by Ivy Fox
Then there is the other issue at hand.
The one that I have been keeping a secret from all of my friends—the task The Society really wants me to accomplish. Guilt comes easily enough for most people, but thankfully I’ve never been afflicted with such a futile sentiment. I will admit, though, keeping something of this magnitude from Lincoln has been challenging. He’s never once kept a secret from me. Not even the one that damns him. Once I figure out what the fuck The Society wants, then I’ll tell both him and the rest of the guys what I’ve been up to. Not a second before.
When we step into Emma’s class, I head over to my usual front-row seat next to Ken and her brother, while Easton and Stone sit a few rows back. The whole room goes quiet the minute Emma walks in. She really does know how to command a room to do her bidding without so much as opening her mouth.
And what a pretty mouth it is.
Before our little rendezvous Halloween night, I had to keep my mind elsewhere when she delivered her lectures. I was either on my phone or laptop, scrolling through every social media platform I had access to, instead of showing her how captivated I was with each word that slipped from her lips. But after I got a little taste of how sweet they are, I no longer feel the need to pretend what is really running through my mind when she teaches a class.
Even now, as she goes on and on about the philosophical study of morality, mine is completely shattered with fantasies about all the ways I could use those lips to my benefit. When an idea pops into my head on how I can savor them again, I begin to count down the minutes until class finishes. When the bell rings, ending my agony, I stay in my seat while everyone else exits the room. I don’t miss how Ken looks back at me curiously as she leaves the room. I’ll have to come up with something to satiate her inquisitiveness.
“Mr. Turner, is there something you need?” Emma asks firmly, her back turned to me as she wipes down the whiteboard in front of her. Like a lion approaching an unsuspecting gazelle, I get up from my seat and slide right behind her.
“There are so many things I need, Em,” I whisper in her ear, running a finger up and down the slope of her neck.
She instantly turns around, arms crossed, to show she’s not one bit amused with my unsolicited caress. Little does she know that’s about to change.
“But today, I’m the one bearing gifts.”
“Oh. How so?” She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Consider the Richfield Library at your disposal.”
When her whiskey eyes turn into liquid gold, my breath catches. Everyone with a pair of eyes knows that Emma is a fucking knockout, but when she’s excited about something, she’s fucking breathtaking. I had tiny glimpses of it when she went on a rant about her work back at Charlotte the other night, but seeing her light up like this, does something to me.
And I’m not sure how I feel about it all.
“I’ve made you happy.”
“Tremendously!” She beams, her genuine bright smile having a direct line to my cock. “I’ve heard so many great things about your family’s library.”
“Well, I hope it can live up to the hype.”
“It will. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“So, I did good?” I ask, eating up the small distance between us until her back is against the board behind her.
“Very good.” She swallows dryly.
“Good enough to merit a reward?”
“What kind of reward would you want?”
When my eyes fix on her pouty lips, her breasts begin to heave.
“My next class should be arriving any minute now.”
I can’t help but chuckle at where her mind went.
“Don’t worry, professor. I’m not going to fuck you here. When you finally come to your senses and realize that it’s going to happen, I want to take my time, and a handful of minutes won’t cut it.”
“Then what do you want?”
My broad smile only widens when she doesn’t correct me. Both she and I know that sooner or later I’ll have her under me. It’s all a question of time now.
“All I want is a kiss.”
“A kiss?” She rasps, her own amber eyes falling to my mouth.
I run my finger over her lush, full bottom lip.
“Shouldn’t be too hard for you. We’ve done it before.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, it was. If someone sees us together, I might lose my job.”
Aw, Em, you’re going to lose it anyway.
“Then I guess I should quit stalling.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my lips. The instant they press on hers, all thoughts of limited time evaporate. She’s just as sweet as I remember—pliant to my touch and hungry for my possession.
Gently my tongue breaks the seam of her lips, entangling with its counterpart. Unable to hold back, I pulls her closer to me by the nape of her neck with one hand while gripping her hip with the other. Her body molds with mine so perfectly it’s almost as if she were made just for me. I push the idiotic notion away and savor each second of our kiss. My hard cock rubs against her hot core, making her whimper into my mouth. This woman’s fire is scorching enough to thaw my ice-filled veins, and right now I’m beginning to resent my previous remark that I won’t take this any further than just a kiss. I want to hear her scream out my name again when she’s cumming. I want to feel her pussy swallowing me whole. There is so much I want at this moment that I can’t help but be irritated with the fact that I can’t have it. I brutalize her mouth, sucking out all her sweetness as punishment for having me feel this way after one kiss. When I gain enough fortitude to pull away, the crimson flush of her cheeks, her swollen lips, and her shallow breathing only aggravate me further.
“That’s enough,” I snap harshly, trying to get my bearings.
When her fingers lightly touch her lips, I’m unable to stifle my unsatiated groan.
“For someone so young, you sure know how to deliver a kiss,” she whispers under her breath.
“I’ve had loads of practice,” I reply coldly.
“I’m sure you have.”
Unable to control it, I replace her fingers on her bottom lip with my thumb, her half-mast eyes gaining another simmering golden hue to them.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
My aloof remark is meant to belittle the moment, but it’s all for show since all I can think about is having her lips on mine again.
“Coming from someone who has kissed his fair share of women, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she states just as dispassionately, snapping out of her lust-filled haze.
I lean in until her breathing stops when she feels my mouth once again inches away from hers.
“Not all kisses are memorable, Em,” I state evenly. “The same can be said for women.”
She squares her shoulders, my backhanded comment successfully bringing her back to her senses.
“Good to know, Mr. Turner.”
She stiffly turns around to continue wiping the board down, so she doesn’t have to spend another second looking at me. This is when I should leave. This is the moment I should turn the fuck around and just put as much distance between us as I possibly can.
But that’s not what I do.
Instead, I lean in just enough so she can feel my breath touch her skin.
“I really wish yours didn’t leave a mark.”
I press a chaste kiss behind her ear then rush out the door, leaving her just as confused as I am.
Chapter 13
Colt
I slump on the leather couch, trying to pretend I’m not one bit infatuated with the gorgeous creature strolling absentmindedly through my family’s library. Emma slowly walks around every inch of the eight hundred square foot room, lightly touching every book in her reach as she goes about it as if each one is some precious gift that needs to be treasured and esteemed.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that one day
I’d be jealous of the attention a woman gave a hardback.
Fuck me.
Yesterday afternoon when I brought her here for the first time and gave her the full two-hour tour of my home, this was the only room that left her completely speechless.
Not our indoor Olympic pool or the home cinema.
Not the pretentious conservatory or the elaborate hedge maze outside.
None of those ostentatious displays of wealth impressed her in the slightest, much less left her tongue-tied. But the minute she set eyes on our library, it was love at first sight.
So it came as no surprise that when I offered to ditch going to the Charlotte Library and make this our primary working place for a couple of weeks, she jumped at the chance. It’s been two days since we started working here, and already she has her little rituals. The minute Emma passes through this room’s oval-shaped threshold, she can’t help but take a few minutes to appreciate her surroundings, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs and act like I’m not fixated on her every move.
The way her amber eyes light up when she has a first edition book in her hands, carefully flipping each page with the delicateness one would treat a newborn with has me just as spellbound. Most women would take one look at the Richfield Estate and begin scheming ways of how to seduce me so that they could get a piece of this life. Emma is so enamored with her new happy place that she hardly even registers I’m right at her side. She’d be over the moon with just one book from my family’s collection, yet she’s content enough to appreciate it for the limited time given to her. I have to admit, sitting still and reading a four hundred page book has me yawning, but watching her fawn over a book? Well, I could do this shit for hours on end and never get bored.
But I’m on a deadline, and as much as I enjoy the view, I won’t get any answers this way.
“Hate to spoil your fun, Professor, but we’ve got work to do,” I tease, jumping to my feet and walking over to the workingstation we set up in the center of the room.
“What? Oh yes, of course,” she stutters in embarrassment, the soft crimson blush on her cheeks making her look sweet and inviting.
I let out a chuckle while getting settled for another afternoon of grueling research.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” she says, pulling out the chair beside me.
“Just a bit, Em. But don’t worry, I’m not making fun of you. I think it’s cute how you go all gaga for books.”
“You call me that a lot,” she mutters under her breath while opening her laptop.
“Huh?” I question, utterly clueless at what she’s referring to.
“Em. You’ve called me that a few times now.”
Have I? I hadn’t noticed.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
I straighten my spine, but my sudden tense demeanor softens when she covers my hand on the table with hers.
“No, it’s okay, Colt. My grandfather used to call me Em, too. I hadn’t realized how much I missed hearing it until you started calling me that.”
“You sure it’s not too personal for you? You’re usually a stickler for keeping things professional between us.”
“I think that ship sailed a long time ago. Don’t you?”
Images of our kiss from yesterday immediately assault me, and just the faint memory of it has my cock rising to attention. She goes back to her notes and dismisses me once more. Instead of using this slip up of hers to pull her closer and get a repeat of that quick make-out session, I concentrate on what I have to do and try not to obsess over one simple kiss.
That shit sounds like something Finn would do.
And even though I love Walker as if he were my own flesh and blood, I’m not going to be pussy-whipped over a little thing as insignificant as a kiss. I’m here to do a job, and as much as the thought pleases me, ripping Emma’s panties off with my teeth at this precise moment isn’t it. Yes, it’ll be a great perk once I’m finished with her, but I’ve got bigger concerns to tackle presently.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“All depends on the question,” she replies, back to her stiff upper lip manner.
I guess the sliver of vulnerability she let out when she was talking about her grandfather was more insight into her personal life than she’s comfortable showing. She’s back to being all about the work, and luckily for me, her work is precisely what I want to talk about.
“Don’t worry, professor. It’s purely professional.”
“Okay, then. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”
She turns in her seat, just enough to look me in the eye, adamant in keeping a good gap of space between us. If fucking Emma were my goal right now, I’d have pulled her onto my lap to teach her a lesson—she can’t keep me away from her if I set my mind to it.
But that’s not my end goal.
Not yet, anyway.
“It’s about your book. I couldn’t help but see that in your synopsis, you wrote that this historical novel of yours would be about four of the most influential secret organizations to exist in this country, yet so far, I’ve only worked on three.”
“I don’t hear a question.” She pushes her catlike glasses up to the bridge of her nose.
“Is there any reason why you haven’t let me work on the fourth yet?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No,” she quips.
“I can’t do my job if I’m left in the dark, Em.”
It’s probably a shitty thing that I just used her grandfather’s pet name for her on purpose. I might have had no clue that word came out of my mouth before, but now that I know it holds meaning, I might as well use it to my advantage.
She mauls her lower lip and looks deep into my eyes. For the first time since I’ve met her, I’m the one who becomes flustered with the way she’s scrutinizing me with a single look. The seriousness in her stare takes me aback, and I wonder just what she’s trying to find.
“You’re right,” she states finally, closing her laptop. “Have you ever heard about The Society?”
This is it.
This is fucking it.
I try to keep my features as stoic as possible, so she doesn’t realize how much I need her to spill her guts. If I tell her that I don’t know who they are, she might smell something shady going on. The Society is a joke told over kegs at fraternities, so telling her I’ve never heard the name before will set off alarm bells in her head. And we can’t fucking have that, now can we?
“It’s a Richfield University urban legend,” I reply with a blank expression.
“What did I tell you about those?” She cocks an accusing brow at me.
“That no matter how small, there is always a sliver of truth to them.”
“Correct. Glad to see you’ve been paying attention.”
“I always pay attention to everything you say.”
“Now tell me what you’ve heard about them?”
She brushes my cocky remark out of the way as one would swat a pestering fly so that we can focus on the subject at hand. I tell her all I know, leaving out the part that they have been blackmailing my friends and me since school began.
“I don’t know much aside from what every other so-called secret college society seems to promise. It’s supposed to be this super cagey boys’ club that says they can ensure the rich and privileged gain all their hearts’ desires as long as they are okay in selling their souls to become members.” I laugh as if the mere thought of such a club is ludicrous.
When Emma begins to scowl, my hackles rise. She’s starting to lose interest in continuing this conversation with me since it’s apparent I’m not taking this seriously. I quickly change gears and rectify my mistake.
“If I remember correctly,” I begin with a more pondering tone this time, “myth says that every firstborn son is promised to the establishment to keep the bloodlines pure. That they make sure, their members stay within the same families, only opening up a few exceptions from time to time
to those they deem worthy. It feels like a bunch of misogynistic assholes on a power trip, but then again, inspired thought isn’t their forte. I mean, just their name is disappointing to me. Look at Yale, for example. They named their society The Skulls and Bones. Just naming their cult The Society doesn’t necessarily induce fear. More like laziness, if you ask me.” I scoff, leaning against my chair, linking my hands at the back of my head.
“There lies the difference between those other societies and this one,” she chimes in enthusiastically. “They don’t need a name to hold power. That’s what’s so ingenious about them. Only in the last century did people start referring to them as The Society. The century before that, they went nameless, yet everyone still feared them.”
“Is that why you picked them? Why not go after the Bilderbergs and their influence on the economy, or something more religious, like The Knights Templar. Hell, if you wanted to go after assholes, why not write a piece about the KKK?”
She shakes her head.
“They’ve all been written about before, while The Society has dumbfounded most historians. We know of their existence, but we still don’t have any tangible proof to back it up. It’s all hearsay. And that’s why I’m focused on them more. This book is very important to me, Colt. I got the book deal because I promised that I’d be the first one to get tangible proof and unmask them to the world.”
Fuck me.
That can’t happen.
“If they are as dangerous as you say they are, doesn’t it seem foolish to go after them? Aren’t you afraid they might retaliate?”
“No. They won’t hurt me.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, not liking the exceeding self-assurance in her tone.
“I just am.”
Unlike Emma, I know The Society and the lengths to which they will go to get what they want. Emma’s impudence comes with the fact that she believes she’s working under the radar, and they have no clue she’s onto them. But I know better. Not only are they already on her tail, but I’m positive The Society will also hurt her if she tries to push them into a corner.
