Emma
“That’s an awful one,” Affonso said, flicking his wrist at Emma.
Emma glanced at the dress in the mirror, appreciating the soft colors and smooth lines. It wasn’t housewife enough for Affonso’s tastes.
“You’ve only seen a few of this season’s collection,” the shop woman said. “Give it a few more dresses and see how you feel.”
Affonso sneered at the woman. “If they’re all like this one but in different colors, I think we’ve had enough for the day.”
“Affonso,” Emma chided, shaking her head.
Shopping with him was unbearable. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something he gave her much of a choice in. Affonso wanted Emma to be dressed in the most up-to-date items when they came into the stores. Both he and she regularly updated their entire wardrobe over the span of a couple of days.
It bored the hell out of her.
Affonso just liked to antagonize the ladies working in the boutiques. Emma was sure of it.
“Fine, we’ll try on another few,” Affonso said.
He shooed the woman away with a wave, glaring as she went.
“You don’t have to make this whole thing so awful for them,” Emma said.
“For the amount of money I spend in here, yes I do.”
Jesus.
Emma rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror. “I don’t see what the problem with this dress is.”
“The length, for starters.”
“It’s only a few inches above my knees, Affonso. I can’t think of a single man who gets turned on by the sight of a woman’s knees. Should I start wearing dresses that hang down to my ankles?”
“Don’t start,” her husband warned. “Try on another.”
Knowing better than to argue with him, Emma went back into the changing room. She picked a navy blue dress that would be tight to her curves with a pencil thin skirt, but fell low enough to soothe Affonso’s jealousies. Once she stepped out of the dressing room, Affonso nodded in approval.
“Better,” he said. “I like this one.”
“Me, too.”
Affonso stayed quiet as Emma turned in the mirror, surveying the back of the dress and how it looked at different angles. She couldn’t help but notice how quiet her husband had become. Usually he was full of praise or disapproval when she came out of a dressing room with something new on.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, not bothering to turn around. “You said you liked it.”
“I do.”
“You’re too quiet.”
Affonso sighed. “It isn’t the dress.”
Emma turned around to face Affonso. “Do you want me to get the dress?”
“Yes.” He stared up at her, unflinching. “I also want to know if you put any crazy ideas in my daughter’s head about some school in England.”
Emma blanked. “What?”
Affonso waved his phone in the air. “Cynthia messaged me not five minutes after her plane landed yesterday. She’s been waiting on a reply from me ever since. Something about a school and dance—in England.”
Shit.
Why was Emma’s throat so tight all of the sudden?
The girls had stayed home for nearly three weeks before they left again for boarding school. Emma was sad to see them go, as they made the New Year’s celebrations leading into cold mid-January a little bit better. They gave her something else to think about, other than the fact that February was crawling closer and closer by the day.
Her baby boy, the one she buried, would have been due the first week of February. She didn’t realize how much it hurt until it was right around the corner.
Emma forced the thoughts away. It was better if she didn’t stay focused on the sadness for long. It could eat her alive if she let it.
“Did she mention it came from me?” Emma asked.
“No,” Affonso replied.
“Then why would you think it came from me?”
“Who else would it come from?”
“Your daughter who has spent the majority of her life practicing ballet and wants to continue.”
“In England,” he stressed.
Emma racked her brain with something to say to calm the anger clouding Affonso’s features even colder and darker than they usually were. This was not good. She planned on slowly bringing this topic up to her husband in little ways, while trying to engage him more in Cynthia’s dancing.
Clearly, her step-daughter had different plans.
“She might have mentioned it,” Emma said.
“And you encouraged it enough that she decided to ask me if I would sign off on the tuition early,” he snapped.
Surprised at the change in Affonso’s demeanor, Emma refused to back down. He wasn’t fun to deal with when he was pissed off, but neither was she.
“Actually, no,” Emma said. “I didn’t. I thought it was something she should discuss with you. I never encouraged her to drop the bomb on you about it, however. I told her to give it a bit of time and make sure it was what she really wanted before she brought it up to you.”
“What is even in England for her? There are dance schools in New York that would die to take her. England is …”
“Too far from you,” Emma said quietly. “Give her a few years, Affonso. She’s young. Let her be young before you start demanding things from her. She needs to grow up a little bit.”
Affonso growled under his breath and tossed his phone aside. “You don’t understand, Emma.”
Emma threw her hands wide. “I don’t understand?”
“Well—”
“A year ago, I was Cynthia!”
Affonso swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “I don’t think it’s quite the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing. You’ve already told me how you want to marry the girls off to strengthen your famiglia. It’s no different. I’m asking you, Affonso, to please give Cynthia a few more years before you do that to her. A little more time for her to learn who she is and to let her grow up. She’s just a girl.”
“She knows what I expect,” Affonso said, brushing off his pant legs like he was over the entire day and conversation.
Emma’s fury boiled over. She couldn’t have stopped it if she tried.
“I know she’s less important because she was born a girl, but she is still your daughter,” Emma said, knowing damn well how harsh she sounded. “And if you can’t understand even a tiny bit why it would be better for her to have just a little more time to be young before you force her to be someone she doesn’t want to be, then you aren’t worthy of being her father.”
Affonso turned to stone, his gaze lifting to level Emma with a single look. “Tell me how you really feel, sweetheart.”
“She’s just a girl.”
“My daughter,” Affonso corrected.
“Then why don’t you act like it?”
Affonso’s stare dropped, his posturing softening briefly.
Emma wondered if she had hit a weak spot on the man.
“How many more years would you have needed?” Affonso asked quietly.
Emma wished he hadn’t asked that question. Her answer wasn’t a simple one. She never would have been able to marry him without hating her father for making her do it.
So, she lied.
“A couple,” she said.
“Did Cynthia mention anything else about this … school?”
“It’s a four year program—bachelor in arts. She’ll be able to focus on dancing while she earns her degree,” Emma explained.
“I’ll consider it,” Affonso said.
Emma would take it.
She wouldn’t push him for more.
“Another dress?” she asked.
“Yes, another.” Affonso reached for his discarded phone and turned it on. “Also, about tonight.”
“What about it? Calisto invited us to the opening of his new club. You’ve known about this for weeks, Affonso.”
Her husband didn’t look up from his phone. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”
Emma had been looking forward to it. Since Christmas, she hadn’t been able to see Calisto, let alone be close to him. It saddened and irritated her in a way she couldn’t explain.
Her heart was missing home.
“That’s too bad,” Emma said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I was looking forward to doing something.”
“As long as you have your enforcer with you, I don’t care what you do.”
Emma smiled. “Oh?”
Affonso still hadn’t looked up from his phone. “Go. Have fun. Give our well wishes for my nephew’s opening.”
Your son, she corrected silently.
It didn’t even matter.
Emma was too happy to worry about all of that nonsense.
A night out where she could be with Calisto without Affonso?
Perfect.
“Does that work for you?” Affonso asked.
“It sounds fine.”
Emma couldn’t have hidden the elation if she tried, but by the time Affonso had discarded his phone again, she was already in the dressing room.
“Oh, wow,” Emma said.
She watched from behind the safety of one-way glass as bodies swarmed the hardwood dance floor. Lights strobed and flickered, making the patrons look like shadows moving slowly. They were actually dancing quite fast. Sharp, hard bass pounded at the floorboards.
It was an amazing sight.
“It’s something else,” Carter said beside Emma.
Calisto chuckled as he strolled over to the windows. “All of the walls up here were built into this loft-like floor. They weren’t structural or needed, so I had them knock them down and add these in instead. It turned out exactly like I thought it would.”
Emma shot Calisto a smile.
He returned it with a wink.
“The boss would have liked it, I imagine,” Carter said.
Emma ignored her enforcer as she turned to take in the rest of Calisto’s new office. Apparently, he had given up his office at the restaurant to begin doing his day-to-day business here. Light-colored leather furniture had been pushed into a cozy arrangement against the far wall. A large, cherry oak desk rested in the middle of the room. Brass lighting hung from the high vaulted ceiling.
And the windows …
It was fantastic.
Two walls were lined with flat screen televisions that showcased different vantage points in the club. From the cash, the kitchen, outside of the bathrooms, fifteen angles of the dance floor, and all exits and entrances. It was all covered.
Emma liked it a lot.
“I might have to schedule this place in for my Saturday nights,” Emma said to Calisto.
Calisto smirked. “I’ll make sure to save you a seat.”
Carter was still staring out the windows at the people below.
Emma was grateful for his distraction, given the way Calisto was looking at her right then. It was enough to make her mouth dry and her hands shake.
Obviously, he had been missing her, too.
Calisto strolled past Emma, and grabbed her small clutch at he went. He put two fingers up to his mouth as he tossed the purse to his desk, silently asking her to stay quiet.
She didn’t know what in the hell he was doing.
“Carter,” Calisto barked.
The enforcer turned on his heel. “Yeah, Cal?”
“Take Emma down and get her a drink. I’ll be down in a few.”
“Sure.” Carter gave Emma a look, and tipped his head toward the private elevator. Calisto had explained it was the only way in and out of his office, and that it wasn’t used for anything else. “Let’s get out of here and leave Calisto to his people watching.”
Still unsure what was happening, Emma followed Carter to the elevator. She stepped inside with the enforcer once the doors opened. He hit the ground floor button. Just as the doors began to close, Calisto held up the purse.
“Emma, you forgot this.”
It sounded innocent enough.
It sure looked that way, too.
Emma hid her grin as she stepped back out of the elevator and turned to Carter. She would have to walk all the way back across thirty foot wide office to grab her bag. “I’ll be right down. Get me a Sex on the Beach, okay?”
Carter shrugged, unaware and distracted by the new place. “Sure.”
“I’ll find you,” Emma lied.
The elevator doors closed and she watched the light above it turn from green to red to signal it was dropping floor levels. The moment Emma spun on her heel, Calisto was on her.
She gasped the second her back met the cold metal of the elevator doors. The force was enough to take her breath away, and her spine ached, but she didn’t even care.
Calisto kissed and nipped a hot path over her neck and down her chest where her dress dipped into her cleavage. His hands drove her dress up, pulling roughly and making her skin sting.
It was wonderful.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
Calisto caught her hands in his and pinned them above her head. Those soul-black eyes of his found hers, holding her in place with his stare alone.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how damn good you looked tonight,” he said.
His voice came out like a rumble.
Deep in chest, forcing its way out.
It made her wet.
And so hot.
“New dress,” she told him.
“I can see that. I like red.”
“I know, Calisto. Why do you think I bought it, even after I was told not to?”
Calisto flashed her with another one of his sinful smirks. “You’re awful.”
But he loved it.
She knew it.
“How long do you think we have?” she asked.
Calisto glanced back at one of the many flat screens. “A few minutes. Maybe a little more. The place is pretty big. You could get lost.”
“But he might come back up here.”
“Yeah, bella.”
“I’ll take that risk,” she said softly.
Calisto turned back to her, lust darkening his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
Emma laughed. “Then shut up and get to work on that.”
“My pleasure, Emmy.”
Well, it certainly would be.
Emma didn’t even blink again before Calisto’s mouth crashed down on hers. His kiss was sinful and demanding. He tipped her head back against the elevator doors, kissed her harder, and yanked her panties down her hips and thighs at the same time. His tongue warred with hers, owning her with every strike and stroke.
Emma moaned into Calisto’s mouth when his hand tapped the inside of her thighs. She spread her legs, feeling his palm slide further between her thighs and cup her sex. Two of his fingers swept along the folds of her pussy, dragging her wetness up to her throbbing clit.
It was the proof of just how crazy this man made her.
How hot she was.
How insane she felt.
God, it was good.
“You get so fucking warm when I touch you,” Calisto hummed against her lips. “So hot and tight, Emmy. I dream of fucking you, bella. Of being inside you, feeling you taking me in and milking me dry. I wake up hard as hell and thinking I can still taste you in my mouth. Do you know that?”
Emma shook her head.
“Every night,” he told her.
“Love your mouth, Cal.”
It made her feel dirty.
But his words proved how bad he wanted her, too.
Calisto chuckled, pulling away from her. “I promise you’re going to love it a whole lot more.”
Emma didn’t question why. She let him pull her away from the elevator, kicking her discarded panties off her ankles as she went. Calisto’s hand met her lower back, and guided her across the room. Her hands met the cool, smooth bar that was attached to every window at waist-height.
“Bend over,” she heard him growl.
Emma did what he wanted, no questions asked. She shuddered when Calisto pushed the skirt of her dress up over her backside. Without her panties, her pussy and ass were on display for him. She sighed, loving the feel of his calloused hands as he stroked her ass and lower back with a softer touch than she expected.
Then she heard his belt buckle rattle.
Emma glanced over her shoulder, but Calisto grabbed her chin and turned her head back to the window.
“Watch the people,” he said.
Her breath caught in her throat when she heard his knees hit the floor. The moment his mouth met her pussy, Emma let out a shout. She instantly tried to muffle the noise into the crook of her arm.
Calisto stopped.
Emma whined.
“I want to hear you—no one else can,” he murmured.
Jesus Christ.
She always had to be quiet.
Their stolen moments made it that way.
“Scream for me, Emmy. I need to hear how much you want this. Do you understand that?”
Emma nodded, sucking in a quick breath.
It was all she got before she couldn’t breathe at all.
Calisto spread the cheeks of her ass, and then his mouth was on her sex again. Rough, fast strokes of his tongue dove between her folds and straight into her clenching pussy. She could feel his thumb dragging circles around her clit as he lapped at her slit, taking in her arousal while he ate at her like he was fucking starved.
He was hungry.
She had suddenly become his meal.
Emma shook from the heels on her feet all the way up to her shoulders. The hard strikes of his tongue into her pussy as his thumb toyed with her clit and his fingers dug into her inner thigh were too much.
She was going to come.
Soon.
Her broken cries echoed into the office. She took a bit of comfort in knowing the noise from the music and people down below swallowed her sounds.
“Oh, my God,” Emma cried. “Calisto … Jesus, don’t stop.”
His chuckles rocked against her sex, heating her blood up even more. Dazed and trembling, she looked out over the crowd, feeling the orgasm beginning to build deep in her core. The swaying people, the beat of the music under her pumps, and Calisto’s tongue on her pussy all came together in one giant clash of sensations.
She was gone.
The bliss raced through her body before she understood what was happening. Her knees gave out as she shouted his name and her hands slipped on the bar.
The intensity of the orgasm made Emma sob.
She hadn’t been expecting it to hit so strong.
Calisto kept a hold on her, keeping her upright. Emma was grateful, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t feel a fucking thing from her knees down. His hands skimmed up her back with that demanding touch of his as he kissed up the back of her dress to the nape of her neck.
“You taste like the best sin,” he whispered in her ear.
Emma swallowed the emotions lodging in her throat. His back fitted to hers as he crowded her to the glass and shoved his pants down around his ankles. She closed her eyes, feeling his fingers wrap around the bottom of her throat as he fitted his cock at the entrance of her pussy. His fingers danced through her hair, down her shoulder, and over her arm.
She wanted him to keep exploring her skin.
It was lovely.
But she wanted him to fuck her even more.
“Do it,” Emma mumbled.
“Breathe, Emmy.”
Fuck that.
“Make me scream,” she begged.
“Cristo. You’re killing me, dolcezza.”
“Please, Calisto.”
She just wanted to feel.
Her days were spent pretending like her life was better than what it seemed. She had to make everyone else around her happy; they needed to believe it was real.
Calisto was the only thing that made her feel right anymore.
Emma was just her when she was with him.
Nothing else mattered.
“Please,” she breathed.
“Missed you,” he said.
It was all she heard before he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, his fingers tightened around her throat, and he pushed in. One sharp, quick flex of his hips was all it took and he was seated deep into her pussy.
Emma’s body took his length in without hesitation. She was so wet from his tongue and her orgasm that she didn’t feel even a flicker of pain from being stretched open and filled full. It was enough to make her chest tight with need as a cry exploded from her lips.
“Fuck,” Calisto hissed into her hair.
Emma’s forehead met the glass window. She backed into his cock, taking every punishing thrust with her own. She held onto the bar with one hand, and grabbed a hold of Calisto’s hair with her other, forcing him to stay as close to her as possible.
She wanted to hear him.
The pants.
His clenching teeth.
Her name in his mouth.
All of it.
She needed it like she needed air.
Calisto let go of her waist to grab a fistful of the hair at the back of her head. She laughed breathlessly with his hand at her throat and his other one in her hair.
“So much better,” she told him when he started pounding into her again.
It was always better when he fucked her harder. So much better when he grabbed a fistful of her hair so he could pound into her even deeper.
“You know it, kitten,” she heard him say.
His voice was deep, thickened with his need.
Then his whispers started.
That dirty fucking mouth of his.
Fuck that cock, Emmy.
Show me how you want it.
Take it like that, kitten.
It was wrong—he made her feel filthy.
But she didn’t want it any other way.
Emma screamed and shivered her way through another orgasm that turned her into nothing but mess of sensations and jumbled thoughts. She felt Calisto’s seed paint warm streams against her ass not five seconds later.
Her name was the only thing he said.
The most beautiful things sometimes came from the foulest of deeds.
She knew it was true.
Calisto was her proof.