The light streaming through the moon roof provided the perfect view, and I couldn’t resist watching her face in awe as I worked her over. “Does that feel good?”
She pressed a kiss to my lips, murmuring a soft, “Yes, very.”
“You are so fucking tight. I can’t even imagine how good you’d feel riding my cock.”
That dirty remark earned me another moan of approval, and a wet coating of her cream on my fingers.
“Ride my fingers. Make yourself come.”
At first, I thought I had pegged her wrong—maybe she wasn’t the type to follow orders.
Then relief sagged in her shoulders, like she’d been waiting for me to give her permission all along.
She moved her hips up and down, rocking against my hand. Slowly at first, and then as I curled my fingers forward and found the tender spot inside, she moved faster.
“That’s it,” I murmured. She was coming undone and I fucking loved it. Far more than I should have.
With each thrust, she took me deeper, and the soft sound of her damp arousal was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Emma’s tight body clamped down on me, her head dropping back between her shoulders as she came in a rush of wet heat that coated my fingers and made my cock jerk hard against my zipper.
Removing my hand from between her legs, I inspected my glistening fingers in the dim light. Her scent was light and sweet, and I wanted to taste it. But even more than that, I wanted to make her squirm.
Wiping the sticky mess she’d made onto the leg of my pants, which were already ruined, I made a low tsking sound in my throat. “Look at what you’ve done.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she moved from my lap to the seat beside me.
“These pants are positively ruined.”
“I’m sorry. Can I . . . ?” Emma reached for the bulge still raging in my pants, but I batted her hand away. “Don’t you want me to—”
I shook my head. “We need to be getting back. It’s late.”
The excuse sounded lame even to my ears, but I knew if I let her touch me now, I would explode. I needed to get home, to manage this need myself before things got out of hand.
And I could only imagine what Emma must be thinking.
“Ben,” I barked out. “Proceed to Emma’s address.”
The limo rolled forward, pulling onto the semicircular drive that led to the road beyond.
Emma watched me from the corner of her eye as we drove. I knew she was probably thinking she’d done something wrong, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d never wanted a woman more.
The silent drive passed by slowly, and when we finally pulled to a stop in front of her brownstone, Emma got out of the limo without a word, her shoulders sagging and her chin tucked into her chest.
I exited behind her and escorted her to the door. It was almost midnight, but I felt so keyed up and on edge, I knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.
“Is everything . . . okay?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Everything’s fine. Good night, Miss Bell.”
“Good night, Gavin.”
“My assistant will be in touch with you when I have another event I need an escort for.” It was cold, even to my ears, but I didn’t know how to make it sound any different. It had always been the way I operated.
With a flash of anger in her bright gaze, Emma turned for the door and headed inside, closing it firmly behind her. I stayed until I heard the lock turn and then headed back to the limo.
“Where to, Mr. Kingsley?” Ben asked.
Knowing sleep was a long way off, I weighed my options. Though the idea of jerking one out appealed to me greatly, I couldn’t bring myself to go home to an empty house.
“Take me to the office.”
Despite it being after eleven at night, the lamp in Quinn’s office was still lit, and I bypassed my own office in favor of his.
His social skills were worse than mine—if that were even possible—but still, it surprised me he wasn’t out somewhere, or at least relaxing at home.
“Gavin? That you?” he called out.
He must have heard my footsteps approaching down the hall. I could have laughed at the fact he didn’t even consider that it might be Cooper.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked, rounding the corner to his office. I found him seated behind his desk, a glass of bourbon in front of him.
“I could ask you the same.” He smirked. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes, and his hair was overdue for a cut. In short, he looked like shit.
I knew he worked too much, knew he shouldered too much of the responsibility around here. But it had always been that way. Quinn was barely two years older than me, but he took the older-brother shit seriously. Growing up, he’d always looked out for me. Shit, he looked out for everyone. He had a soft spot in his heart for prostitutes and escorts. He’d saved more than one girl from life on the streets, and protected those who worked for us fiercely. Even though we didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, he was a good man.
“I was just going over last quarter’s financial statements.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples.
“Everything good?” I asked, helping myself to a glass of his bourbon before taking a seat in front of his desk.
“Everything’s good,” he confirmed, closing his laptop.
I sensed there was something else going on, some other reason he was here right now, but I didn’t press him.
Quinn took another slow sip of his drink, watching me. “Why are you here? Did you forget something?”
I shook my head. “Just wanted to check on a few things.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue, but my brother knew me better than to believe it. He didn’t have to say as much—I could see it in his eyes. He saw right through me.
“Tonight was your evening out with Emma, wasn’t it?” His dark brows drew together as he continued to study me.
“It was. I just dropped her off at home.” Taking another long sip of my drink, I hoped he read my fuck off signal loud and clear.
“How did that go? Did she live up to expectations?”
No such luck.
I shrugged. Maybe he thought I fucked her. I obviously didn’t. Ben could vouch for that. Jesus. “It was fine. We went to the event, and then I took her home. I won the Seychelles trip this year.”
“Oh, good. Another overpriced vacation you’ll never go on. Don’t change the subject.”
I rolled my eyes, adding another measure of bourbon to both our glasses. The bastard was referring to the trip to Tahiti I never took. Not that it went to waste. I gifted it to our highest-earning girl last year. She took her parents. I still had the photo of them on lounge chairs sitting on my desk.
As much as I didn’t want Quinn’s advice right now, I knew he was about to dish up a heaping serving. I bit the inside of my cheek and waited. The dude clearly had something he needed to get off his chest.
“Something’s different with this one,” he said. “I’m just trying to put my finger on what it is.”
He’d figure it out eventually; it didn’t take a rocket scientist. I drank the rest of my bourbon, waiting.
“I’m just trying to figure out if it’s more than just the fact she looks like Ashley.”
Ding, ding, ding.
“Drop it, Quinn. It has nothing to do with that.”
I didn’t want it to, and honestly, as I got to know Emma, the less their similarities seemed to matter. That first time I saw her in the coffee shop, though, I’d been knocked back three years.
Looking at Emma was like staring into the face of my once-upon-a-time. But I knew that wasn’t possible. I’d been there the day they’d lowered her into the ground. I’d said my good-byes, as final as they were.
They shared a few similar features, but Emma was her own woman, and one I was quickly becoming fascinated with.
“I know there’s something different about her. You haven’t even looked twice at a woman in months. Just be careful this time.”
I rose to my feet, my blood pumping fast. “Don’t you think I fucking know that?”
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