by Lewis, R. J.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “this never gets old with you, Emma.”
The words sounded distant. Blood had rushed to my ears, and I was momentarily out of it. Gone. A total out of body experience. And then, as the feeling ebbed away, I focused back on him and lightly darted my tongue out, licking his lips.
“God, woman,” he whispered, licking my tongue back.
Moving away, he grabbed hold of my hips and sat up. Looking down at me, his eyes raw with lust, he continued moving into me. In the dark, I could see his lips pressing against each other. Hair fell over parts of his forehead, and as he neared his own release, his strokes turned animalistic. Fast and hard, he fucked me, groaning through his release but never stopping. He went and went, drawing another earth shattering orgasm from me. I moaned in surprise at the sudden wave of tingles, and still he went, fucking me until he softened within me and collapsed over top of me, his heart pounding over mine, his chest shaking at a scary pace.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned. “It feels too good with you. I don’t want to stop.”
I wrapped my arms around him and stroked the damp strands of his hair. His beard tickled my neck as he laid there, completely spent. He hummed in delight at my fingers now digging into his scalp in circular motions, massaging him roughly, offering him that pain but also pleasure in a different way this time.
I never asked about his masochistic behaviour. A part of me thought it had something to do with his upbringing. I wasn’t a psychologist or anything, but a lot of people carried certain behaviours they learned from childhood. Still, I was extremely intrigued.
When he finally moved off me, we both turned on our sides and faced each other. He stared into my eyes, a content smile on his face. “You’ve got your curious eyes on,” he remarked quietly, his voice returning to normal. “What’s getting at you now?”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can ask me anything you like.”
“Do you still talk to your family?”
He paused. “No.”
“No communication at all.”
“No,” his voice was quieter as he repeated himself.
“But they know what’s happened to you, don’t they? Wouldn’t they try and reach out to you?”
“My father did about a year after I returned. After Kate had long passed and the city was still shaking in the aftermath. He came into my club and he didn’t ask me where I’d been when I let him into the office. He didn’t care to know about anything. He just wanted money from me. He said my mother was sick and I needed to help them out now that I was better off. It was the first time I’d seen him. I was shocked at first, and part of me felt this residual feeling in the pit of my chest, this feeling of…want. I wanted family, I wanted my mom back despite neglecting me, I wanted a relationship with a man that was supposed to be my adult figure in life, and I almost crumbled. Almost.”
He paused, and I waited patiently for more. I was hardly breathing the entire time he spoke, mostly because I couldn’t believe he was letting me in.
Borden exhaled, his face conflicted and bitter. “But then I remembered what that sick fuck did to me. Throwing me out like I was a piece of trash, telling me I was a loser, and that I would never become anything. That he hoped I’d wind up dead because it was better than supporting some fucked up kid who couldn’t accomplish jack shit in life. He’d painted my face good with bruises the last time I saw him. Remembering it all, I felt the rage surface, and I looked him in the eye and told him to get the fuck out. I told him I hoped he rotted and that my mother rotted in the ground long before he did so he had nobody but himself to beat up. That was the end of that. I never saw him again. He’s either alive right now drinking himself to death, or he’s in the earth already. Either way, I don’t care.”
I didn’t respond for some time. I had nothing positive to say. He’d done the right thing shunning them. Sometimes I wondered what I would have done if my mother hadn’t taken her life away, if she’d walked out of prison when her sentence was done and sought me out. Would I have taken her back in?
Some days I remembered those few human moments she had been kind to me when she wasn’t under the haze of alcohol, and I would have said yes. Other days I remembered that feeling of abandonment, how it hurt that she put a man before her own kid, and I would say no. When it came down to it, there was no definitive answer. It depended on the mood I was in.
“I’m glad,” I whispered to him just then, moving in for a small kiss. I laid one on his lips and then snuggled back into him. He welcomed me in, caging me with those strong arms. We breathed in and out, our hearts beating against each other.
This was where I belonged. In the arms of a man I still had so much to learn about.
What happened to you? Who were you before you returned? I wanted to ask, and in my drowsy state, I wasn’t even sure I actually thought it or said it out loud. At his silence, I figured I’d said nothing. Thank God.
His hand was running through my hair when I finally fell asleep. And before I’d fallen into a content dream, I heard him whisper in my ear, “I was a smuggler.”
Five
Emma
Almost a month passed with no sign of any threat, therefore no sign of the bikers. Things felt normal for the most part. Borden was a lot more relaxed, though he still had Graeme and a couple of his men looking out for me when I went off to do something on my own.
It was morning and I was sitting in the office with Borden. He was taking a phone call next to me when I received a text. I grabbed my phone and looked at my messages.
Blythe: Hey, you want to grab lunch or something?
I frowned. This was unusual. Blythe hadn’t been staying in touch with me lately. I’d tried calling and had sent about a dozen texts asking how she was doing. She’d never gotten back to me. I had to call Tessa at one point to see what she was up to. Tessa didn’t offer an explanation, simply telling me that Blythe was acting unusual and I had to see it for myself.
I stared at the text, running the line through my head over and over again. You don’t just ignore a friend for weeks and then out of nowhere shoot them a text to meet up. At least, that had never happened to me before. Regardless, I wouldn’t leave her hanging. I typed back. Hey, sure. Where do you want to go?
She responded back with the name of a café we used to eat at.
I’ll be there.
Within seconds, my phone pinged again. Great! I look forward to a catch up =)
I placed the phone face down on the desk but stared at it for some time, trying to untangle her motives for texting.
“What is it, doll?” Borden asked me after he got off the phone. “You’ve got your weird frown on.”
“Blythe wants to have lunch with me,” I answered thoughtfully.
“Hallelujah to the non-existent friend suddenly acting like she hasn’t ignored you for weeks.”
I shrugged half-heartedly. “I can’t just tell her no. Maybe something’s wrong with her.”
“Yeah, maybe she’s just a crap friend.”
“She’s not. Have the benefit of the doubt.”
His lips shot up. “You’re too fucking nice sometimes, Emma.”
I looked back at him. “Then we balance each other out well because you’re a dick sometimes.”
“Yeah?”
“A total dick.”
“You’re making my dick hard right now.” He looked me over, those blue eyes growing warmer as he took in my skirt and form fitting button up shirt.
“No,” I snapped at him, pointing my pen at his face. “Do not look at me like that.”
“I’m not touching you,” he argued. “I can fucking look at you.”
“With eyes like those, I feel touched. Work needs to be done. You can’t just fuck me in the middle of the day anymore. There needs to be boundaries. I feel like a paid hooker when you screw me on the job.”
“Calm down, psycho. Like I said, I’m not touching you right now. I’m just admiring m
y merchandise.”
I nearly coughed at his words. “Your merchandise? You’ve been spending too much time with Hawke, haven’t you?”
“Why?”
“That’s totally sexist, Borden!”
He smirked, leaning back in his chair as he continued to ogle my breasts. “Don’t go all feminist on me, baby. You like to be objectified by me. Admit it.”
“No,” I lied, turning to my computer. “I do not.”
“Bullshit. You like me talking dirty to you too. Like me telling you I want you on my lap right now. Want your sweet little ass riding me –”
“Borden!” I hissed. “Enough!”
I could hear him laugh at me, and I fumed, throwing my pen at his face. To my dismay, he caught it. I cursed under my breath and resumed ‘working’, which consisted of staring at the screen wondering what else he would do and wanting that pen back because I didn’t have any others on my desk (it wasn’t the first time I’d thrown a pen at him).
“Come here,” he finally said after several silent minutes.
“No,” was my stubborn, haughty reply.
“I want to touch you now.”
“No.”
“Come here, doll.”
I pretended not to hear him.
“Emma, don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not going anywhere near you, Borden. You’ll end up with your tongue in my mouth and your dick inside me.”
“In other words, I’ll fuck you and you’ll like it.”
“I like working more.”
“Work doesn’t give you an eight inch cock in your pussy.”
I gasped. “Borden! Enough.”
He smirked. “I just want to touch you.”
I laughed sarcastically. “Sure, you do.”
“I promise I won’t fuck you,” he said. “Come here.”
With a defeated sigh, I got up and went to him. His black sleeves were pulled up, his tattoos on full display. Fuck, this guy was hot with his arms exposed. Such a tank. As I neared, he wrapped his strong hands around my hips and pushed me to the edge of his desk.
“Sit down,” he told me softly.
I sat on the edge and he stood up. He rested his hand on either side of me, caging me in with his arms, and leaned down to my level. His face was inches away. He smirked at my guarded expression, and I fought within not to get swept up by those glowing blue eyes. It was a deep kind of blue. Navy blue, but bright at the same time.
“Look at those tense shoulders,” he murmured. “Have I pissed you off?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“How badly?”
“Very badly.”
“Ask me to kiss your anger away.”
I hesitated. Always demanding shit out of me, this guy.
“Come on, doll,” he pushed. “Ask me to kiss away your anger.”
I licked my lip and his eyes dropped to my mouth at the act. His lids lowered as he pinned me with his demanding stare. I deliberately waited several moments, until his face flashed with something dark. He hated waiting, and I loved winding him up. We made a great couple.
“Kiss away my anger,” I told him, already feeling my stomach tighten and my heart jump.
That dark look didn’t go away as he closed in on me. He kissed me, and his lips worked deceptively soft against mine. I purposely kept my lips closed, fearing his tongue, because it was always that tongue that unravelled me. I needed to focus –
His tongue licked at my bottom lip and I sagged against him, opening my mouth immediately. I let him in, getting lost in the taste of him. He was too damn good of a kisser, and I was weak. You couldn’t blame me for it. I wrapped my arm around him and deepened the kiss, feeling the heat of him all the way down to my toes. His tongue searched my mouth familiarly, lapping against my own tongue, filling me with his taste. His movements sparked feverish tingles down my stomach and between my legs. I ached for more than just a kiss. I wasn’t angry anymore. I was nothing but a ball of tingles and needs that only he could gratify. My arms slid down his back and to his hips. I tried pulling him to me. Maybe he could grind me to orgasm without sticking his dick inside me.
He pulled away abruptly, his chest rising and falling fast. “Roll your skirt up,” he told me in a low breathless voice.
Without pause, I grabbed the hem of my skirt and pushed it up over my hips, revealing my white thin underwear to him.
“Spread your legs.”
I spread them for him and kept my eyes pinned to his face. I didn’t want to look at the sight of me. I was flushed and unsteady, milking his orders with everything inside of me because I needed those fucking orders like my next breath. I didn’t know what he was going to do, and I waited with bated breath for him to unzip himself and fuck me. Instead, he dropped back down to his chair and stared between my legs.
At the look of his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, my heartbeat faster. Seconds passed that stretched to infinity, but he didn’t touch me.
“Borden,” I whispered needily.
He looked up at me. “Yeah, doll?”
“Do something.”
“What do you want me to do? You told me not to fuck you. We’re in a bit of a bind, hmm?”
I didn’t respond, and my cheeks grew hotter as his stormy eyes returned to my centre. My lips parted to tell him to ditch what I said and just take me, but then there was that annoying smug look he’d give me afterwards that said, “baby, you always crumble for me” and I didn’t want to goddamn crumble again. This was a battle of pride I was failing. For once I needed a victory, goddammit.
“Borden,” I whispered again, wetting my lips in a deliberate slow move.
“Emma,” he returned, gazing at my lips, “say the word, and I’ll fuck you.”
My eyes narrowed and he smiled, but it was half of a smile really. He was more concerned with the fact my legs were still parted and he wanted it badly. I almost thought he’d fold, and to piss him off, I grabbed my lacy underwear and tugged it off, lifting my ass off the desk for second to slide it down my legs.
He exhaled slowly, his face contorting like he was in physical pain at what I’d done. “You little slut,” he half-groaned.
“Your slut,” I replied smugly, throwing my underwear at his chest.
It landed there and he took it in his hand and squeezed it. “Fucking filthy bitch, taunting me.”
“I’m just spreading myself for you. Showing you your merchandise.”
He chuckled deep. “You think you’re going to win, don’t you? I have more willpower than you, doll. I’ve been without sex a very long time before you. I’ve mastered blue balls.”
“But have you mastered blue balls with me around?”
He went quiet, deliberating my question. “No,” he admitted slowly with a ghost of a smile. “I haven’t. I think I fucked you in my mind with my hand around my dick a thousand times in the start, and now that I’ve got a taste of that fine little pussy, I’m pretty fucking whipped.”
“So end the misery.”
His jaw ticked. “Beg first.”
Fuck, he was impossible. “No,” I gritted out.
He exhaled slowly, running an exasperated hand through his thick hair. I saw something flash in his expression, a look of surrender perhaps, and I thought he’d crumble right there and then…Until the phone started ringing next to me. Fuck. We locked eyes again, his ravenous need for me evident in the lust that lurked there. To my surprise, he reached for the phone and, feeling uncertain, I went to close my legs. He darted his eyes back to mine and barked, “Don’t. Keep them spread or you’ll be sorry.”
Before I could respond, he answered his call and spoke in clipped tones. I kept my legs spread. My cheeks burned as he spoke, staring between my legs, his bottom lip still gloriously wet. He moved his chair closer to where I was, and his hand shot up. I felt his fingers glide up my inner thigh, moving at a snail’s pace to my centre. The second he reached my heat, my head fell back. He rubbed my pussy gently, sparking a fire unhurr
iedly, and away he spoke, his voice giving nothing away, as he felt my bare flesh. I trembled, biting my bottom lip hard as he rubbed his fingertips along my sex, stopping at my clit. He pressed circles into me, and I shook at the sparks that flew up my body, causing me to moan lightly. God yes, this is what I love. This is what I need.