Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 03

He was large. Very large. And beautiful. She’d never thought she’d ever think of a man’s...thing...that way, but he was. She felt a strange compulsion to touch him, to stroke, and caress. She wanted to taste him. Odd - she’d never experienced any urge to do so before, not even when she had thought he was Kit. That time - that first time, when she had finally known it was he making love to her and not his brother - that was the first time she had ever...done it. But it had felt degrading then, and illicit, somehow. She did not want to think about then.

He was on top of her now, his mouth hungrily seeking hers. Instinctively, her lips parted - he slid inside, plundered, hot and wet. He rolled, and she found herself on top of him, her blouse gaping open, her bra tugged away. His hands gripped her waist, bent her forward, and Emma’s breast, quite suddenly, was in his mouth.

She let out a gasp of agonising pleasure. She felt hot, wanton, uninhibited, free. Freer than she’d ever felt in her life. She didn’t delude herself, this time, that he was forcing her. She wanted this. She wanted him.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it, afterwards.

Tugging herself away, she bent down, pressing her mouth against his bronzed, sculpted torso. There was a raw, masculine beauty in him, in the leashed power of his body. If only he wasn’t such an arrogant boor!

Her tongue touched his nipple and he groaned, closed his eyes and let his head drop back. “Oh, God, Emma,” he rasped. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, merely moved onto the other nipple, laving, then suckling at it. James’ hands crept into her hair, his fingers alternately caressing and twisting.

She moved down to his stomach, and he tensed. “Emma...” he began in a warning voice. “Do you -”

The rest of the sentence was cut off in a strangled gasp as she took him into her mouth, and he jackknifed forward. His fingers clenched in her hair. He uttered a weak moan, then dropped back, his entire body stiff with the strain of keeping himself from thrusting into her mouth.

The taste, the scent of him filled her senses immediately. She experimented, bent down to try and take all of him. He was large - she couldn’t, but she tried anyway, and was rewarded with another agonised groan for her efforts.

“Touch me,” James rasped. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

Emma complied, gingerly stroking him. He growled, low in his throat, his fingers clenching even tighter in her hair. Emma winced, but continued to caress him, wrapping her tongue around him. She suckled and he let out a yell of pleasure. Elated, she continued.

There was a new stiffening in his body. He seemed to grow larger in her mouth. “Emma,” James began, panting, “Emma, I’m - “ His hips bucked, thrusting involuntarily into her mouth. “Oh, god, Emma!”

She felt him before she tasted him, pouring into her mouth. Instinctively, she swallowed. His eyes widened. “Don’t - “ She ignored him, keeping her mouth sealed on him until he had spent the last of his seed in her mouth. At last, he finished, and she removed her mouth.

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” James said at last. “I shouldn’t have done that.” But there was an unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Silently, Emma crawled back up the bed, sliding under the covers. James reached out, drew her tightly to his side. There was a strange feeling of tightness in his chest, even after everything, after he’d believed he’d banished the last of that weakness. She curled up into his body and simply lay there. She did not sleep.

She did not sleep all night. James woke often, and before she knew it, he was on top of her, inside her. He made love to her almost constantly, sometimes rapid, hard, and explosive, sometimes slow and sweet and tender. She clawed at him, bit at him, leaving angry, passionate marks on him and he in turn marked her, his teeth sinking, it seemed, into every part of her body, even those she wouldn’t even have imagined it possible to bite.

Emma woke to the sensation of something hot, wet and probing between her legs. She sat up with a gasp, lifting the bedcovers and finding James’ head of dark silky hair between her thighs. “James,” she murmured weakly, before collapsing back onto the bed.

“Wider, sweetheart,” James’ voice, muffled, came from under the covers. Mindlessly, she did as ordered. He licked, lapped, and probed deep inside her some more, and she was soon orgasming around his tongue, not bothering to even muffle her cries of pleasure.

He crawled up her body, stopping as his face was level with her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, suckled, and Emma moaned. His lips travelled upwards, lingering in the curve of her throat. He licked the length of her neck, sank his teeth into her. She moaned. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Delicious.”

His mouth sealed over hers, his tongue, tasting of her, filling her mouth. His hips settled into the cradle of hers, she felt him probing at her entrance, and then he was inside her, full and thick and heavy, pulsing with arousal. She was so swollen from her orgasm that he felt impossibly huge inside her.

And then he began to move.

Long, fast strokes, rapidly in and out, his hips grinding against her, his shaft sliding in and out of her with slick and frantic lunges. She whimpered, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He let out a low growl, digging his fingers into her hips as he lifted her, forced her up to meet his thrusts, to take him deep, deeper than before.

“James,” Emma gasped, writhing, yet unable to move in his iron grip.

“Say it again,” James ground out. “Say my name.”

“James. James, oh, god, James. I love you.”

He stilled, suddenly, his glittering green eyes blazing into hers. Then he growled again, low, reverberating in his throat, and quickened his thrusts, clasping her closer against him so her breasts were crushed against his chest, her face buried against the strong column of his throat.

He pumped rapidly, ever harder inside her, their two bodies joined as if one. And quite suddenly, the moment came. He let out an exultant roar of ecstasy, spilling himself inside her, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. It had never been like this. Never. He recovered in time to feel her pulsing against him, clenching around his cock. He smiled, his eyes closed, and collapsed atop her. He did not care, at that moment, that he was probably too heavy for him. What mattered was the fact that she was his, that he was inside and on top of her, and that was where he wanted to be.

“Shit,” James said sometime later.

“What is it?” Emma stirred sleepily from on top of him. He’d rolled over soon after he’d realised he’d probably been suffocating her.

“I’ve got to go. I have an appointment this afternoon.”

“What time?”

“Three,” he answered. “Its almost two-thirty. I have to run, sweetheart.”

“Ok,” Emma said sleepily, and closed her eyes again. She was warm and comfortable. She wasn’t going to move.

“Emma,” James said after a moment.

She opened one eye. “Hmm?”

“I have to go.”

She felt vaguely irritated. “Ok.”

Her eyes closed again.

“Emma...” There was a note of rueful amusement in her voice.

“What?” This time she woke fully, sitting up on top of him in some exasperation. “What is it?”

“I really do need to go.”

“So go!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re on top of me.”

Emma looked down to find herself straddling him. “Oh,” she murmured, and climbed off him. He smiled at her, his teeth flashing white in the leonine face, and slid out of bed. Emma lay in bed, the bedcovers drawn up around her and watched while he dressed.

“James,” she said, suddenly. “What - What does all this mean? Why did you come to find me?”

His face grew suddenly cold, distant. “What do you mean?” he said coolly.

“Well...you - you came here. To find me. What does that mean?” She wanted to hear him say it, she realised. She needed to hear it.

His eyes seemed shuttered, closed now, as they looked at her. “What do you think, Emma?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you imagine, perhaps, that I had come to declare my love for you yet again?”

Her face flushed bright red. She had so hoped...

“That, perhaps, I had come to beg you to reconsider my suit? Just so you could throw it back in my face again? I may have been foolish, Emma, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I am no fool now.”

“I never said you were,” she said, cold fingers clutching at her heart. “So - so this was, was just sex?”

He smiled. “Not just sex, sweetheart. Great sex. And what else does one need, after all?” So saying, he bent down, kissed her thoroughly, then left the house. She heard the front door close behind him.

And wanted to cry, yet again.

A short while longer, the bedsprings from the house upstairs started again.

* * *

She went through the rest of the day mindlessly, in a horrified sort of daze. He didn’t love her. Dear god - she’d told him she loved him. Had she really? Yes - yes, she had. And it was true, she realised with an ever more sinking heart. She did love him. Now, when it was too late, when she was carrying his child and he thought of her only as a vessel for his sexual gratification, she suddenly realised she loved him. Oh, if it had only come sooner! If only she known, before, when he had offered her everything and the world...

But it was no use crying over the past. There was nothing she could do now. She knew one thing, though...she couldn’t continue to have an affair with him. It would hurt too much, when he finally tired of her and cast her off. And the baby would show soon, too, and she could not bear the thought of him rejecting their child, too...

She had been interrupted in taking out the trash last night - by him, of course - she had to do it tonight. As she opened the apartment door, the elevator doors pinged, the down arrow lighting up and the doors sliding open. James stepped out. Her eyes met his, fleetingly, then she continued her task, resolutely ignoring him until she was done. Brows raised, he followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Emma headed for the kitchen. He followed, stopping beside her.

“There’s something we have to talk about,” Emma said briefly.

He merely looked at her, silent.

“I - I can’t see you anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “Explain,” he said with deadly precision.

“I just - I can’t.”

“So what prompted this sudden change of heart?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes widened. Something had just occurred to her. The light on the elevator...it had lit up the down arrow... “Did you just come down from upstairs?” she demanded abruptly.

James appeared puzzled. “As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Why?”

“And do you happen to be acquainted with a certain young woman by the name of Kylie, by any chance?”

He seemed even more perplexed. “Do you mean Kyriane?”

Emma’s lip curled. “Is that her name, then?”

“Yes, I do. She’s my - “ Emma didn’t wait to hear more. Her hand struck out, slapping him soundly across the face. He barely flinched, but his face flushed darkly.

“What was that for?” he said softly, dangerously.

She kicked him. “As if you don’t know,” hissed furiously. She pummelled his chest, but only managed to hurt her fists. “You lying, cheating - “

James caught her wrists in one hand, held her easily. “Stop that,” he said impatiently. “You’re only going to hurt yourself. And if you hit me one more time, darling, I’m going to spank you.”

Emma stamped on his foot. Hard. He winced, then just as quickly hauled her against him, stroked his hand down her back and to her derriere, lingered for just a moment, and slapped her, hard enough to make her eyes widen in surprise. She gasped, winced, and stared at him accusingly. “You hit me!” she said, sounding shocked and horrified all at once, her pride more injured than her bottom.

“Hardly, darling,” James murmured disdainfully. “Besides, you started it.”

“Oh!” Emma resisted the urge to stamp her foot and scream. She contented herself with merely wrenching away from his tight grasp, telling him flatly that she never wanted to see him again, then storming off into her bedroom. She slammed the door in his face, locked it with a satisfying click.

“Emma,” James called from the other side. “Emma, open the door.”

“No!” Emma shouted back. “Go away!”

After a minute of silence, she heard a sigh, and then his footsteps walking away. Curiously enough, she felt a pang. Then there was the sound of the front door opening, and closing faintly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone. Good.

The thought wasn’t in the least comforting.

Wiping away the few stray tears that had somehow managed to leak out despite her best attempts to keep them in, she straightened up, then grabbed her bathrobe, figuring a shower would cheer her up. A nice, long, hot shower, where she’d drown her sorrows in the calming rain of the water.

Opening her bedroom door, she headed for the bathroom, turned the water on, stripped quickly out of her bathrobe and stepped under the warm spray. It felt wonderful.

The bathroom door opened behind her and she spun around with a stifled scream, staring in amazement through the clear glass walls of her shower unit at the man who had simply walked into her bathroom and was even now in the process of divesting himself of his tie and shirt.

“You!” Emma gasped her astonishment. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” James demanded grimly. “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

“No,” Emma said, backing away. “Oh no, not that again. You can’t just - just decide to fuck me whenever you want, James. I’m not your whore. In fact, you already have a whore! Why don’t you go to her?”

“I want you,” James said simply, and sliding the glass door open, he stepped into the shower with her.

“Why?” Emma whispered, pain in her eyes.

James shrugged. “You turn me on.” The evidence was there, for her to see. Only she didn’t want to see it. She turned away, her back to him, facing the wall.

It didn’t deter him. He merely began to attack her senses from behind.

“I’ll scream,” Emma warned.

James laughed. “Go ahead,” he invited. “I don’t expect anyone would hear you, and in any case, its not as if they haven’t heard you scream before.” She flushed bright red. “And don’t you remember? I told you I love it when you scream.”

She bit her lips in frustration, when she felt his hands, large and rough and warm, on her shoulders, unable to do anything to stop him. He kneaded gently, working out the stiffness, and she couldn’t stifle the groan of relief that tore from her. Emma could almost feel him smile.

His hands slid down, cup her breasts. She looked down, feeling weak, at the sight of his large, dark hands holding her breasts. His fingers, long and skilled, stroked her lazily, his thumb brushing over the stiffening buds of her nipples. Her head dropping forward, and he took immediate advantage, bending to press his body against her, his mouth, hot and wet, against the nape of her neck, his tongue flicking out to touch and taste her intimately.

Emma let out a muffled sigh as she felt his teeth graze her throat, then bite into her. He was like an animal sometimes, and the worst thing was, it excited her. God, and she called herself civilised!

“Place your hands against the wall,” James whispered against her ear. He nipped at it playfully, and mindlessly, she obeyed. “Now part your legs. Wider.”

One hand slid from her breasts down to her thighs, before dipping between them and quite suddenly, sliding one long finger inside her slick, hot, wetness. They let out a simultaneous groan. Slowly, he slid his finger out, then in again. Emma gasped - let out a whimper. A second finger joined the first, then a third. Her head had dropped back against his chest, and his other hand was now clenching and unclenching around her breast in his arousal, almost without his notice. His cock was straining against her buttocks, and he ached with the need to simply shove it up inside her.

“James,” Emma pleaded. “James...”

“What is it, Emma? What do you want? Tell me.”

“I need you.”

“Beg me.” His voice was soft, silken.

“James...please...I need you.”

His control snapped. Positioning himself, he plunged himself inside her savagely, closing his eyes as her hot wetness enveloped him. She let out a cry at the sensation of fullness as he filled her, took her.

He thrust, grabbing her hips and working himself deep inside her, rapidly, almost brutally. Emma’s fists clenched - she braced herself against the wall, her head dropping down. The beat of the water against their backs no longer seemed calm, lazy, luxuriant, but now seemed to drum out an ever increasingly frantic beat. He seemed to want to get completely inside her, so deeply was he driving himself into her. Low, deep sounds emanated from his chest, his teeth ground together, sweat beaded on his forehead. His fingers on her hips forced her back against him as he pumped into her, pleasure filled, agonising groans tore from his throat with every deep thrust.

His cock was so deeply embedded inside her, filing her so completely, she felt like he was touching every part of her body. His thrusts, ever quickening, seemed more rapid than ever. As he seemed to reach orgasm, he lent over, biting her shoulder and letting out a loud groan, and she, too, came, her screams echoing around the bathroom. She pulsed around him, seemed to sag against the wall, merely enjoying the sensation of his seed pumping inside her, marking her as his possession. Almost as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, his arms wrapped around her possessively, drawing her back against his body, supporting her.

“Now...what was that you said about not being able to see me again?” James murmured into her ear.

Emma stiffened. “I meant it,” she said, softly. “I still do. This can’t go on, James.”

He said nothing for a moment, and there was only the sound of the spray of water around them. “You told me you loved me,” he said finally. “Don’t say something that you’ll regret later on, Emma.”

Emma steeled herself. She looked up into his eyes, her brows raised inquiringly. “You didn’t really believe me, did you?” she asked with cheerful embarrassment. “You know people say all sorts of odd things when they’re...you know...”

“Coming?” James suggested dryly. “Climaxing? Orgasming?”

“Yes,” Emma said, feeling ridiculously gauche.

“I see.”

“Yes. And, well, to be honest, James, I’m glad I’ve gotten you out of my system. Its time I moved on. I haven’t had a good few weeks.” Inspiration struck. “What with Luc and all.”

His eyes had grown cold, shuttered, though the body he held her against was as warm and strong and alive as ever. “Of course.”

She willed her voice to stay steady. “And I expect you’d like to move on as well. We probably needed to get each other out of our systems. Repression and all that.”

“Yes. Repression. Of course.”

“Well...”

“I’m leaving,” James said abruptly.

He left as quickly and silently as he came, and Emma felt, at that moment, all the loneliness of before come crashing back. Except that this time, she did not even have that tiny flicker of hope which she had cherished before. Now, she had nothing.

Except his child. And that, she vowed fiercely, he was never going to find out.

* * *

“Emma!” There was a loud, irritating banging on the front door. Emma opened a bleary eye from where she was sprawled across the old sagging couch. “Emma, love, open the door. Its me, Luc.”

Oh, Luc. She’d thought it was Jordan again. Her brother had been pestering her all month, and she was in no mood for more. She closed her eyes again.

“Emma! If you don’t open up, I’m going to tell James about the baby!”

Shit. How on earth had he found out? Fool - Jordan, of course. The little rat had probably spilled all the beans when she’d started refusing to let him in. Sighing tiredly, she heaved herself up and went to open the door.