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“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 alsomine.”
“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 usnothing, Emerson. When Beau stood in your living room and you had the opportunity to tell him everything, you said it wasnothing.” 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.”
“This is hardly enough, Emerson.”
“It’s a start,” I groan, pulling her hips to the edge of the seat. With my face nearly sandwiched between her knees, I breathe in the scent of her heat, and my mouth waters in response. I’m ready to dive in now, lap at her flawless cunt like the animal I am, but I have to bide my time.
She gasps as I kiss my way up her inner thigh, all soft lips and wet tongue, leaving a trail of goosebumps in my wake. When I reach the throbbing, wet apex of her thighs, her nails dig into my hair, tugging my face close to where she wants it.
My fingers find the thin hem of her panties, delicately peeling them down her legs. It’s at this moment that I remember we have a solid wall of glass behind me and eager patrons enjoying the show. I was so focused on Charlotte and having her back in my grasp that I forget we’re in a voyeur room.
Icouldpull the curtain closed or dim the room’s lights for privacy, but when I sneak a peek upward at her face, Charlotte doesn’t seem to mind the watching eyes so much. In fact, she looks more aroused than I think I’ve ever seen her. I can see the pebbled outlines of her nipples showing through the black fabric of her dress.
Her hips tilt, and the hand in my hair guides my face closer to where she wants it, a wicked smile stretching across my face. Tugging her hips closer, I bury face between her thighs, running my eager tongue between her folds. The rumble of her pleasure vibrates through me as I do it again and again, devouring her sex like the depraved and desperate sinner I am.
“Suck my clit,” she whimpers, and I almost hesitate. This is the same girl who once struggled with the slightest bit of dirty talk and now she’s fucking my face and telling me what she wants. Pride swells in my chest, and I growl in response, latching my lips around her most sensitive spot, sucking it the way she likes.
