Loved Intensely (UNEDITED)

Chapter 6

He was large. Very large. And beautiful. She'd
never thought she'd ever think of a
man's...thing...that way, but he was. She felt a
strange compulsion to touch him, to stroke, and
caress. She wanted to taste him. Odd - she'd never
experienced any urge to do so before, not even
when she had thought he was Kit. That time - that
first time, when she had finally known it was he
making love to her and not his brother - that was
the first time she had ever...done it. But it had
felt degrading then, and illicit, somehow. She did
not want to think about then.
He was on top of her now, his mouth hungrily
seeking hers. Instinctively, her lips parted - he slid
inside, plundered, hot and wet. He rolled, and she
found herself on top of him, her blouse gaping
open, her bra tugged away. His hands gripped her
waist, bent her forward, and Emma's breast, quite
suddenly, was in his mouth.
She let out a gasp of agonising pleasure. She felt
hot, wanton, uninhibited, free. Freer than she'd
ever felt in her life. She didn't delude herself,
this time, that he was forcing her. She wanted
this. She wanted him.
But she sure as hell wasn't going to admit it,
afterwards.
Tugging herself away, she bent down, pressing her
mouth against his bronzed, sculpted torso. There
was a raw, masculine beauty in him, in the leashed
power of his body. If only he wasn't such an
arrogant boor!
Her tongue touched his nipple and he groaned,
closed his eyes and let his head drop back. "Oh,
God, Emma," he rasped. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer, merely moved onto the other
nipple, laving, then suckling at it. James' hands
crept into her hair, his fingers alternately
caressing and twisting.
She moved down to his stomach, and he tensed.
"Emma..." he began in a warning voice. "Do you -"
The rest of the sentence was cut off in a
strangled gasp as she took him into her mouth, and
he jackknifed forward. His fingers clenched in her
hair. He uttered a weak moan, then dropped back,
his entire body stiff with the strain of keeping
himself from thrusting into her mouth.
The taste, the scent of him filled her senses
immediately. She experimented, bent down to try
and take all of him. He was large - she couldn't,
but she tried anyway, and was rewarded with
another agonised groan for her efforts.
"Touch me," James rasped. "Touch me,
sweetheart."
Emma complied, gingerly stroking him. He growled,
low in his throat, his fingers clenching even tighter
in her hair. Emma winced, but continued to caress
him, wrapping her tongue around him. She suckled
and he let out a yell of pleasure. Elated, she
continued.
There was a new stiffening in his body. He seemed
to grow larger in her mouth. "Emma," James
began, panting, "Emma, I'm - " His hips bucked,
thrusting involuntarily into her mouth. "Oh, god,
Emma!"
She felt him before she tasted him, pouring into
her mouth. Instinctively, she swallowed. His eyes
widened. "Don't - " She ignored him, keeping her
mouth sealed on him until he had spent the last of
his seed in her mouth. At last, he finished, and she
removed her mouth.
There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry," James
said at last. "I shouldn't have done that." But
there was an unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in
his eyes.
Silently, Emma crawled back up the bed, sliding
under the covers. James reached out, drew her
tightly to his side. There was a strange feeling of
tightness in his chest, even after everything, after
he'd believed he'd banished the last of that
weakness. She curled up into his body and simply
lay there. She did not sleep.
She did not sleep all night. James woke often, and
before she knew it, he was on top of her, inside
her. He made love to her almost constantly,
sometimes rapid, hard, and explosive, sometimes
slow and sweet and tender. She clawed at him, bit
at him, leaving angry, passionate marks on him and
he in turn marked her, his teeth sinking, it
seemed, into every part of her body, even those
she wouldn't even have imagined it possible to bite.
Emma woke to the sensation of something hot, wet
and probing between her legs. She sat up with a
gasp, lifting the bedcovers and finding James'
head of dark silky hair between her thighs.
"James," she murmured weakly, before collapsing
back onto the bed.
"Wider, sweetheart," James' voice, muffled, came
from under the covers. Mindlessly, she did as
ordered. He licked, lapped, and probed deep inside
her some more, and she was soon orgasming around
his tongue, not bothering to even muffle her cries
of pleasure.
He crawled up her body, stopping as his face was
level with her breasts. He took a nipple into his
mouth, suckled, and Emma moaned. His lips
travelled upwards, lingering in the curve of her
throat. He licked the length of her neck, sank his
teeth into her. She moaned. "Mmm," he murmured.
"Delicious."
His mouth sealed over hers, his tongue, tasting of
her, filling her mouth. His hips settled into the
cradle of hers, she felt him probing at her
entrance, and then he was inside her, full and
thick and heavy, pulsing with arousal. She was so
swollen from her orgasm that he felt impossibly
huge inside her.
And then he began to move.
Long, fast strokes, rapidly in and out, his hips
grinding against her, his shaft sliding in and out of
her with slick and frantic lunges. She whimpered,
her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He let
out a low growl, digging his fingers into her hips as
he lifted her, forced her up to meet his thrusts,
to take him deep, deeper than before.
"James," Emma gasped, writhing, yet unable to
move in his iron grip.
"Say it again," James ground out. "Say my name."
"James. James, oh, god, James. I love you."
He stilled, suddenly, his glittering green eyes
blazing into hers. Then he growled again, low,
reverberating in his throat, and quickened his
thrusts, clasping her closer against him so her
breasts were crushed against his chest, her face
buried against the strong column of his throat.
He pumped rapidly, ever harder inside her, their
two bodies joined as if one. And quite suddenly, the
moment came. He let out an exultant roar of
ecstasy, spilling himself inside her, his eyes rolling
into the back of his head. It had never been like
this. Never. He recovered in time to feel her
pulsing against him, clenching around his cock. He
smiled, his eyes closed, and collapsed atop her. He
did not care, at that moment, that he was probably
too heavy for him. What mattered was the fact
that she was his, that he was inside and on top of
her, and that was where he wanted to be.
"Shit," James said sometime later.
"What is it?" Emma stirred sleepily from on top of
him. He'd rolled over soon after he'd realised he'd
probably been suffocating her.
"I've got to go. I have an appointment this
afternoon."
"What time?"
"Three," he answered. "Its almost two-thirty. I
have to run, sweetheart."
"Ok," Emma said sleepily, and closed her eyes
again. She was warm and comfortable. She wasn't
going to move.
"Emma," James said after a moment.
She opened one eye. "Hmm?"
"I have to go."
She felt vaguely irritated. "Ok."
Her eyes closed again.
"Emma..." There was a note of rueful amusement
in her voice.
"What?" This time she woke fully, sitting up on top
of him in some exasperation. "What is it?"
"I really do need to go."
"So go!"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"You're on top of me."
Emma looked down to find herself straddling him.
"Oh," she murmured, and climbed off him. He
smiled at her, his teeth flashing white in the
leonine face, and slid out of bed. Emma lay in bed,
the bedcovers drawn up around her and watched
while he dressed.
"James," she said, suddenly. "What - What does all
this mean? Why did you come to find me?"
His face grew suddenly cold, distant. "What do you
mean?" he said coolly.
"Well...you - you came here. To find me. What does
that mean?" She wanted to hear him say it, she
realised. She needed to hear it.
His eyes seemed shuttered, closed now, as they
looked at her. "What do you think, Emma?"
"I don't know," she mumbled.
"Did you imagine, perhaps, that I had come to
declare my love for you yet again?"
Her face flushed bright red. She had so hoped...
"That, perhaps, I had come to beg you to
reconsider my suit? Just so you could throw it back
in my face again? I may have been foolish, Emma,
but I wasn't born yesterday. I am no fool now."
"I never said you were," she said, cold fingers
clutching at her heart. "So - so this was, was just
sex?"
He smiled. "Not just sex, sweetheart. Great sex.
And what else does one need, after all?" So saying,
he bent down, kissed her thoroughly, then left the
house. She heard the front door close behind him.
And wanted to cry, yet again.
A short while longer, the bedsprings from the
house upstairs started again.
* * *
She went through the rest of the day mindlessly,
in a horrified sort of daze. He didn't love her.
Dear god - she'd told him she loved him. Had she
really? Yes - yes, she had. And it was true, she
realised with an ever more sinking heart. She did
love him. Now, when it was too late, when she was
carrying his child and he thought of her only as a
vessel for his sexual gratification, she suddenly
realised she loved him. Oh, if it had only come
sooner! If only she known, before, when he had
offered her everything and the world...
But it was no use crying over the past. There was
nothing she could do now. She knew one thing,
though...she couldn't continue to have an affair
with him. It would hurt too much, when he finally
tired of her and cast her off. And the baby would
show soon, too, and she could not bear the thought
of him rejecting their child, too...
She had been interrupted in taking out the trash
last night - by him, of course - she had to do it
tonight. As she opened the apartment door, the
elevator doors pinged, the down arrow lighting up
and the doors sliding open. James stepped out. Her
eyes met his, fleetingly, then she continued her
task, resolutely ignoring him until she was done.
Brows raised, he followed her into the apartment,
shutting the door behind him.
Emma headed for the kitchen. He followed,
stopping beside her.
"There's something we have to talk about," Emma
said briefly.
He merely looked at her, silent.
"I - I can't see you anymore."
His eyes narrowed. "Explain," he said with deadly
precision.
"I just - I can't."
"So what prompted this sudden change of heart?"
"I don't know." Her eyes widened. Something had
just occurred to her. The light on the elevator...it
had lit up the down arrow... "Did you just come
down from upstairs?" she demanded abruptly.
James appeared puzzled. "As a matter of fact, yes,
I did. Why?"
"And do you happen to be acquainted with a
certain young woman by the name of Kylie, by any
chance?"
He seemed even more perplexed. "Do you mean
Kyriane?"
Emma's lip curled. "Is that her name, then?"
"Yes, I do. She's my - " Emma didn't wait to hear
more. Her hand struck out, slapping him soundly
across the face. He barely flinched, but his face
flushed darkly.
"What was that for?" he said softly, dangerously.
She kicked him. "As if you don't know," hissed
furiously. She pummelled his chest, but only
managed to hurt her fists. "You lying, cheating - "
James caught her wrists in one hand, held her
easily. "Stop that," he said impatiently. "You're
only going to hurt yourself. And if you hit me one
more time, darling, I'm going to spank you."
Emma stamped on his foot. Hard. He winced, then
just as quickly hauled her against him, stroked his
hand down her back and to her derriere, lingered
for just a moment, and slapped her, hard enough
to make her eyes widen in surprise. She gasped,
winced, and stared at him accusingly. "You hit me!"
she said, sounding shocked and horrified all at
once, her pride more injured than her bottom.
"Hardly, darling," James murmured disdainfully.
"Besides, you started it."
"Oh!" Emma resisted the urge to stamp her foot
and scream. She contented herself with merely
wrenching away from his tight grasp, telling him
flatly that she never wanted to see him again, then
storming off into her bedroom. She slammed the
door in his face, locked it with a satisfying click.
"Emma," James called from the other side.
"Emma, open the door."
"No!" Emma shouted back. "Go away!"
After a minute of silence, she heard a sigh, and
then his footsteps walking away. Curiously enough,
she felt a pang. Then there was the sound of the
front door opening, and closing faintly, and she
breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone. Good.
The thought wasn't in the least comforting.
Wiping away the few stray tears that had somehow
managed to leak out despite her best attempts to
keep them in, she straightened up, then grabbed
her bathrobe, figuring a shower would cheer her
up. A nice, long, hot shower, where she'd drown her
sorrows in the calming rain of the water.
Opening her bedroom door, she headed for the
bathroom, turned the water on, stripped quickly
out of her bathrobe and stepped under the warm
spray. It felt wonderful.
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