Title: More Illicit Behavior
Summary: Another bar, another bathroom, another blistering-hot lemon. And once again, all is not as it seems… Will this sexual rendezvous lead to more? Emmett. AH/OOC, M for lemons/language.
A/N: This is a follow-up of sorts to Illicit Behavior, although in spirit only—there is no need to read the original for this one to make sense, nor will any of the characters from the original be making an appearance here. I was just looking to recapture my missing mojo one afternoon and decided to write a smut-shot with a character that I haven't spent much time with previously; hence, Emmett got to have a sexy romp! I hope that I have recaptured both the intrigue and the volatile sexuality of the original.
Thanks to my betas, moonlightdreamer333 and Viola Cornuta, and my pre-reader, Agent M, for providing a male perspective, 'correcting' my girly lingo, and making this Emmett talk/sound like a real man. Thanks also to AccioBourbon, HMonster4 and TheHeartOfLife for hosting the 30 Days of Emmett compilation and allowing me to participate.
Disclaimer: Stephenie owns 'em; I'm just allowing them to misbehave…
I stood just inside the door, the sights and sounds of the once-familiar scene assaulting each and every one of my senses. Alcohol and conversation flowed freely around me. Bodies were packed together on the dance floor, undulating against one another in sensual waves that left little to the imagination. The smell of sweat and sex and… sin permeated the room.
It had been a long time since I'd last been to this particular club. Way too fucking long. Six months, to be exact.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. I'd missed this, more than I'd realized. The atmosphere, the anonymity, the target-rich environment… My lips twisted into a self-assured sneer, and anticipation began building in my gut, a fucking itch that needed to be scratched. Exhaling slowly, I forced away the affable veneer I presented to the world every day and embraced my darker nature, allowing the predator within to rise to the surface. I'd need him tonight.
Yes. I was back for a reason.
Opening my eyes, I sauntered confidently across the room, knowing that eyes were drawn to me as I moved. My steps were smooth and graceful, slow and controlled, my feet perfectly placed to draw the most attention. But it was all an act—bait—my calm, restrained movements an absolute juxtaposition to the feral fucking need that pulsed within me.
I finally reached the opposite side of the room and sidled my way up to the bar, where I signaled for the bartender. When I captured his attention, Mike grinned in welcome.
"Dude! I haven't seen you in ages," he greeted.
"I know, right?" I replied with a wry smile.
In the past, I'd been the most regular of regulars in this den of iniquity. I'd been here four or five nights a week, always looking to hook up. What can I say? I'm a guy, and I like to fuck. A lot.
Without even needing to ask, a drink appeared in front of me. My usual: a Jack and Coke.
I raised the glass in a silent toast, then took a sip. It was strong—just the way I liked. I nodded appreciatively at Mike. His smile widened.
"Where've you been? You like disappeared, man. What'd you do? Go and get yourself a girlfriend?" Mike laughed at the absurdity of his own question.
I just shrugged. I had 'gone and gotten myself a girlfriend'.
"Whoa! No shit! Really? Emmett 'The Master' McCarty, a taken man? Ha! But I guess it's over now, if you're back here, huh?"
I shrugged again, and Mike's eyes widened.
"Dude… If you still have the girlfriend, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"Domesticity doesn't really suit me. I need a little taste of the old life; I've got a fucking itch that needs to be scratched. Know what I mean?"
I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, and Mike shook his head.
"What about your girl?"
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" I winked.
Mike aped a horrified look, and I laughed lightly.
"What is it with you guys? What's the draw of a different girl each night?"
"Exactly that, Mike, exactly that. It's like Baskin-fucking-Robbins. Thirty-one flavors. A different girl for each night of the month. " I glanced up to the mirror behind the bar in order to eye the women on the dance floor surreptitiously. "And you know me… I love to sample as many flavors as possible."
Mike snorted at my reply, but I ceased paying attention to him when my eyes landed on the most stunning woman I'd ever seen. She'd just stepped through the door and was strolling towards the bar. Long blonde hair was draped over one shoulder and brushed against her tits, which were practically falling out of the low-cut top of her green dress. And holy shit, what a dress! It was short—really fucking short—and it hugged every one of her luscious curves like a second skin. As she moved, her chest bounced lightly and her hips swayed provocatively. When she walked past me, I couldn't help but turn to watch her walk away, and damn… I swear I saw no lines from any type of undergarment. My eyes were glued to her ass, watching the way it wiggled as she walked. I licked my lips in anticipation.
Mmm… Fresh meat.
Mike must have seen my involuntary response because he chuckled.
His exclamation drew my attention, and once again, I smiled wryly. I'd been here often enough that he knew the signs.
I'd found my prey.
"Yeah… that's a meal I'm really going to enjoy digging into," I replied.
He rolled his eyes and chuckled at the obvious innuendo, then turned away to help the next person. My eyes drifted back to the blonde with the smoking-hot body. She was still standing, and I couldn't help but stare at the lush curves and miles of smooth skin that were displayed by the barely-there dress. My cock throbbed in anticipation; I couldn't wait to find out if she really was going commando.
As if feeling my stare, she turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question. I twisted my lips into my signature 'come to papa' smile. But instead of answering my obvious summons the way that most women did—i.e., immediately—her haughty gaze dropped to peruse my physique. I worked out five days a week, so I knew I looked good, but for some reason, her eyebrow-arched scrutiny left me feeling as if I were lacking. It was a completely un-fucking-familiar feeling. Had I lost my touch? My smile morphed into a frown, and I stood up a little straighter, rising to my full six-foot four-inch height. Then I took a breath in order to puff out my chest just a bit.
I noticed her eyes pause when they landed upon my crotch; I was packing a pretty impressive package, and with her attention, little Emmett was definitely interested in poking his head out to play. Although she tried to hide it, her eyes widened just a bit and her chest heaved with a hefty sigh. I relaxed in response to her reaction, my confidence returning. Like any successful predator, I knew the signs—the longing sigh and the flush that appeared on her exposed chest told me it was only a matter of time before she gave in. Her eyes resumed the upward path to my face, and I grinned wolfishly in anticipation of the moment when our gazes would clash and negotiations for the evening would begin. It always worked the same way—a smile or wink, a bit of long-distance flirting, and the eventual trek to the dance floor where the mating ritual would begin.
But when her eyes finally met mine, there was no welcoming smile. Just a haughty, condescending glare. With a flick of her hair—throwing it back over her shoulder—she turned away, effectively dismissing me.
I didn't like it. Not one fucking bit.
I stared at the woman, who was now giving her drink order to Mike, and I didn't miss the incredulous look on his face. It made me scowl… not only had she dismissed me, there had been a witness to the event. I knew Mike would never let me live this one down.
I wasn't known as 'The Master' without reason. No woman ever turned down Emmett fucking McCarty. The Ice Princess sure as hell wouldn't be the first. I couldn't allow it. Anticipation raced through me like a shot of adrenaline, and I straightened my spine in preparation for battle. My eyes narrowed in determination.
While I sipped my drink, I watched her. Surreptitiously, of course; I couldn't have her catch me staring. I'm fucking smoother than that.
She was here alone, like me. Sipping on her drink, she was perusing the room just like I had been earlier, using the mirror behind the bar to scope out the scene. She obviously hadn't found anything she liked, because she gave every man who approached the same condescending glare she had directed at me earlier. One disdainful quirk of her brow was enough to send most of them scuttling away. Most being the key word; there was one guy who wouldn't take no for an answer, a smarmy-looking fucker with slicked-back hair and a too-smooth smile. His suit spoke volumes, a custom-tailored number that was meant to impress. Only in her case, it hadn't worked; the irritated grimace on her face indicated that she was no more impressed by him than I was. Her voice didn't carry, but I could see the angry flush on her cheeks when she turned to address him, obviously annoyed by his continued attention. He clearly didn't take 'no' for an answer, and when he reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek in an intimate fashion, I saw her flinch in response.
Anger seethed within me at the gesture and her response to it. There was one goddamn rule at this club: every interaction was absolutely consensual—no meant no, no questions asked. Setting my glass on the counter, I pushed away from the bar.
Just in time.
By the time I reached her side, she'd obviously reached her limit with Mr. Hot Shit, whose hand had just settled—unasked for—on her hip. Her eyes flashed with indignation and… was that fear? This wasn't good.
Not good at all.
"Hey, baby," I purred, as I stepped up behind her and slid my arm around her waist, effectively displacing the hand of the unwanted admirer. I allowed my lips to brush the skin beneath her ear, noting the way her entire fucking body jumped to attention at that tiny skin-on-skin contact. Bending down as I was, I had a clear shot of her fabulous tits; that creamy flesh swelled above the top of her dress, and her hardened nipples were easily visible beneath the tight-fitting fabric. A sense of triumph coursed through me, settling in my groin. My cock twitched to attention.
Whirling around to face me, her discomfort morphed into relief. Immediately grasping the game I was playing at, she wrapped her arms around my neck and returned my sensual greeting.
The low, sultry tone of her voice danced a sexy melody across my skin, causing me to shudder slightly in response. When she tilted her head up to brush her lips against my own, my hand dipped to clutch the swell of her backside. Opening her mouth slightly, she touched my lip with her tongue. I groaned and felt her smile in response to the effect she had on me. Even though I had just rescued her, I wasn't in control. I wasn't sure if I liked that feeling or not.
Breaking the kiss, I raised my head and looked down upon her upturned face. This close, she was even more stunning. Soft, lightly flushed skin. Flawless features. Green eyes that precisely matched the shade of her dress. The body pressed against mine was soft in all the right places, a perfect foil for my hardness. Unable to resist, I yanked her lower body into mine and thrust my pelvis against her, a purposeful demonstration of just how much we differed. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a startled gasp when my semi-hard cock pressed into her soft stomach. I smirked knowingly in response, my eyelids narrowing into sexy slits.
Without taking my eyes from her face, I addressed the man who had dared to touch what was clearly mine.
"Sorry, man. This lady's taken."
He didn't move, and from the corner of my eye, I registered his sputtering indignation. Finally allowing myself to look away from the woman who was now plastered against me, my eyes slid to the furious man to my left. This, too, was a man who was unused to being turned down. But tonight, there was no fucking way he would win.
"There are rules here, don't you know?" I asked pointedly. There was one rule. And he had broken it. Shooting him with a steely glare, I stated, "No means no."
I nodded to Mike, and within a few seconds, two bouncers appeared at the man's side. Each took an arm and escorted him from the premises. Once he was gone, the woman in my arms finally relaxed, slumping against me in relief. Unable to resist, I lightly stroked her hair and the exposed skin of her back.
"Thanks," she finally whispered.
"Not a problem. I'm just sorry that you had to deal with that." Reaching down to tip her chin up, I met her wary gaze. "I promise… We're not all like that."
My quietly spoken words seemed to have a comforting effect; the wariness left her face, awareness taking its place as she relaxed further. That look went straight to my cock, anticipation tickling my gut. Taking a step back, I tugged her hand and led her to the dance floor. When we reached the center of the crowd, I pulled her flush against me. In her stilettos, she was only a few inches shorter than me, and my nose brushed her temple. I inhaled, breathing her in, learning her scent. The music was edgy and rough; it demanded action. Gripping her hips roughly, I shoved one of my thick, muscled thighs between her legs and pushed my pelvis purposely into hers. We slow danced like this for a few minutes, her body sliding sinuously and rhythmically against mine while I ground my now-aching erection against her. When the music changed to something slower and smoother, less driving, I slid my arms up her back and leaned in to talk to her.
"So…" I began. "I haven't seen you here before."
"It's my first time," she responded, somewhat nervously.
"Well, don't worry. I don't bite," I assured. Then I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Unless you want me too, of course."
I felt her chuckle, felt her relax against me.
"I think we got off to a bad start… I'm M."
Her feet slowed, and she looked down, as if she was hesitant to give me her name. Then she sighed.
"Jade," she stated quickly before leaning back to eye me with furrowed brow. "M? Is that short for something?"
I just nodded. It was my nickname from childhood. Short for McCarty.
"It suits you," she stated, lifting her lips to my ear. "Mac…" she stated again, slowly and surely, her husky voice drawing that one syllable out deliciously.
I fucking loved the way my name sounded on her tongue. And the way her tongue was now caressing my ear. I groaned, and she chuckled throatily before thrusting her hips into mine.
Now, I was finally back on familiar ground, playing the mating game. We danced for a while, bodies swaying together in perfect fucking synchronization, every move a deliberate step in the push and pull of foreplay. She writhed against me sensually, her thighs and hips bumping against mine rhythmically, the hardened tips of her nipples brushing my chest suggestively. Slipping my hands around her waist, my fingers pressed slightly, pulling her even closer, grinding slowly. It was bittersweet torture, being this close—feeling all of her pressed against me—yet way too fucking far away from her. Tipping my chin down, I mirrored her actions from earlier, allowing my tongue to brush the shell of her ear. Her body shuddered in unrestrained response against mine, her fingers tightening almost painfully against my waist.
"You wanna go somewhere a bit more… private?" I asked.
Pushing through the crush of bodies, we retraced our earlier footsteps. Mike caught my eye as I purposely strode towards the bar and flashed me the signal. I gave the briefest nod of acknowledgement, but my focus never wavered from the woman I was escorting. My fingers burned from contact with the exposed skin of her lower back, heated awareness coursing through my blood and pooling in my groin.
Her feet faltered when we passed the bar, and I guided her to the back hallway rather than toward the exit. Allowing my fingers to dip beneath the low-cut back of her dress, I caressed the swell of one cheek.
"Do you trust me?"
I experienced a moment of panic when she tensed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Leaning down to brush my lips against the skin at the juncture of her neck and collarbone, I whispered, "This is your call, baby… I won't do anything you don't want me to do."
My lips closed around that tender flesh, and her frantic pulse fluttered beneath my lips. She wanted this, really fucking badly. I could tell. But she was nervous. I sucked gently on that tell-tale pulse-point, and her body sagged backward into mine in eager acquiescence. Triumph surged through me at her slight nod. Straightening, I urged her forward once more. This time, there was no hesitation.
We bypassed the public restrooms and came to a door that was protected with a coded lock. Punching in the sequence Mike had flashed me, I ushered her in, flipping the lights and turning the dead-bolt behind me. She looked around in surprise at the small lounge we had entered.
The room was tastefully decorated, obviously a sensual haven. The lighting was dim. On one side, a large marble vanity took up the entire wall; a basket with condoms and single-use packets of lube sat in the corner. A small, red velvet settee resided against the opposite wall. A swinging door leading to the john was tucked into the wall opposite the exit. But the defining feature of the room was that every wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Images of my body pressed against her back, my lips caressing the nape of her neck, and my hands splayed against her ribcage were reflected back to me from every angle.
"What is this?" she asked in a whisper.
Lifting my head to meet her questioning eyes in the mirror above the vanity, I watched as her hands slid up to cover my own. My breath caught when she urged my fingers upwards in order to cup her breasts. I was unable to tear my eyes from the image of her hands covering mine as I dipped a finger into her dress and rubbed one of her hardened nipples. Her eyes drifted shut and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Private lounge," I answered in a strangled whisper as she arched against me, pushing her breasts more firmly against my hands and wiggling her ass against my groin.
"Mmmm…" she hummed.
I didn't know if her reply was in response to my words or to my fingers, which had just yanked her dress down, releasing her tits. They were round and full, and I palmed them eagerly as soon as they spilled out into my waiting hands, their pale cream a sharp contrast to my tan. Beautiful dusky-tipped nipples—already hardened in anticipation—pouted at me invitingly. Watching my reflection intently, I reached up to tease the pebbled tips, eliciting another breathy moan.
"Fuck, baby. You're beautiful," I murmured encouragingly against her neck.
At my compliment, her hands traced up my arms and laced around the back of my neck. The motion pushed her chest out further and caused her ass to press even more firmly against my rock-hard cock. I grunted slightly at the intimate contact, and she swiveled her hips in response. When my exhalation turned into a tortured groan, she repeated the motion.
My eyes snapped back to her face. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, a flash of pink against bright red, as she swiveled again, purposefully pausing right as her ass grazed the bulge in my pants. Even though her eyes were closed, a knowing smile played at her lips as I bucked against her. My eyes narrowed. She was enjoying this, playing with me. But this was my game, and it was about fucking time to remind her of that fact.
On the next swivel of her hips, I pinched the pert, pink flesh between my fingertips, causing her to cry out slightly. Her eyes snapped open, and this time, my knowing smile met her gaze. Her eyes quickly dropped to look at my fingers. After a particularly satisfying sigh, I released her sensitive nipple and allowed one hand to slide down her ribcage, to her waist, and lower. Her eyes followed the downward descent of my hand over her hip. I didn't stop, sliding further down to slip my fingers beneath the hem of her dress and caress the silky skin of her thigh. She gasped at the touch, flinging her head back against my shoulder and digging her nails into the back of my neck.
Curling my fingers around the bottom of her dress, I slowly slid it up, and tremors vibrated through her entire body. Sucking in little panting breaths, she fucking trembled against me in eager anticipation of what would come next. Suddenly, I wanted to see her jump.
Correction: I wanted to make her jump.
I stretched my index finger so that it was brushing her inner thigh on the ascent, so that it would touch… her when I pulled the skirt high enough.
Her breathing stopped completely as my finger got closer and closer to its destination.
And when the tip of that finger finally grazed slick, naked, smooth skin…
She jerked. Then moaned. It was the most erotic fucking sound I had ever heard, a desperate keening that penetrated every inch of my being, settling in my stomach and reaching down to yank at my cock.
I pulled her skirt slowly to her waist, watching in the mirror as she was revealed to me. She was waxed, bare except for a small landing strip of neatly trimmed golden-colored curls. Sliding my other hand down, I anchored her skirt at her waist as I reached back down between her legs. Pressing more firmly this time, I slid a finger between her lips, teasing her. Capturing some of her moisture on my fingertips, I traced lazy circles against her swollen skin. Her breathy moans filled the air and resonated deep within me.
With each stroke of my fingers, her pants and moans grew louder. Her hips began to move of their own accord, and her hands clamped tightly against my neck in a losing battle to anchor herself in an upright position. I slipped a finger inside of her, pumping roughly, and her entire body jerked again, a whispered curse escaping her lips.
It was all the encouragement I needed. I turned my head, my lips grazing her ear.
"Don't worry, baby. I am gonna fuck you. Really good. Just the way you want."
"Oh, fuck. Yes…" she groaned as she thrust her hips against my hand, forcing my finger even deeper into her hot, wet pussy.
"But not yet…"
She whimpered when I removed my finger, her eyes snapping up to lock on my gaze in the mirror. Moving slowly, purposefully, I trailed my hand up her waist to the hem of the dress. Tugging gently, I pulled it up and over her head—displacing her hands from the back of my neck in the process—then tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. Settling my hands at her waist, I urged her forward to the vanity. When her stomach was pressed flush against the cold granite surface, her hands dropped to brace herself, and her head tipped forward.
"No!" I stated sharply, and her head snapped back up. "I want you to watch."
Nostrils flaring and eyes burning, she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, but she met my eyes in the mirror. I nodded my approval.
"Good. Now, spread your legs."
Her eyes dilated further, and she took a hastily indrawn breath, but she did as I commanded. Placing a hand in the center of her back, between her shoulders, I pushed slightly.
"Bend over, just a little, rest on your elbows. Good," I praised again when she followed my command. But then her head tipped downward again. "Don't take your eyes off the fucking mirror!" I grated out.
Her eyes once again rose to meet mine, and a tiny whimper escaped her lips as my hand slid slowly down her spine and over the smooth skin of her backside to the curve where her ass met her hamstring. Twisting my hand around, I slipped my fingers between her legs and grazed that hot, slick skin once again. She moaned.
"Watch what I'm doing to you."
She looked confused for a moment until I took a step back and dropped to my knees behind her. Using both hands, I parted her legs, encouraging her feet to spread even further apart, then tugged slightly at the front of her thighs in order to get her to tilt her hips. Using my thumbs, I spread her lips, then leaned up and touched my tongue to her wet skin. She jerked and moaned again, a deep, guttural sound that rumbled throughout her entire body. I smiled wickedly.
I already had her on the edge, and I was only getting started.
Tilting my head back, I ran my tongue against her slit, dipping the tip into her pussy to taste her sweet juices on each down stroke. Her legs began to tremble in earnest beneath my hands, her body shaking with restraint. Yanking her hips backwards, I sank down on the floor and tilted my head further in order to wrap my lips around her clit, sucking hard. She rocked into me forcefully with a gasping grunt, cursing in pleasure. Flicking my tongue, I teased her clit until her hands slammed against the counter-top and she cried out.
At the desperate sound, I pushed her hips forward roughly, and she collapsed onto the vanity, her legs unable to hold her upright any longer. Unfolding my body from the floor, I had my pants unbuttoned and at my ankles by the time I was upright on my feet. Taking a step forward, I rubbed my rock-hard erection against her ass and she whimpered in anticipation, her hips wiggling side to side. Grabbing my cock in my hand, I bent my knees slightly and guided myself to her entrance, teasing—sliding between her lips, but not penetrating.
When she huffed in irritation at my obvious delay, I spoke.
"What do you want, baby?"
She grunted. "You know what I want."
"Tell me!" I demanded.
"I want you to fuck me."
"Like this?" I pushed in just a little, then pulled back out, rubbing the wetness around.
"No," she whined.
I repeated the action. On my third partial penetration, she rocked back in an attempt to force me deeper, but I chuckled and pulled back.
"Please…" she begged.
"I don't fucking think so," I replied. Reaching up, I wrapped a hand around her long hair. "What did I tell you earlier?" I asked, giving her hair a sharp tug.
Her head tilted up. As soon as her eyes met mine in the mirror, I thrust forward, burying myself in her hot, wet pussy. Her mouth dropped open as I filled her, and we both groaned. I pulled out slowly, and when I thrust forward again, filling her completely, her eyes drifted shut on a shuddering sigh. I tugged her hair again, causing her eyes to snap to mine in irritation and intense arousal.
"What did I tell you earlier?" I asked again, my tone harsher this time. I pulled out, poised right at her entrance.
"To watch…" she groaned.
"That's right," I stated as I slammed into her again. "You're gonna watch me fuck you."
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth again, her small, white teeth scoring the surface.
"And you're gonna fucking love it," I decreed.
"Yes…" she practically moaned as I filled her yet again.
I established a quick rhythm, using her hair to help guide her backward movement against my forward thrusts. Our eyes remained locked in the mirror while my body pumped in and out of hers from behind. When her breathing became labored and the familiar tightening sensation began to pool in my lower abdomen and creep down into my balls, I reached around with my free hand and buried it between her legs, my fingers homing to the source of her pleasure. Several strokes of my fingers against her sensitive clit, and she slammed backward into me, screaming my name. Her inner walls clenched around me, and the pressure finally exploded in my abdomen. With a curse, I shot my load deep inside of her.
"Oh, fuck…" she panted as I collapsed onto her back, pushing her chest against the cold stone of the vanity and breaking our eye contact.
I rested my forehead against the smooth skin between her shoulder blades and attempted to catch my breath. Shaken by the intensity of the encounter, I found it nearly fucking impossible to breathe around the knot that had suddenly appeared in my throat. An unfamiliar and uncomfortably tight sensation pooled in my chest, constricting my heart and keeping it from slowing. Raising my hands, my fingers curled around her upper arms, holding her in a gentle, intimate embrace, an action meant to ground me just as much as her. My breath finally escaped in a gasping huff that caused her skin to pucker in awareness and her body to shudder in response. Her chest heaved beneath me; I was not the only one affected by our intense connection. My eyelids fluttered shut, and my lips ghosted reverently across the damp skin of her upper back.
"Oh, God… I fucking love you."
The words escaped in a strangled whisper before I could contain them. As soon as I realized what I'd just said, my heart stuttered to a fucking stop before resuming its frantic pace. We both stiffened in response, and I lifted my upper body from hers, giving her some space even though we were still joined in the most intimate of ways.
Warily raising my eyes to meet hers in the mirror, I was shocked by what I encountered; green eyes flashed wildly at me, ever-changing emotions racing across her face: first shock, then excitement and attraction—acceptance—and victory. But that positive response was quickly replaced by something far more insidious: a deep-seated hurt, and finally, anger. No, it was more than mere anger. The intense fucking rage that emanated from her caused me to suck in a gasping breath and take a staggering step backward, severing the final physical connection we shared.
As soon as I pulled out, she whipped around to nail me with an icy glare.
"Love? You call this… love?"
Her mouth and eyes spat wrath in my direction, and she punctuated her words with a choppy gesture that encompassed the both of us. I was stunned into fucking silence, in awe of her—equal parts terrified of her fury and captivated by her incomparable beauty. Reaching down, she snatched her dress from the floor and stepped into it, yanking it up her body. Without straightening it, she stalked across the room. After flipping the lock, she yanked the door open, and without turning around, she addressed me.
"This isn't love, Mac." My name was a condescending sneer on her lips. "This is a random hook up in a private room of a sex club. Just a fuck!"
She stepped through the door, leaving me standing half-naked and still semi-hard in the center of the room. All I could do was stare at the fucking door as it swung shut behind her. And of course, because it was also mirrored, it was as if I were standing in a tunnel; all I could see was my own image reflected back to me, over and over again, each subsequent image smaller than the first. When I had been standing behind her, looking at our reflection from every angle, it had been highly erotic. But seeing only myself… my blood ran cold, and I began to question everything.
Why the hell did I come here tonight? Didn't I already have everything I could ever want at home?
Had I just fucked everything up?
That thought spurred me into motion. Reaching down, I yanked my pants up my legs and propelled myself through the door. I practically ran to the bar, but when I emerged in the crowded room, my feet stuttered to a halt and my heart sank to the bottom of my fucking stomach. Looking around, I knew she was gone, and despite the room full of people, I felt completely fucking alone. I stumbled to the bar.
"Dude… what did you do to that girl?" Mike asked in a steely tone as he set a shot of whiskey on the bar in front of me.
"I fucked her."
Mike looked at me, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Dude, I've seen the way that girls look after you've taken them to the lounge… freshly fucked and satisfied. That girl looked… well, pissed is an understatement. So, I'll ask again. What the fuck did you do to her?"
I lifted my head and scowled at my friend. "I didn't do anything wrong, Mike, I swear. I just fucked her."
His penetrating glare told me that he didn't believe me. I dropped my gaze back to my fingers, which were twirling my shot glass.
"Fuck!" I cursed before lifting the glass to my lips and tipping the alcohol into my mouth. I welcomed the burn as it slid down my throat. Slamming the glass back on the counter, I brought my hands to my head, gripping tightly in frustration and tossing my head back. I could feel Mike's accusing stare, even though my eyes were focused on the ceiling. When I dropped my hands and my head, it was to find Mike's eyes boring into me.
"Fine," I ground out. "You wanna know what pissed her off so badly?"
He nodded, a wary look on his face, almost as if he was afraid to hear what was coming.
"I fucked the shit out of her. Probably the best she'd ever had, because it was by far the best fuck of my life." I paused, hands once again flying to my hair in agitation. I sighed and looked to Mike with haunted eyes. "Then I told her I loved her."
This was obviously not the response Mike was anticipating, because his mouth dropped open and a look of absolute confusion washed across his features.
"But…" he stammered, "You said you have a girlfriend."
I gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
"Oh, is that the problem? Did you tell her about the girlfriend?"
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, gripping the back of my skull tightly with my fingertips. "No," I stated tersely.
"I don't get it then… what exactly is the problem?"
I paused for a moment and huffed in frustration.
"That was my girlfriend."
Tossing a few bills on the counter, I turned to leave before Mike could ask the questions that I couldn't answer.
An hour later, I stood nervously at Rose's door. I'd been standing here for ten minutes, hand raised, but unable—or maybe unwilling—to knock. I'd fucked up royally tonight, and I didn't know if we would be able to work through this or not. I hoped we would, because contrary to what I had told Mike earlier in the evening, I had settled quite easily into a life of domesticity.
And that had scared the ever-loving shit out of me.
I had changed everything for her, without even realizing. 'The Master' had disappeared, and a kinder, gentler, and more sensitive version of me had materialized his place. I hadn't set foot back into that club—or any other club for that matter—since the day I met Rosalie Hale. She was everything I never knew I wanted or needed. Clichéd, but the fucking truth. After our first date, I had known she was 'The One.' But I had spent the last ten years living it up—fucking whomever, whenever, and wherever I wanted—and suppressing all emotional connections. Suddenly finding myself completely satisfied by one person was a bit unnerving. And when she told me she loved me for the first time a few months back, I kind of lost it.
I knew she wanted to hear me say it back, but I couldn't. Even though I knew she was 'it' for me, I wasn't ready to verbalize those feelings yet. It went against my nature, or at least the nature that I'd embraced for the past ten years. So each and every time we talked or kissed or had sex and I didn't tell her, I watched as a little more of her confidence in me—and in our relationship—died. The sad thing is I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her really fucking badly, but it was counterintuitive to everything I had ever thought, felt, or experienced; I was scared shitless by the unfamiliar emotions coursing through my body, because they were feelings over which I had no fucking control.
I had suggested the club tonight, hoping that a familiar setting might help to loosen me up. And it had. Being there—the one place where I had always been able to be myself—had finally given me the courage to tell her how I felt. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone quite as planned. It wasn't even necessary to close my eyes in order to recall with perfect fucking clarity every emotion that swam across her features after those words had crossed my lips; a vision of Rose's indignant fury was burned into my memory.
Taking a deep breath, I finally rapped my knuckles against the door.
The door swung inward almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for me. She had changed out of the slinky dress and was now wearing an old tee-shirt and a pair of my boxer shorts. Her hair was scraped back from her face in a severe ponytail. She had also discarded the green contacts, and I was glad to see that her eyes were once again a pretty blue. However, with a single glance at her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, my heart dropped out of my fucking chest.
"Rosie?" I whispered, reaching my hand up in an attempt to cup her cheek. She backed away before I could make contact. But she didn't close the door, instead holding it open and indicating that I come in.
I walked into her living room—a place in which I had become quite comfortable over the past six months—and stood, hands clenched at my sides. I listened for any sound that indicated she would join me, but I was met only with absolute fucking silence. My hands fisted tighter and my eyes squeezed shut as I waited for a sign, any sign, that she would close the distance between us. All I heard was her shakily-indrawn breath from across the room. I didn't know how much time had passed when my shoulders finally slumped forward in defeat.
I didn't really know what the hell I was begging for.
"W-why…" Her voice cracked, drawing the word out into multiple syllables. Pausing, she took a steadying breath. "Why did it have to be like that? I felt so dirty, so used…"
I turned around slowly to face her. She was slumped against the door, her disappointed eyes trained on me.
"You know about my past, baby. And you agreed to go there tonight," I reminded her hesitantly. "Hell, you were the one to suggest that we role-play—that I pretend I didn't know you …"
"Yes, I do know, and yes, I did make the suggestion. And I was prepared for what happened physically, enjoyed it even. It was illicit and erotic, and I have never been that turned on in my life. But it was all a game, an act. A scene." She spat the word. "It wasn't real… None of it. The name, the clothes, even the freaking contacts…" She shook her head. "I don't dress like that or do things like that. Ever. That wasn't me."
"Of course it was you. I—"
"Stop!" she interrupted me. "Let me finish!"
I shut my mouth and nodded, bringing my hands together, wringing them nervously.
"That wasn't me, Emmett. It was a fantasy version of me-one I created to please you. And that person was the one to whom you said 'I love you' tonight. Not me. Am I not enough? Will I ever be enough? Me, that is. The real me."
For a moment I didn't answer, wanting to make sure that she really wanted me to talk this time. She was staring desperately at me, all of her fears and vulnerabilities exposed, a tear dripping from her lashes to trail down her cheek. With a groan, I crossed the room purposefully, stopping only when I was directly in front of her. Her head dropped at my approach. Reaching up, I cupped her cheeks in my hands, using my thumb to brush away that single, lonely tear.
"How can you ask that?" I whispered. Forcing her chin up so that she was looking into my eyes, I spoke honestly for the first time. "Rose, you're fucking everything. The only thing. The only one who has ever mattered to me in this way… can't you tell?"
Another tear ran down her cheek, then another, as she shook her head in the negative.
"Ah, Rose," I sighed, bringing my lips to her forehead. "It's you. Only you. It has been since the first day I saw you."
Her hands slipped around my waist, and she buried her head in my neck. I felt her take a shuddering sigh. "How many others have you said 'I love you' to back in that room?" she asked in a hushed whisper.
"None?" she scoffed. "Not one."
"Not one," I confirmed. "In fact, I have never said those words to a woman before in my life." I paused and leaned back, once again tilting her face up in order to look her straight in the eye. "Until tonight. Until you…"
More tears fell from her eyes, but this time they were tempered with a tremulous smile. Lowering my head, I brought my mouth to hers, savoring the feel of her soft, warm lips against my own. No kiss we had previously shared ever felt like this. As I sucked on her lower lip, I inhaled, breathing her into me as well. I was surrounded, saturated by my Rose. It was a heady feeling, one I knew I would never tire of. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, tasting her, and a tiny whimpering moan escaped her chest as her tongue greedily met mine. It was a sound of frustration and redemption, of control and surrender.
Suddenly, her arms were wrapped around my neck and her legs were entwined with mine. Her lips nipped, her tongue plundered, and her body clung. My cock instantly responded, springing to life, and with a groan she writhed against me. I took a step forward, pressing her against the wall, trapping her eagerly. But the feeling within my chest caused me to take a step back, even while every nerve screamed bloody murder in fucking protest. Hearing her frustrated sigh, I cupped her cheeks and lowered my lips to press a chaste kiss to her pouting mouth. Resting my forehead against hers, I felt my heart jump into my throat.
"You were right," I stated, tilting my head slightly to kiss first her cheek, then her nose and her eyes, and finally her forehead.
"About what?" she asked as I pulled her into a comforting embrace.
"It shouldn't have been like that."
I leaned down to capture her lips once again, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest.
"Huh?" she hummed against my mouth.
"It should have been like this…"
While I sucked gently on her lower lip, I pushed my hands into her hair. Holding her face steady, I released her lip and leaned back. Taking a deep breath, I waited for her to open her eyes. When she did, looking at me in confusion, I smiled. Then I stepped around her so that she could see the mirror on the wall. Standing directly behind her, I dropped my hands to her shoulder and leaned in so that my face was pressed against hers.
"I want you to watch," I stated.
At my words, she immediately stiffened. But I held her wary gaze, staring intently at the reflection of her eyes and rubbing comforting circles on her arms until she began to relax.
"Look at yourself, Rose. You're beautiful. Perfect. Perfect for me," I whispered fervently. Her eyes widened, and I tilted my head in order to press soft kisses against her temple, eyebrow, cheek. "Just the way you are, no change necessary."
I brushed my lips against the shell of her ear, then moved lower to kiss the tender skin of her neck. When she began to tremble, I raised my head again to meet her eyes in the mirror.
"And I love you."
She sighed, tears once again rolling down her cheeks.
"Hey…" I teased. "No crying. This is a good thing, right?"
She nodded. Her hand snaked up my arm to settle against my neck and I wrapped my arms around her from behind, my hands splayed against her ribcage. I watched as she dropped her hands to cover my own, and my breath caught when she urged my fingers upwards in order to cup her breast. It was like déjà vu, and once again I was unable to tear my eyes from the image of her hands covering mine as I held her once-again unbound breasts. And when her hips wiggled suggestively against mine, I pushed my aching hard-on into her soft backside.
All of our actions were eerily the same as before, yet somehow immensely different and far more meaningful. With a groan, I dropped my hands to the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it, pulling it over her head and allowing it to fall to the floor. Rose-tipped nipples once again pouted at me in the mirror, and I couldn't resist the urge to roll them between my fingertips. Her back arched, and her head fell back against my shoulder.
"Beautiful…" I murmured softly against her ear.
I was again struck with a sense of déjà vu, and I realized this was a scene I had no desire to repeat in the same context. Turning my head, I suckled gently at her neck, earning another moan.
"As arousing as this was… is… I want—no, need—it to be different this time."
Her eyes fluttered open, a look of confusion at first clouding their bottomless blue depths. But when she was finally able to focus on the reflection in the mirror, which was almost identical to earlier, she stiffened momentarily and dropped her eyes. But almost immediately, she snapped them back up, meeting my gaze in the mirror, a determined look on her face.
"It is," she assured. "This is nothing like before."
It wasn't. This time, we didn't fuck. This time, we made love.
Standing in front of her entryway mirror, we watched the way our bodies came together, an equal exchange of emotion and feeling this time, a balanced give and take, invitation rather than command. I filled her, and she welcomed me back. With each forward thrust of my hips, hers pushed backward with equal intensity and desire. With each touch of my fingers against her heated flesh, she found some way to touch me as well. And when she finally cried out my name in sweet release, my words of love followed.
Sliding to the floor, we remained wrapped in each other's arms—and love—as we came down from our intense high. Eventually, she slumped against me, both physically and emotionally spent. Standing carefully, I picked her up and carried her to bed, tucking her in. When I made to leave, her sleepy, protesting voice stopped me.
So I did.
I slid beneath the covers, cuddling her to me, curling myself around her, unable to get close enough, physically. Emotionally, I was sated, closer to her than I had ever been to anyone. I reveled in the feeling that now bounced joyously in my chest as my arms tightened around her. Filled with love, I finally realized that she fulfilled me.
With a smile, I buried my face in her neck, inhaling deeply, drinking in her scent. I felt her happy sigh. This time, when she spoke those three little words, I didn't hesitate to repeat them to her. In fact, I couldn't say them quickly enough.
From here on out, she was the only itch I would ever need to scratch. She was the only thing I would ever anticipate. She was my complete fucking satisfaction, and I would never need anything other than her. No clubs, and definitely no more sex in public places.
'The Master' would never need to make another appearance.
Unless, of course, she requested him.
A soft chuckle escaped my lips.
After our illicit behavior earlier tonight—and her obvious enjoyment of it—there was always hope.
A/N: Thanks for reading!