by Karen Ferry
“And making love to you . . . ?” I whisper breathlessly, watching his intense eyes burn for me. “It’s the best ever! If I could, I’d shackle you to this bed forever and ravage you over and over again.”
His right hand finds its way to my arse, and my breath falters when he starts to massage it.
“So . . . ,” he muses as he licks my neck slowly. “You’re not afraid of sex?”
“Definitely not,” I pant. “There’s probably some psychological explanation for that, but . . . oh . . . ” I lose my train of thought when his mouth finds that sensitive spot below my ear.
“Promise me this, sweetheart,” Daniel breathes in my ear as his other hand begins to roam my back, moving slowly up to play with the ends of my hair before he grips and pulls my head back even further.
“Anything, honey . . . ” I wrap my arms around his neck and trail them across his chin, nibbling lightly with my teeth until I suck softly on his neck. His hand flexes on my hip, and I can feel the tension in his muscles as he’s holding himself back.
“If you ever feel that you’re not up for it . . . that your head’s not in the right frame of mind . . .? Promise me that you will tell me at once, and I’ll stop, okay?”
I nod against his neck and press my body closer to his, my hardened nipples aching for his attention. “I swear, honey.”
“Good,” he sighs. “Fuck, I love you, Em,” he groans. “I feel so repulsed by what you’ve gone through . . . And I’d like to kill that arsehole! I’ll never let him come near you again.”
He lifts my chin and we look deeply at each other. The love shining from his eyes makes me breathless, and I’m near to burst with joy. His head descends, and our lips meet in a slow, sensual dance, until the passion consumes us. It builds and builds, stoking a fire within me, and our lips grow frantic, urgent. Daniel shifts, pulling me down beside him, and he begins to worship my body once more. Before I completely let go in his arms, I rejoice in the fact that he hasn’t left me.
Daniel’s still here . . . He still loves me.
He doesn’t think I’m disgusting or broken beyond repair.
And I trust him with all my heart.
What I’ve learned so far about sex since Emma deflowered me a few nights ago:
1) Waking up to her mouth sucking my cock while her hands play with my balls, followed by her riding me, is bloody fantastic.
2) Shower sex is hot as hell, but a bit tricky -- Emma assures me, though, that we’ll just have to practice more. Hoozah!
3) Chocolate sauce and whipped cream is my new favourite food -- at least when Emma’s covered in it.
I feel raw, spent, used, and I absolutely love it. But aside from that, my mind continues to wander back to the night she told me about that filthy piece of scum, and the way her brother betrayed her makes my fists hungry to meet his jaw.
No, I’m not a violent man.
But that doesn’t prevent me from wanting to give him a good arse-kicking whenever I think about it. And I do think about it . . . probably more than I should.
Today’s when we’re supposed to meet Steven, and Emma’s been fretting over it for the past couple of hours. I watch her from my bed as she tries to pick the right outfit -- she’s fetched three different dresses from next door -- and watching her standing there, only wearing some lacy underwear, face devoid of makeup, makes my mouth water.
Bloody hell, I’ll never get enough of her.
As always, my cock stirs by the sight of her, and I glance quickly at my phone to check the time.
Still three hours . . . plenty of time.
I stand up slowly and move towards her, my own body naked, cock standing at attention. Pressing my body flushed to her back, I wipe the hair covering her neck away and breathe her in.
“You smell like lemons . . . ,” I mutter as I take a firm hold on her hips, preventing her from moving away from me.
“It’s my new shampoo,” she answers distractedly while she holds up a flimsy, black, very short, strapless dress.
“You’re not wearing that one,” I tell her firmly, almost forgetting my mission to devour her.
Sighing, she turns her head to meet my eyes, and she frowns at me.
“Why? It’s a cute dress?”
“Because it’ll reveal too much of your delectable body . . . but don’t throw it away,” I mention as an afterthought, getting an idea for later.
“Not that you’re allowed to tell me what to wear -- ever,” she says, narrowing her eyes playfully at me. I grin, amused by her stubbornness. “But you could be right . . . this dress would be more suitable for a night out clubbing instead of a lunch date.” She hangs it in my wardrobe, and picks up a deep, emerald-green dress with small straps and a heart-shaped bodice instead.
“I like that one,” I instantly tell her and then resume focusing on kissing her neck tenderly.
“Yeah, I think that’s the one . . . ” She leans her head back on my chest and chuckles warningly, “Daniel . . . ”
“Yes, sweetheart?” My thumb and forefinger find her right nipple, and even through the fabric of her bra, I can feel that it’s already hard as a pebble.
“I don’t think we have time for any . . . hanky-panky,” she breathes out on a gasp when I yank down the cups of her bra, freeing her gorgeous breasts from their confinement.
“Don’t worry, I checked the time,” I whisper and push my cock closer to her back so that she can feel how hard I already am for her.
She groans as my lips trail kisses over the curve of her shoulder and back. “Don’t you dare give me a love bite now.”
“I wouldn’t, trust me,” I reassure her and then order her to turn around in my arms.
Picking her up in my arms, I walk her back to my bed and place her gently on her stomach.
“Tell me if you want me to stop, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear, and she sighs.
“I will.”
Kissing my way down her spine, I nudge her legs open before settling on my knees. I lift her up by her hips and spread her legs wider. Running my flat hand down her side, I take in her new tattoo. It’s breathtaking.
“Does this still hurt?” I ask her, trying to avoid touching it.
“It’s still a bit tender, but nothing too unmanageable,” she answers and puts her arms above her head to grab onto the headboard.
“I fucking love this tat, sweetheart,” I tell her, and it’s the god honest truth. The way it flows from her breast down her ribs and ends at her hip, almost looking as if it’s blowing in the wind, the colours and shades in black and blue are breathtaking.
“I’m glad you like it,” she whispers.
“It’s stunning, Em . . . ”
Now, enough with the talking . . .
“We have to be quick, I know.” I pump my cock up and down with one hand while I check to see if her pussy is wet enough for me, running a finger lightly across it.
“Fuck, you’re drenched,” I growl, pinching her clit, and she moans.
“I’m always wet for you,” she sighs and opens her eyes. “Please fuck me, Daniel.”
I take a firm grip on the base of my cock and line it up against her opening. My lungs are fit to bursting, and I bite my lip as I push inside her. I dig my fingers into her hips as I begin to move inside her, almost instantly hitting her sweet spot, and I can feel her pussy gripping tightly around me.
Groaning, I pick up speed, pulling out slowly only to slam hard inside her welcoming heat, and she meets me eagerly with each stroke.
I remove a hand from her arse only to smack it, and she jumps in when she feels the sting.
“My girl likes it rough, don’t you?” I ask her breathlessly, and my hand takes another smack to it.
“Oh god, yes, I do,” Emma shouts, and I lean over her back to bite down on her shoulder gently.
“God, you make my cock so hard,” I growl in her ear. “Are you ready to get properly fucked now, sweetheart?”
“Yes, yes . . . please, honey, give
me more . . . ,” she calls out, wetting her lips, eyes burning with lust.
“As you wish,” I reply, sweat dripping down my back, and I pick up the pace.
Chapter 39
We’re standing next to The Stork Fountain, and I’m so nervous I don’t know what to do with myself. Daniel’s tight grip around my waist is soothing, but I can’t relax. For the millionth time, I pull out my phone from my clutch to check the time.
“Relax, sweetheart, we’re early,” Daniel murmurs and leans down to kiss my cheek.
Pulling my hair free from my neck, I mutter, “Yes, I know. I just want this to be over and done with.” Leaning back to look into his eyes, I bat my eyelashes at him. “At least Steven won’t be able to think our relationship status is a hoax.”
Daniel grins at me. “And why is that?” he asks me, turning me in his arms so I’m standing right in front of him.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Because he can’t miss the love that’s shining in my eyes whenever I look at you,” I reply dramatically, and he laughs loudly.
Closing one eye, he grimaces. “That was one cheesy line, Miss Davenport.”
I snort. “Yep, don’t I know it? Hallmark card worthy, wouldn’t you agree?”
He opens his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to answer because Steven’s voice interrupts our happy bubble.
“Oh, the boyfriend is here. Lovely,” he mutters, and I grit my teeth before turning around to face him, a fake smile on my lips.
“Hello, brother,” I greet him. Daniel pulls me close to his side, clearly stating his claim on me, and I reach out my hand to Steven.
Manners, remember?
“Emma,” he says, an inscrutable look in his eyes. He looks the same: hair the same colour as mine styled to perfection, his navy-coloured suit designed specifically to him, I suppose. And his small, beady eyes hold no warmth at all. They never did when they turned to me.
We shake hands briefly and I turn to introduce Daniel to him.
“Daniel, this is my brother, Steven Davenport. Steven, meet my boyfriend, Daniel Larsen.”
Steven nods dismissively at Daniel, not even bothering to say a proper ‘hello’, and, seething, I grimace inwardly at the arrogance oozing from this man who appears to be related to me.
But the thing is that this man may be my brother by blood, but he stopped being my family a very long time ago.
He can’t hurt me anymore.
The realisation that I no longer fear him or his scathing words hits me right in my stomach, and I release a long breath, taking joy from it.
Daniel remains silent and gives Steven a chin lift, no doubt afraid that he’ll say something not exactly prudent, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from laughing at them both.
Men . . . so typical.
Women may be called the fairer sex, and men are still living in caves, it would seem.
Tucking my hand in the left back pocket of Daniel’s cheek, I say brightly, “So! Where are we going to have lunch?”
Steven glances briefly at his gold Rolex glimmering in the sunlight.
“Actually, I can’t do lunch after all,” he informs us, catching me completely by surprise.
“What?” I ask him.
At least he has the good sense to look a bit embarrassed about ditching us like this.
“I’m sorry, Emma, but something came up, and I don’t have time.”
“Then why didn’t you text me and cancel?” I ask him, frowning at him. I’m completely mystified. “If you couldn’t make it, what’s the reason for still meeting us here?”
Daniel can’t hold back a snort and mutters, “He probably doesn’t have the balls to face you, sweetheart . . . ”
Steven takes a step into Daniel’s personal space, but it makes me proud to see that he doesn’t back down at all.
“Excuse me, Sir,” Steven spits out, “but why are you even here? This is a family matter, and you are most definitely not invited.”
“Hey!” I butt in, my hand raised towards Steven, but he ignores me.
“I’m here because Emma asked me to,” Daniel answers calmly, but I can feel the tension radiating from his body. He’s ready to pounce on my poor, unsuspecting brother. If I were the kind of woman who wanted a man to fight for her, I’d give him the signal to go right ahead and knock him down.
But I’m not.
I fight my own battles.
“Steven, will you please just go?”
He finally breaks free from Daniel’s thunderous gaze.
“There’s still something I need to talk to you about,” he clips and glances briefly at his briefcase.
“Whatever it is, you can say it in front of Daniel,” I tell him, finally letting my disgust for him out.
“This is a family matter,” Steven protests warningly, and I take a step further and lean my head back to keep his shifting eyes on my hard ones.
“Daniel is family,” I state. “So? Get on with it, and then leave me alone.”
Steven ponders his next move, and his shoulders slump a bit as he gives in.
“Very well,” he mutters and opens the briefcase in his hand and takes out a letter.
“This is for you,” he says quietly, all fight gone from his face, replacing it with sadness.
Confused, I hold out my hand to take it from him, and I can’t help but notice that it has my name written on it. The handwriting is unfamiliar to me, however, and I have a horrible taste in my mouth even though it is entirely irrational.
I look back at him and wave the letter. “What is it?”
Daniel tucks me closer to his side, no doubt picking up on the trepidation in my voice.
For the first time since laying eyes on my brother, he seems unable to meet my gaze, because he looks to his right and swallows.
“It’s from Tom.”
I gasp, and I want to tear the letter into a million tiny pieces. My hand feels as if it’s being burnt and it slips from my fingers, fluttering to the ground. Daniel bends down quickly and picks it up, putting it in his jacket pocket.
“What the hell, Steven?!” I take a step, fist clenched at my side, and if we weren’t in public, I’d knee him in his balls for bringing something he has touched to me.
Steven sighs and rubs his forehead. “Listen, Tom’s dead, okay, Emma? So just . . . well, do with it as you wish, but at least my task here is done.”
Upon hearing this, I inhale deeply.
“How?” I whisper, my body rooted to the spot.
“Drug overdose,” Steven spits out through gritted teeth, and he swallows hard.
Oh god . . .
“When?” Daniel asks, and I’m grateful at him for taking over now that I seem to have lost the ability to form real words anymore.
“Four months ago,” Steven tells him. The hurt in his voice makes me spitting mad.
He’s hurting, yes. But not for me . . . for him!
“I see you’re still taking sides,” I accuse, and I let the old hurt I have, so far, always been so careful to keep hidden from him out at last.
He cringes and looks down, remaining silent.
“That’s it?” I ask him harshly, and he nods, still refusing to look at me.
“Well then,” I mutter and take Daniel’s hand. “Have a nice life, brother,” I greet him, and those are my final words to him.
I’m done with him for good.
“He was mine!” Steven suddenly calls after me, and I stop dead in my tracks, turning back to watch him, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. His beloved briefcase has fallen to the ground, and he’s pointing at me, causing the people surrounding us to take notice.
“Why did you take him away from me?! Tom was mine!” His careful facade has completely disappeared as he’s openly crying now. I stride back to him, getting completely up in his face.
“Are you telling me that you and Tom were lovers?” I ask him quietly. Daniel stands close beside me now and takes my hand, a
nd I take comfort in his silent support.
Steven clenches his jaw and nods once.
“I didn’t know . . .,” I whisper, and while my anger hasn’t subsided, I do feel sorry for this poor excuse of man standing before me now.
“Why . . . Why couldn’t you just have kept quiet? If you hadn’t told mum and dad about what he did, he wouldn’t have turned to drugs, and he might still be alive,” Steven spits at me, his eyes filled with nothing but hate for me. Snot and tears mingle as they draw lines down his face and jaw, and anger the likes of which I have not felt in a really long time takes possession over my body,
“How dare you?! What he did to me was sick, Steven!” I yell at him. “He stole my innocence, and I’ll always hate the bastard for that! Don’t you dare put the blame of his weakness on me!”
He wipes his nose on his jacket, but the tears are still flowing, and although he is visibly hurting for the loss of his love, I can’t find it in my heart to feel any kind of sympathy towards him.
He has lost that privilege for good.
I take a good, long look at him, and I know that this is the last time I will ever see my brother again. Without speaking another word to him, I walk away, holding on tightly to the man beside me. Daniel’s arm comes around my waist, and he kisses me gently on my cheek. He leads me to the train station, and the journey home is a complete haze. I don’t know what I feel right now, but numbness is the last thing I expected.
Once we’re back at my flat, Daniel leads me silently out to my balcony, and he sits down on one of my chairs before placing me on his lap. We sit like this, quiet, for the longest time, my thoughts running wild.
I should be sad that he’s dead, shouldn’t I? A young life is lost to a horrible addiction, and maybe I should feel a tiny sliver of sympathy towards him, but . . .
I hope he rots in hell!
Finally, Daniel tightens around me, and he asks me, “Do you want to read the letter now?”