Ash to Steele (31 page)

      Her skin is warm to the touch, and I lick my lips, rubbing my palm over the fullness of her ass, “You know that I won’t hurt you, don’t you?”

   “Yes.  I know,” she whispers softly. 

   Rubbing my thumb against her soft folds, I slip it just a bit further, and a tremble rolls through her entire body. She’s just as turned on by this as I am, and that drives me insane with need.  Her being at my mercy but knowing I won’t cause her harm makes her hot, unbelievably wet for me. Sliding my fingers up and down, my lips curve into a smile, “And I’ve been waiting to do this since the first time I saw you.”

   Emma’s breath hitches, and she can barely breathe, as I watch the exquisite sensations my fingers sliding back and forth and in and out of her are causing.  Her eyes close, and I squeeze her thigh, just hard enough to get her attention, and she stares up at me, those clear blue eyes dark and eager.  “Keep your eyes open, Emma.  I want to watch you.  I’m going to taste you now.  Tell me if you want me to stop.  Do you understand?”

   She gasps as I grab her, sweeping her into my arms and lowering both of us back onto the bed.  Placing her hands above her head, I hover over her, my mouth brushing against hers lips. “Stay still,” I breathe.  Dragging my lips from hers, I trail them down her neck to her chest.  The tips of her breasts are already hard and I take one in my mouth, sucking it hard, as Emma lets out a whimper, digging her hands in my hair and arching her back.  A satisfied growl fills my throat,
so much for staying still
. 

   I scoot my arm underneath her back, bringing her breast deeper into my mouth as I take my time tugging and tasting her nipples before nipping the soft skin of her abdomen until I’m exactly where I want to be.  My tongue licks and teases the inside of her thighs as I slowly slip my finger higher, groaning when I feel her wet heat again.  She bucks on the bed, and I tighten my arm around her as her eyes find mine.  They are wide, so round and full of a toxic mix of hunger, abashment, and abandon. 

   Her body tremors, I know she’s struggling with this, but she doesn’t tell me no, so I take her with my mouth, and she nearly comes undone, bucking wildly on the bed.  I gently squeeze her thighs, my thumbs caressing her chilled skin.  She knows what she needs to do to have me stop; until she tells me no, my mouth will have its fill of her.  She smells so good and my tongue strokes and lavishes as I grab her hips, sliding my hands to where I’m cupping both full cheeks of her sweet ass in my hands while I hold her still.  Her hands fist the sheet beside me, and she presses her back against the bed while her head begins to thrash from side to side.

   “BRECK!” she cries, her voice both a plea for me to stop and keep going.

   My grip tightens as I take her further, my tongue and mouth pleasing her until her body begins to shake.  Damn, I want her, I fucking need her, but I push my needs aside as I send her over the edge into a series of bliss filled convulsions. 

   Her body is still trembling as I lay next to her, pulling her into my arms and pressing her back against my chest.  “You are proving me to be a liar, just like you,” I tease, “I’m in your bed again without being inside of you, Emma.  Well, without fully being inside of you, anyway.”

   Emma snuggles against me, her hair tangling in the shadow of rough whiskers on my chin.  “That’s all your fault.  You had me at your mercy, and I told you to do whatever you wanted with me, Breck.  You chose to stop,” she smirks, pressing her naked ass against my tortured length. 

   The sound of my hand slapping her butt fills the room and she jumps again, laughing. 

   “Careful, or I might just change my mind about that safe word,” I grin cockily.

͠

   “What’s the girl’s name, Breck?” My grandfather asks, taking a few unsteady steps towards the window, “and don’t even try to play dumb or think that I’m too old and frail to kick your ass, son.”

   Shaking my head, I chuckle, “Her name’s Emma.”

  “I would like to meet the girl who has tamed you.  She must be one helluva woman.”

   “She is,” I don’t argue; she is and, at least in a few ways, she has tamed me.  “Emma’s the artist who designed the logo.”

   “That’s two reasons I want to meet her, then.  When are you going to bring her?” he asks, already out of breath with the few steps across the room. 

   Seeing him like this kills me.  He’s stronger than a few weeks ago, but nowhere near the formidable man he used to be.  He can’t fool me either, although his body is frail, he’s still a tough bastard on the inside.   “She’s at work right now, but I can bring her by later tonight if you feel up to it.”  I feel a little uneasy about that offer; I’ve never brought a girl to meet my grandfather, ever. 

   “Be here at 7:00 and bring me some of that caramel pie from your restaurant.” 

   He still can’t bring himself to say the name.  He can’t say it for the same reason he can’t set foot in Kylianna’s.  “Only if you take your pills,” I tell him, opening the bottle and laying two of the pain pills in front of him, knowing he won’t touch them, even though he’s suffering. 

   “Those don’t do anything except make me sleep.”  He pushes the tray in front of his chair away, “Go earn your paycheck at Dur Acier and don’t forget to bring Emma tonight.” A smile spreads across his withered, cracked lips, “There’s something about you that I haven’t seen since-” his gaze moves to the window, staring blankly outside, “since when I saw you before your mother died.”  He chokes up and I know he wants me to leave, neither one of us able to handle the pain. 

  
Steve is on
the phone when I swing by Kylianna’s after a brutal meeting with the partners.  Frasier is pushing for another merger, and I turned him down. Then, the group of supposedly civilized businessmen went ape shit.  The meeting turned into a yelling, insult throwing, all gloves off fucking boxing match, and all hits were thrown at me.  I swung back with all I had and threatened to terminate the contracts between every one of their asses if they wouldn’t shut-up and listen to the reason I turned Fraiser down rather than the one he poisoned them with.  Fraiser is greedy, he wants everything handed to him on a silver platter and his reputation has spiraled ever since his bank account has been padded, mostly at my grandfather’s expense.  His lust for money has been rivaled for his lust for power and sex.  I have no problem with sex, money, or power, but I do have a shitload of problems with abusing people and Fraiser is an abuser and uses people to get what he wants.  Call it a personal vendetta or a smart business move, I don’t care; either way, Fraiser isn’t going to get any further mergers with Dur Acier as long as I’m the one signing the contracts, and I’m pretty damn sure that my grandfather will feel the same.

   Not pulling any punches, I threw the file I had Prayton gather on Frasier on the table.  He knew what was in there, so did I.  The question was, did he want the other partners to see it? He resigned the proposal on the spot. His travels overseas have been questionable and I pulled him aside after the meeting and made my intent on his passport expiring immediately very clear. 

   “Hey, Breck,” Steve throws up his hand when he hangs up the phone, “things have been pretty calm today.”

   “Glad they have been here.  Have all the deliveries arrived for the added menu items next week?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “I won’t be stopping in tomorrow evening, but you can call if you need anything,” I tell Steve before heading towards the kitchen, noticing the restaurant is already full.  A strong dose of pride fills me.  I’ve worked my ass off for this.  I just wish I could devote more time to the restaurant and less at Dur Acier.  Grabbing a caramel pie from the freezer, I slam the door, feeling like crap for begrudging the time at my grandfather’s company after everything he has done for me since I turned sixteen.  I barely knew him before then, only saw him once, that I remember.  Other than Gavin and Jess, he’s been the only constant in my life, so I’ll do whatever I need to do until he can return to work. 

   My cell is buzzing when I shut the door to the Hummer, and Jess’ voice assaults me when I answer.  “Where the hell have you been?”

   “Work, Jess, what do you want?” I snap.

   “That bitch Elise has stone walled every damn gallery in Boston.  They won’t even talk to Emma.”

   This is my fault. I should’ve just slept with Elise the first time she threw herself at me over a year ago and none of this would have happened.  I drop my head against my hand; anger mixes with worry as I run my fingers across my forehead, “Is she alright?”

   “What the hell do you think?”

   “Let me talk to her, Jess.”

   “She doesn’t want to talk, she doesn’t even know I’m calling you.  She’s trying to act like everything’s fine, that it doesn’t matter, but it hurt her badly.  Her art is what she came to Boston for.  I told you to stay away from her, Breck.  If you’re just screwing around until you get her into bed so you can satisfy your damn ego, you better back the fuck off now because you’re hurting her.”  Jess hangs up the phone before I have a chance to respond.  Not that I can come up with a response to her accusation that would change what has happened. 

   Emma’s phone goes straight to voicemail, and I slam the phone against the steering wheel.  
Dammit!
Pushing on the gas pedal, I ignore the traffic laws that will slow me down.  Jess’ car is in my usual spot and I groan, knowing she will rake my ass over the coals.  I was right.  A vile string of expletives are thrown my way as soon as I walk inside Emma’s apartment.   “Shut the hell up, Jess!  Where is she?”

   “What, you don’t even knock, you just waltz right in trying to take over like you always do?  I saw her last night, she was a wreck, crying.  I’ve never seen her cry before you came along, and, now, she’s been black listed from her dream.”

   “I’ll fix this, Jess, where is she?”

   Jess huffs, standing her ground before thrusting her finger towards the spare bedroom.  Knowing it’s locked, I turn the handle anyway before knocking on the door.  Emma comes out of the room with her head down as she heads for the kitchen. 

   “Emma, wait.”  Her head remains down as I grab her wrist, pulling her towards me.  I can tell she’s been crying before I tilt her chin and see her red puffy eyes giving me the proof.  “I’m sorry, Emma.”  I hate what I’m doing to her.

   “It’s not your fault, Breck.”

   “Yes, it is!” Jess stubs up, her arms folded across her chest.  “I know how you can fix this, go sleep with Elise and she’ll back off Emma.”

   “Shut up, Jess.”  Emma’s usually full lips are thin, pressed tightly together as she glares across the room.

  Jess actually closes her mouth, and my jaw drops.  “I can talk with Elise, get her to leave you alone.”

   “It’s too late for that, the damage is already done.”  Emma grabs a glass, filling it with water before taking a long sip, “Besides, I can handle her myself.  Her reach can’t be that far.  I’ll just try New York.”

   “You’ll move?” I panic, and Jess’ eyes shoot to mine, shocked. 

   Emma gives a slight shrug, dropping her head again, “I don’t know.”

   There’s something else going on, something more than Elise.  She was quiet this morning, I just assumed it was the hangover, but now I’m worried it has a lot to do with what we did – what
I
did- last night.  I just want to help break the barriers she’s fighting, the inhibitions holding her back.  I pushed her too far last night.  “Jess, I need to talk with Emma.  Alone.”

   Her scathing glare shows she’s not happy about it but she hugs Emma and leaves us alone, anyway. 

   “I know that I’ve caused you a lot of problems lately.  Tell me what to do to fix them and I will,” I tell Emma, leaning on the counter next to her.

   “This thing with Elise isn’t your problem.  Please, just let it go.”

   “I can talk with the gallery owners. I’m sure I can persuade them to give you a shot.”

   Emma slams the glass of water on the counter, “I don’t want you to persuade them into doing anything.  I told you, I want to make it on my own!”  Her voice softens, “I need to make it on my own.”

   “I can respect that.”  I respect the hell out of her for it.  “Don’t take this wrong, Em, but you’re too polite.  You can’t just take no for an answer here.  It’s not like where you grew up where it’s bad manners to push.  This is Boston, and there are thousands out there who want the same thing you do.  You have to be the one to make them notice you.”

   “I’m too tired to think about it now.”

   I brush her hair over her shoulder and rub her neck, “Are you too tired to meet my grandfather later tonight?”

   She spins around quickly, her eyes wide, “I look awful and my eyes are all red.”

   “You look amazing, as always.”

   Emma glances down at her clothes and runs her hand through her hair, “Let me change and wash my face.”

   Her mood immediately lifts as she heads towards her room, and another shot of panic pricks me.  Forty-five minutes later, Emma’s nervously fidgeting with her fingers, and I grab her hand, my thumb soothing her onslaught, as I knock on the door.  Granddad yells for us to come in, and I lead Emma inside to the smell of my grandmother’s Croque Provencal recipe hitting me.  I’d only met her once, but I’ve cooked her recipes hundreds of times.  This one is my grandfather’s favorite, mostly because it’s easy enough for him to cook and still tastes wonderful.  I’m sure he had his caretaker make it for him tonight.