His lips trail down to my neck as he grinds himself between my legs, knocking all of the rational words and thoughts straight out of my head. I let out a breathy moan.
“You like that?” he mutters against my skin.
“Uh-huh.”
“Want me to do it again?”
“Yes, please.” I sigh.
Laying his body over mine, he grinds his hard length against me again, sending a shot of arousal through my body. Something about that action, the way his body moves, the promise of sex, has me in knots, and I moan again.
My legs are locked around his waist as he kisses my collarbone, trailing downward to my chest. Lifting my shirt at the hem, he swipes it over my head.
“Tell me what else you want, Charlotte.”
I freeze. Dirty talk? I can’t. Just the idea of saying the words out loud has me tensing.
His movements stop, and he sits up, leaving my skin craving his.
“I’m waiting…” he teases. From this angle, his large body hovering over me, hard and intimidating, makes me think I’m dreaming. I want him. I want him to take control, to bring me pleasure, but also to use my body to seek his own. And yeah, there are a million things I could think of that he could do at this very moment that I would love, so why can’t I express them?
What am I afraid of?
My hands cover my face. I can’t believe I’m about to say this…out loud…to my boss…to Beau’s dad.
“Charlotte…”
“I want to watch you,” I blurt out, my voice muffled by my hands.
“Watch me do what?”
“Ugh…” I groan. This is humiliating. But he literally told me to tell him what I want, so that’s what I’m doing. Before I can continue, he leans down and peels my hands from my face.
Taking both of my wrists in one hand, he holds them above my head, pinned to the pillow.
“Charlotte, listen to me. You are a smart, beautiful, confident woman. You don’t need me to tell you what you want. I want to hear it from you. You deserve pleasure just as much as I do, and trust me, I want nothing more than to hear you utter the dirtiest words, and then I want to do whatever it is you say. So say it.”
I’m staring up at him, my eyes filled to the brim with lust. Goddamn, this man. I’m fucked. Ruined forever because there’s no chance in hell I’m ever going to find a man my own age who can talk to me like that, make me feel the way he does.
“I want to watch you touch yourself.”
“Try again,” he says, peering down at me with an arched brow.
I have to make it dirtier. God, why is this so hard? “Stroke your cock for me.”
“Not bad, but I think you can do a little better than that.”
His voice gives me confidence, so I grind my hips upward as I say, “I want to watch you fuck your fist until you come all over my chest.”