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Emerson comes on a scream, her entire body tightening and then her juices gush around my fingers as she shakes through her orgasm. Her pussy constricts around my fingers tightly, almost to the point of pain, and I know she’s going to strangle my cock when I fuck her.
Fuck, my sweet girl is so fucking perfect.
When she starts to come down, her body shivering with the aftershocks of her pleasure, I untie her hands and toss the shirt across the room before positioning myself beside her and pulling her so she’s laying on my chest.
I’ve never felt anything so right as I do in this moment, holding my girl in my arms, her body trembling with the pleasure I gave her as she relaxes into my touch.
“Sleep, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” I promise, and a few moments later, her body grows heavy above mine, and her breathing evens out.
For the first time since I was twelve, I dose off easily, the nightmares of the day that changed my whole life at bay.
15
Emerson
Istare at the dress laying in the middle of my bed with so many questions on the tip of my tongue that I don’t know which I should voice first.
Where the fuck did the dress come from?
How the fuck did it get into my apartment?
How the hell did they know my dress size?
Is it actually the designer it says on the label because if it is, it could pay off all my debt and then some.
Who am I kidding? I know the answer to all of those questions without ever having to ask any of them out loud.
Rayne fucking Saint James.
When I woke up yesterday after sleeping for fifteen straight hours, Rayne was gone, but he was all could see, all I could smell. He had invaded my small space and now everywhere I looked, I saw him. He left his mark on my apartment, and when I finally dragged myself from the sanctuary of bed, I found the note he left me on the kitchen table. Words were sprawled across the paper in the familiar scratchy handwriting I recognized from when Rayne helped me in the office.
Something came up, I won’t be at the Center today.
I had some groceries delivered while you were asleep, I expect you to eat something.
I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow night for the gala.
Rayne.
I stared at the words for longer than I should have, analyzing what they meant. Did he regret what we did? Surely he would have woken me if he needed to leave unless that were the case. The harsh bite of rejection burned more than I would ever admit. I understood. I’d had a few one-night stands over the years, but I thought it was more than that. The way he spoke, constantly talking about my safety and health, stocking my fridge and cupboard like a professional chef was about to move in, how he forced me to take the money because he didn’t want me to go back to the club, it seemed like the opposite of rejection.
And then the dress arrived while I was at the venue setting up the tables and making sure everything was ready for the night. I was hoping to avoid having to work throughout the gala because Dad needed me to network. He wasn’t good at that kind of thing, and I often took the reins.
The dress is stunning, way better than the one I was planning on wearing. The floor-length gown has a slit up one leg, long lacy sleeves to cover the bruises Russo left on my wrist, and a plunging neckline that will make my chest look incredible. The only problem is that I’m covered in hickeys.
Rayne marked me so many times I’m grateful for winter because I’ve had an excuse to wear a scarf whenever I’m outside the apartment. When I first looked in the mirror, I thought I had been attacked in my sleep, but then I brushed my fingers across the darkened skin and remembered how his mouth felt as he made each mark.
I never thought I would like pain in the bedroom, never going beyond a few quick slaps to the ass, but holy shit, the pain that mingled with the unbelievable pleasure Rayne tore from my body was intoxicating. Just thinking about it now makes me crave it.
I don’t know what to think now that the dress has arrived. I thought he left to avoid the inevitably awkward morning after. The fact that he sent an expensive dress, the most incredible designer shoes I’ve ever seen, in my size might I add, and jewelry to complete the outfit seems to suggest that maybe I was wrong. Maybe he did leave because he had something going on and he wanted to let me sleep.
No. I can’t allow myself to fall for Rayne. He’s not a good guy, and the more I allow myself to get attached to the big bad wolf, the more likely I was to get bitten. Even if he isn’t the one to hurt me, his enemies will. I’m not so naive to think I can get involved with a criminal without having any repercussions. Hell, look what happened during my last dance with an ex-con, I got conned. Anything Rayne was into was almost definitely worse than whatever petty crime Brad was doing while we were together, which means the stakes are higher, and so is the threat to me and all I hold dear.
I bite my lip. Even if I’m not going to let things go any further with Rayne, it would be rude not to wear his gift, wouldn’t it?
Two hours later, I’m primped and primed and climbing from my dad’s old classic Mustang out front of the gala. Camera flashes catch me off guard as I slip out of the car and plaster a smile on my face. This is the part of these nights that I’ll never get used to. But it comes part and parcel with the guests we invite, hoping to attract the donations we need.
Butterflies fill my belly as I smile and pose for photos I know will never be seen. Last year there was one photo of Dad and me in the paper, and it was only because we were posing with the mayor of Chicago.
