by Tara Sue Me
“I had no idea,” he whispered.
“Trust me,” she said. “I may be old, but I can still see, and I see the way you two are together. There’s something there -” she stopped talking as a coughing fit overtook her.
William leaned over and took her hand. “You’re talking too much. Don’t push yourself.” And in his mind, he was already planning how to get Emma out of the lawsuit.
True to his word, William didn’t bring up sex again. He didn’t go to her room. And, as far as she knew, he didn’t bring any more women over to indulge in sexy kinkfests. In fact, he acted like the perfect gentleman.
It was horribly frustrating.
What he did do was completely obliterate any remaining preconceived notion she had about what or how he should be.
He started his day by eating breakfast with his grandmother. Three weeks after she was hired, she always knew he’d make it to Eleanor’s room first. But one particular day, he wasn’t there.
“Good morning, Eleanor.” She put the breakfast tray down and helped the older woman sit up. “Where’s William?”
“He said he had to look for something.”
She couldn’t imagine what he had to look for that would keep him from feeding his grandmother breakfast. He did own a large corporation, though, and he’d been home a lot lately. It was only sensible that he’d have to put in some time at the office.
Putting him away from her mind, she feed Eleanor and read to her. Emma didn’t like to admit it, but the older lady was fading fast. It hurt her heart, even though she’d told herself not to get attached, she had.
She looked over to the bed and saw Eleanor had a faraway look, but was mouthing along with each word Emma read from Little Women. But her lips…they looked a bit chapped. Emma put a bookmark to keep her place and looked for the lip balm.
She couldn’t find it.
“Did your lip balm grow legs and walk away?” she asked Eleanor.
“Oh, right. That’s where he went.”
Emma looked up from the bedside drawer she was searching through. “Who?”
“William.”
Which didn’t make sense, so Emma changed the subject and before long, Eleanor fell asleep.
William appeared in his grandmother’s room at one that afternoon. He rushed in, shrugging out of his coat. “How is she?” He stood by Eleanor’s bed, a small paper bag clutched in his hands and tears gathering in his eyes.
“She’s weaker. Been asleep most of the day.”
“William?” Eleanor slowly woke up. “Did I hear you?”
He brushed her forehead and leaned down. “You did. I finally made it back. And victory,” he opened the bag, “is ours.”
Emma shifted to see what he was holding. It looked like….lip balm?
“You found it?” Eleanor said.
“One store in the city sells it. I called and they said they’d hold it for me if I came today.” He gently applied the balm to his grandmother’s lips. “Better?”
Eleanor smiled. “Much. Thank you. You always were such a sweet boy. Remember…”
William took her hand and sat down while she told him of the past she seemed to live in more often. Even after went back to sleep, he remained by her side, lightly stroking her hand.
Emma swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Where did you go?”
He kept his eyes on the sleeping woman while he answered. “She likes this particular lip balm. I thought we had more or I would have ordered some. There’s only one store that carries it.”
“You went into the city for lip balm?”
“It’s such a small thing I can do for her.” When he turned Emma’s way, there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I bought two tubes. We aren’t going to need that much are we?”
Emma stood up and put her hands on his shoulders, desperate to give him some comfort. “No. I don’t think we will.”
He nodded, reached up and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re here. She really likes you.” And much softer, he added, “Thank you.”
* * *
When it happened, it happened quickly. She’d feared, selfishly she knew, that when something happened, someone would think she’d had something to do with it. There had been all that brouhaha in the newspapers. But fortunately, things on that front were progressing, and her attorney had told her the hospital was thinking about dropping charges.
When Eleanor passed, she went quietly in her sleep. In fact, William had been with her. Emma had been asleep herself, exhausted after being awake for thirty-six straight hours. True to his word, William didn’t step foot into her room, but stood outside her door and called to her softly until she woke.
Two days after the funeral, Emma sat in her room packing up her things. She didn’t have a reason to stay any longer, and though she’d only been in the house for a short time, it felt like home. She really didn’t want to think about it too much.
Her attorney called earlier in the day to tell her all charges had been dropped, and the hospital wanted her to take her job back. But she wasn't sure she wanted it.
“Are you leaving?” William asked from the doorway.
She couldn’t look at him. She wasn’t sure of anything. “There’s no reason for me to stay.”
He was quiet for long seconds, then said, “I see,” and walked away.
Her hand stopped, suspended in the air. What the hell did that mean? Why should she stay? There was no reason.
Was there?
She slammed her suitcase shut and followed him down the hall. “Wait a minute.”
“Why?” He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“No, you tell me why.”
“Tell you why what.”
“Why I should stay,” she whispered.
He finally turned around and while she saw sorrow in his eyes from his grandmother’s passing, she thought she might see a little something else.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice all gravely and rough. “I said I wouldn’t.”
It took her longer than it probably should have to remember what he meant. When she realized his meaning, she sucked in a breath. He wasn’t going to make a move. Because he’d told her was going to wait for her.
Doubt flooded her, threatening to keep her frozen in her spot. There was too much to risk. What if she made a move and he laughed? Or if he shrugged her off. Patted her on the head like she was a little sister or, worse, a friend.
But when she looked in his eyes, he wasn’t looking at her as if she were a sister or a friend. He looked at her with a quizzical expression and a hint of something else. So, she took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eyes, and told him the truth.
“I’m scared.”
He nearly staggered backward. “Of me?” He took a step forward. “If it’s what you saw when you came downstairs the first night -”
“Seriously?” she choked out. “You think getting kinky with you scares me? Oh, hell no. I’m scared you don’t want to get kinky with me.”
He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just stood there, assessing her. She struggled not to fidget. His gaze was unrelenting, and she’d rarely felt more exposed.
“Have you ever done anything like this with anyone before?” he finally asked.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. If you had, you’d have answered the question correctly.”
Correctly? But she’d been honest, wasn’t that the right thing to do? “I don’t understand.”
“No, Sir, I haven’t done anything like this with anyone before. No, Sir, I don’t understand.”
Damn it all. She should have guessed he’d want to be addressed as ‘Sir’. And he’d called her on it while proving her point as to exactly why she shouldn’t want to sleep with him.
“Right.” She nodded and turned to head back to her room. “I’ll just go finish packing. Should be out of your hair later in the afternoon.”
“Ms. Olson, stop.”
She should
keep going. She should pack and leave this house and never look back.
But she almost never did what she should do, so she stopped.
“Turn around.” His voice was rough, and when she turned to face him, he looked at her with eyes dark and heavy with lust. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he moved forward, closing the distance between them, until he stopped before her. “Ask me for what you want.”
She curled her fingers into fists. “I want you take me downstairs. Sir.”
He reached up and tugged her ponytail loose. “And then what?”
Fuck, his hands on her, the way he gently ran his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm.
“Then I undress for you, Sir.”
“Damn straight you do.” He dropped his head so his lips brushed her neck. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to keep my distance?”
She slipped her hand between them and stroked his erection, causing him to hiss. “I’m guessing very, very hard.”
“What happens after you undress?”
“I do what you tell me, Sir.”
“Damn it, Emma,” he growled out before taking her lips in a crushing kiss.
He didn’t kiss like how she’d assume a computer nerd to kiss. She’d thought a computer nerd would be tentative and shy and fumble his way through the kiss. William knew exactly what he was doing. His lips teased hers before he ran his tongue across the seam of her mouth. She opened to him, and he wrapped his arms around her and walked her backward until she hit the hallway wall.
Pressed between the hard planes of his body and the wall, she gasped as his hands drew her shirt up.
“Take it off, Emma. I want to see you.”
He pulled back long enough for her to pull the shirt up and over her head. She dropped it on the floor.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” His hands cupped her breasts, and he lowered his head to nibble along the edge of her bra. One thumb pushed the lacy material aside, and he rolled the tip of her nipple between two fingers.
She arched her back in invitation. Hot holy shit, but those long computer fingers sure as hell knew what they were doing. “More,” she panted when he stepped away.
“Trust me.” He picked her up and walked toward his bedroom. “I’m nowhere near being finished.”
She found herself on her back in the middle of his bed. He loomed over her, not touching, simply looking. Then, as if he had all the time in the world, he slipped her bra strap down and ever so slowly drew his lips along the skin he exposed.
“You taste like sin,” he murmured against her shoulder. “So damn good.”
He nipped the sensitive area at the junction of her arm and torso and, hell, no one had ever done that before. How did she not know a nibble there would shoot straight to her clit?
“Oh, fuck,” she said as he did it again to the other side and she clutched his hair in her hands.
He lifted his head. “Hold on to the headboard.”
“But then I can’t touch you,” she protested.
“Now.”
She wanted to whimper, to whine and pout, to tell him no. But one look in his deep blue eyes shut her down. With a deep sigh, so he would know she was doing it but didn’t really want to, she lifted her arms and grabbed on to the slats above her head.
“Good job, Emma.” He unhooked her bra. “I’m going to spend the next few minutes exploring your hot little body, and I want your hands to stay right there. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a voice that would let him know that even though she understood, she didn’t like it.
He didn’t reprimand her, but gave her a devilish grin. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Doubtful. You may have mastered the fine art of kissing and discovered little-known erogenous zones, but I doubt your super powers extend to mind reading. Ow.” She sucked in a breath at the slap he gave her inner thigh.
“Don’t make me gag you.” He scooted down her body and licked the spot he’d slapped.
She watched his mouth move. Jeez, his mouth was fast becoming one of her favorite things. If she didn’t do something to counteract the sensations he was creating in her body, she knew she’d come before he even really started.
“Just out of curiosity, what would you gag me with?” she asked.
He propped himself up on one elbow. “Just out of curiosity, are you always this talkative during sex?”
“Umm, I don’t think so?” What kind of question was that? She didn’t keep track of what she did and didn’t say during sex.
“Then it seems to me there are only two things to do. One, let you continue to babble, or two, put your mouth to a better purpose.” He rose to his knees and lowered his jeans. “I’m going to go with number two, because ever since you opened the door downstairs, I’ve fantasized about sinking into that warm mouth of yours.”
And ever since she’d opened the door downstairs, she’d fantasized about taking him in her mouth. His cock came into view and, holy shit.
“Umm,” she started. “You’re kinda big.”
“There’s no kinda about it. And good thing, because it’ll keep that mouth of yours occupied.”
“I don’t know if I can -”
“One way to find out,” he said and, not giving her a chance to reply, pushed his way inside. “Oh, yes….fuck, so good.”
He held onto the headboard and thrust in and out of her mouth. “That’s it. Keep that mind of yours focused on my dick. How it feels. How hard it is for you. Where it’s going next. Fuck.”
He wouldn’t stay in her mouth long; she didn’t think he could hold his release back that long. Already his breathing came in short pants, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
“Got to stop,” he ground out and pulled away. She allowed herself a moment of victory. He was holding onto his control by a thread, and she made him that way.
He trailed a hand down her side and lightly brushed between her legs. “Are you ready for me, Emma?”
She was so wet it was almost embarrassing, and she wanted that cock inside her like two weeks ago. “Yes, Sir.”
He didn’t rush anything like she thought he would. He took his time and explored her exactly like he’d promised. He kissed his way across her stomach, licked the underside of her knee, and caressed her body with such soft and sure strokes, she was almost ready to say fuck it to his command that she keep her hands on the headboard and jump him instead.
Fortunately, he pulled himself up and situated himself between her knees.
“Oh, thank God,” she said.
There was that grin again. Smug bastard.
“Impatient, Emma?”
“Hell, yes. Seriously. Fuck me. Now.”
He coughed.
“Sir,” she added. “Master. Your Excellence. Your -”
She couldn’t finish her triad because he thrust into her with one solid stroke.
“Ohhhh, yes,” she groaned.
He filled her completely, moving in a slow and steady rhythm that had her writhing under him. More. More. More. But he held back, drawing out every ounce of pleasure possible with his retreat before pushing back into her so damn slow she felt each inch of him.
She lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. If she couldn't pull him toward her with her arms, she’d use her legs. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as her heels pressed him deeper inside. His head dipped low and she bit his ear.
It must have been the signal he wanted, because he roared back and started pounding into her with an almost punishing tempo. Her eyes widened at just how deep and just how hard and oh my God yes. No one had ever made her feel his way. Forget geeky computer guy; William was a sex god. He should stay in bed forever. With her.
He lifted her hips, and the angle allowed him to hit a new spot on his next thrust. That was all it took. Her climax took over her entire body, leaving her shaking in the aftermath.
He let out a sigh and with a final surge into her, re
leased into the condom and dropped to her side on the bed. He pulled her to him, “You can move your hands now.”
She didn’t have to be told twice, and she sighed as her arms went around him, holding him close.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he said between kisses to her forehead. “I know it’s too soon, but will you stay? And before you decide, you should know, Grandma told me about the hospital situation.”
“I was offered my position back,” she said.
“Are you going to take it?”
She bent her head and kissed the crook of his arm. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“You’ll make the right decision.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long you’d like.”
It was tempting. So damn tempting. “I appreciate that, truly, but I feel like I need to get back on my feet by myself. I can’t do that if I’m sitting here in the lap of luxury.”
“Then instead of the staying here in the lap of luxury, how about you stay here in my lap?”
She smiled for what seemed like the first time in days. “That sort of sounds like the same thing.”
“Stay with me, Emma,” he pleaded. “I need you keep me in line.”
“And that sounds like a never-ending job.”
“It’ll be never-ending if I do it correctly.”
She laughed and as he pulled her up for kiss, she knew that would be a position she never grew tired of.
Out Now
FOK: Wall Street Royals Book One
FOK: (noun) /fok/: Abbreviation for Fill-or-Kill, a term used in securities trading. To fulfill an order completely and immediately, or to not do it at all.
* * *
When Lance Braxton fills in for his sick grandmother at the auditions for the Juilliard scholarship named after his late mother, the last thing he expects is Celeste Walsh. The moment he sees her, he has to have her. Wants to control her. Needs to master her.
* * *
Celeste has been accepted into Juilliard, but without a scholarship, her only choice is to turn them down. Then she’ll have to go back home and work as a waitress at her family’s restaurant in Nowhereville.