Being Emerald (21 page)

“Rock you can’t just leave me here with them.”

“Do not disobey me right now,” he snapped.

“But we have to—”

“Don’t.” He picked up two large black duffels with his left hand and swung them over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in less than an hour,” he said, giving her the sign to hold as he walked toward a residential area that rested just on the other side of the interstate.

Laila eyed his retreating back, and then she glanced over her shoulder. The gate allowing exit from the rest stop was not directly in Garret and Sydney’s line of sight. They wouldn’t even know she was gone. She slipped through it and trailed Rock as he prowled silently through the overgrown vegetation encroaching into the streets of the forsaken neighborhood.

He turned down the driveway of a house that looked much like every other one on the street. A faded garden gnome with a red pointed hat stood in a curling bed of ivy next to the front door. She tracked Rock down the driveway toward the rear of the house. As soon as she passed the back corner, a hand wrapped around her throat and an arm snaked around her waist. He slid in behind her, gaining control over her in a split second.

She gasped. He’d scared the shit out of her, dumping adrenaline into her bloodstream. It pumped fast and hot through her veins, heating her cheeks and making her jumpy.

Grasping her wrist, he led her up the steps, through the back door and kitchen, releasing her when they reached the living room. “Strip.”

She snapped her head around to look at him.

Rage lit his eyes. “Do it now!”

Nervously, she unfastened the button to her black mission pants.

He stepped forward. His rough tugs got them off her legs mere seconds after she rasped the zipper down. “You lied to me.” His Rock wall was lowering, and she began to feel the barely leashed anger that had lain behind it all damn day. “Take your shirt off, or I am going to rip it off you.”

Laila quickly grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

He roughly unhooked and stripped her of her bra. “Kneel.”

She hesitated again and he delivered a sharp openhanded smack to her rear. She sucked in another gulp full of air.

“Either tell me you are no longer mine or kneel,” he said between his teeth. Handcuffs dangled from his hand. He was furious. The anger buffeted her in waves. He was going to handcuff her so she was helpless against him. The thought gave her an unanticipated biological response—pleasure. For a split second, she hedged, knowing her reaction was deviant at best and pathetic at worst. Swallowing, her parched throat squeaked loudly. Then she knelt.

“Turn.” He motioned with his hand so she faced away from him.

Still on her knees, she awkwardly turned around.

He roughly pushed her forward. “Forearms on the ground, ass in the air.” He was completely out of her line of sight, but she heard him settle in one of the chairs behind her.

Silence descended between them. It was a suffocating silence, a blanket thrown over her, trapping the explanation she wanted to give and making it impossible to calm herself while the wall of rage loomed behind her.

“I’m a heartbeat away from having a fucking brain aneurism right now.”

“Ro—”

“I did not say you could speak,” he roared.

She trembled from the mega wattage of adrenaline her body pumped into her bloodstream.

“I have never been so disappointed with one of my girls.”

“Rock—”

“Don’t speak to me,” he interrupted. “I will tell you when you can speak.”

The sinking feeling, the kind that comes right before something awful happens, plummeted to the pit of her stomach, rearranging her insides on the way down.

Time ticked by slowly. Despite being cushioned by the carpet, her knees and elbows ached. After at least an hour, she desperately needed to move. The room grew darker, and still, he sat behind her, silently becoming less angry with time.

It was pitch black before Laila heard him move again. She didn’t feel his anger anymore. He’d been waiting for it to dissipate.

Finally, she heard him rise and rummage through one of the duffels he’d brought with him. He set a candle on the coffee table and lit it. He stood in her line of sight, and she focused on the flickering vision of him in his black uniform. He white-knuckled a crop in his right hand.

She groaned both yearning for and detesting what came next.

“I want one word answers to my questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Laila whispered. The slice of air she heard gave only a split second of notice before the crop landed across her ass.

“Were you doing Resistance business?”

She released a breath and dealt with the sting. “Yes.”

Then, the slice and telltale stripe of pain registered on her thighs. It took her breath away. “How long have you known about your mission last night?”

“Rock—”

“That is not an answer,” he thundered. “Answer me!”

“Months.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were safer and saner not knowing.”

He yanked her ponytail, lifting her cheek off the back of her hands. “You’ve got this all wrong, peanut. I protect you. It’s not the other way around.” He let go of her ponytail and stepped back. More rustling around in his bag, and then the first burst of pain from the metal tips of his flogger bouncing off the backs of her thighs.

“I’m sorry,” she cried and then whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

He seared her thighs again. The whip of the tips slicing the air was her only warning before the pain exploded. “What are you sorry for?”

She scrambled for the right answer. “For…for—”

Thwapp.

“Now you’re just making things up. You’re not sorry.”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was.”

“I don’t have to be looking into your eyes to know you’re lying to me,” he said calmly. “You would do the same thing all over again.”
Thwapp.
Another hail of metal tips bounced off her rear end. He leaned in close. “Wouldn’t you?”

She shivered from the hot breath of his words landing on the back of her neck. “Rock—”

“Wouldn’t you!”

“Yes.”

Thwapp.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to risk your life.”

“And there it is. That same problem over and over again. After all this time, there remains your ‘I want’ instead of the ‘I’m yours’ I need.”

Thwapp.
A cry of pain burst from Laila’s lips.

“Which is it then? I want or I’m yours? Which do you ultimately choose?”
Thwapp.

“Please, Rock. I’m sorry. It’s done. My work with the Resistance is done.”

“Which is it Laila, I want or I’m yours?” He boomed the question as something flew across her peripheral vision, landing on the other side of the room with a crash.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice quavering with emotion.

“Then why would you risk the one thing that would destroy me if I ever lost it?” He was right at her ear again. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath and waiting for what was next. Only half of her consciousness was there with him. The other half flew, her senses soaring inside. A feeling of euphoria overwhelmed her.

“Get back into position.” She heard the flogger bounce on the carpet behind her.

Then…nothing.

Stillness enveloped them. His mood changed gradually during that quiet spell.

Laila rested her cheek on the top of her hand, getting a bug’s eye view. The atmosphere in the old house held an odd loneliness, as if the room was patiently waiting for its people to return. After at least an hour, Laila had relaxed into the position. Her muscles loosened. She took a long deep breath, and on the exhalation, they loosened even more. Then she noticed how clean the house was. She smelled the faint lemony aroma of cleaner, and wondered how often the Resistance visited this drop house. More than she’d thought since they’d taken the time to maintain it.

“Emily felt the malevolence in the woman who murdered her. She’d mentioned it to me in an offhand remark once, but I dismissed it as girl shit. Nothing I needed to be concerned with.

“That woman, under Morgan’s orders, murdered her right under my nose.” He paused for a handful of seconds, and Laila felt his despair. “I listened to her get stabbed as it happened, and I’ve heard it in my head a million times since.” His voice was gravelly and choked with emotion.

Laila wanted to hold him, comfort him as he relived the tragedy.

“Part of me died that day. Losing someone when in a relationship as enmeshed as ours was”—he swallowed hard—“is barely survivable. At the very least, it shakes a man right down to his soul. Only sheer force of will helped me carry on.”

“Rock.” She lifted herself from the floor.”

“No. Stay there.” His panicked words prohibited her from seeing him vulnerable. She understood. He couldn’t be that, not even with her.

“And then, there you were, a disease I caught the first time you slipped your hand into mine. But because of what came before, I knew what would become of me if anything happened to you. I would not survive it, Laila.” The rustle of his clothing signaled his movements behind her. “I would die anyway. Don’t you fucking understand?” He dropped to his knees. “If I lost you, I would die anyway.”

Shame twisted her insides, and silence overfilled the space between them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His answer was the familiar rasp of his zipper. “You will never do anything like this again.” He moved closer until he was behind her, covering her with the sleek planes of his chest and abs. He eclipsed her, settling his full weight on her frame. She strained to keep herself from flattening onto the ground as he snaked an arm around her and cupped his hand over her mound.

“I’m going to fuck that pussy tonight.” His fingers explored where the crest of his dick slowly entered her, fondling the place they connected. She moaned more loudly with each invading inch of him until he stuffed her to her limits.

Finally. Finally. Finally
. She groaned with joy at the feeling of him making love to her for the first time.

He circled her clitoris, rhythmically skimming with his fingers. “You are mine,” he rasped in her ear. “And I am yours.”

“Yes.”

With no more secrets between them, there was nothing left holding her back, and it seemed like what they’d been missing had finally slipped into place. She’d never loved so much or felt as loved. She’d shatter into a million pieces without him as well.

The moment seemed more significant because he read every nuance of her thoughts just as well as she read his feelings. He knew her weaknesses in both character and behavior. He knew the good and the flaws and loved her still. It was so very freeing.

The long smooth glides of his cock were the only thing in her universe as he withdrew and then thrust over and over again. Her body surged forward with every forceful advance.

She was, literally, reeling, weak kneed and shaky. She cast her senses out, seeking him in a way no other woman could, needing an anchor. Snapshots of sensation registered in the haze. His hand gripped her hip, each finger bruising her flesh. His teeth scraped along her shoulder. He bit down and then sucked, rolling his searing tongue over the sensitive spot left behind. Lingering there with his mouth, he sucked, marking her as he withdrew his cock and thrust again. Every sizzling pull tugged her insides and made her painfully aware of her heavy, lower lips straining against his girth.

Rock grunted with his next thrust.

This was wrong. It wasn’t how she thought it would be. There was no romance, no gentle caresses or sweet words.

Increasing his speed, he fucked her at a furious pace. Their bodies slapped together, the rhythm regularly punctuated by each huff of air pushed out of her from the force of his thrusts.

She’d been sliding forward slightly with each aggressive surge. He roughly hiked her ass back up into the air, snaked a hand around her again and maintained firm pressure on her clit.

“I’m close,” she cried.

“Then go, baby.”

She hovered in that place, that incredible, almost-there place where nothing existed except them. His ecstasy battered her.

“Fuck, baby.” He rammed harder, faster. Hot come flooded her, ran down her legs. Then, she fell, crying out long and hard. Wild convulsions wracked her. With her lungs empty of air and her mouth still open in a soundless shout, Laila collapsed to the floor, a mindless sweaty heap. She rolled to her side.

“No, baby, you’re not done.” He rolled her onto her knees, into the position she’d spent her whole evening in, and stuck a vibrator inside her already too-sensitive vagina.

She jerked upright. “I’m done, Rock,” she shrieked.

He guided her back down on all fours. “You’re done, when I say you’re done.”

She groaned, exhaustedly trying to move away.

He cracked her ass. “Stop!”

She obeyed.

He ran his hand along her spine, curled it over the curve of her ass. “That’s better, much better. I know what you need.” He trailed his fingers through the damp trail of semen on her inner thigh and ran them up, stopping at her anus. He teased her there with short penetrations. “I’ll always know how to take care of you baby.” He sidled closer behind her, pressing the vibrator deeper inside with his body and wrapping his arms around her again. He started with just the slightest of touches to her clit, caressing it. Soon, she was coiled again and ready to explode. She teetered there, right on the edge of her orgasm. Every muscle tensed. Every cell flooded with exquisite bliss as she reached for it and finally climaxed again. She shuddered with waves of a more dulcet pleasure. The experience was mind-blowing and seemed to go on forever.

Rock chuckled. “That was beautiful, baby.”

She opened her eyes. He’d moved to her side and watched her with the flame of a single candle setting fire to his eyes. “Don’t you move.”

The vibrator continued. It was too much. An indignant cry was perched on the tip of her tongue, but she held back, refusing to continue the power struggle she’d been stubbornly grasping onto since their first day together. This time, she stayed in position instead of giving in to her bad case of noodle knees.