“Before you pull away, I need you to know I don’t do this.” She gestured between the both of us. “I don’t meet with men and plan nights of sex. This whole situation has me on edge, and my gut is telling me this is all a very, very bad idea.” She looked down at her lap and took a deep breath. “But I can’t seem to get that idea out of my head, even though it seems like the worst one ever.” She shook her head as if contemplating to leave. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she whispered under her breath.
I placed a hand under her chin, lifting her face to look at me. “I can’t get you out of my head either, Emma. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, but if this isn’t what you want, I won’t force you or try to convince you to come with me. The decision is yours. You have the control here. However, if you choose to stay…the control will no longer be yours. You will be mine, Emma. So choose wisely,” I stated as I dropped my hand.
I didn’t want to give her the option to say no, but I had no other choice. She was more willful than I was used to. I’d never had to go to that length to get a woman to come with me, but she was different. I knew she wasn’t like any of the women I usually encountered, and maybe that was another reason why I was so drawn to her.
She fiddled with her skirt for a moment before turning to me. She licked her bottom lip then grazed her teeth over the plump flesh. My attention centered on the sensual act when she finally spoke.
“I want to go with you.”
I grinned as I sat back in my seat and put the car in gear.
There was a comfortable silence between us as I made my way to the house. Taking someone to my house was a foreign concept to me, but I’d have to get used to the new feeling around Emma.
I turned my head slightly and looked at her. She was looking out the window and I could only wonder what was going through her mind. She was probably chastising herself for agreeing to come with me, but I’d make it worth her while.
I pulled up to my colonial-style home and exited the car to open Emma’s door.
When I’d first suggested I’d take her somewhere else, my place wasn’t the first thing that came to mind, but it was the only place that seemed suitable. It made me uneasy and uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do about it by that point.
We made our way into the house and I watched her as she looked over all of my personal things. Her facial expressions spoke more words then her mouth ever could. I could tell she wasn’t expecting what she saw. She walked into the sitting room on the right and looked over the paintings I had on the walls. The whole room had random ones I’d found over the years. I always picked something that matched my mood at the time, which meant none of the paintings were calming or comforting.
I walked into the room and stood close behind her as she examined one of my favorites. There was really nothing to it. It was a black canvas with white, grey, red, and purple spatters all over it, with only a few actual brush strokes. To a person who wasn’t into art, it would look like something a toddler could paint. To those who appreciated art, it was more complex than that. I could picture the artist painting it, choosing the colors carefully. Each color was a symbol for something, black being the most significant. It consumed everything. I had to have it when I saw it.
I leaned down close to her ear, inhaling her sweet scent—something I could never get enough of—as I ran the tips of my fingers down her arms. Her body quivered at my touch and I reveled in her reaction to me.
“I never would have pegged you for a man who liked art,” she stated, looking over the piece.
“It’s a window to a man’s soul,” I whispered into her ear.
“And what does this art say about you?” she asked breathlessly as I cupped one of her breasts.
I tilted my head slightly to look at the painting. “What do you see?”
She was quiet as she looked it over, her breathing picking up as I pinched her nipple through her shirt.
“There isn’t any brightness to the painting at all. It’s dark, sad, depressing… violent. And yet it’s beautiful. The small splash of purple, right there,” she pointed, “feels like the artist was giving it hope for brightness, but the dark would always overpower it.”
I closed my eyes and breathed into her neck. Every fucking word she’d said described me. It cut right to my core and turned me on.
No matter how much I knew she would try to deny our connection, she couldn’t hide it. It was like she was in my fucking head. She leaned back against my chest and I moved my hands down to the hem of her skirt, hiking it up to her hips. She moaned at my movements and I stifled my own as I covered her pussy with my hand. Her center was hot and her panties were soaked. My cock was straining against my pants, in need of some relief.
I licked the shell of her ear as I lightly rubbed over her pussy. “Are you ready for me, Emma?” I whispered.
She rocked her hips into my hand and gave a breathy, “Yes”.
I pulled away from her and she turned to look at me, confusion written on her face.
“Come with me,” I said as I made my way to the stairs.