Merciless

Chapter 6, Part 1

Austin

Despite the arrogance I portray to the world at large, I'm not a very egocentric man. I've never been the kind of person who cares about keeping up with the Joneses or that, as a firefighter, I make a fraction of what my best friends do in their chosen careers. I'm just an Average Joe kind of guy leading an Average Joe kind of life.

But Emi, as I found out when I picked her up, comes from money. Lots of money. The kind of money that I can't compete with and never will. That might bother me if I was looking to marry the girl, but we've only shared some drinks and a charcuterie plate, so I'm not going to worry about anything other than what we're doing in this moment. Charcuterie. That right there is a perfect example of how different our worlds are. I had to look the word up when I got home the other night. Leave it to rich people to use a ridiculous-sounding French word that essentially means meat.

As I close and lock the door to my apartment behind us, I try to view my space through Emi's eyes. The living room with my couch and big screen TV is to the left with a small but respectable kitchen and dining on the right. Straight back is a short hallway that leads to a half bathroom for guests and my bedroom with an en suite. It's not huge, but it's not a closet, either.

"This is nice," she says with a smile as she takes in the pictures and various hockey and firefighter paraphernalia hanging on my walls. "It's like getting a glimpse into who you are."

"Who I am isn't a secret, princess, but look as much as you want. Would you like a drink? I have some wine I keep around for my friends."

"No thank you, I'm fine." Emi sets her purse on the console table and walks over to the sliding glass door that leads out to my private balcony. I'm on the eighth floor, so I have a decent view of the park next to my building, though at this hour, it's shrouded in the dark of night.

I move to stand behind her. In her heels, the top of her head reaches my chin, but she's still damn small compared to me. And I like that. I know that, as a dancer, she's strong, but I like the visual of her as petite and fragile. Breakable. Not because I'd ever in a million years want to break her, but because it feeds into the fantasies I have of breaking her will, of making it my own.

Emi releases a long sigh and relaxes into me, her back molding to my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her waist and dip my head to taste that spot on her neck that's haunted me since last night in the studio. She purrs and cants her head to the side. I feel her pulse ticking faster beneath her skin as I flick my tongue over it and tease her with soft grazes of my teeth.

"Austin," she whispers and reaches up to rake her nails through the hair at the back of my head. Tingles from her touch race down my spine to swirl in my balls, and I have to tamp down the urge to slam her up against the glass.

I can't be that man right now. I've seen where Emi comes from. She's probably been pampered and coddled her whole life, and that's nothing short of what she deserves. She really is a princess, and that's exactly how I'm going to treat her, even if it kills me.

My dick is lengthening behind my boxer briefs, and I know she can feel it growing harder against her lower back. When she slips her other hand between us and strokes it over my dress pants, I nearly come on the spot. The last thing I want to do is remove her hand, but I do it anyway because I need to retain control, so I don't do anything either of us will regret later.

"Slow down, we're not in any hurry."

"That's not how it felt in the wine bar."

I kiss my way down her neck to her shoulder. "I already apologized for that. I'm going to take my time, worship your body with my mouth and hands." Suddenly Emi goes cold. She lowers her arm, and her body straightens, pulling away from mine. I'm on instant alert that something's off. It doesn't matter how hot she was for me a second ago, her current body language is telling me to back the fuck off. I take a step away, so she doesn't feel crowded or threatened. "What's wrong?"