by Rebel Hart
“Maybe I should be telling you not to hurt me,” he quips, touching his finger to the bite mark on his lip.
“Maybe.”
“I know you’ve never thought I was any better than the rest of the Elites,” he pleads desperately, “I know I just look like a monster to you…but I had no choice, Ophelia.”
“I’ve told you before…you’ve always had a choice, Emmett.”
“Well, the choice I’m making is to set things right with you,” he announces confidently, puffing up his chest. “And to take over my father’s company, and run it the way I always wished he would have. It’s a business and nothing else. It doesn’t come above people, it helps people.”
Chapter Two
BOOK 2
My feet are glued to the floor as he walks towards me with less hesitation than before. He’s determined now, and my ability to resist him is weakening with each passing minute. He tries to pull me into his arms, but I push him and turn away.
“I don’t trust you or believe anything you say,” I insist sharply, trying to remind myself just as much as him.
“So, let me show you with something other than words.” His voice drops to a low, suggestive rasp as he lingers right behind me, facing my back. His fingers glide gently across my lower back, up my spine, sending chilling tingles through my entire body.
“Emmett…don’t,” I protest weakly, still unable to move away. “My mom is downstairs and probably listening to everything…She doesn’t trust you either.”
“We’ll be quiet,” he whispers against my ear, moving in closer behind me as I feel myself melting into him. Giving in. “Unless you want me to stop…” he offers as his palms glide up my arms, begging to explore other parts of my body.
“I can’t.” My voice wavers and is unconvincing. I can’t fully give in, but I can’t move away or ask him to stop either. The bad memories drift to the back of my mind, replaced with the haunting recollection of how he made me feel that afternoon in his bathroom. Emmett had tried to escape to school for a while, leaving me locked in his room—supposedly having no other choice. His father tried to break into the room, and by the time Emmett came racing back to make sure I was okay, we were both unable to fight it anymore. The way his fingers felt on my skin and inside of me, the taste of his mouth, the way his tongue and teeth devoured me, his smell, and the warmth of his body moving inside of mine…it’s all painfully vivid.
My lips part in longing as it all crashes over me. Regardless of what has happened and what will, I want Emmett. Even if only physically, I am sure of that much. And he’s standing here right now, offering himself to me. I desperately want to surrender and let us both feel good for just a little while, temporarily forgetting about everything else.
But I’m still frozen in fear as he pushes his chest against my back, gently pressing his lips to the back of my neck. An electric current flows through my veins at his kiss, lighting every part of me on fire with an uncontrollable desire for him. But I can’t let myself forget what happened after we had sex the first time. As powerful as it had seemed, he turned cold the moment it was over, transforming back into the heartless, empty shell I feared he truly was, regardless of what he insisted.
A soft whimper escapes my mouth as his kisses grow deeper, traveling up and down the back of my neck, begging me to cave into him again. Suddenly, I don’t care if he can be trusted or if he’ll turn cold once he’s through with me. I just want to feel him again, even if it’s only once.
Without saying a word, I march over to my bedroom door and make sure that it’s locked. I turn back around slowly, pushing my back to the door as I look at him with pleading eyes. My arms hang limply at my sides as I soften in submission. His eyes light up with hunger as he walks over to me, tunneling forward with a primal urge.
Our lips crash together in desperate kisses as he pushes me against the door. There is nothing slow or reserved about it as we drink each other in with all the same repressed desire that roared up between us the first time. Within minutes, he tightens his hands around my ass, lifting me up to wrap my legs around his waist as his teeth dig into the side of my neck.
“Oh god, Ophelia,” he growls, urgently moving across every inch of my face, neck, and mouth that he can with rapid force.
A taunting grin curls across the corners of my mouth as I look up at him, relishing in how much he wants me. Suddenly I realize that this is my only advantage. He needs me as much as I need him, but the idea of making him think he can’t have me fulfills a need for vengeance. I decide right then to torture him.
My fingers press into his cheeks as I spread my hand under his jaw, forcefully holding him back from kissing me anymore. His brows flicker in confusion as he tries to push forward, but I keep my grip firm. With my hands to his chest, I shove him backward, flattening against the door as I look at him with daring eyes.
I lift my shirt over my head and take off my pants. He tries to rush forward again, but I shove him back. One brow rises in defiance as I slowly drag a finger across the clasp of my bra. “Do you want me to take this off?” I ask him tauntingly.
He grunts and charges, but I push him away for the third time. “Tell me that’s what you want,” I insist.
I can tell he’s infuriated that he can’t just take control and throw me down to have his way with me. But he reluctantly nods, shifting impatiently as he drinks in the sight of me standing there in my underwear.
“Say it,” I command, keeping my fingers still but close to the clasp.
“Please, take it off,” he begs, his voice deep and heavy with unsatisfied longing.
“Good boy,” I tease, taking us back to all the times before, when he called me his ‘good little girl.’ With one flick, the band around my chest loosens. I gently swipe at the stripes, letting my bra fall to the floor. I kick it away as it lands at my feet and stand there, forcing him to look at my bare breasts without being able to touch them.
“What about these?” I continue, sliding my thumb around the waist of my panties. “Should I take these off, too?”
“I want to take them off,” he insists.
“No,” I bark, shaking my finger in the air. “If you want me…we do this how I want.”
His face softens in submission as he accepts my game, forcing him to be the one to give up control for once. “I want you to take them off,” he answers breathlessly.
I pull at the elastic, stretching them down just enough to reveal the flattened skin that rests above what he wants to see most. But I stop and let the fabric snap back in place. “I don’t know,” I tease. “I’m not convinced of how bad you want me to do it.”
“Ophelia, fuck…please…” he hisses with clenched fists. “Please take them off. I need to see you.”
The pain in his voice fills me with an exhilarating desire. I slide the panties down over my thighs and legs slowly, keeping my eyes glued to his the entire time. He bites his lip as I straighten again, completely naked. I make him stand there as I run my hands up my bare thighs, across my stomach up to my breasts. I cup them and squeeze, watching him closely. I touch myself in all the ways I know he’s dying to touch me. With one hand filled with my breast, I let the other travel back down. His eyes follow it closely as I inch between my legs.
“Do you want me to touch myself?” I ask him, circling just above my clit.
“Yes,” he growls immediately, with sweat forming across his forehead.
“You know that’s not good enough,” I remind him adamantly. “How badly do you want to see me do it?”
All at once he drops straight down to his knees, completely helpless to my demands. “Please…” he begs. “Touch yourself.”
His surrender causes me to tighten with excited yearning as I step past him to the bed with a coy smile. I lay back across the comforter as he follows closely, knowing to keep his distance. He stands with wide eyes at the foot of the bed as I spread my legs before him and gently push my fingers down to the throbbing folds. I moan with relie
f as I move in soft circles, leaning my head back to forget about his watching eyes for a moment as I just relax into the sensation.
I slip into a space where there is nothing but the feeling rippling from my fingertips and the thrill of knowing he is on his knees at the edge of my bed, watching me with longing. It doesn’t take me long to feel like I might cum, but I stop myself. I want him to do it, and I am ready to feel him against me again.
“Come here,” I demand impatiently.
Emmett grins and crawls across the bed, hovering over me as he bites at my bottom lip. His tongue crashes over mine as his hand skims across my stomach, taking in a handful of my breast that he had been eyeing so lavishly. He kisses down to my throbbing nipples, taking them into his mouth one by one. I moan and dig my fingers into his hair, feeling even more afire with need.
I push both hands to his chest once again, lifting him far enough off of me to grip his shirt and yank it over his head. Excited by the sight of him, I rake my hands across his abs, digging in my nails as I go. He tightens beneath my touch, hissing between his teeth as his hand moves behind my head and pulls a clump of my hair.
We both fumble frantically at the zipper of his pants until finally, they are tossed aside, followed by his boxers. Finally, the hardened length of him is free and pulsing over me. The first time we had sex, I didn’t have as good of a view. But now that I can see every inch of him perfectly, I want to taste him.
I sit up and crawl towards him, lowering between his legs with one hand gripped firmly around the base of his shaft. Broken breaths shutter from his mouth as I move my hand up and down, looking him in the eye as I tease the tip with my tongue. Slowly, I move my mouth over him, tightening my lips against his hardness. He lets out a deep groan as I push him further into my mouth, taking him in as deep as I can. His hand squeezes my hair tightly, encouraging me to move him in and out.
Emmett’s groans grow more breathless and broken as I move my mouth around him, until all at once he shoves me back in desperation. I can tell I almost made him cum, but he wants to be inside of me. He shoves me back down onto the mattress with such desperate force, I almost slip back into a place of fear. But I know the place he is coming from—one of primal lust that is burning inside of me just as strong.
He turns for his pants and pulls out a condom, tearing the wrapper with his teeth before sliding it on. I have to wonder if he brought that over just for me, confident that this might happen, or if he always keeps one on hand.
He quickly flings my legs over his shoulders, and I brace myself, expecting him to slide inside of me with the same urgent force he pushed me back with. But instead I am surprised as his head drops between my legs, taking me into his warm, wet mouth.
I gasp out in shock as his hot tongue laps across my lips, dripping with desire. I cry out, melting beneath him. My back arches as I try to warn him how close I am, but the words trail off into nothing. Waves crash over me as my heart races from the pleasure of a rippling orgasm. He sucks my shaking bundle of nerves in even deeper, holding me close as I cum against his mouth.
Giving me no time to recover, he shoots back up and glides into my tightened, still-quivering muscles. He moans desperately as he fills me. I’m so wet that he slides in completely with the first thrust. I take him in greedily, bucking into each movement. His hardness pushes against my G spot, instantly putting me close to another orgasm.
I can tell he is already just as close. He doesn’t waste any time trying to tease me with slow movements. He thrusts in and out in a quick, steady rhythm, keeping my legs held up so that I am tight around him. We move together, trying to keep our cries contained so they don’t echo through the house. He keeps my hips hoisted close to him so he can move inside of me without the bed making too much noise.
“Fuck, Ophelia,” he gasps, looking at me with weakened eyes. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to be inside of you again.”
I want to tell him that I do know, because I wanted it, too. All the emotional distance I felt I needed never once lessened the physical desire I had for him. I lie in this bed night after night, touching myself as I imagine everything that is happening right now. But I am too dissipated in the sensations to get out a single word.
He moves more rapidly as beads of sweat form on the tips of his dangling hair strands. My fingers clench into the sheets beneath me as I writhe against him, feeling closer to the edge. He pushes in even harder with each urgent thrust, growing faster and faster until finally we are both on the cusp. His moans crack in between panting breaths as my head throws back, trying not to scream as I cum a second time. I tighten around him as I feel the pulsing pumps of his orgasm rippling through me.
As the height of our pleasure slowly fades, he melts over me, gently pushing his lips to mine. I am hit with a sudden, overwhelming relief at his tenderness. My fingers cling to his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, hoping he won’t pull away like he did the first time.
He kisses me until I let my lips sink away, my head crashing to the side from exhaustion. With his weight still supported on his elbows, he lays his damp head across my chest. I don’t know how long we lay there like that with our bare chests pressed flat together, heaving up and down as our breathing slowly regulates.
“Emmett,” I finally whisper after a while. “You’ll have to go soon. My mom will come up here to check on us before too long.”
He groans, lifting up to look down at me with a gentle smile. It’s something I haven’t seen in him before, and I can’t help but pull him down for another soft kiss. There’s something innocent and pure about him. Words I have never thought to use to describe him before.
I felt every bit as connected to him during this encounter as I had during the first, only this time he didn’t turn cold afterwards. He is staying here with me, reluctant to move even though he knows that he has to soon. He looks at peace. Happy. And I want to feel the same way, but I’m not ready to let everything go. Holding onto that anger and mistrust feels like the only way to protect myself.
I look deep into his eyes as I stroke strands of hair from his face. I want to stay like this forever, and I have to admit how tempted I am to believe him now. He promised that the way he was before was all a product of his father and the rest of the Elites’ demands. And now, for a brief moment, with all of that out of the way, he does seem to be different.
I don’t want to let this side of him go, but we reluctantly peel ourselves apart and put our clothes back on. I straighten up the bed in case my mom comes knocking, as Emmett stands next to the window in still silence.
“Everything okay?” I ask him as I smooth out the sheets.
“Just worried about my sister is all,” he mumbles grimly, bringing reality crashing back into the room.
I can’t let go of my suspicions, not fully. But I can keep those in a dark, quiet corner of myself for now, and to Emmett’s face, I can behave as if I am nothing but loving and trusting. As long as he continues to be kind, I can maintain that much.
I think about how things would have been if my mother hadn’t left my father, if he hadn’t been cast out from the Elites. I wonder if I would have been raised in the same way as the others. If I would be just like Vivian, or even Lily. While at times I wish I understood more so I could understand Emmett better, maybe even love him better, growing up the way he did is a level beyond what I want. I would rather stay here in our small rented home with my innocent, white spackled ceilings, where my parents are laughing downstairs, and the smell of home-cooked food wafts through the air.
I walk up behind him and wrap my arms tightly around his chest. “We’ll figure it out, Emmett,” I assure him gently, kissing his shoulder. “Wherever she is…we’ll find her.”
He wraps his hands over mine and squeezes tightly, clinging to my words. I don’t want to let him go, but the dreaded knock finally comes at the door.
“Ophelia?” my mom calls out nervously. “Are you okay in there? Open up.”
I race ove
r to the door, not wanting to worry her with any delay. “Yes, Mom. We’re fine!” I say as brightly as possible as I fling the door open.
She peers inside, looking back at Emmett and the room suspiciously. “Well,” she hesitates, still seemingly convinced that something isn’t right. “Dinner is ready. It’s time for Emmett to go home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lopez,” Emmett offers graciously. “Thanks for allowing me into your home. You certainly didn’t have to…considering everything.”
“I know I didn’t have to,” she snaps back. “But it’s time to go now.”
I can’t help but flash him a smile over my shoulder at my mom’s persistent hatred. Something about it is satisfying. He deserves it after all, and at this point I’d rather it come from her than me.
“Give us just a minute to say goodbye,” I ask her, inching the door shut. “We’ll be right down, and Emmett will go home.”
She barely budges as I push the door closed. I’m laughing by the time he pulls me back into his arms.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“She hates you,” I reply.
“I think we were getting somewhere,” he insists confidently. “It’ll take some time, but I’ll win her over.”
“In all the years I’ve had people over to the house, she never, not once, ever refrained from inviting them to stay for dinner,” I snicker against his shoulder. “You are number one on her shit list.”
“Well, I was number one on yours, too, just a few hours ago,” he suggests coyly. “Now look at us.”
My smile fades, but I try to hide it from him. His statement scares me—as if this is all just a game of winning people over when you need to, not caring how you treat them when things change. “Don’t be so certain,” I try to say as jokingly as possible.
He’s not worried and still has the same kind, innocent smile plastered on his face. One that I could very quickly get used to, but I’m worried that the moment I do…it will vanish.
