Chapter 140 I Need You
Emily's POV
I stood up slowly, my legs still shaking, tugging my skirt down with one hand before I walked around the desk. I took the underwear from his hand and set it on the desk behind me without looking at it.
Then I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He went rigid for a second, surprised, before his arms came up and circled my waist. He pressed his face into my shoulder, and I felt him exhale, a long, shuddering breath that made me hold him tighter.
"I need you, Mason," I said quietly, my lips close to his ear. "I really do. You're not a placeholder. You're not temporary. Okay?"
His breath hitched. "I'll do anything for you," he whispered. "Anything you need. Just tell me."
Something shifted in me when he said that. That feeling I'd had before, the one I got with Mason but never with Alex or Ethan.
Control. Not the way Alex controlled me, breaking me down until I surrendered. This was different. This was me holding the reins, and Mason handing them to me willingly, eagerly.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands sliding down to his shoulders.
"I do need you right now," I said, my voice low and deliberate. "That asshole got me worked up and then just walked out. Can you help me?"
His eyes widened slightly, his pupils dilating. He swallowed hard. "Yes."
I walked to the door and turned the lock, then came back to my chair and sat down. My skirt fell smoothly over my thighs, perfectly in place.
"On your knees," I said.
He dropped immediately, crawling forward until he was positioned between my thighs. His hands came up slowly, reverently, and he pushed the fabric of my skirt up, bunching it around my waist. His eyes never left mine, and there was something worshipful in the way he looked at me, like he'd been waiting for permission to do this since the moment he walked in.
"Use your mouth," I said. "Don't stop until I tell you to."
He nodded, his eyes locked on mine for one more second, and then he leaned in.
The first touch of his tongue made my breath catch. He was tentative at first, almost shy, his lips brushing against my inner thigh before moving higher. When he finally made contact, it was soft, exploratory, like he was trying to memorize every fold and curve.
He started with broad, flat strokes, his tongue dragging slowly from my entrance up to my clit, and I felt my hips shift forward involuntarily. He paused, processing my reaction, and then did it again, this time with more pressure.
"Good," I murmured, my fingers threading through his hair. "Keep going."
He did. And within minutes, I could feel him gaining confidence. He wasn't just following instructions anymore. He was experimenting. His tongue traced the edges of my folds, light and teasing, before dipping lower to circle my entrance. He pressed inside, just the tip of his tongue, and I gasped, my thighs tensing.
He pulled back, looked up at me briefly as if checking for permission, and then did it again, deeper this time, his tongue pushing into me in slow, deliberate thrusts. My head fell back against the chair, my breath coming faster.
"Mason—"
He switched tactics, dragging his tongue back up to my clit and flicking it lightly, then harder, testing different rhythms, different pressures. He was watching me the whole time, learning what made me gasp, what made my hips jerk, what made my fingers tighten in his hair.
When he latched onto my clit and sucked gently, I nearly came off the chair.
"Right there," I breathed, my voice shaking. "Don't stop."
He didn't. He kept that same pressure, that same rhythm, his tongue circling and flicking while his lips sealed around the swollen bud. And then he slid two fingers inside me, curling them upward, and I felt the tension that Alex had built and abandoned start to coil tight again in my belly.
"Faster," I said, my voice rough, my hips rocking against his face.
He obeyed immediately, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue worked my clit with increasing intensity. The wet sounds filled the small office, obscene and raw, and I didn't care. I was so close, the pressure building and building until I couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Mason—fuck—"
I came hard, my thighs clamping around his head, my body shuddering as the orgasm tore through me in waves. He didn't stop, didn't pull away, just kept licking and sucking and stroking until I was trembling and oversensitive, my hand pushing weakly at his head.
"Okay," I gasped. "Okay, stop."
He pulled back slowly, his lips and chin glistening, his eyes dark and glazed as he looked up at me.
I ran my hand through his hair, catching my breath.
"Good," I said softly. "That was good."
He didn't say anything. He just stayed there on his knees, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I shifted slightly, my eyes dropping to the obvious bulge in his jeans. "Do you need me to—"
"No," he said quickly, his voice hoarse. He shook his head. "Making you come was enough. That's all I wanted."
Something about the way he said it—so earnest, so desperate to please—sent a fresh spark of heat through me. I felt my body start to respond again, a pulse of want low in my belly, and I had to force myself to exhale slowly and push it down.
Not now. I had work to do.
"Okay," I said, my voice steadier now. "Go take a break. I'll finish up here, and we'll go home together."
He nodded and stood up slowly, his movements careful, and left the room without another word.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling the aftershocks still rippling through my body.
Then I reached over and grabbed my underwear from where I'd left it on the desk. The fabric was cool now, the wetness from earlier already dried into stiff, uncomfortable patches. I held it between my fingers for a second, then folded it quickly and shoved it into my pocket. There was no way I was putting that back on.
I tugged my skirt back down and straightened in my chair, trying to pull myself together.
Then I grabbed my phone and texted Alex.
What the fuck was that?
His response came almost immediately.
A test.