The VIP Room(130)

They rocked together, there against the wall, both so lost in their own pleasure, in each other’s bodies, that the building could have fallen down around them and they wouldn’t have noticed. In fact, it would not have surprised her to know that an earthquake shook the country while he was inside of her. That’s what it felt like, like a natural disaster that brought with it more pleasure than she had ever known in all her twenty-five years.

She clung to him, to this man who was on a mission to ruin her life. Wrapped her arms tight around his neck and buried her fingers in his dark, deceptively soft hair, tugging him as close to her as she could get him. She wanted his kisses, wanted his determined explorations. She wanted to feel his pleasure, to taste his breath. And…oh, she wanted the tension that was building deep inside of her, the orgasm that would change her life irrevocably.

She screamed when it came.

She’d never understood screamers. She watched an erotic movie with a friend once and couldn’t figure out for the life of her why the female actress insisted on screaming every time she was supposedly in the throes of an orgasm. In her limited experience, orgasms were not a scream worthy event.

But that was before Dante.





Chapter 12





“Do you know you have bruises on your throat?”

Emma looked up from her breakfast, her fingers automatically pulling the light scarf she’d tied around her neck back into place. “It’s not a bruise.”

“It can’t be a hickey,” Sophie said, chuckling at her own joke. “Unless you snuck some guy up here while I was at Jill’s last night.”

“Would I do that?”

“No. That’s why it’s so funny.”

If only you knew.

Emma’s gaze moved to the far wall, on the other side of which she and Dante stood for their heated exchange. It made her blush to think about it. A reckless, stupid mistake. Even he seemed to understand that. The moment it was over, he pulled away, snatching up his shirt as he stormed to the door. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look back at her before he left, slamming the door behind him as though the last moments of their encounter hadn’t happened.

She cleaned up, gathered all the small buttons from his shirt and hid them in her dresser drawer, not sure what else to do with them. Then she went to bed, her body sore in places she wasn’t accustomed to. All she could think about was him. All she could smell was the scent of him. She finally had to get up and take another shower before she was finally able to steal a few minutes of sleep. But even then, he filled her dreams.

“Finish your oatmeal, Em,” Sophie said, pushing her bowl a little closer. “I’m going to be late for school.”

Emma stuck her tongue out at her little sister, and then did as she was told.



* * *



The store was slow over the next few days, making it easier for Emma to get her homework done. She brought up her Biology score with a paper on cytoplasts, so that was one last thing to worry about, too. Not that school was really her biggest priority right then.

The news stories about the fiasco at Dante’s announcement were already dying down. DJC released a statement that, in essence, lied about the situation. They said they had been dealing with a few disgruntled tenants, but that deals had been reached and that no one was being evicted unfairly. And then they made their announcement, though Dante’s thunder was gone.

DJC was releasing their own line of smartphones.

The whole thing made Emma nauseous. The lies, the greed, the way the richer got richer and the poor just got screwed.

She started to look for a new apartment, but all the prices were so much higher than what she was already paying. Getting a two bedroom seemed to be impossible. She and Sophie were either going to have share a bedroom, or get a loft and create personal space for themselves out of modified curtains, or something. And that, she was pretty sure, would not go over well with her sixteen year old sister.

Her shift ended. She grabbed her book bag and headed out, leaving through the back doors because they were closer to the bus stop. She saw him immediately, standing there against his fancy car. It crossed her mind to turn around, to go back inside where she knew there was a security guard within ear shot. But she didn’t.

“I’d like to give you a ride home,” he said.

Emma lifted her chin to indicate the bus stop several yards behind him. “I have a ride.”

“Don’t you think my car would be a little more comfortable than the bus?”

“Probably. But the company’s better on the bus.”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t really react to her rude comment at all. He just studied her, his hands clenched in front of him almost like a good, southern boy wringing his hat to death.

“I thought we should talk about what happened the other night.”

“Which part? The part where you shoved your way into my apartment with your hand around my throat, or the part where you…” She had intended to use a vulgar word to describe what happened next, but she couldn’t quite get it to jump off her tongue.

Some color came to his cheeks. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. I was angry.”

“I get that.”

“And frustrated. And confused.”

“I’m sorry for you.”