AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At this point, I’ve stopped listening to Candace. Emelia is rounding the corner of my desk again. While my assistant drones on about how she bumped my dinner meeting to six, Emelia takes the arms of my chair and turns me until I’m facing her, perpendicular to my desk. Then, with her gaze locked on mine, she puts her hands on my knees, parts them, and very slowly and very deliberately starts to bend down until she’s kneeling before me.
I keep Candace on the phone and agree to whatever she says, knowing full well I can just check my schedule later to see all the updates. The point is to have her there as a witness to this. That’s what we both want. This is all part of the game. When I ask Candace if she can check with Callum to see if we’ve heard back from the city about the permit application for our Boston Harbor project, I already know the answer.
And all the while, Emelia’s palms slide up my thighs. She’s playing the role of the seductress, but her hands are trembling. Her lips are slightly parted. Her brown eyes are filled with a thousand warring thoughts.
I set the phone down on my desk, and Candace keeps talking, completely fucking oblivious.
“Should I be a good man and yank you to your feet?” I ask Emelia, not caring if Candace can hear. “Cast you away?”
Emelia’s eyes spark.
Just as I suspected. The power dynamic at play—while wrong—is as enticing to her as it is to me. Our age difference, her role at my firm, our history…it’s why she’s here.
“Should I force you?”
She shivers, and unable to resist another second, I reach out and trace her full bottom lip, failing to stop myself before I press my thumb into her mouth to make her suck. Cherry red lips close around my knuckle, and her tongue laps at the underside of my thumb like she’s starved for more.
She’s not answering my question, which isn’t surprising. I want her honesty, but I understand we aren’t there yet.
“Mr. Barclay?” Candace asks, sounding a thousand miles away. “Are you there? I can’t really hear you.”
Emelia’s gaze flits to the phone, a worried expression marring her features.
It’s a punishment when I slide my thumb out of her mouth, a reminder that she should be focused only on me.
“Are we playing with fire?” Emelia whispers.
Of course we are, but that’s not the question she really wants to ask. She’s wondering if we should stop, and that thought’s eviscerated when her fingers skate over the top of my zipper. I nearly hiss when I feel the weight of her hand press down against me. It takes everything in me to sit still and be patient. If I was sure she wouldn’t cower in fear, I’d take over and strike like a viper. I’d jerk her forward by her neck and color those cheeks pink with shock, grasp her jaw until her full lips parted for me.
The noise.
She’d whimper like a scared animal, but deep down, in that dark hidden part of her soul, she’d come alive.
Her hand still hasn’t moved from my zipper.
I brush my knuckle across her jaw. “Are you scared, pet?”
Her gaze rises to meet mine, and there’s approval there, need practically dripping from her.
So you want to be my pet?
I caress her cheek, and she delights in the touch, leaning into it.
I take her in, a perfect offering laid at my feet. She’s on her knees, her legs squeezed together, probably to relieve that ache she feels between her thighs. Poor Emelia. Her dress has a row of buttons that goes down the center, all the way from her collarbone to her navel. She looks demure until I undo the top three and part the silk fabric. The V-neckline of her bra angles across her breasts, a hair’s breadth away from exposing everything. The pale nude lace has no excess padding and barely any support, but Emelia needs neither. I’m staring, enraptured, when she starts to unzip my trousers. The sound slices through the air like the wail of a freight train. My concentration shatters and my gaze shifts to where her small hands work to tug me free. It’s at this moment that I take my hands completely off of her. This has to be done of her own volition. Motives, power play, shifting consent be damned. I won’t force her out of this room or up off her knees, but I’ll give her this one small thing: the choice to proceed or not to proceed, to back away at any time.
On the surface, I convince myself those are my real motives, but a sick twisted part of me loves the feeling of reclining in my chair, looking perfectly blasé about the fact that Emelia’s hands are now firmly wrapped around my length. It’s fucking with her, I know it is, this holier-than-thou attitude. I swipe my finger back and forth along my lips, but otherwise, I sit perfectly still. Bored, even. She’s doubting herself and second-guessing every decision, I’m sure, but still she proceeds.
She slides her hands down to the base of my length then back up to the head. A shiver of delight racks down my spine. Her grasp is tight and warm and inviting—fucking fantastic and still only a shadow of what it will feel like when I’m finally inside her for the first time.More, harder, tighter, I want to tell her. She’s treating me like I’m delicate, like she’s scared she’ll hurt me. I nearly laugh at the thought, but that feeling of mirth is short-lived as Emelia leans forward, presses her lips to the very tip of my length, and then starts to suck me into her mouth.
I can’t help but moan.
She’s such a juxtaposition: innocence wrapped in sex appeal. Her full red lips look like they’re made for doing bad deeds, but she uses them as if she’s a virgin, like she’s never held a man this way, taken him into her soft mouth purely for enjoyment.
Jealousy spears me at the idea of her on her knees for someone else.Never again.
Soft and slowly, her pace is maddening.
I know Candace hung up a long time ago. I confirmed, but I don’t tell Emelia. She doesn’t need to know; she just needs to trust me.
