Being Emerald

by Sylvia Ryan

  “Breathe,” he whispered.

  She did so, slowly.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  She followed his direction until it wasn’t just their gazes that were connected. They were connected. It was as if she’d fallen into his eyes and landed in his soul. Nothing else existed. She opened herself fully to his feelings. Warmth and affection, happiness, love—they were all there. They overwhelmed her.

  Moved her.

  Aroused her.

  Never had she wanted to freeze a moment and live there forever, until then. This feeling of being plugged into him filled her up, made her whole. It was bliss.

  She experienced his release through their connection. His feelings rushed at her, only arousing her more.

  She heard herself gasp and saw the change in his gaze. The moment was broken, but it was an experience she wanted more of. It filled up all the empty Swiss cheese holes formed by the loneliness she’d experienced in the last five years. Alleviated the anger left by prejudice. Eased the regret.

  The experience was intense and profound. The rest of their shower was a blur. And when it was over, the disconnect between them weighed down her mood. She was quiet, pensive for the rest of the evening. What amazed her most was that he let her be that way, as if he knew she needed it. Maybe because he needed it, too.

  At bedtime, they lay holding hands, their heads on the bed where their feet should be, taking in the moon and the vast landscape of stars through the high windows that met the vaulted ceiling.

  Laila snuggled close, putting her head on his chest. His chest hair tickled her cheek and the tip of her nose caressed his sternum as he swept his fingers through her hair, letting it fall to her back when he got to the ends.

  She peered up at him. His eyes were closed. He was content tonight, almost light. She felt the same. Playfully, she opened and closed her eyes in rapid succession, fluttering her eyelashes against his pectoral, trying to tickle him. He chuckled.

  She did it again.

  “Laila.” This time, there was a clear warning in his tone. He pulled her in tight so her eyelashes smooshed against his chest.

  “What’s the matter? Afraid if you have fun I won’t think you’re Superman?”

  “I’m fun,” he muttered.

  She giggled.

  Rock loosened his bear hug and tilted his head to meet her gaze. “What?”

  “Rock Rodgers. Sorta sounds like the name of a super hero.”

  He flashed a wry expression. “Okay, Laila Lewis.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t see the similarity between Laila Lewis and Lois Lane?”

  “Who’s Lois Lane?”

  “She’s—”

  Laila flashed her brightest smile at him. “I’m teasing you, Superman.”

  While they snuggled in silence, Rock resumed his caresses through her hair, starting at her scalp. The tips of his fingers touched the back of her head and neck, and ticklish sensations zinged down her spine.

  It was fun, teasing him. She wondered how far she could go before he cracked.

  Laila adjusted her position, peeked her tongue through her lips and licked a damp trail on his neck.

  “Would you quit? You’re making me crazy,” he rumbled.

  “Sorry,” The whispered sentiment was disingenuous, and still she moved her hands daringly over his skin.

  “Laila.”

  She looked up at his face, trying to make a connection and gauge his mood. He showed her nothing, but she felt his arousal mingling with hers.

  She ran the pad of her index finger over the ultra-fine hairs that were like peach-fuzz on the outer shell of his ear.

  He hissed in a breath.

  She suppressed a giggle then scooted up his body a little. His face was expressionless. But he wasn’t fooling her. He was hard, and just to make her point, she leaned into him, pressing his cock into the softness of her belly.

  “Laila.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m going to sleep now.” She could barely say the words with a straight face as she slithered over him in order to lay her head on her pillow. She flashed her most evil smile as her body rubbed suggestively against him.

  “That’s it.” He swatted her ass, his big hand connecting with the bare skin below the hem of her panties. Then, quite quickly, he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms at her sides. In a quick roll and turn, he was spooned behind her. “Go to sleep.”

  She wiggled her ass against his groin. “Why not?”

  “You haven’t earned it.”

  She wiggled again and the play atmosphere between them shifted.

  He moved fast, rolled her onto her belly, going with her, until his weight pressed her into the mattress. His hard-on was wedged obscenely between them, and his lips landed next to her ear.

  “Listen up, sugar. You’re trying to open a can of worms that’s been closed for a long time. Let me be clear. I’ll watch your pretty little ass. And, I’ll like doin’ it. And yes, I’m an Amber and I’ll never turn you away when you need to be held or taken care of, and I’ll keep you safe from everyone.

  “But, peanut, have you stopped to ask yourself who’s going to keep you safe from me?”

  A shiver ran down her spine as wisps of air from his words hit the back of her neck.

  “I am not a gentle lover. I’m rough and demanding with my women. It’s not for everyone. You need to think long and hard on that. I need both of us to be doubly sure we want to go down this road because once we’ve started the journey, turning back is not an option.”

  He tucked her tightly into him. “Now, go to sleep.”

  She had a hard time trying to ignore the raging hard-on pressed against her rear. This ban on fucking was pissing her off. She didn’t understand. “Is this about Journey? Are you not fucking me because you’re hung up on her?”

  “No.”

  God she hated his one-word answers. “Then tell me why. I deserve to know.”

  “I told you. You haven’t earned it.”

  “I have to earn sex?”

  “Goodnight, Laila.”

  She humphed, knowing she wouldn’t get anything more out of him. “Goodnight.”

  Chapter 12

  When she rounded a corner inside the main building of OZ and face-planted right into Rock’s chest, Laila’s adrenaline spiked. She hadn’t held her position as told, and she’d almost been caught tucked away in a dark corner with Garret.

  With no time to hide her fluster, Rock asked her what she’d been doing.

  “Uh, nothing.” He eyed her, then took two steps and looked around the corner in the direction she’d come.

  His expression didn’t change as he took in the view.. She opened herself to him. His emotional grid didn’t explode. Garret wasn’t standing there anymore, but her relief was short lived. Rock was suspicious and examined her pupils and breathing, as if with x-ray eyes. His anger intensified, and the energy it took to control his emotions made his eyes glitter. There was no doubt in Laila’s mind Rock knew she’d just lied to his face, and as if to confirm, his anger expanded. As he stood there, suspicions growing, his anger hemorrhaged, boiled, bombarding her with his wrath.

  He wrapped his hand around her forearm and her ability to feel his fury doubled. Her own gasp took her by surprise.

  “What’s happening?”

  “You’re so angry.” Trying to gain some distance between herself and the storm swirling around him, Laila caught another breath and stepped away from him.

  His expression mellowed. His anger diminished “I would never hurt you, Laila.”

  She swallowed through a dry throat, uneasy about the trajectory of their current conversation. “I know.”

  “Then why are you trying to get away from me?”

  She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. This was as good an opening as she’d get to tell him everything. The realization had her spooked. Her heart th
umped hard as she gulped air. She had to tell him her secret. She’d wanted to tell him. But here? She looked around to make sure they were alone.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  This is it. Do it now.

  He stepped closer, and she stepped back.

  She’d never told a soul her secret. So many times, she’d wanted to tell someone. As a child, growing up in the Amber Zone, surrounded by love and acceptance, she’d never sensed the perpetual dangers inherent to New Atlanta. The terrifying stories her mother told to deter her from chatting about her ability to anyone who’d listen worked especially well, even all these years later. She’d be taken away. She’d be an experiment in the Gov’s genetic labs. Her life as she knew it would be gone. Those constant reminders were enough for Laila to never tell a soul.

  “What the fuck am I missing here?” Rock’s tone was grim.

  She looked around again. “Nothing,” she lied. Another one he saw through.

  He dragged her to his truck, tucked her into the passenger seat and stormed to the driver’s side. She jumped when he slammed the driver’s door. “What is going on?” he asked as he pulled out of his space.

  Stalling, thinking, she licked her chapped lips. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s just—” Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head. “I’ve never told a soul. And I’m not sure I can,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  He waited silently, proving himself to be exceptional at gauging when to push her and when not to.

  Finally she lowered her hands and glanced at him.

  “Do it like a Band-Aid. Just let it rip.” He didn’t look at her, somehow knowing she was a reflex away from bolting out of the moving vehicle. “You have to know by now, your secret’s safe with me.” His seemingly calm demeanor didn’t match the chaotic feelings brewing beneath the surface.

  She took a deep, calming breath and let it fly. “I’m an empath. I feel what others are feeling.”

  Rock’s mask faltered as he drilled her with a look of disbelief then returned his gaze to the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white. He shook his head, a slow motion that highlighted his speechlessness.

  “Say something.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. Now, it was Rock who stalled. “I knew someone else who had the same gift. She kept it a secret, too.”

  Dread crept up her spine. “Had the same gift?”

  “She’s dead now.”

  Laila watched the nearly deserted streets of the Emerald Zone whiz by while she digested the ominous information. She knew the answer to her next question but asked it anyway. “Did the Gov get her?”

  “Yes.” He raked his hand through his hair. “In a way.”

  “How?”

  He remained silent, shaking his head. An undertone of sadness permeated the air. “She talked about it with me. I think I was the only person other than her parents who knew. She said it was all about vibrations. That some people are sensitive enough to pick up the vibration a person’s emotions give off.” He had a far-off look. “She said we clicked because our vibrations liked each other.” He cleared his throat. “Said it was akin to having chemistry.” He frowned. “You’ve kept this from me all this time?”

  * * * *

  He was sick, unsteady in his own skin, and headed home instead of returning to OZ. He considered calling it a day, but the weeks were passing quickly, and they didn’t live in a world safe enough for him to allow that to happen. He’d continue with his plan for the evening despite the fact everything seemed different after Laila’s revelation. What were the odds he’d be paired with another woman who had the same gift as Emily? Miniscule. It unsettled him, roused his suspicions.

  She waited on the edge of the tub while he walked over to the shower stall and turned on the water.

  He’d been anxious to see how she would react to tonight’s change. He peeled her clothes off and widened her stance. His attention was colored by his anger and doubt. It was ironic the lesson he’d planned for them this afternoon would crumble more of the personal barriers remaining between them.

  “Rock, I—”

  “Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. She stood, her face raised toward him, rapt, waiting for his next command. His heart softened and cock hardened simultaneously. If Laila was a trap, then let him be trapped. The noose was already tight around his neck.

  He looked into her enormous brown eyes and a revelation hit like a comet falling to earth, shaking up his whole existence. He was absolutely and utterly in love. He brushed her hair away from her face and smoothed his thumb over her lush lower lip.

  He never wanted her to leave his side. She belonged to him. And owned him. It was too late for her now. She wanted in, and she’d gotten in.

  Standing naked before him, she communicated her unease with her expression. She almost looked panicked as he lowered his hand and nudged her lower lips apart. He found the string to her tampon nestled between, and tugged, removing it.

  “You think I didn’t know?” he said low. His cock was as full as it had ever been.

  She shook her head, maintaining the silence as directed.

  “There’s little that gets past me when it comes to you. Now,” he prompted, “get in the shower. I’ll join you in a minute.” He turned away, leaving her to follow his direction. She had a long way to go if she thought her period was going to change anything. He disposed of the tampon.

  She’d done well, so far. He needed to drive home the notion that her body belonged to him. He would do what he wanted, when he wanted with it, and her compliance was expected.

  Rock grabbed the razor and shaving cream from the sink and joined her in the steamy warmth of the shower. He pointed the spray toward the wall, directed her to sit and then joined her on the tile floor. Gently he lifted one of her legs until her foot rested on his shoulder and coated it with shaving foam. With long, slow strokes, he scraped the foam away, feeling the smooth stripe of skin left behind, making sure he’d gotten everything. Meticulously, he shaved one, and then the other leg. When he was done, he nudged her legs wider and knelt between her knees. He applied a dollop of the white foam on the hair between her legs. Her head jerked down to look and then up so she could meet his gaze. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, but—

  “No buts.”

  “Okay, no buts.”

  “I think your training has been going extraordinarily well.” He fingered the cream between her lower lips. “Do you agree?” He waited for the menthol in the foam to stimulate her clit, watching for her body’s acknowledgement of it.

  “Yes.” She said the word in a breathy whisper.

  He pushed her knees farther apart, exposing her pussy, beautifully decorated with clouds of fluffy white cream. It looked lickable, like a cupcake piled high with airy frosting. His mouth watered at the thought.

  Rock lifted the razor to her exposed, intimate skin and scraped the first delicate swipe, clearing it of hair and cream. He was slow and precise as he handled her, manipulating her lower lips so he had adequate access to scrape the sharp steel against the curves and valleys. Then, as he got closer to what was hidden between, he pinched her clit a little more roughly than he should have, protecting it from the sharp blade he wielded, but also subjecting her to lightning bolts of pleasure and pain. She was flushed and panting as he performed the motions again and again, leaving smooth, bare flesh and an increasingly aroused woman in the wake of every stroke.

  He admired her pleasure when she groaned aloud from his manipulations. Her features were serene. She was in this moment with him, feeling it, absorbing the sensations, soaking every one of them up with her senses.

  He finished the shave and swiped her now soft, smooth skin with his fingertips. She was breathless and needy, using her eyes to convey her feelings.

  “Very good, peanut. I can read you perfectly. Those expressive eyes tell me everything I need to know.” H
e slid his fingers inside her.

  She flinched. “Rock, I’m having my period.”

  “I think we’ve covered that topic already,” he said as he brushed his thumb over her clit and a third finger joined the first two.

  “But aren’t you,” she hesitated, obviously searching for a word. “Put off, by that. I mean…” She stammered then shook her head. “Most—”

  “I’m not most men.”

  She met his gaze, and he didn’t recognize the expression, couldn’t pinpoint exactly where her emotions were.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “You’re really leaving no barriers between us. It’s uncomfortable.”

  He nodded, smiled. “Yes. Some things flourish when uncomfortable. I like it. I like causing it, watching it.” He leaned in, and flicked her clit with his tongue.” It makes me want to fuck.” Her body jerked. Her pussy clenched his fingers. “My poor little peanut. So eager for my touch. It’s taken you a long time to earn it.”

  Her hips flexed, in tiny, and he guessed, mostly unconscious motions as he slid his fingers in and out of her. This was their reward for the hard work they’ve been doing. Even though lately, training Laila was like getting an ice cream reward for finishing dessert.

  He leaned in and exhaled on her bare pussy, then captured her clit for one torturous lick.

  She growled at him, her frustration filling the shower stall. He inserted a pinky into her ass, joining the in and out motion of his other digits. He quickened the deep, thick strokes that had her clenching around his fingers.

  “Oh God,” she cried.

  He withdrew his fingers from her, and she froze. Then he leaned in and sucked her clit, taking the entirety of the little nub into his mouth.

  Her body spasmed violently, as if an electric jolt moved through her, shocking her muscles and making them jump. One long, sweet shout followed. An endless note expelled from her until her lungs ran out of air. When she finally sucked in a breath, she cried out, “Stop!” Her chest heaved and her body shuddered as she attempted to slink away from him. He gripped her hip, keeping her there while he watched her pleading expression in response to the intolerable stimulation.