“Faster.” He arched his back while his hips flexed. Ridley increased her pace.
“Harder.” He grunted and she tightened her grip, completely into the carnal act, her breathing matching his.
In her entire life, Ridley had seen exactly one penis, and that was in a dark room illuminated with a single candle. She hadn’t touched it. Her sixteen-year-old body wanted to have sex; that didn’t mean she wanted to touch IT.
Stupid, silly, sixteen-year-old. Right now, nothing could pry her away from the power she currently wielded. She had the power to make him cum, or make him hurt. Pleasure or pain. She kissed his bellybutton then spread her kisses all over his abdomen. She licked her way down his treasure trail, all the while, her hand didn’t stop moving.
A frisson of panic had her second-guessing her intentions. Maybe if she didn’t have an expiration date, she’d take things slower. Let shyness get the best of her. Well, she did have an expiration date. Her tomorrows were winding down. This opportunity to experience all she could wouldn’t come again.
Ridley had watched porn, but…umm…seeing a hard penis on a laptop while lying in a cold, lonely bed wasn’t the same as eyeballing one inches from her face.
Lord, a little help. If she knew earlier she would be about to give her first blowjob, she would’ve googled ‘How To’ on her cell. Right now, a step-by-step guide would be handy.
Step one: Touch it.
Step two: Lick it.
Step three: How to fit all of it in your mouth. *Not always possible.
Step four: Die from embarrassment because she hadn’t a clue what else to do.
Timid, she leaned in and licked. There wasn’t a discernible taste. She licked again. But damn he did feel good against her tongue. She leaned in and traced her tongue along the base of his hard shaft and licked around the tip.
EJ jerked in her hand. His mouth lay open, his chest drawing in slow, steady breaths, the patter of water hitting the tile the only sound between them.
Ridley took him into her mouth. A garbled sound came from him. She glanced up. His eyes had closed, and his head dropped back, hitting the tile. All of his muscles strained, as if his skin had suddenly become too tight. Seeing him as such, knowing her touch placed him in this condition, was the most erotic thing she’d ever witnessed.
He touched the back of her head, threaded his fingers through her short, wet hair, and gently moved rhythmically with her. She remembered what he did to her, how he had her out of control, writhing from his rapturous torture, and she moved his hand away.
“Don’t stop.” More plea than a command, his words gave her a rush and made the muscles in her groin clench.
Using her hand to stroke up and down his shaft, she tightened her mouth around the head and caressed him with her wet tongue. His fists clenched and he pounded the wall. She moved a little faster, taking him a little deeper. His knees buckled, then locked as hard pants came out of him.
Her name was a guttural cry on his lips as his fingers alternately splayed and clenched. She never thought doing this would turn her on, but damn, it did. Seeing his pleasure, knowing she controlled it, heightened her own. She watched it all, hornier than she’d ever been, more than desperate to take this all in.
A deep shudder ran through his body, and he clamped one hand on the back of her head, the other around the hand jerking him. His taste was now saltier, his breathing dancing between harsh moans and broken curses. He squeezed her hand as his hips flexed and a half growl was wrenched from him.
EJ pulled out of her mouth and twisted away from her. She held onto him while he jetted into the warm spray, experiencing his orgasm with him as he jerked in her hand.
I made him do this. I drove him to this point. My touch. My taste. My body. My tongue.
He slumped against the tile, crushed her to his chest, and devoured her mouth until nothing of her will remained. He could have her. Take her. Do with her what he wanted. Because what she wanted was him. Pounding inside her.
His lips ceased kissing, leaving her yearning. He eased away and dropped his roaming hands, leaving her starved for more. She rubbed against him, took one of his hands, and placed it between her thighs. He kissed her slowly, cupped her possessively, and breathed into her mouth, “Go. Get out of here before I change my mind and never let you go.”
Clarity was a sledgehammer to the temple. Ridley swallowed a yelp. She stumbled out of the shower and raced out of the room, water dripping from her shirt and body. The crumpled bed held too many memories so she retreated to the living room to pace. Her idea of pacing involved circling the coffee table at sixty miles per hour while the sunlight streamed through the living room windows and incinerated the remaining shadows, obscuring the logic she needed to survive.
What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. Her libido met EJ’s high octane testosterone and he crushed it. No, not crushed. He whipped her libido into a frenzy until nothing mattered but him. Not the curse. Not Josie. She’d almost let him have her and risked having another child burdened with a horrible legacy.
Ridley dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach. Her trembling hands drifted lower to the space between her pelvic bones. She smoothed the flat surface, but that’s not what she felt. Once, there had been a life inside her. Once, she had a child. Now, she had nothing but a death sentence.
They both did, mother and child.
Ridley climbed to her feet. She had to get away from him. Had to.
The bathroom door opened. From the living room, she looked up, into the bedroom loft. Steam curled in the air, but EJ remained hidden in the recesses of the room.
“I have to do this,” she muttered and climbed the stairs to end the nonexistent relationship she didn’t have with a man she shouldn’t care for.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emeline tapped a single finger into the padded arm of a leather chair in the law offices of Maher and Drake. Anger didn’t sum up the extent of her feelings. Pissed, hurt, and stunned, those emotions cut closer to home. Her impoverished grandfather had left a will. A will. As if he had an estate to settle.
A copy of the document and a statement announcing the attorney was the Executor of Grand’s estate had arrived the morning after the funeral. The will named her beneficiary. Of what, was her initial reaction? How could a man who had nothing but a burned down warehouse full of junk have an estate?
She read the will. “To my granddaughter, Emeline Gamble, I leave the key to my safety deposit box and my love.” A safety deposit box probably filled with ancient birth certificates and pictures of long dead family members. Then she realized she was one of two beneficiaries. The other unnamed. What the…? There were no other family members and all of his friends beat him to the grave so who was the other beneficiary?
Her stomach flopped and she forced herself not to double over. She gritted her teeth and forced the coffee, sausage, and eggs she swallowed earlier to stay put. Blowing chunks on the plush carpet of her grandfather’s attorney’s office would be humiliating. Not to mention having a trail of puke down the front of her peach cashmere sweater and a multi-hued silk scarf tied at an angle around her neck—her father’s last gift to her mother so many years ago—would suck.
Emeline rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs and inhaled a slow, steady breath. Her stomach rumbled. How could she be hungry and nauseous at the same time? A virus? She had been feeling like crap lately. Nerves? It had to be nerves, plus before her hasty breakfast, bags of salt and vinegar chips and a diet soda had been all she’d lived on for the past few days. Add no sleep to the mix and she had her answer.
Her head started to throb. Great.
Nothing had been right since Avery left.
You left him.
“I had no choice,” she mumbled.
The lie made the back of her eyes burn. A sob bubbled and broke free before she stifled it. She had a choice. She just chose wrong. And now it was too damn late. He hadn’t called, hadn’t stopped by to check on her. Not
hing.
Tears joined her sobs. She reached for the box of Kleenex strategically placed in the center of the coffee table. Missing him cut to the bone.
A side door opened and two people exited, the first an elderly gentleman in an undertaker suit…and a woman. Emeline glimpsed both as she dabbed her swollen eyes and wet cheeks. “Thank you so much, Mr. Maher,” the woman said and held out her hand.
“Call me Raymond.” The attorney smiled up into the woman’s face. She towered over him.
Emeline opened the will and glanced at the signature above her grandfather’s on the last page. Raymond Maher.
Emeline stormed across the room and didn’t stop until she was two inches from her target. “I’m Emeline Gamble, granddaughter, and beneficiary of Wilbur Gabel.” She held up her copy of the will. “I am the only relative my grandfather had. So who is this other beneficiary?”
Maher blinked and sputtered out a garbled sentence Emeline couldn’t understand.
“I’m the other beneficiary, Miss Gamble.” The woman said, earning her a hard study from Emeline.
The chick was gorgeous. Tall and curvaceous. Not model—please feed me a meal—gorgeous, but the kind that made men fools and women bitter. The type of gorgeous women paid plastic surgeons for and still never came close to achieving. The type women triple dared their men not to notice, and woe to the man who did.
She had an angular face that spoke of strength with a pair of gold-green eyes, and wavy auburn hair slicked to one side and curled on her shoulder like coiled copper. Modestly dressed in a brown tweed, knee-length dress that managed to accentuate her best assets, which were…ummm—everything. Emeline knew she was being catty, still, instant dislike further soured her stomach.
“Who are you?” Emeline didn’t hide her disdain.
Mr. Maher cleared his throat. “You ladies aren’t acquainted with each other?”
“No, we are not acquainted.” Emeline side-eyed Maher.
“I’m Simona LaRochelle. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gamble.” She had the fluid, cultured voice of the well-educated.
“Thanks for the name. Now who are you, and why were you made a beneficiary when my grandfather didn’t have a penny left to benefit anyone?” Emeline demanded of the woman.
“Your grandfather left the contents of the five warehouses in my care for disposal as I see fit. He also included all of the items he collected over the decades and stored in the Harlem townhouse he shared with you.”
“F-five warehouses?” Emeline’s knees gave out and she plopped into a nearby chair. She’d cut coupons, pinched every penny, dropped out of college to provide for herself and Grand to keep the tax collector from yanking their home out from under them while he had money to waste on five warehouses.
“I was going to mail this to you, Miss Gamble, but since you’re here...” Simona reached into her purse and withdrew an envelope.
Emeline didn’t want it, but she reached out and took the envelope from her.
“Thank you, Mr. Maher, for your time.” Simona shook the lawyer’s hand.
Emeline shot to her feet. “Why? Why did my grandfather do this?” she asked through the ache in her heart.
Lips tight, eyes cold, Simona paused, seemed to consider her answer. “I’m a curator at the Museum of Ancient History. That’s why he left everything to me, and not you. Mr. Gamble trusted me to care for his antiquities, not pawn them to a lowlife thug. Now, please excuse me, I have to return to the museum.”
Humiliated, Emeline stepped aside.
The envelope felt like acid in her palm. She tore it open and unfolded the heavy vellum paper. Grand’s shaky, but neat handwriting slapped her.
My dear Emeline,
Nothing I’ve done was meant to harm you. Maybe one day you will understand. Maybe one day you will forgive me. Know that I love you more than anything in the world. You are the last of us. Everything that’s good is within you. Live your life. Fall in love. Simona will keep our legacy alive.
Love you,
Grand.
Emeline spewed her coffee, eggs, and sausage all over the lovely offices of Maher and Drake.
~~~~~~~
Emeline followed the clerk into the cool interior of the vault. The clerk located box 1380, and together, they each inserted their keys and turned. The clerk opened the door to the large deposit box and slid the container out. She placed the metal container on a trolley and wheeled it outside the vault to a nearby room. “Stay as long as you need, Ms. Gamble.”
Emeline waited until the door closed behind the clerk. She peeled the leather gloves off her frozen fingers and flexed them. Anticipation and fear warred within her. Also, a healthy dose of anger at the stains clinging to her mother’s silk scarf, but mostly at her grandfather.
How dare he give some stranger all of his possessions? Not that she was desperate to keep his junk, but she was the last of his family. Not Simona LaRochelle, curator at the Museum of Ancient History, as if that made the betrayal easier to stomach. Was that Grand’s unspoken slight? His last dig at her? Simona had a degree, was a reputable curator at a world-renowned museum, something he wanted for Emeline. Guess that made Simona a better choice than his granddaughter to safeguard his precious belongings.
Now inside this tiny bank room, her hands shook as she lifted the lid to the container and peered inside. Air exploded from her lungs at the stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills.
“Oh Grand, how could you?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ridley crested the landing and stalled on the last step. He was still in the bathroom. Good. He didn’t need to hear the last words between them. She opened her mouth to speak and sudden awareness pricked her senses.
Her thoughts turned inward, searching for the source and she found—Daniel! Finally, she sensed him after days of trying. She had to go, couldn’t lose the opportunity, even though her present opportunity left her humming for what she knew she couldn’t have. Now she really had to leave. “EJ. I have to go.”
She yanked the wet shirt off and dragged on a black skirt, red turtleneck, and laced up her Docs. This isn’t how she wanted their final goodbye, but— “EJ!”
A muffled groan spun her around. Hands pressed to his chest, white towel wrapped around his hips, he leaned against the doorjamb, breathing hard, expression pained.
Suddenly afraid, she murmured. “What’s going on?”
“I feel it.” He groaned.
“What?” She guided him to the sofa and crouched between his legs. Her gaze scanning for injury. “Where are you hurt?”
“Calling to me.” He slumped to the cushion.
Ridley took his face between her hands. The thread she had to Daniel weakened. It was dissipating. He had to be traveling, maybe in a car. She had to leave now, or he’d soon be out of range. She focused on EJ. “What’s calling to you?”
“Trying to fight it,” he said between shudders.
Sweat dotted his brow. She zoomed to the kitchen and returned with a damp paper towel. “Fight what?”
His eyes were glassy but focused. He shuddered again. “The anu’Ra.”
Her link to Daniel snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. Either he had left the vicinity or the realm. Ridley sighed and mopped the sweat off EJ’s brow. She’d find Daniel again. She had to.
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.
She gritted her teeth and forced away her rising panic. Gently, she smoothed EJ’s troubled forehead. “Which anu’Ra?”
“The Harvester.” He turned into her hand and his lips brushed her palm.
She blinked once, her hand suspended on his cheek. “The Harvester? You mean the Sacred Dagger…is calling to you?” she wheezed through a tight throat.
He nodded once, and she could swear she heard his bones creak.
Don’t fight it! Was the first thing on the tip of her tongue. Ridley reeled back her first instinct and said, “What does it want with you?”
EJ righted himself and let the paper to
wel fall away from his forehead. “I think it wants to belong. That word keeps repeating in here.” He tapped a finger over his heart.
“Belong?…to you?” Cautious, she tamped down the surge of excitement. “Why?”
His breaths ragged, he slouched onto the cushions. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Want it to stop.”
“Can you…follow it?” He didn’t answer. She shook his shoulders. “EJ, please...this is important. Can you follow it?”
Those icy blue eyes focused on her. “Why is it important?”
It wasn’t her nature to trust, but Avery…he’d wormed his way into her heart. His actions proved he cared more than anyone since her parents. But did he care enough to willingly put himself in danger?
“I need the Harvester. It can save Josie, and me.”
EJ caught her hands and squeezed. A light fired in the depths of his eyes and settled to a cold glint. His breathing slowed and the tension in his muscles eased, followed by the pain twisting his features.
So still, not even his chest moved.
So silent, her heartbeat was the only sound drumming in her ear.
Ridley touched his face. The five o’clock shadow on his usually clean-shaven jaw tickled her palm. “EJ.”
He covered her hand with his own and a low pulse of electricity shocked her. Before she could react, his eyes peeled open. Darkness dissected the icy blue depths. “Found it,” he said in an arctic tone that made her shiver.
She scooted back as he abruptly stood. The towel dropped and he moved around her. From the floor, she watched as he jerked on a fresh pair of jeans and a black tee, holster, and switched out his Glocks for two 50 AE Desert Eagles he pulled from a hidden compartment in the wall. The larger caliber ‘Deagles’ were made to cause a lot of damage quickly. Perfect for taking down a herd of quimaeras. She followed suit and armored up.
Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) Page 25