“I’m not here to discuss my love life,” I clipped.
“So it’s love, is it?”
I narrowed my eyes at his back. Two can play this game.
“Horace Beckett’s daughter is your woman, no?” I said idly. “I heard you two are back on again.”
Ryland threw me a dirty look over his shoulder. “It’s only been three days. How the fuck did you know?”
“I know everything that goes on in these circles, amigo.”
“Yeah, you’re the fucking Wolf,” he muttered, coming back to the desk with two glasses of whiskey.
“How did you do it?” I couldn’t help asking. “She saw an ugly side of you that night at my club. How did you win her back?”
Ryland raised a brow. “And what’s it to you?”
I took the glass he offered me and tossed back a mouthful of whiskey. It went against my nature to admit weakness to anyone other than Emma, but I had to. “I’m in a similar position.”
“So your woman is on the run,” Ryland mused, half sitting against his desk. “And you’re trying to track her down…why? What’s your motive?”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said coldly.
Ryland scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly Man of the Year. A thousand bucks says you’ve got twenty illegitimate bastards all over the city.”
I bared my teeth. “Fuck. Off.”
He made it sound like Emma deserved better than me. What pissed me off was that it was probably true.
Ryland shrugged, raising his glass to his mouth. “Just saying.”
“How did you make her change her mind?” I asked tightly.
The heir studied me for several moments, trying to gauge how desperate I was to know.
“Allie left for a reason other than what you think,” he finally said. “I’m not telling you what, obviously, but trust me, it was bad.”
I frowned. Emma had wondered before if Ryland Wyatt was hiding something in his past. Was this it?
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Ryland continued, giving me a rare look of sympathy. “All I know is that I wouldn’t have stopped until I had her again.”
I felt the same about Emma.
I drained my glass and slammed it on the table.
Fuck seventy days. I’d take as long as needed to change her mind, and one day, she would.
She had to.
Fortes Fortuna Iuvat . Fortune Favors the Brave.
It was our academy’s motto, one the founder, Charles Burke, had chosen in 1970, and one that suited the recruits very well.
All except me, that is.
Because the truth was I was a runner, and I had always been.
When I flunked high school, I ran away from my town to a city where no one knew me. When I fell in love with Marlon, I hid those feelings so well that some days I fooled even myself.
Physical pain was easy. If I took a knife or a bullet or a fist, either I healed from it or I didn’t. It was a simple equation.
But a broken heart was a living agony that no one, past or present, had the cure for. It scared me to death, so when Marlon finally saw me, I did what I did best again, too afraid of what that would mean for the both of us.
Fortune favors the brave, and I wasn’t brave. Not by a long shot.
“You still there?”
I blinked, coming back to the present. Dylan sat across me at the table at the campus cafe, watching me with an amused expression.
Crap, I’d zoned out again.
I tried hard to recall what he had been saying, but my mind drew a blank.
Dylan and I sometimes had lunch together after class, a last-ditch attempt on my part to distract myself from Marlon. Obviously it wasn’t working. My mind was wandering elsewhere half the time.
I dragged my hand through my hair and exhaled. “Sorry, I missed that. Could you repeat?”
Dylan raised his eyebrows. “That’s the second time today.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled again. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”
“I do. Marlon da Silva.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Am I that obvious?”
“To anyone with two eyes, yeah.” Dylan grinned and folded his arms on the table. “You don’t look at him when he’s around, but you’re only half-present like your ears are fixed on him. And when he’s not around,” he shrugged his massive shoulders, “you’re not here at all.”
It was true, and there was no point pretending otherwise. The seventy days would be up tomorrow, but I loved Marlon as much as ever.
I grimaced apologetically. “I wasn’t using you as a rebound, if it came across that way.”
Dylan’s mouth tipped at one corner, and he sat back in the café chair that was too small for his huge body.
“I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t suck,” he mused. “But I’m trying to forget someone too, so that makes us even.”
I blinked. That was surprising, because unlike me, Dylan looked like he had his shit together.
“How’s it working out for you?” I asked hopefully. “Any tips for me?”
He shrugged. “Still figuring it out, actually. Guess things don’t always happen the way we want it to.”
“Tell me about it.” I stirred my iced coffee listlessly.
For the past two months I’ve had my life back like I wanted. My time was all mine, and I could do as I liked without having to think about Marlon.
But more and more, it just felt like I was walking around in a daze. The life I had now seemed like a consolation prize.
“What’s up with you two, anyway? The man’s like a guard dog when it comes to you.” Dylan smiled wryly. “Pretty sure he’d stick me like a pig in a back alley one day.”
“He wants us to date, but I don’t.” Such a simple statement, and yet it wasn’t.
“Yeah? And why’s that? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the fucker being miserable, but he looks like he’s in pretty deep for you.”
I shrugged. “Marlon doesn’t take relationships seriously. He goes through girls like he changes clothes. I’m not gonna be in that number.”
“So he’s playing you.”
“No, he’s serious,” I said quietly. “But it never lasts. He’s going to change his mind.”
For the past two months, I had been waiting for the moment when Marlon told me that I was right, and that we wouldn’t work out after all.
But he kept coming back night after night, refusing to let me forget him. Some days I even thought that the impossible had happened—that Marlon was in love too.
But I was too chicken to let myself hope.
“Even if he’s serious, I just can’t forget,” I confessed quietly. “Every time we get close I see him with all those other women.”
Dylan crossed his brawny arms and gave me a frank look. “Then you gotta make a tough choice, Emma. Which do you want more, his past or his future? ‘Cause you can’t hold on to both.”
After our lunch, Dylan took me home on his bike as usual. I got off when we came to the sidewalk below my building and handed my helmet back to him.
“Thanks for the ride. And for talking.” I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “You’ve really helped.”
“No problem.” Dylan kept my helmet away and removed his, tousling his blond hair as he grinned down at me. “Since we won’t see each other again, I was thinking. How about a goodbye kiss?”
I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Nice try, buddy. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to leave New York.”
“Come on, I’ve been a model student. You know I deserve it.”
Relenting, I got on my toes and planted a lingering peck on his lips.
“Thanks again,” I said as I eased back.
“Anytime, babydoll. See ya next Thursday, if you’re still around.” Dylan ruffled my hair. Then he put his helmet back on and sped off on his bike.
I exhaled, remaining on the sidewalk for a moment longer to mull over my uncertain pat
h with Marlon.
Was I letting go of a future with him because I couldn’t forget the past, like Dylan had said?
But what if that future held only more heartache for me?
If only there was a way to know for sure.
I turned to head into the building, but then I saw something out of the corner of my eye that made me stop.
I looked up.
Marlon was standing thirty feet away, rooted to the ground like a statue. His hazel eyes were wide and stunned, and he stared at me like I had just plunged a knife into his chest.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
He had seen Dylan and me, and his mind was already running wild.
“Stop,” I whispered.
Marlon didn’t move as I made my way over. His beautiful face looked so pained that I ran the last few steps to him.
“Marlon, stop.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You were playing me this whole time?” he choked in a ragged voice. “Are you going to him once my seventy days are up?”
I looked up urgently. “Marlon, no—”
“Do you tell him you love him like you told me?” His eyes were red-rimmed and anguished. “Do you fuck him in your bed when I’m gone!”
“Stop!” I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked hard. “Nothing happened, it was just a kiss!”
Marlon’s stark expression didn’t change. He didn’t believe me.
But what was worse was that I recognized that look on his face. It was the same one I saw in the mirror whenever my heart got shattered.
I had finally brought him down to my level.
“Please believe me.” I pressed my face to his chest again, heat pricking at my eyes. “Just stop hurting, please.”
Marlon didn’t move for long moments.
Then finally, his arms came around me, crushing me to him hard.
“If you’re lying,” he whispered hoarsely, “then keep lying.”
“I’m not. I’m yours. Only yours.” I squeezed my eyes shut and held him tighter, feeling the heat of his body warm me up from the inside.
This was where I belonged, I realized. In the arms of the man who knew my soul better than anyone in the world.
I may be afraid, but so was he.
And I had to stop hurting us both.
“Take me upstairs,” I said softly. “I’ll make you believe me.”
The moment I shut the front door behind us, Marlon fell on me like a starving animal.
I gasped as he shoved me back against the door and crushed his mouth down on mine. Marlon was so rough that I would have been bent backwards if not for the door bracing me. His teeth cut my lips and tongue, but I couldn’t have stopped if I tried.
He let go of my face long enough to shove my jacket past my shoulders. Then he grabbed the necklines of my shirt and bra in his fists and ripped them into half right down the center like they were made of tissue.
The sound of tearing fabric instantly aroused me. We grabbed at our clothes, stripping them off each other and getting naked in record time.
The first time we had sex and every night thereafter, Marlon had gone slow for me, putting my pleasure first.
Now I wanted him to take whatever he wanted from my body.
I circled my arms around Marlon’s neck and wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Fuck me,” I breathed against his lips.
The second the words left my mouth, Marlon sank his hands into my ass cheeks and slammed his cock into me all the way to the end.
I cried out in pleasure-pain. I wasn’t wet enough yet, and it hurt.
But Marlon didn’t stop. His eyes were fever-bright as he thrust into me roughly, causing friction burns on my spine and ass where they met the door.
I twisted my fingers in his hair and kissed him back just as desperately. I missed the feeling of his cock inside me, and my inner muscles squeezed him eagerly with every thrust.
Marlon suddenly broke from our kiss. He bit down on my neck, suckling my skin so hard that it bruised. Then he did it again on the other side of my neck, and again on my shoulder.
He was marking me as his own.
“You’re mine,” he said in a roughened voice. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I panted.
My nails dug into the swollen muscles bunching at his shoulders. The hardness of his body pressing into mine made me so wet now that his cock slipped in and out of me with blinding ease, the pleasure so overwhelming I could barely breathe.
“This body.” His fingers gripped my thighs painfully as he screwed me against the door. “Mine.”
“Yours.” I worked my hips on him, clenching around his thick shaft greedily. “Only yours.”
Marlon was slamming into me so hard that my body shook from the vibrations, barely recovering from one thrust before the next plunged deep into me again. My thighs spread wider, eager to take every inch of his cock inside me.
“Your heart,” he breathed, staring down at me fiercely. “Mine.”
“Always.” I grabbed his face again and kissed him so hard I tasted blood.
Without breaking the kiss, Marlon lifted my ass and walked me over to my dressing table, kicking the stool aside and sending everything on the surface crashing to the floor with a sweep of his hand.
Then he dropped my legs to the floor and withdrew from me, spinning me around. He kicked my feet apart and pressed one hand on the center of my back, bending me over the top of the table.
The hardened tips of my nipples brushed against the cool polished wood. I moaned, already missing the feel of his cock buried inside me.
Marlon took my jaw and forced my chin up, making me watch the mirror. He looked so big standing behind me, with every muscle in his body tense and swollen from exertion. The lines of his six-pack and biceps were so defined that they looked cut from stone.
His eyes burned into mine in the mirror. “Who’s fucking you, querida?”
I licked my dry lips. “You.”
Marlon released my jaw to grip my hips.
Then he slammed into me so hard my body pitched forward. I had to plant my palms on the wood to steady myself.
I stared into the mirror, watching as Marlon da Silva screwed me from the back.
My neck and shoulders were already bruised in several places, the pale skin turning dark purple where he had marked me. My eyes were heavy-lidded, my lips parted in bliss as I arched my ass against his pelvis. I was so wet that I could hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of me. I was so tight that I could feel every inch of him parting my inner flesh in a frenzy.
“You said you like it rough, Emmaline?” Marlon asked in a voice simmering with lust. His biceps flexed as he cracked his hand across my ass hard.
“Yes,” I panted. “More.”
He held my hip with one hand, slamming into me with deep strokes. His other hand kneaded my ass cheeks then spanked me again.
“Yes!” My pussy tightened around his cock and squeezed the hard steel as he thrust into me. It was too damned good, and I was going to come…
Marlon took my jaw, forcing me to watch our reflections.
I saw how my eyes were glazed, my mouth parted with lust. Marlon’s tanned chest and abs were covered with a sheen of sweat, and his biceps swelled as he held my hips and pounded into me.
It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
“I’m coming,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes from the mirror. “Marlon, I’m coming…”
“Then come.” He gripped my hips and slammed into me so hard my breasts bounced from the impact.
“Oh god, yes.” I moaned loudly, feeling the pleasure building. “Keep going, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”
A ragged cry tore from my throat as I came. My eyes rolled back as Marlon held his large cock in me, letting me squeeze him all I wanted. It felt so damned good that I worked my hips on and on, never wanting the pleasure to stop.
Then suddenly Marlon cursed.
He pulled out of me, and the next second I felt his hot cum spurting on my ass cheeks.
“Fuck,” he gritted, rubbing the head of his cock over my pussy lips and clit. “Emmaline…”
Marlon looked even more sensual whenever he lost control. I couldn’t help a soft moan as I watched him, taking in the musculature of his body, the dark color on his face as he came on me.
When Marlon was finally spent, he took my shoulders and eased me back against his chest. He was breathing hard, and he wrapped his arms around my upper body and leaned heavily on me.
“Good?” His voice was husky, his hazel eyes heavy-lidded as they watched me in the mirror.
“No.” I let my head loll against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. “Amazing.”
***
The life of Marlon da Silva was a charmed one. From the first moment I stepped into it, the world had been handed to me on a silver platter.
I was beloved as a son of the most influential clan in my country, worshipped as the man every guy wanted to be. I was carried on the back of my last name and our money. I never had to fall because I never needed to walk, and I was confident and charismatic and assured because I never had to fall.
And I never once tasted pain, or fear, or helplessness.
Not until I saw my woman put her lips on another man.
After our shower, Emma and I lay on our sides in her bed facing each other. We talked late into the night about everything we left out in the weeks that our relationship had been strained. It had felt wrong without her in my life, and now that we were talking again, the difference was even clearer.
“I miss you,” I told her, reaching out to brush her hair from her forehead. It was getting long, and knowing Emma, she would have it cut again within the next week.
“I miss you too.” Emma folded her hands under her cheek and gazed at me with blue eyes that were the color of the sky at dusk, just after the sun disappears below the horizon. It made my chest ache.
“Don’t look so sad, pretty boy,” she said quietly. “I like it more when you’re smiling.”
But I couldn’t. I was still reeling from earlier. My heart had felt like it was getting torn right out, and I never knew such pain existed.
Untamed (New York Heirs #1.5) Page 9