Page 19 of Forever His Favorite
Emily’s eyes rolled back, a scream tearing from her lips as her nails raked helplessly at the cold glass.
“Twenty-eight,” she sobbed, her body convulsing around him.
Sebastian’s arm wrapped firmly around her waist, hauling her higher. One hand pressed against her lower stomach, keeping her suspended as he thrust harder, deeper, every stroke shaking her to the core.
“Ohhh—ahhh!” Her voice broke as the pleasure came in waves too quick to escape. Each thrust pushed her into another, her body helpless.
He changed positions, changed his touch, his lips, his tongue, his hands—driving her body past every limit. She counted breathlessly, her voice weak and trembling as the numbers climbed into the thirties… then forties.
By the time he paused, Emily was limp, her body burning and oversensitive, her skin marked with his kisses, his teeth, his hands. Her peaks throbbed with a raw ache, her body spent from the relentless storm of pleasure he had unleashed.
At last, he pulled her against his chest, his powerful frame a fortress around her trembling one. She curled into him instinctively, her cheek against the solid warmth of his heart.
***
The cab rolled to a stop in front of a towering glass skyscraper that clawed at the clouds above. Emily stepped out, her heels striking the pavement with a sharp click that echoed in her ears louder than it should have. Phone in hand, she glanced down at the glowing screen, the address bright against the shine of the morning.
Her eyes lifted—and froze.
‘Empire Group Headquarters’
The letters stared down at her, carved into the skyscraper itself. Her chest cinched so tight she almost forgot how to breathe, her heart skipping before slamming against her ribs in wild, uneven beats.
She fumbled with her phone, yanking up Jacob’s message. She scanned the text once, twice, three times, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes confirmed.
Slowly, stiffly, she dragged her gaze back to the towering monument of glass and steel. At the base, a massive slab of blackstone gleamed under the lights, its polished surface reflecting the sun. The company’s name was carved deep into it, the address etched neatly beneath.
Exactly the same.
Shock swelled in her chest. ‘This can’t be right.’
Her body resisted, caught between disbelief and dread, but her throat worked as she swallowed hard and forced her legs forward. One step. Another. The glass doors loomed closer, swallowing her reflection whole as they parted soundlessly at her approach.
Chapter 8 A Proud Husband
The lobby was massive. Marble floors polished to a flawless sheen, crystal chandeliers scattering light like diamonds, every edge sharp, cold, perfect. Her heels clicked across the vast space, but no one stopped her. Not a guard. Not a receptionist. Instead, one of the women behind the sleek counter actually smiled in welcome, as though Emily’s presence was expected.
Emily gave a polite nod in return, though confusion pressed heavier against her ribs. Why was no one asking for her name, her purpose, her appointment?
Behind her, the two receptionists exchanged a look.
The first one leaned in, brow furrowing. “Aren’t you going to stop her? Who is she?”
Before the words even faded, the second one’s hand snapped out, gripping her arm. Her voice was sharp, urgent, laced with warning. “Don’t you dare! Did you forget? Leon sent her photo to all senior staff last month.”
The first woman’s frown faltered. Her lips parted. “Wait… that’s—” Her breath caught, eyes going wide with dawning realization. “Mrs. Graves?”
The second receptionist gave a single, grave nod.
As if on cue, both women’s gazes followed Emily in awe. Like royalty had just swept through their lobby.
“She’s really pretty,” the first receptionist whispered, a dazed look flickering across her features. Without thinking, her hand lifted her phone, thumb brushing over the camera screen.
“Hey! Snap out of it.” The second one hissed, snatching the device from her grasp before she could take the shot. The first one scowled but didn’t fight, letting the phone clatter back onto the counter with a sulky huff. Both pairs of eyes remained glued to the tall figure gliding across the lobby until the elevator doors closed behind her.
Inside, the world seemed to narrow to a hum of machinery and gleaming steel. The elevator climbed swiftly, numbers flashing one by one in a steady rhythm. Emily’s pulse matched each chime, frantic, uneven, rising higher and higher.
The elevator ascended in smooth silence, a low hum vibrating through the steel walls. Emily’s pulse hammered in sync with each chime as the numbers climbed higher, higher. Her reflection in the polished doors stared back at her: wide eyes, parted lips, fingers clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles blanched.
