“He was a dick,” she finally says, ignoring my apology. My skin tingles with an uncomfortable heat as we get closer to the off ramp. My heart is clenching tight in my chest.
“Yeah. You okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine,” she answers quickly. She finally sits back in her seat a bit, but she still looks tense.
“I mean it,” I say and look at her and wait for her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
Her expression softens and she puts her small hand on my lap, leaning toward me slightly.
“It’s alright,” she says softly. But that look is still in her eyes.
“I want you, Sweetheart.” I look back toward the road, and realize I have to decide soon where I’m taking her. “Come home with me tonight.”
“I’m not like that.” She shakes her head a bit and pulls away from me. “I’m really sorry I gave you that impression.”
“Like what?”
“Just an easy lay,” she answers absently.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” I ask her with some of my anger coming through. Before she can answer, I continue. “I’ve wanted you since high school. I don’t fuck around. I don’t let people in. But you’re there. Somehow I never had a choice on whether or not I could let you in.”
“It’s just that I’m going back-” Emma starts to say, but I’m shutting that shit down. She can tell me she hates what I do, over and over again. I can live with that. But I won’t let her think that she’s just an easy lay for me. Joking around? Sure. But actually believing it? No. She better fucking not.
“This isn’t me thinking you’re a one-night stand. I want you.” I emphasize the last part and feel a prickling sensation along my skin as she stares back at me. I can see she’s deciding whether or not she believes me. I’ve never given her any reason not to, but it’s been so long. I still feel everything from back then as if it was yesterday. I can only hope she does, too.
“Just give me the night to convince you,” I plead with her. I know I fucked tonight up. I know she’s worried about the shit I do, and the man I am. But I just need her touch. “Don’t think about anything else. It’s just you and me right now.”
I turn the car onto the exit ramp, and now I have to go one of two ways. Left takes me home; right takes me to her sister’s.
“Just tonight?” I ask her, keeping my car in the left lane, but looking behind me in the rearview, ready to steer the car to the right if she tells me to.
Finally, she nods and answers, “Just tonight.” My body relaxes slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through me.
I have her for the night. If nothing else, I have her for tonight.
CHAPTER 9
Emma
* * *
MY BODY FEELS SO HOT, and then so cold, alternating between the two and leaving me feeling helpless. I’ve never felt so anxious, so uncomfortable before. So worried. My fingers touch the dip in my throat as I glance at Derek and then back out of the window.
Derek’s calmed down some, but I haven’t. How can he be so at ease after what just happened?
The guy had it coming to him, but it was just so intense.
I look out of the window and watch all of the beautiful houses pass by as he drives us through his neighborhood. They put my sister’s house to shame.
I’m barely taking them in though. I’m too worked up and on edge, preoccupied with visions of him gripping that asshole by the collar and lifting him nearly off the ground.
I’ve never seen him like that.
I’ve never seen anyone like that.
I don’t like it. It was sexy as fuck in some ways. But it scares me. He scares me. I swallow thickly, closing my eyes at the realization.
I’ve always known he was a bad boy. I’ve only ever had glimpses though. I don’t like seeing it up close and personal. I don’t want it to be true.
We pull into Derek’s driveway, my thoughts paused as I wait with bated breath to get out.
I couldn’t tell him no. What’s worse is that, even with a hint of fear, I still want him. Maybe even more now than I did before.
He gets out first and I move to open my door, but he motions for me to stop.
Sagging back in my seat, I watch as he walks around the front of the car. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. I’m completely head over heels for him, even after what just happened. Ever since I walked away from him, I’ve never felt the way I had when we were together, and I’m terrified to lose it again. To never feel that way again for the rest of my life.
Fear of loss is making me cling to him.
I’m so fucked. This is all just fucked.
He opens my door and offers me his hand. I accept it with a soft smile although there’s hesitation in my action. I find myself looking at his knuckles, wanting to see if it’s the one he bruised and cut, but it’s not.
He squeezes my hand, and it calms me down. The door clicks shut, and the cold makes me unconsciously step even closer to him. He makes me feel delicate and protected.
This is the side of him that I know. This gentle side that treats me as if I deserve the world. This is the man I know, but there’s more to him.
I want to know all of him. Not just the small part he’s willing to show me.
I don’t know if he’ll ever open up though. The thought makes my heart pang in my chest.
Is it so bad that I want to help him? I feel like I can. Like it’s what I was meant to do.
But only if he’ll let me. He needs to want to change.
Right now’s not the time for that though.
I just want to hold him and for things to fall back into place.
Just for tonight.
I’m too conflicted to deal with all of this right now. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, or what the fuck I’m doing.
The sound of my heels clicking on the pavement is muted by the thin layer of fresh snow as we walk up the cement path to his front porch.
Once we get inside, Derek sets his keys down on the table to the left of the door. The white rectangular table almost blends in with the walls. He helps me out of my coat as I continue to look around. Slate floors lead into a hallway beyond the open staircase. The light from the glass and iron pendant chandelier glimmers on the walls and ceiling. His place is amazing.
But it’s drug money. My eyes close tight and my heart thuds to a halt. I think. I don’t know.
“Stop thinking about it, Emma,” he says as he hangs our coats on cast iron hooks by the door, as if he could read my mind just now. I don’t answer him, although for some reason I feel guilty.
He leads me up the open staircase. All the while I can’t look at him, my heart beating so fast. I’m too nervous to even touch the railing, although without his hand on my back I’m not sure I’d be able to walk steadily.
I know I have a choice right now, to stay and be with him, or to leave. I need to decide right now. But I can’t. I can hardly breathe. I hate that I’m just going with it, falling deeper into whatever it is we have. It’s all I’ve ever done, but it’s also all I want.
The black steel-frame lamp turns on automatically as we walk into the spacious bedroom. He lets go of my hand and walks into the en suite bathroom. I stare at the bed. It has to be a king with how large it is. The dark grey comforter has silver threading that gleams in the soft lighting. My heart thuds over and over again, the blood rushing in my ears.
I’m hot and ready for him. I want this. But it comes with so much. It means so much more to me.
And what does it mean to him?
“Make yourself at home,” he calls out as he turns on the faucet.
I slowly walk over and sit down in the navy armchair in the corner of the room, the bathroom and therefore Derek, visible from my seat.
His room is so masculine, so him. But it’s devoid of warmth. It’s missing a crucial piece of him. The piece he gives to me.
The smoky grey walls are bare, the only picture sitting on the nightstand
. A little boy and a young mother smile together as they pose on top of the mountain they just climbed. It must be Derek and his mom, I think as I squint slightly to make out the picture across the room better.
I can't just sit here. I get up quickly, my blood feeling as though it’s on fire, and cross the room to his bathroom. Derek’s opening a bottle of peroxide to pour on the cuts on his knuckles.
“Let me help you,” I say as I walk across the white marble floor. I take the bottle from him without waiting for a response and slowly pour the solution over his hand. His hand is so large and rough to the touch. I like holding it though. I like the abrasive feel. I concentrate on tending his knuckles. The cuts aren’t as bad as I would have guessed from the way he was hitting that guy, and the blood that was there.
But that may not have been his blood.
“You really beat the piss out of him,” I say as I twist the cap back onto the bottle. My heart feels like it’s in my throat.
His eyes are on the floor as he says, “Yeah.” He leans against the sink, his gaze occasionally flicking to mine, but I don’t look back.
“You didn’t have to, you know,” I tell him, trying not to sound like I’m scolding him. I squeeze some Neosporin onto his knuckles as he sighs and then grunts a response.
I wait, staring up at him and willing him to look at me, but he doesn’t.
“I know,” he says quietly as he shakes his head.
“So why’d you do it?” I can’t help but to ask him. Asking is the way to get answers. I know that from my classes and from working with the kids at school. I hate comparing Derek to them, but he’s like them in so many ways. Right now, all I want to do is help him.
I lay the gauze over his bloodied knuckles and wrap the medical tape around his hand while I wait for him to answer me, but nothing comes.
Derek looks like he’s not going to tell me anything, and I shake my head feeling my throat go dry. I can’t do this. I can’t be with someone who won’t talk to me. I clean up the first aid kit and put it back in the cabinet under the double sinks, not speaking as he moves out of the way.
“He reminded me of my father,” he says before I can walk out of the bathroom. I stop in the doorway, waiting for more.
“Your father?” I ask him. He only ever told me about his father once. That he’d left them, but that’s all I know. He never wanted to talk about his family.
I look over my shoulder, gripping the door in my hand and I can see the hatred and pain in his eyes. Seeing him like this feels like I’m being stabbed in the chest. I just want to hold him and take his pain away, but I need to understand.
I walk back in and lean against the granite countertop. It’s cold under my hand, but I’d rather touch it than him. If he holds me, I’ll lose focus. I’ll lose him opening up to me, and I can’t do that. “I don’t know anything about him,” I tell him with a seemingly casual shrug.
“It’s best that you don’t.”
“I wanna know.” I need to know.
“He wasn’t a good man. Like that fucker at the restaurant…” He trails off and shakes his head. “The things he was saying,” Derek shakes his head again, closing his eyes. “No woman should be talked to that way.”
“Your dad talked to your mom like that?” I ask.
“Yeah, right before he’d beat her,” he says, and I can hear the raw hurt in his voice. My heart breaks for him and I could just cry. I move closer to him and grab his unbandaged hand. I can't resist touching him.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I reach my hand to his chest, waiting for him to look me in the eyes. “Is she alright?” I ask him.
His eyes flash with something I can't place.
“He’s gone now,” he answers, but it feels like something else. Like he’s hiding more from me.
“I want to know you, Derek,” I plead with him.
He huffs a humorless laugh and swallows thickly, looking behind me and into the mirror before returning my gaze. “I think you’re the only one who knows me.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It can’t be true. “That’d be a shame if that’s true.” I speak without thinking. I know who he is--I know his character, his soul, but I don’t know his story.
“Shame? Yeah.” He nods, looking behind me again. “Yeah, maybe it is.”
He grips my waist, setting me on the edge of the counter and leans in closer to me so we’re the same height. His eyes are filled with such sadness. I wish I could take it away. I want the playfulness back. I want him to be happy.
He rests his forehead against mine and barely kisses me, his lips just brushing mine, leaving me wanting more.
My thumb rubs circles on the back of his hand as we stand in silence.
Finally, he breaks the moment with another deep sigh. It's been a stressful night.
“I’ve got problems, Emma. You know that. But I still want you. Just stay with me?” he pleads.
I close my eyes, hating the way he talks about himself. It makes me think about all the lessons I took, learning how to react to low self-esteem in my classes. Preparing me to work with schools and be a guidance counselor. The psychology of it is why I got into it.
But right now those are just words on a page.
I cup his jaw in my hand and bring my lips up to his.
“Everyone has problems. You just need someone to lean on,” I whisper.
I desperately want to be that person, but I’m scared. I’m more than that, I'm terrified. I’m so close to the edge of a deep abyss. I feel like I barely made it out unscathed last time. And we were just kids. Now I know what it feels like to not have him.
I want him just as much as he wants me, but for me, there’s no turning back. It’s all or nothing.
His hands slip up my dress, his bare skin touching mine in a soft caress that leaves goosebumps in his path.
My nipples pebble, and my breath hitches.
“Derek,” I say but I barely get his name out, lost in the soft feel of his touch. He’s always so gentle with me. Forceful in some ways, but I feel like I can tame the beast inside of him. It’s a heady feeling. It’s intoxicating.
“Just feel me, Emma,” he whispers back, pushing his lips against mine. I’m hesitant at first, not sure if I should take this leap. I’m already weak for him; this will only put me over the edge. “Let me feel you.”
He nips my bottom lip gently then brushes the tip of his nose against mine.
“I want you,” he says just above a murmur. I can’t resist him. I’ve never been able to tell him no.
“I bet you’re already wet for me,” he whispers against the shell of my ear as he reaches below, his hand cupping my pussy. I am. I know I am. I’m hot and wet and desperate for him.
He groans, the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard, deep and rough and primal. “Such a good girl, Sweetheart.”
His dirty words make me blush, my skin heating and every nerve ending on edge. He pulls my dress over my head and tosses it carelessly to the floor before slipping off my high heels. They land on the floor, clacking against the tile, one and then the other.
“I want you to watch,” he says as he turns me around to face the mirror, my bare feet against the cold tile, and the granite counter against my hips.
My body tingles and heats with an intensity I can barely stand. I close my eyes…I can’t watch.
“Keep them open,” he says. My eyes pop open and find his in the mirror.
The sound of his jeans unzipping and then falling to the floor makes my breathing come in frantic pants. He holds my gaze as his thumbs rip through the thin lace of my panties and he lets them drop to the floor.
“I want to hear you scream my name, Sweetheart,” he whispers, his head leaning against mine and his breath tickling my neck.
I can hardly feel the sensation though. My pussy is hot and pulsing with need as I feel him pressing into my pussy. The head of his cock pushes gently through my folds, back and forth.
“You’re so wet for m
e, sweetheart,” he breathes, making me hotter and wetter, frenzied for his touch.
I close my eyes as he brushes against my clit. My hard nipples peak, and my head falls back against his hard chest.
“Open, Emma,” he commands me and the second I obey, he slams into me. All the way to the hilt. Filling me, and stretching my walls. I instantly bend over, my body tense with a heated sensation so sudden my breath is caught in my throat. There's a hint of pain, mixed with intense pleasure as my hands grip the counter. His eyes pierce into mine in the reflection. Forcing me to stare back as he pounds into me again and again, jolting my body. Holy fuck.
My voice is gone; I desperately want to scream out my pleasure, but my body is in shock, paralyzed from his demanding touch. He doesn’t hold back. Savagely fucking me, without any mercy. His hot body’s pressed against mine and it’s the only thing keeping me up right.
His hand grips my right hip, holding me in place as he fucks me harder with a steady pace. He finally closes his eyes, reaching his other hand up to grip my throat. The bandaged hand. He kisses me gently on the crook of my neck. It's so at odds with the way he fucks me.
“Derek,” I finally get out his name as he pounds into me. He does it again. And again. Each time pushing my pleasure higher, making my body sing with a tingling heat that makes it hard to stand. My fingers slip against the counter and then grip onto his hand at my throat.
My eyes want to close, but I can’t.
He groans with pleasure into my ear as his pace picks up.
“I knew you’d feel like this,” he says as he pushes his thick cock even deeper and harder, my left hip slamming against the counter with a bruising force. The pleasure stirs in my belly, rising higher and higher, consuming me more and more.
The pain doesn’t even register, it only pushes me closer to that forbidden edge. I’m so high up, I feel as though I’ll shatter when he sends me crashing over.
“Derek!” I scream his name as he holds himself deep inside of me, pushing against my walls and stealing the breath from my lungs.
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