The bathroom door opened behind her and she spun around with a stifled scream, staring in amazement through the clear glass walls of her shower unit at the man who had simply walked into her bathroom and was even now in the process of divesting himself of his tie and shirt.
“You!” Emma gasped her astonishment. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” James demanded grimly. “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
“No,” Emma said, backing away. “Oh no, not that again. You can’t just – just decide to fuck me whenever you want, James. I’m not your whore. In fact, you already have a whore! Why don’t you go to her?”
“I want you,” James said simply, and sliding the glass door open, he stepped into the shower with her.
“Why?” Emma whispered, pain in her eyes.
James shrugged. “You turn me on.” The evidence was there, for her to see. Only she didn’t want to see it. She turned away, her back to him, facing the wall.
It didn’t deter him. He merely began to attack her senses from behind.
“I’ll scream,” Emma warned.
James laughed. “Go ahead,” he invited. “I don’t expect anyone would hear you, and in any case, its not as if they haven’t heard you scream before.” She flushed bright red. “And don’t you remember? I told you I love it when you scream.”
She bit her lips in frustration, when she felt his hands, large and rough and warm, on her shoulders, unable to do anything to stop him. He kneaded gently, working out the stiffness, and she couldn’t stifle the groan of relief that tore from her. Emma could almost feel him smile.
His hands slid down, cup her breasts. She looked down, feeling weak, at the sight of his large, dark hands holding her breasts. His fingers, long and skilled, stroked her lazily, his thumb brushing over the stiffening buds of her nipples. Her head dropping forward, and he took immediate advantage, bending to press his body against her, his mouth, hot and wet, against the nape of her neck, his tongue flicking out to touch and taste her intimately.
Emma let out a muffled sigh as she felt his teeth graze her throat, then bite into her. He was like an animal sometimes, and the worst thing was, it excited her. God, and she called herself civilised!
“Place your hands against the wall,” James whispered against her ear. He nipped at it playfully, and mindlessly, she obeyed. “Now part your legs. Wider.”
One hand slid from her breasts down to her thighs, before dipping between them and quite suddenly, sliding one long finger inside her slick, hot, wetness. They let out a simultaneous groan. Slowly, he slid his finger out, then in again. Emma gasped – let out a whimper. A second finger joined the first, then a third. Her head had dropped back against his chest, and his other hand was now clenching and unclenching around her breast in his arousal, almost without his notice. His cock was straining against her buttocks, and he ached with the need to simply shove it up inside her.
“James,” Emma pleaded. “James…”
“What is it, Emma? What do you want? Tell me.”
“I need you.”
“Beg me.” His voice was soft, silken.
“James… please… I need you.”
His control snapped. Positioning himself, he plunged himself inside her savagely, closing his eyes as her hot wetness enveloped him. She let out a cry at the sensation of fullness as he filled her, took her.
He thrust, grabbing her hips and working himself deep inside her, rapidly, almost brutally. Emma’s fists clenched – she braced herself against the wall, her head dropping down. The beat of the water against their backs no longer seemed calm, lazy, luxuriant, but now seemed to drum out an ever increasingly frantic beat. He seemed to want to get completely inside her, so deeply was he driving himself into her. Low, deep sounds emanated from his chest, his teeth ground together, sweat beaded on his forehead. His fingers on her hips forced her back against him as he pumped into her, pleasure filled, agonising groans tore from his throat with every deep thrust.
His cock was so deeply embedded inside her, filing her so completely, she felt like he was touching every part of her body. His thrusts, ever quickening, seemed more rapid than ever. As he seemed to reach orgasm, he lent over, biting her shoulder and letting out a loud groan, and she, too, came, her screams echoing around the bathroom. She pulsed around him, seemed to sag against the wall, merely enjoying the sensation of his seed pumping inside her, marking her as his possession. Almost as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, his arms wrapped around her possessively, drawing her back against his body, supporting her.
“Now… what was that you said about not being able to see me again?” James murmured into her ear.
Emma stiffened. “I meant it,” she said, softly. “I still do. This can’t go on, James.”
He said nothing for a moment, and there was only the sound of the spray of water around them. “You told me you loved me,” he said finally. “Don’t say something that you’ll regret later on, Emma.”
Emma steeled herself. She looked up into his eyes, her brows raised inquiringly. “You didn’t really believe me, did you?” she asked with cheerful embarrassment. “You know people say all sorts of odd things when they’re… you know…”
“Coming?” James suggested dryly. “Climaxing? Orgasming?”
“Yes,” Emma said, feeling ridiculously gauche.
“I see.”
“Yes. And, well, to be honest, James, I’m glad I’ve gotten you out of my system. Its time I moved on. I haven’t had a good few weeks.” Inspiration struck. “What with Luc and all.”
His eyes had grown cold, shuttered, though the body he held her against was as warm and strong and alive as ever. “Of course.”
She willed her voice to stay steady. “And I expect you’d like to move on as well. We probably needed to get each other out of our systems. Repression and all that.”
“Yes. Repression. Of course.”
“Well…”
“I’m leaving,” James said abruptly.
He left as quickly and silently as he came, and Emma felt, at that moment, all the loneliness of before come crashing back. Except that this time, she did not even have that tiny flicker of hope which she had cherished before. Now, she had nothing.
Except his child. And that, she vowed fiercely, he was never going to find out.
* * *
“Emma!” There was a loud, irritating banging on the front door. Emma opened a bleary eye from where she was sprawled across the old sagging couch. “Emma, love, open the door. Its me, Luc.”
Oh, Luc. She’d thought it was Jordan again. Her brother had been pestering her all month, and she was in no mood for more. She closed her eyes again.
“Emma! If you don’t open up, I’m going to tell James about the baby!”
Shit. How on earth had he found out? Fool – Jordan, of course. The little rat had probably spilled all the beans when she’d started refusing to let him in. Sighing tiredly, she heaved herself up and went to open the door.