Ruthless In A Suit: Book Three Part 16

When the sensations pa.s.s, I feel lightheaded. I slowly pull out of Emily as I lower her to the tiled floor.

"Wow," she says. "That was...are you okay?"

I'm standing but my body is limp, my eyes still closed. "I am so good," I say. "Perfectly fine." I open my eyes and see beautiful naked Emily in front of me, letting the warm water wash over her.

"Do you still want to take me back to your place?" she asks.

"Oh, honey," I say. "I'm not even close to being finished with you."

I make good on my promise.

It takes a lot of self-discipline but once we get through the door of my house we make it past the sitting room where we got stuck last time. We are mauling each other with our hands, clothes flying off our bodies and dropping randomly to the floor, but at least we're moving up the stairs, however slowly.

I need to get her into my bed. It's the one thing I've been fantasizing about since the moment I met her, even if I didn't quite realize it at the time.

As I lead her down the hall on the second floor Emily says, "Jesus, how big is this place?" Her eyes roam down the long hall. I take her face in my hands, pressing my lips into hers.

Once we're standing before my bed I scoop her up in my arms and literally toss her onto the mattress. She laughs as she bounces on the thick comforter and way too many decorative pillows. I shove them to the floor. It seems impossible, but Emily looks even sweeter with her damp, loose hair and clean face. I cover her body with mine, ready to get her clothes off. Our shoes are long gone and neither of us put our wet underwear back on, so the barriers between us are few.

Once Emily is lying naked before me, I begin kissing every part of her, wors.h.i.+pping her body. I gently suck at the skin on her neck, kiss over her shoulders and the impossibly smooth skin of her arms. I take the buds of her t.i.ts in my mouth, pulling gently as I watch Emily's hungry face. I work my way down my stiff d.i.c.k bobs across her thigh, causing a small weep to escape her lips. I love the way her body moves under me, wanting more. Her hands are constantly reaching out for me, touching my chest or shoulders or head. Knowing I'm satisfying her even in these simple ways makes want to do even more to her, please her further.

"Jackson," her sweet voice calls. "I need you inside me."

She doesn't have to say it twice. I scoop her up and move us to the top of the bed, both of us sitting up, my back against the headboard.

"Then sit on my d.i.c.k," I tell her, working her breast in my hand. "Put me inside you."

She reaches down between our bodies and takes me in her soft hand. I close my eyes to her touch, but only briefly. She slowly works me up and down, teasing me for a moment, then scoots on her knees a little closer so that her p.u.s.s.y is right above my d.i.c.k and d.a.m.n if she doesn't tease me further by running my hard c.o.c.k over that slick eager opening of hers. Finally she sets me right at her opening, then slowly slides down and envelopes my d.i.c.k. We both sigh out our grat.i.tude.

I let her set the pace, letting her get comfortable. She doesn't take all of me in at once but eases back up and slowly down again. My mouth is on her t.i.ts again, so full I can't help myself. Soon Emily begins to increase her pace, moving more quickly, pumping on my d.i.c.k, going deeper. Our bodies are beading with sweat. I love the way it feels running down Emily's back.

I take her a.s.s in my hands and squeeze her, helping her move on me so she doesn't have to work so hard. My hands are devilish things around Emily, and I can't help but pull those firm cheeks apart, kneading them in my hands. With my middle finger I touch her hole, just a little, pressing on it but not entering it. She gasps, her eyes widening.

"I won't go in," I say. "I just want to tease you."

Her hips move back toward my hand slightly, telling me to keep it up while giving my d.i.c.k a new enthralling angle inside her tight p.u.s.s.y. As she pumps harder over my d.i.c.k her b.r.e.a.s.t.s are bouncing and I'm pressing on her sensitive hole and I know it's making her mind go wild. She's slamming her c.u.n.t down on me now, her hands on my shoulders for more leverage and I'm not sure I can take it anymore.

"I'm going to come," she says.

"Yes," I tell her.

We explode into each other, Emily crying out as I unload into her again. I pull her body close, b.r.e.a.s.t.s again my face as we finish, panting, dizzy, ecstatic.

"Jesus Christ, Emily," I say. "What are you doing to me? You make me absolutely insane."

We spend the night wrapped in each other's limbs, caressing each other's skin, kissing each other's lips. I start a fire in the bedroom and the glow and warmth of it makes the night even more incredible. I love watching Emily's eyes get lost in the flames.

We make love again before morning. The more we explore each other, the less shy Emily becomes and it's such a turn on. When her hand is on my d.i.c.k, I can't think straight. If it's ever in her mouth-and G.o.d I hope it will be-I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. For now, though, all I care about is pleasing her. That makes me plenty satisfied.

"You are making me absolutely crazy," I tell Emily in the morning, holding her gaze. "You've got my mind in disarray and my heart pleading for more. Not to mention my body..."

"You're doing the same to me," she says.

"So what should we do? Spend every second together?" If I could swing it, I would do it. Believe me.

"I don't know," Emily says. "I've never really been in a relations.h.i.+p before."

"Is that what this is? A relations.h.i.+p?"

"Do you want it to be?"

She's not looking at me, and I can feel the hopefulness in her words. I don't know what I want from Emily, but I want her, all the time.

"I don't want to disappoint you," I tell her. "I've never really been a relations.h.i.+p guy."

She snuggles closer. "We'll figure it out. No pressure."

"No pressure," I echo.

When we do say goodbye later the next day, I feel closer to her than ever, but also unsure of where it's all going. I feel more strongly about Emily than I have about any woman in my life. Clearly, being with Emily-forever-would fit nicely into my father's demands of becoming a family man and I could take command of Croft International as I was born to do.

Still, I'm leery of rus.h.i.+ng the relations.h.i.+p. I don't want to push Emily and frankly, I don't know if I could be the man she needs me to be. Work has been my whole life. Now I'd almost give it all away to spend every waking moment with her. The worst thing I could do would be to use her. I won't do that to her. So I forget about the will and Father's demands and do as Emily says-figure it out. I don't know when or how or what will happen, but for now I intend to enjoy simply being with her.

Emily

He's got my head absolutely spinning.

Every moment with Jackson feels like the first drop of roller coaster-exhilarating and dangerous. When I'm with him all I want to do is touch him. When touch him I want to be closer to him, and when we're not together I can hardly get him out of my mind. I am addicted.

I'm trying to concentrate on school and work and keep my head out of the proverbial clouds. It's not easy.

The week after the luncheon, Brent wasn't teaching. Professor Stanwick mentioned Brent was ill, and although I didn't want the guy to be sick I was glad not to have to see him. I wasn't sure how he would act after what happened. I figured he was embarra.s.sed that he got pushy with me, and having someone as powerful-physically and otherwise-as Jackson put him in his place probably didn't help his ego.

When Brent finally came back to cla.s.s, I'd been so in my own world of Jackson that I hardly noticed him, although I did think he was a bit icy to me when I asked a question about his lecture. I still didn't think much of him even when Natalie told me after cla.s.s something he said when she ran into him at a cafe.

"I asked him how the luncheon had gone," Natalie explained. "And he said, 'Why? What'd Emily say?' I told him I hadn't even talked to you yet and he said, 'She better keep quiet unless she wants her s.h.i.+t to come out.' I was like, oh-kaaay."

At first I thought, Whoa. Why so aggressive? But I didn't tell Natalie the whole story. I honestly didn't want to embarra.s.s Brent. I still thought he was a nice guy-always a nice guy-who had a little crush on me but who wouldn't stand a chance against Jackson Croft in anyway, from looks to intelligence to downright s.e.xiness.

Today is a work day, not a cla.s.s day. Some days are both but today I go into the office for a full day.

I'm eating a late lunch at my desk-salad in a Tupperware bowl-when I get a text from Jackson.

You won't believe this. I have a free hour. Meet me for lunch?

He suggests a restaurant in Faneuil Hall that's sort of between our offices.

I look at my salad, mostly eaten. I look at the clock-it's one-thirty. It's a little strange to take lunch so late but we're not exactly punching in here. And of course I want to see Jackson. I haven't seen him in so long-thirteen hours, at least. I went to his place last night when he finally got home from the office. I spent the night, and found a room in his house that I don't think he knew existed. I teased him that there was probably a small family living somewhere in that doublewide that he had no idea about.

Not hungry but will definitely go to see you.

I toss out the rest of my salad, grab my jacket, and go out to meet Jackson. There might even be a little skip in my step.

It's almost three by the time I get back to the office. I'm pretty sure neither of us wanted to separate so we stayed in the horseshoe booth of the restaurant, sitting close so that we were always touching. We talked as he played with my fingers, brushed my hair behind my shoulder, or gave me quick kisses on my cheek. I kept my hand on his strong thigh, squeezing it sometimes or running my hand up high, watching him take in a quick breath. We didn't pull ourselves away to leave until the waiter asked, for the third time, if there was anything else he could get us.

When I walk back into the office I am floating.

"Where have you been?" Jules asks once I'm back at my desk.

"Oh, hey," I say, startled. I'd been staring blankly at my email. "I took a late lunch."

Jules leans on the doorway of my cubicle and crosses her arms. "Some people are saying you've been seeing Jackson Croft. Is that true?"

My defenses shoot up. Who is talking about me and why is it their business?

"Yes," I say. "We're...kind of seeing each other." The truth is, I haven't talked to anyone about him. I've been keeping the relations.h.i.+p close and private because I don't know what it's going to become and frankly, I don't want to jinx it.

"Is it serious?" Jules asks. "Emily, I'm not just asking as your boss. I'm also asking as your friend."

The way she's looking at me makes me uncomfortable. This feels very much like a Serious Talk, and I'm not prepared to talk to anyone about Jackson.

I choose my words carefully. "I'm not sure. We're spending time together."

She nods. "Then as your boss, I need to tell you that you're in a gray area by dating someone who donates to our organization. It's not exactly against protocol but it could be seen as...unsavory. As your friend," she continues, "I want to tell you to be careful, Emily. Jackson Croft is a whole different league of man. It's not just his money or the family he comes from, although those things do matter, even if you don't think they do. You might be having fun now, but remember to protect your heart. When things turn south, don't expect him to be the sweet, das.h.i.+ng guy he's probably being now. You're innocent when it comes to guys, Emily. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I won't," I say. "It's not like that. It's...we're just hanging out."

She nods, but I can see that she knows better. "Okay. Just be careful. That's all I'm saying."

Jules leaves me rattled. I didn't think about what people did or didn't know about Jackson and me. I didn't think I cared. I only cared about seeing him, being together with him. Now I think back to what Natalie told after cla.s.s, that Brent told her that "my s.h.i.+t" might come out. Did he mean Jackson? Did Brent get word to CEF that I was seeing him? It's not like I've been secretive about Jackson, and I never thought I was doing anything wrong-I still don't. Now I feel on alert, but for what I'm not quite sure.

In cla.s.s the next day, Brent is on a rampage. He holds up a paper we had to do and that he's about to hand back.

"This is an example of what not to do," he says. He doesn't say whose paper it is, but he reads portions of it and it's clear it's mine. And everyone knows it's mine because it uses the Children's Education Fund as an example and everyone knows that's where I work part-time. "Come on, people. You're better than this. This is laziness. Make real arguments and site credible sources. You're graduate students at Boston University. This isn't some online college. We have a reputation. And if you're more interested in your social life and who's taking you out to expensive dinners than your work, you might want to rea.s.sess whether or not you even deserve to be in this program."

And then, if there had been any doubt as to whose paper he was ma.s.sacring, he took that same paper, held it out before him and said, "Emily Brown." I had to walk across the entire cla.s.s and take that D paper from him.

When I went back to my desk, Natalie leaned over and said, "What the h.e.l.l?" Even Winston, a guy who usually sits in front of me, turned around and said, "What'd you do to p.i.s.s him off?"

I hold my hands up. "Nothing!"

I decide I should say something to Brent. The truth is I haven't really spoken to him since the luncheon, and that's probably cowardly of me. He did take me on what I now know was a date-in his mind-and I left with someone else. I actually thought about dating him at one point. Boring, safe Brent.

When cla.s.s ends I linger as students file out.

"Want me to wait for you?" Natalie asks.

"No, it's okay. Thanks."

She squeezes my arm. "Let me know if you need anything."

When the last of the students have gone, Brent shoves some papers in his canvas satchel and starts to leave, like he's in a hurry. Can't wait to get away from me, apparently.

"Brent? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Grades are final. And approved by Professor Stanwick." He won't look at me.

"It's not about the paper," I say, although I should fight for a better grade. I've never written a D paper in my life. For now, though, I decide to talk to him like an adult, and also look over my paper carefully later so that I can see if what I did was maybe worse than I thought. I have been distracted lately. "I just wanted to see if everything is okay. Between us, I mean. We haven't really spoken since the luncheon and I feel bad about how it ended."

He chuckles. "I highly doubt you feel bad about how that day ended. Seems like you upgraded your date the first chance you got."

"Brent," I begin. "That's not how it was. I did get a little nervous when you tried to kiss me." My face is burning and my insides are in complete turmoil. I do not want to be having this discussion but if I can clear things up from that one afternoon, the rest of the semester will hopefully go smooth. "I guess I was a little taken aback. I didn't know things were going to get so out of hand."

"You mean with your bodyguard boyfriend?"

Without thinking-and sounding like a kid-I say, "He's not my boyfriend."

"G.o.d," Brent says. "That's even worse. What are you even getting out of that?"

I don't intend to talk to Brent about Jackson so I try to steer things back on course. "Look, I came up here to say I'm sorry about whatever happened at the luncheon. I don't want things to be tense between us. I just want to move forward. Professionally."

He zips up his bag, his eyes on me like he's carefully preparing what he's about to say. I brace myself. "You know, Emily," he begins in an overly casual tone of voice, and I know it's going to be bad. "I never took you for a social climber. Trying to claw your way out of the middle cla.s.s and into a Stepford wife? I'm not sure the bosses over at CEF would like it too much knowing one of their employees was dating their biggest donor. Makes things a little complicated, don't you think? Do you two have an arrangement? You sleep with him and he gives you money? I mean, money for the fund. Right"

"So it was you who told them I was seeing Jackson," I say, surprised even though I shouldn't be. I'm totally disgusted at what he just said to me. "Jules knows. You didn't get me in trouble. And I'm not clawing my way to anything. What I do in my private life is none of your business. I wish you could separate that from cla.s.s and not try to take some petty anger of yours out on my papers."

"Look, I don't know if you went to that lunch with me so that you could gain favor in cla.s.s," he says, "but it doesn't work like that. I treat everyone in cla.s.s the same. If you can't handle getting a better grade then I suggest you think about what you're even doing in this program." He moves toward the door. "I have office hours. And Emily? Maybe you should really look at yourself and what you're doing. Don't try to blame others for your shortcomings. It's not professional."

With that he leaves the cla.s.sroom. I'm stunned. I never would have guessed that Brent Fuller would turn into such a world-cla.s.s d.i.c.k.

He's not worth the drama. I decide to put him out of my mind, and just be more careful in cla.s.s.

A few days later I have a brilliant plan-it's a risky plan but I think it'll work out.

I'm at Jackson's, lying on a couch in his office reading a book while he does some work at his desk. When I tell him how comfortable the couch is-it's super soft and plush-he admits he's never even sat on it. I groan and tell him for the thousandth time how wasteful he is. He doesn't seem to mind my teasing, but he also doesn't seem interested in downsizing. I think he's too used to big s.p.a.ces.

"Hey, Jackson?" I say. I'm nervous about asking him, but my dad used to say, "The worst they can say is no." They're the same words I used when I marched into Jackson's office that first day. All he could say was no to donating, and after that nothing mattered. Except that after that, everything with him mattered.

"Yes?" he says, not looking up.

"Feel free to say no," I begin, "but would you want to go with me out to Lexington this Sunday for brunch? With my family?" I've mentioned the Sunday morning brunches to him before, and he knows I haven't been to one since we started seeing each other.