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“Okay, but why would you not be allowed to have a girlfriend?”
“Because love makes you weak, according to him. I had a puppy once. My mother bought it for me when I was six. She read that pets could be a way to make your antisocial child… I don’t know… social? Or connect on some emotional level. Guess it’s true, because it worked. I really liked that dog. The moment my father saw how much I cared for it, he made me watch as he slit the dog’s throat.”
“What? Holy crap, Josh, that’s bloody crazy. I’m so sorry, Josh. Wait… you’re not… you don’t do that illegal stuff now, right?”
“I’ve mostly cleared the family of all of it. Em, I’m not the monster my father was. There was a time when I thought I was. I know my mother thinks we didn’t know what he would do to her behind closed doors, but we could hear everything. Every slap, every kick, every word of abuse he would throw at her.”
She tries to climb off me, so I hold her tighter. Her whole body tenses up. I can tell there is a question on the tip of her tongue. She’s wanting to ask me something but isn’t sure she should.
“Just ask me. What is it?”
“Have you ever…” She swallows, tipping her head down before continuing. “Have you ever wanted to hurt me?”
“Fuck no! All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you, Emmy. Love you. Worship you. I would rather chop off my own fucking hands than ever use them to cause you harm.”
Her body relaxes slightly. “Okay. So, you work, obviously. What is it exactly that you do?”
“I’m the CEO of McKinley Industries. I’m working on cleaning up shop, as much as I can, babe. I promise nothing I do will ever affect you.”
“You can’t make those sorts of promises, Josh. What if you end up in jail? What am I even saying? I’m the one looking at spending life behind bars. I killed my husband. It doesn’t even matter what you do.”
Within seconds, I flip her over so she’s on her back, and underneath me. I can’t help the growl that leaves my mouth. “Do not say that. He was not your husband, Emily. He was a lowlife piece of shit, not worthy of breathing the same fucking air as you. And I’d put money on it that the marriage documents you signed were fake, just like your fucking death certificate.”
“Do you think that’s possible?” she asks hopefully.
“Yes. And even if they weren’t, he was not your fucking husband.”
“Okay,” she agrees in a quiet voice.
I can’t fucking stand the thought of her calling another man her husband. It should be me. I should be the only one she ever calls her goddamn husband. It should be my fucking last name she takes on.
“Em, when I settle all of this and shit calms down, I guarantee you will be wearing my ring. You will be using my last name. You will take the throne that’s always been yours. You will be my queen.”
She smiles up at me. “You know proposals are usually formatted as a question, right? Are you really going to order me to marry you? Because I’ve done that once—it didn’t pan out too well.”
Shit, Fuck. She’s right. “That was not a proposal. When I ask you to marry me, Emmy, there will be no doubt that it’s a question, one that I can only pray you say yes to.”
I lean down and kiss her. Claim her. If I can’t put my ring on her yet, I can claim her body as mine. And that’s exactly what I need to do right now.
Pulling away from her mouth, I sit up, straddling her thighs. I run my fingertips along the middle of her breast, right down to her midsection. The yellow sundress she has on is already bunched up to the top of her thighs.
Moving backwards slightly, I pull her into a sitting position, my fingers brushing the thin straps of her dress over her shoulders.
“You know, I’ve always fantasised about having you up here. I’ve dreamt about making love to you under the stars and twinkling lights more times than I can count. Envisioned spending hours worshiping the perfection you are.” I trail my tongue slowly over her collarbone and up the side of her neck.
“Mmm, yes, that. Aghh, I think you should definitely do that.” Her throat vibrates as she moans.
My hands find the zipper on the back of her dress, lowering it much slower than I want to. What I want to do is tear the fucking dress in half, bend her over and fuck her until all she knows is the feel of my cock driving in and out of that sweet fucking pussy of hers.
Instead, I take my time. Emily deserves to be worshiped. And it ain’t like it’s a fucking hardship to worship her. Her body is the definition of a goddess. Her dress falls down past her shoulders. Pulling the straps over her arms, I let the fabric fall to her waist.
Her breasts, full D-sized breasts, call out to me, her pink nipples pebbled and just begging to have my mouth wrapped around them. Cupping my palms over each breast, I feel the weight of them in my hands. I roll my fingers across the globes, without touching her hardened nubs.
The moment her back arches, offering those rosy buds to me on a fucking platter, I don’t hold back. Leaning down, I take her right nipple into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it while gently biting down. My fingers pinch and pull on her left nipple, the sounds coming out of her mouth filling the otherwise quiet night air.
“Mmm, I could spend all night just licking and sucking on these breasts.” I bite down a little harder before I move my mouth to the other side. Emmy moans, her thighs tightening underneath mine.
I’m still hovering above her legs, mindful not to make contact with the bruising on her hip. But she can’t move them and it’s driving her insane. Smiling around her nipple, I can’t help but chuckle at how much she’s trying to get friction between her thighs.
