Reaching For Emeralds

by Lacee Hightower

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Layla

  “It’s 5:15, sugar.”

  I bolted from my chair. William, the bank President, startled me, my face stinging with embarrassment at my lack of concentration. “Thanks. I was just getting ready to head out.” He nodded to leave, only to turn back around as I reached for my purse.

  “Layla, this may seem unprofessional, but I was wondering if you might consider having dinner with me one night?” Stupefied at his question, I blinked up at him. Any other time, I may have seriously considered the offer. Now, all I could think of was where I would be in the next two hours.

  Would I be making a fool of myself? Again?

  Or would he be turned on, taking control the way I knew he needed?

  “I’ll think about it, William.” I smiled, draping my purse over my shoulder. My stomach was rolling.

  “Just another day in paradise,” I whispered to myself.

  Jackson left his patio door unlocked every day. He also rarely set his alarm system. Unless one or both of those things had changed, I’d be in his house, in his bedroom, in less than forty minutes tops. Silently praying what I was about to do wasn’t another demeaning mistake, if this entire scheme backfired and he had a woman inside, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  ****

  Naked, I laid the spanking strap on the foot of Jackson’s bed, kneeling onto the thick rug as I listened to shoes tapping the stairs. Adding at least ten years to my age, what if they weren’t his? What if the shoes belonged to someone else? A woman? A lover? A sub?

  Please … no.

  I froze when the bedroom door opened with ease, the sound of Jackson immediately lowering his briefcase onto the floor sending off a huge echo through the room. My head still down, I didn’t dare raise it, only glaring at the threads in the rug underneath me. I was ready to offer my submission one last time.

  This was my last-ditch chance.

  I wanted this man. I was desperate. I’d do anything for another chance.

  Like he’d done every other time I’d seen him enter his bedroom after a day at work, he emptied the change from his pockets onto the bedside table before taking out his wallet and removing his jacket. My eyes still down, I listened to the sound of his tense breathing.

  “Holy fuck! Layla?”

  I raised my head and looked at a surprised Jackson. “Jesus Christ. Stand up, Lay.” A deep scowl covered his face. He shoved his hands through his hair as he contemplated my body, choking my entire core with nervous arousal. The dark black fabric of his pants hugged his tall, muscular frame with perfection. His equally dark hair and shadowed jaw made my heart race with desire. I wanted him to touch me and prayed he hadn’t moved on to another submissive. The thought made me sick.

  Completely silent, his gaze moved aimlessly around the room, finally stopping and staring out the windows, his eyes the clearest shade of brown I’d ever seen them. Such an unusual sheen, they made my heart race every time he looked at me.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Layla. What are you trying to do, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with concern and question and I squirmed a little, suddenly feeling embarrassed and unsure, my pulse beating strong through the base of my neck. I tightened my arms around my body and stood up, hopeless tears squeezing into the corners of my eyes.

  “You know what I’m trying to do,” I whispered. For seconds, I stared at the black and white baseball photos, avoiding his gaze, unsure where I was going with this conversation.

  “You scare me, Jackson. My heart pounds every time you look at me. You terrify me in ways I’ve never experienced, yet I’m willing to do absolutely anything to please you.” He eased his hand down the side of my face, his expression filled with … something. The same look that I’d seen the first moment we laid eyes on each other. Longing. Maybe confusion. Possibly a touch of both.

  Something disoriented and worrisome.

  “I know I’m probably not the right woman for you. I don’t really know how to be a true submissive, but I’m willing to change. For you, Jackson.”

  Silent, his hands still gripped my cheeks. I’d never felt off like this around other men. So weak. Completely desperate and ready to do anything they wanted. In the past, guys had been obvious. Only wanting fast sex, there were no feelings involved, even though they claimed differently. Begging and pleading, they only intended on getting what they wanted and leaving afterward, shunning me as another thoughtless, mental image. Professing their love that was nothing but pure horn-dog lust. And now, I was the needy one. Desperately trying to force a man to want me when he clearly didn’t. How could I not understand and accept that? Why did I continue belittling myself? When had I become so weak and piteous?

  Jackson bought me at auction clearly for sexual purposes. I knew this, though I couldn’t deny what seemed like more than just fucking. For me, it was beyond more the first time. And now, I knew that all the waiting, the weekends alone, nights of wondering why I couldn’t find interest in anyone—they’d led me right here.

  “Punish me, Jackson. Use my body.” His glare was hard and far away as I ran my hands across my breasts, my nipples instantly hardening as my chest palpitated.

  “Maybe,” he said, “I scare you because deep down, you know I’m afraid of you hurting me.

  What was he saying? Men like Jackson didn’t get hurt.

  “I’m not sure what that means, but I know that I want you, Jackson. Please,” I whispered. “Can’t we at least try?”

  His eyes locked on mine, the glitter in his stare filling me with crude, raw need. The look we were sharing was familiar. I’d seen it in his eyes before. Like he was promising me something deep and intimate. Except I knew better.

  Jackson gave no guarantees.

  “Let’s do this first,” he answered, pulling me against his tall body, towering over me and making me feel small. He kissed me, my pulse accelerating as he stroked my temples, his fingertips pushing up into my hair.

  “You, Layla Michelle Richardson, are so goddamn right for me that it hurts.” He eyed the stiff leather dragon tongue that I’d borrowed from Joslyn. “We most definitely won’t be needing that.” His eyes sparkled with amusement while my cheeks heated.

  “Where did you even get that? Joslyn, I’m assuming?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Never, Layla.”

  “But, this is what you do,” I countered. “You’re a member of a fetish club. You’ve used this, and way more on Joslyn and all the other women from your past. Probably right here in this bedroom. And you used something similar on me once.”

  Smoothing a hand across my cheek, he leaned over, trailing kisses over my neck. “No, Layla. Joslyn has never seen this room.” More kisses against my neck had my toes bending. “I already told you before that you’re the first woman, besides my mother and sister, to ever set foot in my new house.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  “I’ll never hurt you, Lay. That dragon tongue is extreme. Why would you even think that direction?” His eyes darkened as he spoke, pulling me against him to feel his hardness grinding against my skin. “I never intend on using something like that on you. I can think of so many more pleasurable things,” he said, the push of his still very-dressed body against my bareness reminding me just how toned and strong he was.

  “Why, Jackson? What makes me different? You used all these things and a lot more on Joslyn. You…”

  “Fucking stop! You are not Joslyn. Stop bringing her into our relationship. She meant nothing to me. You are Layla Richardson and you make me different, sweetheart. I’ve been changing since the first time my eyes landed on you.”

  I froze at the commanding but sensual sound of his gruff voice. His eyes were glued to mine, something in his entire physique changing. He cupped my cheeks and tilted my head back, his eyes stationary. “Never, I stress, never compare yourself to the others, Layla. And never doubt me again.” His hands trailed down the sides of my body, slowing as they drifted along
the edges of my breasts. When he reached my butt, he swatted me twice. Hard.

  I yelped at the sudden burst of fire surging through my butt cheeks. His grip tightened on my backside, pulling me even closer to the hard bulge behind his zipper. A low groan started in his chest and rose up his throat. “I missed you like hell. Feel what you do to me, Layla.” He ground against me even harder. “I’m hard every fucking minute of every day,” he said in his gruff tone.

  His eyes were dark and hungry and I was so desperately turned on that I squeezed my legs together, completely unequivocally sure that if he didn’t touch me, I’d do it myself. Defenseless in his presence since the day I first saw him, he’d left a burning strain inside my core the minute he looked at me. I reached for the sides of his face, easing him down onto my lips. “Kiss me,” I moaned into his mouth, my hands trailing the curve of his jaw and slowly moving up into his hair.

  “Layla,” he breathed. “I so very much intend to.”

  ****

  “Please,” I whimpered. Two orgasms later by his mouth and hands, my fingers were once again violently tugging at the sides of his hair while my back contorted into another elevated position as he gripped my ass cheeks, my sex against his face as his tongue drifted over my sensitive peak, licking long tender strides. Breathless and two seconds from bursting into tears, I never realized my body was able to climax this many times in a row. Or how emotional it could be. But the look in his eyes as he stared at me. Every delicious move of his head and tongue disappearing in and out of the small area between my legs as he fed on me. I couldn’t challenge these feelings.

  There was nothing I wouldn’t do when it came to Jackson.

  “Jackson,” I moaned through my third climax. “I need you inside me. I want you … everywhere.”

  His eyes turned so dark they resembled a strong bitter coffee.

  “Christ, Lay.”

  He stood, sliding his slacks off and shoving down the taut fabric of his black boxer briefs, his perfectly shaped cock hard and shiny with moisture. His size was still difficult, but I wanted the pain. The intrusion. The stretching of my body to accommodate his.

  “Jackson,” I begged, as he slowly crawled up my body that was slick and wet. He flexed his hips and pushed the thick head of his erection against the side of my thigh. “Love me … please.” He kissed me with long velvety strokes, his fingers pushing through my hair. He pressed my thighs apart with his knees, growling deep in his chest as I buried my fingertips into the curve of his ass, my sex clenching. So damn turned on again. Crazy with desire to have every inch inside me.

  He drove into me in one long deep thrust, his jaw clenching as he reached for my hips, pulling me against him. I dug my fingers into his ass even deeper, feeling a satisfied groan ripple through his entire body. My eyes slipped shut as we started moving together, my body complete with elated pleasure.

  “Look at me, baby.”

  I eased my lids back open.

  “Layla.” His mouth clenched as his fingers drove into my hips. His gaze seemed fragile. Borderline vulnerable. His lips covered mine, crashing into my mouth while both our bodies responded to the sudden change between us, both of us aching for closeness. I pulled him deeper inside me again and again. Beads of sweat lined his brow as this urgency turned into something animalistic, neither of us able to take our eyes off each other as he lunged into me over and over, reaching the edge of my cervix as we both headed toward unstoppable climaxes. Seconds later, my hands were fisted in his sides as I felt him losing control, his skin brutally slapping against mine with the heaviness of each thrust. My sex muscles clenched, milking him, holding him against me as he came. Erupting into climax, he emptied himself, bathing my insides with warm semen.

  “Jesus,” he groaned, shuddering, both of us exhausted and sated. “Move in with me, Lay. I want you here.” Soft and slick, he eased out and turned on his side facing me, my body still shaky from the earthshattering orgasm.

  “What are you talking about? You want to finish out the contract?” My eyes warmed with the threat of tears again.

  “I don’t give three fucks about any contract, Layla. Do you really think it was even worth the paper it was printed on?”

  “No,” I smiled. “I guess it wasn’t.”

  “I just want to see where this thing takes us. Where we go.”

  I started to respond, though I had no idea what my answer was going to be. He traced my bottom lip with his fingertip, his shiny eyes strong with feeling. My beautiful dominant man didn’t come across as domineering and forceful right now. In this moment he only seemed … involved and optimistic.

  This was huge for both of us. Especially a man like Jackson. The whole idea of giving up my small apartment to take such a big step suddenly scared the hell out of me. Yet at the same time, it awoke all kinds of emotion inside me. And it felt wonderful.

  “I’m fucking crazy without you.”

  “Does this mean I can sleep with you?”

  “Every night, sweetheart.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. “But Jackson, I don’t think… No … I mean yes. Yes! Yes, Jackson. I’ll move in with you.” My heart expanded at what had just happened. Optimism hadn’t been a feeling I’d experienced in such a long time. Something felt good about that.

  No. Everything felt good.

  And wonderful.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jackson

  I eased the bedroom door shut, Layla still resting in my bed where I intended on having her wake many more times to come. After a long run and quick shower, I woke her up Jackson-style, sliding back inside her from behind for another round of incredible hot sex before joining her in yet another hot shower where we repeated it all again.

  All these years wasting energy on living the single life, pursuing my career and remaining isolated and disconnected, opening up and admitting my feelings left me hopeful, yet leery. Her safety was key and full-time security was imperative. Thoughts of that fucker Agli doing anything to harm a hair on her head stabbed at my gut.

  I’d headed home from work a little early, expecting Layla soon and considering taking her out for a nice steak dinner. I pulled onto the winding road leading up to my house, a black car parked behind my garage.

  Fucking hell!

  What was he doing at my home?

  ****

  “The dagli occhi azzurri beauties are my favorite, Jackson. And I believe I actually prefer the shy twin the best. The quiet ones always seem to squeal the loudest. Which one is that? Noah perhaps? Or is it Derek? I get the two confused,” he sneered.

  My teeth clenched. “Fuck you, Agli. One day, you bastard. One day this will all end.”

  “Indeed it will, Mr. District Attorney.”

  The motherfucking, cruel bastard took a look around my property, my hostility toward this animal raising my blood pressure to a boil.

  “Did you know that during strangulation, the bluest of eyes become a deep blood red? Were you aware of this, Jackson?” Rage steamed behind my chest. I glared at him, knowing that right here, right now, if I was armed I’d put a bullet between his eyes. I hated every fucking thing about his sinister existence.

  “Threaten me motherfucker, but never mention my young nephews again.”

  “You see? Blood flow rises into the whites of the eye very, very quickly. Almost as fast as the victim loses control of their bladder, or sometimes worse, I’m afraid. It’s a dreadful way to spend your last minutes, I’m told. So, are you sure you can’t do anything to help my man? He’s like family, Jackson. And I’m confident you know how hard it is to think something dreadful could happen to the ones you love most. At a time you least expect.”

  He curled his lip into another nasty grin before stepping into the backseat of his Bentley. His stone-faced driver stared straight ahead as they drove away, everything I had in my stomach coming up in two painful retching spells.

  The goddammed bastard’s words burned through my mind. I couldn’t do this any longer. I wou
ldn’t. Five years ago, my life became filled with unstoppable hell. Today, I vowed to end it. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hit the speed dial, calling the person I knew would give me the information I needed. As much as I hated what I was doing, I was going to ask my brother-in-law for help. Regardless of our past differences, we were family.

  And I had a job to do.

  Quite possibly, the largest of my lifetime.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Layla

  Things can change in a heartbeat.

  I felt different. I was different. Jackson was becoming a man I could love, showing me a side that was so close to being soft, that if I didn’t know better, I would have never believed him to ever have sadist qualities.

  With Jackson, every day a little more of the unforeseen seemed to rise to the surface. But there was still a side of him I hadn’t seen. Living in a house valued at close to two million dollars. Driving an expensive Mercedes. His suits all tailored. A District Attorney didn’t make that kind of money. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Jackson had a dark past and quite possibly held secrets I’d never discover, but right now, what I was seeing in him was everything I wanted to see again and again.

  “Hey, wanna grab lunch?” William’s Administrative Assistant, Jana, was also my closest friend here at work. Since I’d started working for First National, she’d always made me feel welcome when some of the other women stayed distant and unfriendly.

  “Yeah, actually I do. I’m starving.”

  A quick thread of guilt filled my head, knowing I should skip lunch and make some phone calls. I had so much going on right now. Besides packing up my things, I also needed to disconnect my electricity and water and change my moving address. Despite all I needed to take care of, I didn’t feel overwhelmed. I was going to be breaking my apartment lease and probably be stuck paying the remaining rent. Still, I wasn’t pulling my hair out or stressing. For once, I felt like there really may be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Someone I could learn to share things with, instead of feeling isolated. I hadn’t felt this kind of certainty since my dad began trial.