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Emilia moans and yanks on my hair to get me closer, and I lower my lips to hers. “So tight, Emilia. This pussy is mine, you hear me?”
Her cheeks turn scarlet, and she looks at me with wide eyes. I lift her higher so I can push into her at an angle. She bites down on her lip to keep her moans in and I smirk. My Minx is so sensitive. I place my lips against her neck and suck down on her skin, leaving a small kiss mark in return for the dozens she left on my neck and chest last night. I’ve never wanted to give a girl a kiss mark, but with Emilia a single one isn’t enough. I want her in my bed, naked, with kiss marks all over her breasts. She groans when I pull away and I grin at her. She’s so needy, so sexy. I thrust into her harder and she moans loudly, getting closer and closer. I wrap my hand over her lips and shake my head. “Quiet, baby. The librarians are fucking psychos.”
She pulls me closer and kisses me without abandon, and I almost lose it. “Can’t hold it, baby,” I murmur. I know she’s close and I’m going to be really fucking pissed off with myself if I can’t hold on long enough. I grit my teeth and drop my head to her shoulder as I increase the pace. Emilia moans and her legs start to tremble. I almost come right there and then, and as soon as her muscles spasm around my dick, I lose control. I come at the same time as she does, both of us holding onto each other tightly. My entire body feels like it’s tingling, and I doubt I’ve ever come as hard as I did just then. Emilia slumps against me and I hold her up as she rests her head against my shoulder, a satisfied smile on her face. Seems like all I need to do to tie her to me is keep her well satiated.
I pull away and lower her to the floor. She barely manages to stay standing and leans against the door for support. I can’t help but grin. She looks so well-fucked.
“Stop smirking,” she says, her eyes narrowed. I smile and bite down on my lip as I take care of the condom. “Can’t help it, Minx. You just look like you really enjoyed that.”
She rolls her eyes, but it’s impossible to ignore her sexy glowing expression. I feel oddly proud to be responsible for it. I can’t wait to walk her back to Mason and Lisa. I might not be able to call her mine, but just seeing her like this should make it clear to Mason that she is very much mine.
Emilia is quiet and nervous as we walk back to the table Lisa and Mason are at. “Chill, Minx,” I murmur.
She looks up at me with wide eyes and shakes her head. “I’m terrified people will know what we were just doing,” she says, all flustered.
I smile at her indulgently and put my hand on her lower back. She’s tense when we’re back at the table, and it looks like Mason and Lisa aren’t doing much better. They’re glaring daggers at each other and I sigh to myself. Emilia takes her seat next to Mason awkwardly and he looks her over with raised brows. His gaze moves from me to her and I smirk. He’s not an idiot. He knows what just happened. Emilia sends me a warning look that only works to corroborate my insinuation, and I chuckle to myself. At least it’s clear now — Emilia isn’t someone Mason can get his hands on. She was always out of his league, but now she’s out of reach too, and I intend to keep it that way.
Chapter 19
Emilia
I wake up all of a sudden and sit up in bed, surprised. I blink over and over again, trying my best to get accustomed to the sudden light. Kate must’ve just come home from a night out. What time is it? It’s not unusual for her to wake me up with her drunkenness or noise, but she doesn’t usually turn the lights on. I groan and try my best to keep my eyes open.
Kate is sitting on her bed, pressing a wad of toilet paper to her face. I jump out of bed immediately to check on her and she looks at me with wide panicked eyes.
“Nose bleed?” I ask. “How did that happen?”
She shakes her head and dabs her nose, the bleeding luckily subsiding.
“I don’t know. It just happened suddenly,” she says, trembling. Her eyes are wide and it looks like she might be in shock or something. I rub my hands over her arms and slowly but surely she relaxes.
“Maybe we should go see a doctor. I read that nosebleeds can be an issue relating to your brain. I don’t know. It wouldn’t hurt to get it checked, right?”
“No!” she shouts, her eyes flashing with rage. She pushes against my shoulder so hard that I stumble and end up falling onto my butt. She blinks at me and then jumps up in a panic seconds later, her bloody toilet paper falling to the floor.
“Oh my god, Milly. Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it,” she says, her voice high pitched and worried. She helps me up and fidgets with my pajamas. “Are you okay?” she asks again.
I nod and grab her shoulders. “I’m fine. Calm down. It’s all good.”
More than anything, I’m worried about her. She didn’t get a scholarship, so she’s not as concerned with keeping her GPA up. She’s just been partying and making new friends that she never even bothered to introduce me to. I’m worried the drinking is getting out of hand. Lately, her behavior seems a little erratic.
I cup her cheek and check her face. She still has a small amount of blood around her nose, but she’s not bleeding anymore.
“Seems like you’re okay now,” I murmur. She nods and drops to her bed.
“I’m sorry for waking you up, Milly. Let’s go to bed, okay? We’re going to try out that Mexican place this afternoon, right?”
She gets underneath her blanket, and seconds later she’s fast asleep. I don’t even get a chance to reply to her. I stare at Kate in confusion. Is she that drunk? She seemed fine and alert, yet something is off about her. I’ll have to talk to her about all the partying she’s doing.
I get back into bed and inhale deeply. Maybe all she needs is to go home for a couple of weeks. Thank god we’ll be going next week.
I rush toward the restaurant I agreed to meet Kate at and check my watch. I’m five minutes late. I’ve texted her multiple times, but it looks like she hasn’t even seen my messages yet.
“Hi, I’m a little late, I’m sorry,” I tell the waitress at the entrance. “I have a reservation under Emilia?”
She smiles at me, and her eyes crinkle at the edges. My heart warms at the very sight of her. She must be around sixty years old and she’s wearing a frilly dress with a checkered apron on top. She’s plump in an adorable grandmotherly way, and she barely reaches my chin.
“That’s okay, chiquita,” she says. “You’re not so late. Fashionably late. My name is Maria, but you can call me Abuelita. Come, I’ll show you to your table.”
