You’re nothing but a shameless slut, Emmie Ramsey.
I’m still trying to come up with a witty comeback that isn’t my previous thought when the door slams open and heavy footsteps march into the room.
“Oh fuck,” I squeak, trying to close that image down so fast that my phone tumbles from my hand and lands right at my visitor’s feet. Screen. Side. Up. “Shit.”
Reaching out, I snatch it up before letting my eyes roll up the giant body before me. I want to legitimately die with every inch I take in as realisation hits me.
“Hey, Cruz, how’s it going?” I ask, not sounding like myself in any way.
“Emmie,” he growls, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
“The last ten seconds didn’t happen, okay?” I say in a rush, pocketing my phone while wishing the ground would swallow me up.
If it were anyone else—okay, maybe not Dad—then I could probably play this off, but fuck. My uncle blatantly just saw Theo’s dick pic on my phone.
“So,” he says, pulling out the chair opposite me. “I hear you’re having an exciting day.”
My cheeks burn red hot as his eyes hold mine, amusement dancing within them.
“Gunner sent you the video then.”
“Yeah. You killed it, Em.”
“I lost.”
“You almost beat Cirillo’s arse. You didn’t lose fuck all. You should be proud.”
“It’s all the training you guys have been giving me.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s paying off. Clearly, he enjoyed himself.” Cruz winks.
“Don’t,” I snap, holding my hand up. “Just… no. No.”
Silence falls around us and I squirm in my seat as his eyes burn into me.
I begin poking my food around the plastic container it was delivered in, hoping this awkwardness dissipates sometime soon.
“Your dad told me about Oxford.”
“I’m not going. Why does everyone other than me think it’s such a good fucking idea?” I snap.
“Maybe because it is.”
14
EMMIE
Slipping back into my bedroom, I look around the room.
Everything is exactly as I left it. As it should be, seeing as I double-checked the window was shut when I first got back from Mickey’s.
My afternoon was much less eventful than my morning, and I’ve still not decided if that’s a good thing or not.
It dragged. And I can’t help wondering if that’s because I looked up every fucking time someone entered, hoping it was Theo.
It wasn’t.
He was at school, then football training, and then… I don’t know, probably out killing someone or something utterly fucked up.
My heart pounds and my temperature spikes as I move across the room wearing an oversized Reapers shirt. I long for Theo’s shirt that I was forced to leave behind in his flat when I escaped. This is the closest I’ve got to that. It’s not as soft, and it doesn’t smell like him—not that it actually did, because it had been through the wash enough to eradicate that. It was all in my head, but it was good enough for me.
My eyes lock on the darkness outside the window.
Is he out there?
Is he waiting?
My pulse thrums through my body and my skin tingles in anticipation.
I’ve spent all afternoon and evening trying to decide what to do about tonight.
Part of me wanted to ask Dad if I could go and have a sleepover with Calli and completely abandon him, should he actually turn up.
Surely he won’t… will he?
I’ve not had my window open since we came home.
I hated sleeping being shut in those first few nights in the Cotswolds, but I had little choice. I was terrified he’d find me and come and throttle me in the dead of night. But thankfully, it got easier.
I ordered a fan for when I got home so now I might not have fresh air—as fresh as London air gets—but at least my room stays cool.
But there’s nothing to say he hasn’t been out there every night.
No, he’s been home in his room when he’s been messaging me. In his bed like he said, like the photos showed.
But even as I tell myself that, doubt creeps through me and my temperature soars at the thought of him watching me get off through a crack in the curtains, calling out his name as I come.
A smile twitches at my lips as I make my way over to the bed and throw the covers back.
This is wrong. So fucking wrong.
But hell if I’m backing out of this challenge.
Desire still tingles just beneath my skin from our fight earlier, and my clit pounds a steady rhythm with its need for some action.
Grabbing my phone, I find a message that came through an hour ago while I was downstairs hanging out with Piper.
His Lordship: Don’t keep me waiting…
I suck in a sharp breath, my spine straightening with thoughts of being watched. Of him actually waiting.
If this were anyone else I was messaging, I’d say it was a joke. But this is Theo. The same guy who spent fuck knows how long sitting at the end of my bed and watching me sleep without my knowledge. I’d be naïve to think he wasn’t deadly serious about this right now.
Emmie: I don’t follow orders from dickheads.
His Lordship: No. You follow orders from me. There’s a difference.
“Is there though?” I mutter, rolling my eyes to myself.
His Lordship: Did you just roll your eyes at me?
My mouth pops open in shock.
Emmie: Multiple times a day. Get over it.
His Lordship: Fucking love flirting with you.
Emmie: This isn’t flirting, you twisted fuck.
His Lordship: Babe, I thought you knew me better than that…
I push myself back so I’m sitting against my headboard and shamelessly let my thighs fall open, testing to see if he’s really watching me right now.
Dots start bouncing on my screen and my heart rate increases to a dangerous speed.
He is.
My eyes lift to the window, desperately searching the darkness for any sign of him. But with my lights on, all I get is my own reflection.
His Lordship: Did I ever tell you how fucking perfect your pussy is?
“Oh fuck,” I breathe, my legs falling wider.
His Lordship: I dream about tasting it again.
His Lordship: About hearing you call my name when I curl my fingers deep inside you.
My breathing becomes ragged as I read his dirty words. Heat blooms between my legs, my cunt aching for me to touch it, to relieve the pressure building down there.
His Lordship: Do it, Emmie. Show me how bad you need it too.
I fight it, my fingers curling into a tight fist, my nails cutting into the soft skin of my palm.
His Lordship: I want to see your fingers glistening with arousal. I want to see how much you miss me.
My head spins as my eyes remain glued to the screen. The defiant part of me wants to refuse, wants me to pretend that I’m not totally into this right now. But even if he’s not watching my every move, I’m not confident that I could pull off lying to him.