In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1)

by Callie Harper

  “What’s up?” I asked her, cupping her chin and looking into her eyes. No avoidance, no denial. If something was wrong I needed to know.

  “Nothing, everything’s fine.”

  “Bullshit.” I wasn’t angry, but I wasn’t having it. Everything about her from the tentative tone of her voice to the guarded look in her eyes told me otherwise.

  “I guess I’m just worried about us and what’s going to happen when we get to Rio. After Rio.”

  “That’s a lot to try to figure out right now.”

  “I know. But I feel myself…I feel kind of strongly about you already and we don’t even know each other that well yet. It’s almost frightening, feeling out of control like this.”

  “I know.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, stroking her lower back. “I know how you feel.”

  “It’s not…” She was really struggling for words, and as much as I wanted to swoop in and kiss her and reassure her everything was fine, I knew she needed to get it out, get it off her chest. Then I could get on with letting her know she had nothing to worry about. “I’m worried, when you really get to know me—”

  “I know you.” I had to stop her there. She was a good person. I could sense it the first time I’d met her. Everything I’d learned about her since had bolstered that assumption. She might doubt herself, but I didn’t doubt her, not for a second.

  “Come here.” I drew her to me, close. Her heart was beating like a hummingbird and I could feel her shaking against me, she’d gotten herself so worked up. “Shhh.” I stroked her hair, caressed her cheek, trying to release the tension out of her body.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” I reassured her. “Don’t you feel how good it is between us?”

  “I do,” she agreed, but she still looked down and away. “But I can’t help worrying—”

  “Here’s the thing.” She looked up and I realized I’d started using my authoritative coaching voice, the tone I used when I needed to drive home a point. “You can get all messed up in here.” I tapped her forehead lightly. “We all can. We can waste a hell of a lot of time wondering what if, imagining worst case scenarios, getting so worked up we actually sabotage what’s happening right now.”

  She nodded. She knew what I was talking about.

  “Athletes have to deal with it all the time,” I continued. “You must have done it when you ran in college. Getting yourself into the right headspace for a competition?”

  She shrugged. “That was different, getting ready for meets.”

  I shook my head. “It’s the same thing, in competitions, in life. You can’t let your mind run away with worry and negative thinking. You have to stay present. Focused.” I drew a hand up to her shoulder, then slowly caressed her silky skin. “In the moment.”

  Her attention shifted, following the path of my hand. I swept her hair to one side, brought my fingers to the back of her neck, and started to kneed her there, working out her tension.

  “You need to feel more, think less.” My voice was growing more husky, sitting this close to her, with her gorgeous ass in my lap. I hadn’t even really had a chance to play with it yet. I’d given her some massages, and from what I’d seen of my sweet Emma she might like some other kinds of play, too. And it might be just the thing to get her mind off other more troublesome concerns. Nothing like blinding physical pleasure to arrest her stream of thought and connect her viscerally to the present moment.

  As I stroked her neck and shoulders, she finally started relaxing, breathing deeper, her eyes half-closing. She looked so appealing, her pink lips slightly open, her bra strap teasing at the edge of her tank top.

  “I want to help you relax,” I assured her, giving her a kiss. She kissed me back, her hand on my chest, a low sound of need in the back of her throat. I had a feeling I knew exactly what she needed.

  “Why don’t you lie down,” I suggested, guiding her around and down on the couch face-forward. “Lie across my lap, like that.” I rubbed her back, relaxing her back against the cushions. She lay down with her legs stretched along one side of me and her ass directly across my lap.

  She wriggled a bit, driving me wild in the process as the little skirt she wore worked its way up to the base of her ass cheeks. “Are you sure?” she asked, giving me a glance over her shoulder. “I’m sort of in a funny position.”

  “Yes,” I soothed her, running a hand down the small of her back, then over her rump. “Just like that. You’re right where I want you.”

  She sighed as my hand reached the bare skin of the back of her thighs. The sounds she made just about killed me, such a blend of erotic and sweet. She surrendered herself to me so willingly, with such eagerness. She needed a reward for being so good. But not before she took a little punishment.

  “This is a pretty skirt,” I complimented her, smoothing the fabric down over her upturned ass, tracing the hemline with my fingers along her upper thigh, right at the base of her buttocks. She squirmed a little under my touch.

  “Now you have to stay still, Emma, if you want me to make you feel good. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes,” she answered, quiet, aroused.

  “Good,” I stroked her ass. “Now we need to get you undressed.” In a swift motion, I pulled her skirt down her hips, legs and off. I liked her habit of wearing little elastic waist athletic skirts. They really allowed for movement. And quick removal.

  She gasped as I did it, but didn’t protest. I’d already learned, she liked it when I took control. By now she knew that when I did, I’d take good care of her.

  She wore lacy, feminine undies. I admired them, caressing her shapely ass, tracing the outline they made on the swells of her cheeks. She shivered under my touch, wriggling a little in anticipation. I could feel some tension in her still, but maybe for a new reason. She had to be wondering exactly what I was up to. And that was part of the fun.

  “I like these, too,” I told her. “But they’ve got to go.” I got her panties down and off quick, too, and then I had her completely bare, right where I wanted her, over my lap.

  “So pretty,” I praised her, caressing her ass. “You’re so gorgeous. Do you know that?”

  “Um…” she hesitated, sounding breathless.

  “But I’m disappointed that you tried to pull away from me when you got worried, Emma.” I palmed the swell of her rear, swept my fingers between her upper thighs, knowing I was making her wet, my sweet little plaything. “You know you should always come and talk to me when you’re upset.”

  She nodded, but I wanted more. Swiftly, I reached underneath her chest and found her breast. With a light pinch on her stiff nipple, I ordered, “Answer me, Emma.”

  With a gasp, she answered, “Yes! Yes, Chase.”

  “Good.” I caressed her breasts, brought my hand around to the small of her back. From the shocked sound of her voice, I had a feeling this might be the first time she’d played around with some punishment. Good. I didn’t like the thought of her doing this with anyone else. In the past or in the future. Emma was mine to discipline.

  “Now I’d like to try something with you.” She shivered under my hands, a blend of arousal and anticipation. “Something I think you’ll like.” I could hear her panting, see her hands fanned out on the couch cushion as she waited for me to speak.

  “I want to give you a spanking, Emma.”

  “What?” She arched her head around, propping herself up on her elbow. “A what?”

  “I think you need a spanking.” I told her, cupping her firmly with one hand on her hip. With the other, I stroked her quivering buttocks. “You’re so wound up. I think you need my firm hand on your ass. Have you ever been spanked before?”

  “No!” she gasped. “No, of course not!”

  “Do you trust me?” I looked into her wide eyes and she knew I meant it, on a deep level. Could she trust me this way, to give her intense pleasure with just a bit of pain sharpening the edge, pushing her to the brink? I knew it took a lot, surrendering h
erself completely to me like that.

  “Yes,” she exhaled, quiet, but I heard her.

  “Good,” I praised her, stroking her back. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m going to take care of you. But you need to lie back and let me. You need to trust me. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, biting her lip, and then sank down again on the couch. The sight of her lying there, her naked ass completely exposed, pussy already glistening across my lap, it pumped lust through my body. I felt like I could roar with power, grab her and fuck her senseless. But I held back, restrained myself, and stroked her gently.

  “Good, that’s so nice, baby.” The feel of her quivering flesh under my palm made my cock throb. “Now I’m going to give you your spanking. I have a feeling you’re going to like it. But I’ll stop if you want. If you don’t like it, you just tell me. OK?”

  “OK,” her voice sounded soft, not so much frightened as breathless.

  Gently, I raised my hand and gave her round ass a pat. Nothing hard, just making contact. She gasped, her hands pressing against the couch cushions. I stroked and caressed, soothing her until, smack, my hand came down again on her other cheek, this time a little harder.

  “Tilt your ass up for me, baby,” I coaxed her, engaging her in her punishment, wanting to see her comply. And I wanted a better angle so I could see more of her pussy, maybe even smack it along with her ass.

  With a moan, she did as I told her, arching her back and tilting her ass up for me.

  “That’s it.” I gave her a harder smack, stinging her pink ass, and another, my fingertips swiping along her wet pussy.

  “Ah!” she cried out, panting. My hand came down on her again, claiming, disciplining and she whimpered in need.

  “Yes,” I hissed, spanking her harder. The more she liked it, the more I gave her, pinking up her ass cheeks with the smacks of my palm. I could see her pussy glisten and start to drip as I spanked, then stroked her tender flesh. Intoxicated with her response, I reached in to coat my fingers in her slick arousal.

  “You like your spanking.” I groaned with satisfaction. I grabbed onto her hip, pulling her to me, keeping her arched up as I whacked her across her buttocks, hitting her wet pussy with a loud smack.

  “Yes,” she groaned from a deep, guttural place.

  “That’s it, give yourself to me.” As I spanked her, her breathing picked up, becoming a pant, and she started whining with need. “Now when you think about avoiding me, pulling away, I want you to think about how you feel right now.” I angled my hand so it came right down onto her quivering, slick pussy. She cried out, arching her back, her thighs tensing up.

  “You think about who you belong to.” I smacked her again, taking her right to the edge, her fingers gripping the couch as she gasped and nearly sobbed. “You tell me when you come,” I ordered her. “Who do you belong to?”

  “You! Oh Chase!” she screamed, her orgasm hitting her full-force as I thrust two fingers up inside of her, pressing against her clit with my thumb.

  “Yes!” I thrust in her again, demanding more, more spasms of pleasure, more ecstasy shattering her into sobbing pieces as she collapsed down against my lap, her cheek on the couch. “That’s it,” I soothed her, stroking her back, giving her one more gentle thrust as she shuddered and groaned for me again. It was intense, coming like that. She’d given me a gift with her trust. I wanted to make sure she knew she’d made the right decision.

  Warm and pliant, I scooped her up and held her against me. She nestled in close, her cheek to my chest, and I kissed her hair. “That was so good, Emma. So gorgeous.”

  “I can’t believe how great that felt.” She spoke quietly, sounding shocked but in a good way.

  I kissed her, showing her how deeply I cared for her, how much her pleasure turned me on. I laid her back, gently, holding her in my arms. I only stood up and away from her for a moment as I undressed and put on a condom. Then I was back, wrapping her in my arms. She was so wet, slick and dripping from her spanking, and I thrust right in.

  “Oh!” She took me in, all of me, and we moved together in perfect synchronization. Our breathing, our moans, the slick, tight fit of our bodies. We kissed and panted, grasping at each other, wanting more until we climaxed, giving and taking, calling out each other’s names.

  “Chase.” Her voice was hushed and full of emotion as she pressed her hand against my chest, feeling the beat of my heart pounding for her. “Chase, I’ve never… I feel so—” She broke off and pressed an ardent kiss to my throat, wrapping her hands around my shoulders.

  “Me, too,” I agreed, knowing what she meant without her saying it. It was hard to articulate the kinds of emotions we were both having. But I was starting to realize that all the turbulence inside me was all boiling down to only a few words. I was falling in love with her.

  CHAPTER 15

  Emma

  We were on separate flights to Rio. We didn’t realize it until it was too late to change our tickets. Everyone was flying into Rio in the first couple days of August. There would be no switching.

  Megan and I sat together on the flight, and thankfully she slept through most of it. By now everyone had pretty much realized that Chase and I were together. We weren’t broadcasting it, but anyone paying attention could tell. Megan wanted to know all about it, but I felt such a jumble of emotions I wasn’t much fun to talk to.

  Yes, I did feel some of the giddy, squealing “whee” you were supposed to feel when falling for someone. Because that was clearly what was happening here. I was falling truly, madly, deeply in love with Chase Carter.

  But it wasn’t all cotton candy and clapping hands with glee. First of all, what the man did to me was next level. We weren’t just having sex. We’d gone past making love. It felt like we were inhaling each other, devouring each other whole. I mean, a spanking? Who knew I’d love a spanking? That it would leave me shattered and quivering and feeling all hot and bothered still the next day? And it wasn’t just because I still had a slightly sore bottom—which I liked, by the way. How insane was that? I actually liked the reminder of how he’d marked me, made me his.

  Maybe I was losing my mind. His kind of dominant, possessive sex, it flipping turned me on at a crazy deep level. Beyond rational thought.

  And I needed some rational thought, because I was still officially on the blogging train and I needed to get off. That was the other factor dampening my joy, I hadn’t talked to Tori yet. Yesterday had been crazy, and when I’d found a moment to call her she hadn’t answered and then when she’d called me back I’d been receiving a sound spanking. I had to fan myself at the memory.

  The whole day today would be eaten up by traveling, but hopefully I’d see Tori tonight. We were staying in a condo together in the Olympic Village, so I figured I’d see her, but I wouldn’t arrive until late in the evening. Judging from her posts and phone calls and drunken emoji texting fits over the past week, she might not exactly be in the right frame of mind for a serious heart-to-heart. A threesome, perhaps, or clubbing until dawn, but a conversation about my backing out of a commitment, one on which she’d pinned her hopes and dreams? That might have to wait until tomorrow.

  But tomorrow I would definitely talk to her and straighten everything out because I couldn’t have it hanging over my head anymore. I wasn’t going to publish any stories about Chase, no matter how positive, upbeat and PR-friendly they were in tone. The only problem was the seven years Tori and I had put into building a blog together, devoting hours and hours of work into a fledgling endeavor we’d nurtured right to the cusp of big success.

  The thing was, when I thought about it, it had always really been Tori’s dream. She was the one who thrived on gossip, who constantly sought a wider audience, who truly craved an escape from her “real” job waitressing so she could blog for a living. Me? I’d gone along for the ride because it had been fun. I hadn’t devoted nearly as much time to it as she had, and parts of her writing style and choice of content had always made me a little uncom
fortable. I didn’t mind the bubbly, silly stuff, but sometimes she could get nasty, commenting on a celebrity’s weight gain or whether photos revealed that someone was cheating.

  I’d voiced dissent along the way, but Tori was good at filtering that out. Plus, I could see the numbers as well as she could, and the kinds of posts she wrote drew a lot more attention, activity and blog followers than my mellow, feel-good features. And, if I was honest with myself, a big reason why I hadn’t put my foot down was because I didn’t like conflict. Tori could do conflict. She’d learned from her parents how to throw a knock-down, drag-out fight and I didn’t want any part of that.

  But I couldn’t run a feature on Chase. The very idea seemed absurd now, and if it meant walking away from seven years of work on our blog, then so be it. I just hoped it didn’t also mean walking away from the 16 years of friendship Tori and I had as well.

  The airport in Rio was a zoo, and the public transport set up to get to the Olympic village was packed to the gills, but at least everything looked to be completed and functioning. I knew the government had been scrambling, teams of workers at it round-the-clock to get everything finished and set up for the millions of visitors pouring in for the games.

  Megan and I stuck close through it all, and I was glad for her company. Together, all the chaos and crowds felt more exhilarating than frightening, especially when she started pointing out athletes to me. They weren’t too hard to spot as most wore their team traveling jerseys.

  “Gymnast,” she hissed, pointing her finger behind her phone at a group to my right on the tram.

  Subtle as I could, I looked over and found Mr. Dreamy, looking all cute in a boy band kind of way with swooshed hair and a dimpled smile. He clearly knew it, too, as he chatted up a few ladies who’d found their way over to him. His team jersey announced his nationality as German, but he either also spoke English or they were all fluent in the international language of love as conversation and laughter flowed freely.

  “Water polo.” Megan tilted her head in the other direction, her eyes wide. I swiveled my head—casually of course, pretending to fix my hair—and spotted a Russian behemoth, more bear than man, glowering down at the tram as if we’d all done him wrong. Slowly, I turned back.