The crowd is indistinct, a sea of bodies possessed by the same never-ending beat. Luke’s hands are running up and down my sides, part of the beat, of the growing sensation. Now his hands are turning me around, bringing me to him closer and closer. Even his mouth is on beat, mashing against mine. It’s all just part of the song, whatever comes next. His lips are ridiculously soft and move oh-so slowly. It feels just like last time. It’s as if we’re back there behind the school in the tall scratchy grass. As if the dark-eyed, shaggy-haired boy’s lips are moving against mine so assuredly and skillfully that I can’t take it.
When I open my eyes, I see that Luke’s eyes are closed. I’m not afraid anymore.
I close my eyes. His tongue slips between my lips, moving in the same flicking rhythm of his hands, stroking every part of me: my sides, my ass. Now our bodies aren’t controlled by the beat, they are the beat. The relentless pulse beats on and on and on.
But then the song stops and Luke’s hand takes the lead, pulls me out of there.
Chapter Twelve - Emma
His car is darker than I remember, parked more remotely. Or maybe that’s just because, even in there, he’s on top of me, pressing every part of himself into every part of me. His chest is hard, but, more importantly, so is his dick pressing into my pelvis. He’s devouring me like an animal, nibbling and sucking on my neck, tugging at my earlobe. He stops to smirk down at my moans.
“You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you?”
I smirk right back at him. “You always have too, haven’t you?”
He throws his face over mine in response. Now, his hands are squeezing the huge mounds of my breasts, groaning as he puts both hands over one then both over the other. Then, he freezes.
Hearing voices, we duck so that we’re out of sight. The couple on the sidewalk outside passes. I start to sit up, but he shoves me back down.
Returning my pout with a smile, Luke declares, “I’m not finished with you yet.” Then, he slides his hands under my dress. I gasp; they’re surprisingly cool. Now, they’re running over my bra, while his grin broadens. “Lace, my innocent Emma? Almost like you knew . . .”
Now he’s sticking his finger between my lips, ordering me to “suck it.”
And, as his hands slip under my bra cups, I do. I suck and lick his finger, press it all the way to the back of my throat, while he kneads my breasts with his other hand. We groan together. He slips his hands out and rips down the top half of my dress, then tears off my bra. Now, gazing down at my heaving breasts with a look of adoration, he buries his face between them. Next thing I know he’s shaking his head back and forth, motorboating them, groaning with pleasure.
Once he’s finished, he slides his mouth over my nipple and starts sucking. Fuck, does it feel good. My moans are even louder now, and he slides his mouth over to my other tit, growling, “You fucking love it, don’t you?”
“Uhhh,” is all I can manage as he plasters his lips over my other nipple. And now his hands are sliding up, massaging both of my boobs. Hell, does it feel good. I’m crazy wet, but there are more voices now. We duck down again until Luke pops back up.
Glancing at me, he says, “Stay down.” Then, he puts his foot on the gas. He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m topless, for God’s sake. And so, I crouch there in the front seat while the car zooms on, fast but not fast enough.
Because now there’s a hunger within me. I can’t stop now.
So, while he drives, my hand goes for his cock, starts stroking it over his jeans. He’s hard as hell.
Pausing at a red light, Luke pats my head. “Good girl.” Then, he unzips his pants. I feel his dick over his silky briefs, his hard pole ready for the wet slit between my legs.
As I slide my hand up and down it, a quiet voice reminds me: You shouldn’t do this. You should stop. But up until now, there’s been a building, an irresistible building that can’t be stopped. We’ve gone much too far now. The car is stopping and I am too, but it’s too late.
Luke’s taking off his shirt, tossing it to me.
“Put on this so we can go in.”
I put it on and, taking my hand, he leads me out of the car and inside the house. Once there, no sooner has he closed the door than is he turning to me.
“Give me back my shirt.”
His pants are still undone, his brief-covered dick still out. If I give him this shirt – if I let him keep going – then I know what will happen. I look away.
“I don’t know, Luke . . .” Luke grabs me by the shirt, throws his lips over mine and, pulling away, growls in my ear, “Tell me you don’t want this.” As he waits, his hand is sliding down my front, down to my flopped-down dress, my pussy. He grabs it and repeats, “Go on, tell me.” Slipping under my dress, he rips off my panties, lets them drop to the floor. Then he pulls the rest of the dress down so that my bottom half, my bare pussy and ass are fully exposed.
Luke takes my hand. “Come here.” He yanks me down the hallway, towards the end, where his room is. Where he’s going to fuck me. “You can keep the shirt,” he says as we walk.
Inside, it’s dark and he leaves it dark. He shuts the door then turns to me, shoves me on the bed. “I have a confession to make,” he says, scrambling on the bed, ripping off his shirt and wagging it in my face, “I lied.” Sticking a finger in my pussy, he smiles. “But you don’t seem to mind, now do you?”
I can only groan in response as his finger starts jackhammering my pussy, while his other hand runs over my curves. He pauses to look down on me – to get a good look. “Fuck, are you hot.”
He flips me around. His hands are massaging my ass slowly, making a sort of meditation of moving around my ass fat, going from bottom to top, side to side, while moans gurgle out of my mouth. It feels better than great. It feels fan-fucking-tastic. When he stops, I almost splutter out a protest, except he’s flipped me back around again, fingering me once more.
Then, he’s mashing his lips over mine. There was something I was supposed to remember. Something I had been thinking about, worrying about. But it’s too late now. All I want is for Luke to bring this to its conclusion – to give me sweet release.
When he slides out his finger, I know it’s time.
When he tells me, “Take off my pants”, I know I have no choice.
Once his pants are off, he says, “Now the briefs,” and I remove them as well. Now, I’m face to face with his dick, which is pink, long, and veiny. I’m momentarily speechless, stunned by the new sight.
“You like it, don’t you?” he says, patting my head. He jerks my face forward. “So suck it.”
Next thing I know, his dick is between my lips and I’m gulping it down, up and down, opening my mouth as wide as it’ll go, up and down and again. He pats my head.
“A bit slower. Suck harder. Good girl.”
As I suck, I feel him getting even harder.
“Swirl your tongue around it as you go,” he adds, and I do.
He’s groaning now, pulling my head at the pace he wants, forward and back, then again. I swirl my tongue around as I’m shoved forward and then back. I let my head be used as his personal cocksucker.
When he pulls me off him, I’m even more wet. He turns around. There’s the sound of ripping then of plastic – probably a condom. Luke turns back to me. Positioning himself on top of me, staring into my eyes, he says “You ready?” Before I can respond, shoves himself into me.
At first, there’s pain: a horrible, ripping pain. He’s groaning and I’m murmuring protests. But then it’s over and he’s still moving, sliding, thrusting, in and out and in again. And it doesn’t hurt at all. No, it’s pleasurable. It’s pleasurable as all hell. Soon, my moans are mingling with his groans.
“Jesus, you are tight,” he says.
I’m writhing in pleasure. I couldn’t have imagined that I’d be doing it like this. That it would feel so crazy good. When I open my eyes, he’s looking down at me, his mouth gaping in enjoyment. Our eyes meet and he smirks, slows h
is pace. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”
“Uhh . . . yeah . . .” is all I can manage, but then he slows his pace.
“I don’t know, didn’t sound very convincing, Emma.”
My pussy clasps at his now almost motionless rod. I groan.
“Ask me to continue – beg me.”
I glare at him, shake my head, then his dick stops moving altogether.
Sliding all the way out then sliding forward so that just the tip of his dick is in, he says, “Do it. Beg me.”
It’s not me but my body that responds – that begs, “Please, Luke. Oh, damn. Please, fuck me.”
And fuck me he does. His cock suddenly comes back to life, ramming into me the hardest and fastest yet. Soon, my moans are howls and then shrieks. Then, he’s groaning, and our two bodies are locked in one shaking thrust. One building cry and then one howled-out explosion of shakes, Luke’s spilling into me. My whole body is shaking uncontrollably, no longer mine – claimed by pleasure. And then everything is still and quiet and we are still one, him in me and me on him. This time, we’re only breathing together.
We lie there entwined until I’m half-asleep – until I think I’m dreaming when I feel his lips on me.
“I just can’t get enough of you.” His hot breath tickles my ear for a second before his tongue mashes in. And then I know. This is a dream, but I’m awake.
I lie there and he devours me. His flicks his tongue in and out of my ear, sucks on my neck until I’m groaning. His lips press every part of me and still he’s got more, kissing and nibbling my thighs, slowly but surely making his way to my pussy. He burrows his face in it.
“The pussy’s been so good to me,” he’s murmuring, “I just want to be good to her too.”
And then his tongue is probing me and I’m half-delirious with pleasure and nervousness, almost wanting to tell him to stop, yet unable to. No. This, him, now, his lips on me – it feels too good.
So, I let him go on. I let him nibble and suck on my outer lips, bat my inner lips with his tongue. I let him stick his finger in me while his lips make their way to my clit. Now he’s swirling his tongue around it, around and around and around, the same way I used to masturbate when I was alone and sad. Except now, with this man here and this pleasure, I’m anything but alone and scared. No, this is pleasure like I’ve never felt before. Arousal that I can hardly stand. In and out, around and around his finger and tongue go. I start to shake and he starts to pick up the pace. It’s in and out – and fuck, damn, does it feel good – and it’s around and around – and I’m almost at the edge already. I can hardly take it and that’s just when he slips himself out and away, squeezes my tits at the same time, then shoves his finger back in and swirls his tongue.
I come in a series of exploded-out shrieks and full-body shakes, losing control of my body as it celebrates without me, every nerve in my body tingling deliciously, wonderfully.
When it’s over, Luke flops away, crawls up beside me and takes me in his arms.
I close my eyes, so out of it that I almost don’t recognize that I’ve never been happier in my life – or more afraid.
Chapter Thirteen - Luke
When my alarm explodes into its ear-shrilling sound, she’s gone.
Everything smells like her. Emma, her tasty cinnamon apple scent. I slam my hand on the clock, then roll over to the other side of the bed. But there’s no escaping the piercing rays of sunlight flickering in through my shitty blinds.
Besides, it’s another day of my lavatory duty and this probably isn’t the time to piss off the commander. As I get dressed in my uniform, I survey the torn-off state of my clothes from the night before with a smile. Last night was . . . incredible. All that pent-up passion in both of us, how easily Emma had submitted . . . No, I couldn’t have imagined the whole thing going better. And the sex itself . . . I can’t remember having sex that good since . . . I don’t know when. I take another look at my floor. Emma’s clothes are nowhere to be seen.
While in the kitchen, filling a bowl with Cheerios and some milk to swoosh it down, I listen for signs of Emma. But the attic, hell – the whole house – is quiet. She’s probably still asleep.
I smile just thinking of her. I won’t wake her up. I’ll just let her sleep a little longer. I’m already a bit late for work (since I’m on weekend lavatory duty thanks to the commander). As I walk through the living room to the door, I hear it.
“For a SEAL, you’re not very observant, boy.”
I jump. Sitting in the dark, uniform and all, is none other than the commander.
“I . . .” I stutter.
“I know,” he says quietly.
“Listen, Sir,”
“I know, colonel. Do you hear me?!” He roars, leaping up.
Standing face to face, his red face quivering, he begins. “I was tired of my daughter’s vague answers to your living situation, so I came here to check things out for myself.”
His dark eyes are boring into mine. I wonder if he has a gun. “And you want to know what I found?”
I shake my head dumbly, and he continues. “I found her . . . My daughter, my Emma – half-naked, stumbling out of your room.” The commander’s eyebrows have lowered so much, it almost looks like he doesn’t have any eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but he gives a quick shake of his head.
“I warned you – I told you. Hell, colonel, I ordered you. And then you go and do this?”
I keep my gaze on the ground as I ask him, “Where is she?”
He shoves me. “You’re really going to ask me that?”
I say nothing, and he continues. “Here’s how this is going to go: Emma’s leaving. I will come for the rest of her stuff tonight. You, however, are never going to see her again. You’re not going to contact her, look for her, and you know what? You’re never even going to talk about her ever, ever again.”
I nod weakly. The next thing I know, the commander’s back in my face. “And you know what else? If I hear so much as a hint that you’re breaking any of these rules, you know where you’ll end up? Afghanistan, just like I first threatened you. And this time, colonel, your chances are up. I’ll send you there for good. Court-marshal you if I have to.” He gives me one more look of disgust before striding to the door. Opening it, he says, “Oh, and one more thing, colonel. You’re on lavatory duty for the next month.”
The slam of the door is the period to his sentence.
***
That day passes slowly, as if the commander himself is fiddling with the minute hand, pulling it back every time it advances. Lavatory duty is as bad as ever. Somehow, over one night, the gunk built up to rancid levels. When I finally pick up Parker and get back home, all Emma’s things are gone from the attic, bathroom, and fridge. I rifle through every drawer in that old rickety place, ransack the bathroom cupboards, comb through the fridge, but there’s nothing. No, Emma has been completely and tidily packed away, removed from my house. It’s as if she’d never existed.
My phone has no messages, but Emma and I had barely communicated through text anyway. There’d been no need.
Meanwhile, as soon as Parker marches through the door, he takes one look around and asks me “Where’s Emma?”
I can only say “I don’t know.” When he asks when she’ll be back, I repeat the answer. Because it’s the truth. I don’t know where she’s gone or if I’ll even see her again.
The worst, however, comes as I’m cleaning my room. Clothes, papers, and sheets all get shoved to the corner of the room for my hasty clean-up. As I shove over my sheets, however, something flops out. It’s gooey and clear. The condom wrapper from last night. It’s when I pick it up to throw it out that I notice. It’s ripped.
Chapter Fourteen - Luke
Days become weeks until it’s been a month. I’m on the phone with Yvonne again. “It’s been weeks, baby,” I insist, but she’s playing hard to get. She can smell it on me. The desperation.
“I don’t know, Luke. Every time I come over
to your place, I feel like a pizza delivery. I come, we do it, I leave.”
“Yeah, but a very good pizza. You can’t deny that, right? And you said it yourself, babe, you come.”
She giggles.
“I’ve got some pizza, actually, now that you mention it,” I say, which is a lie. “And maybe we could watch that new Star Wars movie.”
A sigh, though we both know Yvonne’s excitedly dancing around in her panties as we speak.
“Ok, I’ll be there in 10.”
When she hangs up, I sigh to myself. A glance at the calendar reveals that, yes, a month has somehow, impossibly, passed. A month since I threw out that ripped condom, feeling a strange twist of foreboding in my gut. A month of nonstop activity, of going through new girls at a turnover rate faster than McDonald’s. Of more drinking, more fast food, more jerking off, more clubbing, more more. Now, sitting here, just sick enough to feel like shit and still make it to work, the why is obvious. It’s Emma. I’ve been trying to fuck her, drink her, eat her away – and all I’ve got to show for it is this shitty feeling that’s only been worsening with each new week.
No, there’s been no word of her – no sign of her. At least not in the pointless Google searches I’ve tried on the internet. I never knew that much about her, after all. Not any friends or hobbies at least. Nothing really but stupid Planet Earth and that she’s an online tutor for some website. Finding her isn’t working and forgetting her isn’t either.
On autopilot, I call Pizza Pizza and order a large pepperoni. When the door finally rings, I shuffle to it in the same dull haze. Maybe pizza will work or maybe Yvonne will. For now.
At the door is both Yvonne and the pizza.
“You lied,” Yvonne says with a giggle, striding past me through the door as I deal with the pimpley pizza boy. I hand him a 20, tell him to keep the change, then take the box.
Inside, Yvonne’s lounging on the kitchen chair. I plop the pizza down and we get eating.
Shattered Daddy: A Billionaire Suspense Romance Page 25
