Chapter 4

Emilia Jones

I froze in the dim room.

That voice was deep, smooth. It came from the shadowed corner by the window, and for a second I couldn’t move.

My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my throat. The tiny black dress suddenly felt even smaller, I pulled it down but it wouldn't stretch.

Wasn't he supposed to be some old freak? Which old man had such a youthful and sexy voice? I wondered.

I forced the words out. “Who’s there?”

A tall figure stepped into the soft yellow light.

My breath caught.

He was not an old man with yellow teeth and a beer gut. Not even close. The man walking toward me looked like he had stepped out of every dangerous fantasy I had ever tried to ignore. Broad shoulders filled a black shirt that was open at the collar. Dark hair slightly messy, like someone had run fingers through it. Sharp jaw. Eyes that were too intense, too knowing.

He moved with quiet power, the kind that didn’t need to shout to own a room.

He winked at me and my stomach flipped hard.

I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know anything except that he was nothing like the nightmare I had pictured on the way here.

He stopped a few feet away and looked me over slowly. His gaze dragged from my face down the tight dress and back up again. A small, almost lazy smile curved his mouth.

“First time, little bunny?” he repeated, voice lower now.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to cover how much skin the dress left open. “Don’t call me that. And yes. First time. So if you’re expecting some experienced girl who knows what she’s doing, you’ve got the wrong person.”

He didn’t look disappointed. If anything, the smile deepened. “Good.”

He walked closer with each step made the air feel heavier. I wanted to step back. My feet stayed planted. Pride and fear and something hotter mixed in my chest until I couldn’t tell them apart.

“I can still leave,” I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “This was a mistake. I don’t even know you.”

“You can leave,” he agreed, stopping right in front of me. Close enough that I caught the clean, expensive scent of his cologne. “But you won’t because you are already in my room.”

His fingers brushed the side of my neck as he tilted my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. I was drawn to his handsome face so much that I didn't notice him moving closer to me.

My skin sparked under the touch. I tried to pull away. He didn’t force it, but he didn’t let go either.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Scared or something else?”

“Scared,” I snapped, even as heat started low in my belly. “This is not right..”

He leaned in until his mouth was near my ear. “Yet you’re still here.”

His other hand slid down my side, over the thin fabric of the dress, and settled on my hip. I sucked in a sharp breath. Every nerve felt too awake. I pushed at his chest. It was solid and warm.

“Stop,” I whispered. The word sounded weak even to me.

He didn’t stop. His hand slipped under the hem of the dress. Fingers trailed up the inside of my thigh, slow enough that I felt every inch.

I clenched my legs together on instinct. He waited patiently. Then he pushed my thighs apart with quiet strength.

When his fingers found the damp fabric of my underwear I bit down on a sound. My face burned. I had been fighting this the whole way here. My body had other plans.

“You’re already wet,” he said, almost soft. Almost kind. “Interesting.”

“Shut up,” I breathed heavily. “Just… don’t talk.”

He ignored my plea, as he slid two fingers beneath the fabric and stroked through my wet folds slowly.

I jerked instantly, trying to retreat. This was bad, but part of me recalled Mike's cheating ass. Maybe Deep down, I wanted to feel how he was feeling when he fucked Mandy. Maybe I was be v selfish.

A broken sound escaped my throat before I could swallow it. He circled my clit with the pad of one finger.

My knees threatened to give. I grabbed his forearm to stay upright.

“Still want to leave, little bunny?”

I shook my head even as tears of frustration stung my eyes. “I hate you for this.”

“I know and I don't care.” He responded.

He pushed one finger inside me for what felt like eternity.

Then he turned me around, guided me to the edge of the bed, and bent me forward. The dress was shoved up over my hips. My underwear was dragged down.

I heard the sound of his belt. The quiet tear of a foil packet. I should have been fighting harder. Instead I gripped the sheets and waited, heart slamming, body aching for something I still didn’t want to want.

He pushed into me in one long, deep stroke.

The stretch forced a cry out of me. He was thick and hard. He didn’t give me time to adjust. His hands locked on my hips and he fucked me hard.

For the whole night, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing and moaning.

I didn't even realize it was already morning.

He pulled out carefully. I stayed bent over the bed, trying to remember how to feel like myself. Shame and leftover pleasure tangled until I couldn’t separate them. I pushed myself upright on unsteady legs and fixed the dress with shaking hands. I still didn’t know his name.

He walked to a small table near the window, picked up a thin folder, and came back. He held it out.

“ This is the contract,” he said simply. “You become my exclusive secret arrangement. Five thousand. No one should know about this and no questions about my life, no falling in love. You show up when I call. That’s all.”

I stared at the folder like it might bite. Five thousand was enough to keep Augusta off my back for a while.

“No,” I said. The word came out rough. “I’m not signing anything. This was one night. That’s it.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “Its your loss. I won't force you. But think about it."

I clutched the folder against my chest. The paper felt heavy. I looked at the man who had just taken me apart and was now offerin a deal. This was reality, I needed the money.

I needed him, not the other way round. That was the ugly truth. .

My voice came out quiet.

“Fine. I'll sign it.”