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“Oh fuck, Mace, I’m–” She was right on the edge again, gasping as her core fluttered around me, telling me she was close.
The fact that I was the only one to have touched this body, to have fucked her like this, and every other way I’d fucked her, it made me feral. I was feral for her, to have her, to keep her. Emma buried her face in the sheets and cried out as she shattered around me. I pulled out of her and we collapsed on the bed, laying there in each other’s arms for a long while, as our breathing came back to normal.
Emma sighed. “I’m going to have to fix my makeup.”
I chuckled, “You’d better do it quick before I pull you on top of me, and make you ride me until you can’t walk.”
Emma slapped my arm playfully, but seeing the look in my eye, she quickly rolled out of bed and slipped into the bathroom. A wise decision if we were ever going to make it out of this bedroom.
We’d been getting ready for the gala and I had walked into the closet just as she was about to step into her evening gown. I’d taken one look at her in that red lace lingerie and the dress never made it over her hips. Her protests had quickly turned into betraying little whimpers right before I’d hauled her up against the wall.
Since I’d given up trying to keep my hands to myself, Emma and I had fallen into a fast and furious routine over the last few weeks. She’d quieted down about work, and we both seemed to be content to reserve our energy for the bedroom. Or the closest surface we made it to, at least.
We were in our own little bubble, and I was falling for her hard. Her determination, her sass, the gentle look in her eyes when she was concerned about me. I’d almost lost her, and everyday we grew closer, the realization of that fact haunted me deeper.
I’d been steadily at work trying to pinpoint what was happening with the terrorist group and everything had gone quiet after Iran; all the leads had just dried up and disappeared. But I’d gotten intel that one of the key leaders would be hosting this charity gala tonight; I shook my head at the thought of a man like that, who drove terror, chaos and death, and wondered if while he was rubbing shoulders with the wealthy and elite, if they knew who he really was. I assumed they did. The people who would be attending tonight, no doubt, had their hand in the black market sale of weapons, or were adjacent beneficiaries.
The shower turned off, and I heard the bathroom drawers opening and closing. I lazily made my way into the bathroom and stood behind a naked Emma, who stood in front of the mirror between the double sinks. She gave me a playful warning with her eyes, but I couldn’t help myself. Just a taste, just a little taste, was all I needed. She watched me in the mirror as I wound my hand around the nape of her neck and tilted her head to the side, opening up that soft crook for another kiss. My hand snaked over her belly, wandering lower, lower, lower. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“I’m never going to finish getting ready if you keep doing that.” She rasped. “Get in the shower. Now.” She commanded me and as she struggled to steady her breath as she spun around to face me.
I placed my hands on either side of the counter behind her. “It’s so cute when you think you can tell me what to do.”
She bit her lip, and her eyes flicked down to my lips. “Mason.” She begged me with soft exasperation alongside the thrill in her voice.
“Fine.” I nipped her lower lip and went and turned on the shower.
I ran my hand under the water, waiting for it to warm, and I felt Emma’s eyes on me. When I looked over my shoulder, I noticed her staring at the stab wound on my side. “You’ve taken all your other bandages off, that one must be pretty bad.” She said, “Did that one happen in Iran?”
I tried not to flinch. If there was one thing that would fuck us over, it was Emma’s determination to get an answer. “Uh yeah, it’s doing much better now, though.”
“Good.” Her eyes flicked up to mine. “You’re not going to swap out the bandages?”
Fuck.
“No, I did this morning.” I said evenly, trying to end the conversation without sounding too curt to be suspicious.
“I could do it for you.” She said.
I didn’t dare look at her as I stepped into the shower. “That’s alright.” Whether it was concern for my wellbeing or if it was curiosity, or God forbid suspicion, I couldn’t meet her eyes.
Finally, she wordlessly went back to curling her hair, and I quickly lathered up.
I knew better than to assume her silence meant she’d stopped thinking about things. In fact, it may have been worse. It meant she was silently mulling things over, sprouting theories and hatching plans, with no indication of what was to come.
I’d turned her questions down enough times that she’d stopped asking questions about everything going on, but part of me got the sense that she’d never been hotter on the trail. Her mouth stopped asking questions, but her eyes never did.
As I stood under the hot water and rinsed, I felt my chest tighten at the thought of her figuring out that I was her boss, figuring out that I was the one who had attacked her, even if it had been to protect her.
She may have forgiven me for what happened in Iran, and I knew a small part of us was even grateful that we’d been thrust into each other’s arms. I wondered if we hadn’t, if we’d still be in the little bliss bubble we were in. A small silver lining to a horrible circumstance. But the shame I felt ran so much deeper than that. I couldn't keep myself away from her. She was like an addiction, despite the many reasons we shouldn’t be together. Amongst which was the fact that she wouldn’t understand what I had done to protect her. The closer we got, the closer she was to piecing it all together. And the closer we got to it, all blowing up.
I wondered what she was thinking as she gazed at the bandage over my side, over the stab woundshe’dgiven me. I wondered if she suspected. I couldn’t tell. If she did, she wasn’t giving anything away under that sweet little face. I’d have to be more careful to keep a shirt on until it was fully healed.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and over my bandage and walked out of the bathroom and into the walk-in closet. Emma was back in her red lingerie and I felt my cock brush against the towel as it lengthened hungrily, not even remotely satiated by the meal it’d had, not but twenty minutes ago. I leaned on the doorway with my arms crossed and drank her in, watching her as she tilted her head to the side and pushed her soft brown waves over her shoulder to put her earrings on, the motion exposing that intoxicating neck of hers. She was a tall, or perhaps a short, but very delicious, refreshing glass of water. She was like a Christmas present, sparkling and wrapped up in that damn lingerie again, like a big soft red bow, just for me. She straightened to look at herself in the mirror and startled when she caught my eyes behind her.
She whirled around with wide eyes. “Don’t even think about it.” She said sternly, trying to cover a smile. “I don’t have time to start overagain.”
I put my hands up in surrender and gave her a devilish grin. “I wouldn’t dare.” She darted around me in the doorway, and quickly beelined back into the bathroom, and I heard the soft click of the lock shortly after the door shut. Insurance. Making sure that we’d actually get out of the house on time.
