Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(45)

My lips part and I gasp for breath as I come. I have to close my eyes when my climax reaches its peak.

“Atta girl,” he whispers. My body trembles and the orgasm just won’t stop. Wave after wave after wave knocks me down, and I subtly dig myself against the seat cushion to get more friction.

“Emerson, please,” I breathe, begging for relief. My poor sensitive spot is raw, the vibration now feeling more like pain than pleasure.

“I like the way you beg,” he whispers. “Tell me what you’ll do to make it stop.”

With a small gasp, I look around to see if anyone is looking at us. “Eyes on me,” he commands quietly, and I turn my gaze back to him.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I reply. “I’ll listen to you when you tell me to do something. I’ll never flirt with Drake again.”

“Good. Are you going to accuse me of being with someone else while I’m with you?”

My gaze intensifies, and I shake my head. “No…”

“You trust me?”

I nod.

“I belong to you as much as you belong to me, Charlotte. If I’m your Dom, I’m no one else’s. Don’t ever assume I would do that to you. Understand?”

How do his words seem to have such an effect on me, lancing me with heat and arousal and so much longing, it’s painful?

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now tell me. What else will you do?”

Our eyes meet in a charged moment. “I’ll…”

“Say it,” he whispers darkly.

“I’ll be good.”

A wicked smile stretches across his face. Finally, the vibrations cease. The ringing in my ears quiets. The rattling of my bones and the humming through my veins all stop, and it’s like returning to reality. I feel entirely exposed, even though no one is even looking our way.

He pays the check and we leave without another word. This thing is still inside me, but I trust that he won’t torture me with it anymore. He seems satisfied with my answers, and I haven’t really done anything to warrant more punishment. I can see now just how much give and take there is in this relationship. And trust.

When we get back to his house, I take the toy out, cleaning it off and hiding it in my purse. I have to give it back at some point, but it’s not exactly something I want to just hand over before I leave.

While I’m at my desk, my eyes keep tracking Emerson. Watching him work, thinking about Monica and how he smiled at her.

Am I expendable? Will he be tired of me one day and replace me with someone new?

Why does that hurt so much to think about? Because it’s more than a job now, isn’t it? My stupid, ignorant heart went and got attached, and I can’t help the way I feel about Emerson Grant. Someone I really shouldn’t have any feelings for.

“See you tomorrow,” I call from the door as I ready myself to leave. He glances up from his computer, his soft, wolf-like eyes settling on my face with a new, almost loving expression.

“Here,” he says, digging in his pocket. When he pulls out the sleek black remote, my lips part and I think about what happened today in the restaurant. As excruciating as it was, I loved it.

“Keep it,” I reply, knowing the implications of my response. “And I’ll keep the other piece.”

He tenses for a moment, and I feel like time stretches while I wait for his response. Finally, he nods and lets his eyes crinkle with a delicate smile.

After walking out the door, I sit in my car and let my face rest against the steering wheel. Emerson and I are tiptoeing into dangerous territory. First, the job. Then, the special arrangement. That moment in the hallway at the club. Today, at the restaurant.

We’re just toying with this idea of sex, both of us basically expressing that we want it, but holding back for Beau’s sake. Which I can handle. I never saw that desire coming, but I figure it would pass and I could resist.

But the way Emerson makes me feel. The way I feel about him. How my heart seems to almost expand in his presence, the way I like myself more when I’m around him. How I want to be the only girl in the world he ever sets eyes on again.

I’m falling hard for Emerson Grant.

I’m so fucked.





RULE #20: ESTABLISH YOUR LIMITS…AND WISHES.





Charlotte





The list is on my desk when I come in the next morning—the list. It’s opened to page four, the unanswered questions. Words like anal, nipple stimulation, threesomes, orgasm denial stare back at me, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet.

“What’s this?” I ask, glancing at Emerson as he walks in. He’s dressed impeccably in tight blue slacks, brown leather shoes, and a white button-up shirt that looks a couple sizes too small. Has he always looked this good or is it my lovesick brain starting to distort reality?

After taking a sip of his black coffee, he sets it down on his desk and walks over. Standing only a foot or so away from me, he glances at the paper in my hands. My cheeks start to heat up, this unspoken thing between us growing more intense by the second.

“I realized that what we did yesterday was wrong of me. I should have never used that…toy on you as punishment because it was an unanswered question on this form. I don’t normally make mistakes like this.”