Ruthless In A Suit(74)

I push her back with my hand, getting her into position so that I can take her. But Emily isn’t having it. Not tonight. She turns until she is on her hands and knees, her ass popped up toward me. She looks over her shoulder at me and I swear, I couldn’t close my mouth if I tried. Staring at her round ass offered up to me is the hottest thing I’ve seen. I don’t even realize I’ve taken my dick in my hand, giving it slow strokes. As if she couldn’t get any hotter, she lowers her body to her forearms, so that her ass is really primed and waiting for me. I can’t wait a second longer.

I move forward and easily find her soaked slit and I push my long dick slowly into her cunt. We both moan out, the new angle giving us both new pleasure. I slide my dick out, coated in her juices, then push it back in, her hole so tight. I watch as my dick widens her and disappears into her pussy. I pump her slowly, stretching out her walls. She moves back into my dick, moving with me, wanting more. I increase my tempo, gently at first, testing her out. Sweat is dotting her back, lining the ridge in her spine, and I run my hand over it. She’s pushing back even harder into me, so I give it to her back, slamming my dick into her, my balls smacking her ass until she’s screaming out and I’m exploding into her, grinding myself as deep into her as I can into her pussy. Fucking hell, I never knew a woman could be so hot.

After a moment I slowly pull myself out of her. She stands, reaching out for my shoulder as she sways.

“Whoa,” I say. “You okay?”

Her eyes have fallen shut; her cheeks are flushed red and her hair is a mess. Naked fucked Emily standing before me could get me hard again in about thirty seconds.

“Yeah,” she says. A smile forms on her lips. “I just need a minute.”

I hold her hand as she walks away to the bathroom. I rub my hand through my hair as my mind slowly comes back. She could make me forget everything, and gladly. I need her in my life, always. Business aside—in fact, screw the business. I don’t want anything, only Emily. I can’t continue keeping these feelings inside me. I have to tell her how I feel.





Emily





I splash water on my face in the bathroom not far from the living room. I cleaned myself up—as usual, Jackson had me absolutely drenched—and I still needed a cool down as my senses slowly come back to me. I dry my face and try to fix my hair, smoothing it down into something that doesn’t make me look like I just woke up in the forest.

I go into the kitchen for a couple glasses of water. The glow of a laptop illuminates the refrigerator. I can’t help but turn to look at the screen.

My eyes scan across an email. I see the words, but I have to go back and read it more slowly because I can’t believe my eyes.

The gist? In order for Jackson to take over the family business, he has to prove his “family values” by getting married.

He’s been using me this whole time as some sort of sick contest with his brothers. Draw me into his life, wine and dine me a little, and then pop the question—only so that he can get the real prize. I know how bitter he’s been about not taking over the company like his father had told him his whole life, but I never imagined I’d be a part of some plot to become his trophy wife. And here I am, standing naked in his kitchen, the cold of the travertine floors sending chills straight up my body. All I want is to get out of here but my clothes are in the living room, where Jackson still is—probably naked.

A shame builds up in me for believing someone like Jackson could be with someone like me—much less fall in love. I knew he was out of my league, and I only mean that in terms of hotness (damn him) and money. In all other ways, my family was right. He’s not the man for me. He only cares about himself and his business.

When I storm into the living room, he’s (thankfully) got his boxers back on and is lounging back on the couch, one arm behind his head like he’s posing for an underwear ad. Jesus, his body…. I literally can’t look at him. I find my panties and slip them on.

“Come here,” he says, lazily reaching a hand out for me.

“No,” I say.

He sits up on his forearms. “You okay?”

I throw his pants aside and find my skirt and blouse but where the hell is my bra?

“I just want to get dressed,” I say.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head no. I can’t speak. Not yet. I definitely can’t look at him. Finally I find my bra on the other side of the ottoman and I snatch it up. I turn my back to Jackson as I finish getting dressed.

“Emily,” he says. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

I can’t stop the tears from coming, as much as I want to. I swipe my cheeks clear before turning back to him. He looks so confused, maybe even concerned. But it’s part of his act. I know that now.