Page 58 of Emerald

Then she glances back over her shoulder at me and says, “Where was your room again?”

I take her up to my suite, my hands itching to grab hold of her with every step we take. The moment the door closes behind us, I spin her around and kiss her hard on the mouth.

She responds eagerly, jumping up into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist. We’re stumbling through the room together, bumping into the end table at the foot of the couch, knocking some books onto the floor and then almost tripping over those. But I don’t care, I can’t stop kissing her even for a moment.

Her mouth tastes warm and inviting. Her skin smells of smoke and the outdoors—wild scents that remind me that she is my little fox, and even though she slipped her trap, she came back to me again, of her own accord.

I’m extremely glad to have her back.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish her for her naughtiness.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and then I put her over my knee. I rip down her sweatpants. There’s no underwear beneath, and I give her a sharp smack on her round little buttocks.

She wriggles and squirms, beating at my legs with her fists. But I hold her tight with my left hand. With my right, I give her four more blows on her bottom until her asscheeks are glowing red.

“That’s for running away,” I growl at her.

She shouts, “I’ll run away any time I damn well—“

I cut her off with four more blows, sharper than the ones that came before. She can’t help yelping at the last few, landing on her already tender flesh.

The harder she squirms, the harder I spank her.

She’s furious at me, outraged, but I know this excites her as much as it does me. This woman is wild, dangerous when she wants to be. She’s been in situations that have spiked her adrenaline like the jolt of a car battery.

She’s not going to get excited about boring, vanilla sex.

She needs to feel that sense of danger and dominance. Just as Sloane is my equal in intelligence and determination, she needs a man who can match her raw sexuality. This woman could never be pleasured by an accountant. She needs a fucking gangster.

I spank her until I feel the change in her body—until she’s not trembling from outrage anymore, but from arousal. Her body is tuned up like a guitar string, ready to play.

If I so much as touch her in the places she’s dying to be touched, she’ll explode.

But I’m not done teaching her a lesson yet.

I throw her down on the bed, on all fours. Then I stand behind her, yanking her hips backward to line her up with my body. I plunge my cock inside of her.

She’s so wet from the spanking that I slide right into her, all the way to the hilt, my pelvis smacking against her bottom. I grip her hips in my hand and I thrust into her over and over, fucking her hard and rough.

Her black curls have come loose from her bun. They tumble down her back and hang around her face like curtains.

The proportions of her slim little waist and her full, heart-shaped ass are unbelievably arousing. Every time I fuck her in a new position it becomes my favorite because of how luscious her body looks from each new angle.

I drive into her again and again, feeling like a wild animal myself, like a beast driven to mate. I couldn’t stop if you offered me all the money in the world. I’m out of my mind with lust for this woman.

But I want to see her face, too. I want to see those dark eyes, and the way she bites her lip and bares her teeth in the throes of pleasure.

So I flip her over once more, and I climb on top of her.

And now I’m thrusting into her slower, deeper than ever. I’m pressing our bodies tight together to give her that friction I know she needs. I’m kissing the tender side of her neck, up to her earlobe, finding her most sensitive places, finding the spots that elicit each gasp and moan.

At the moment where she tips over the edge, I look in her eyes to watch it happen. To see her expression of need to turn to a look of pure bliss, as I fulfill everything she wants and desires in one all-encompassing climax.

And that’s what puts me over the edge too—not her ass or her breasts or even her taste or smell. It’s Sloane herself—her face and expression and voice. The way she gives herself to me.

I want to give her everything in the world in return.

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