Chapter 142 Say You Love Me
Emily's POV
I opened my mouth to snap back, but he shifted his angle and hit something inside me that made my knees buckle. I would've fallen if he hadn't been holding me up, one arm locked around my waist now, the other hand sliding down to find my clit.
"Mason's watching," Alex said, his voice low and cruel and satisfied. "He's standing right there, watching me fuck you, and you're so fucking wet you're dripping down your thighs."
I turned my head again, my cheek pressed against the wall, and met Mason's eyes. He hadn't moved. Hadn't looked away. His face was flushed, his breathing shallow, and I could see the outline of his erection straining against his jeans.
"I'm sorry," I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "Mason, I'm—oh God—"
Alex laughed, breathless and rough. "You're apologizing to him while I'm inside you? That's sweet."
"Go to hell," I bit out, even as my hips rocked back to meet his thrusts.
"Already there, sweetheart." His fingers on my clit moved faster, harder, and I felt the pressure building low in my belly, hot and desperate and impossible to fight. "Come on. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you'd rather be fucking him."
I wanted to. I wanted to throw it in his face, wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt me. But my body was already there, teetering on the edge, and when he thrust into me again—deep and brutal and perfect—I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me so hard I saw stars, my whole body going tight and then liquid, my legs giving out completely. Alex held me up, his arm locked around my waist, his cock still hard inside me as I shook and gasped and whimpered against the wall.
"That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice smug and satisfied.
I turned my head, trying to catch my breath, and found Mason still standing there. His eyes were dark, his face flushed, but he didn't look hurt. Didn't look jealous. Just… steady.
"You can go to your room," I managed, my voice shaking.
Mason shook his head slowly. "I'll make you dinner. You haven't eaten yet."
I let out a breathless laugh, something loosening in my chest despite everything. "God, you're so sweet. I love you."
Alex's hand tightened on my hip, and he thrust into me again—harder, deeper—making me gasp and arch against the wall.
Even though I'd just come, my body was already responding again, the pleasure building back up with a speed that should've been impossible. I could feel how wet I was, how easily he slid in and out now, the slick heat between my legs making every movement effortless. But I wasn't about to admit that to him.
"You're saying that to another man," he growled against my ear, his voice rough and dangerous, "while I'm still inside you?"
I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Maybe if you weren't so fucking jealous, I'd say it to you too."
He went completely still. His cock was still buried deep inside me, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, but he didn't move. For a long moment we just stared at each other, and I felt the absence of his movement like a physical ache.
I wanted to beg. Wanted to rock my hips back and chase the friction I'd just lost. But I bit down on my lip and kept my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"Fine," he said finally, his voice cold and controlled.
Before I could process what was happening, he pulled out and lifted me—hands under my thighs, his cock still hard and slick against my ass—and carried me across the room. Every step made him rub against me, the head of his cock dragging against that spot that made my vision blur, and I couldn't stop the broken sounds that spilled out of my mouth.
"Alex—"
"Shut up," he said, and then he was sitting down on the couch, pulling me into his lap with my back against his chest. He spread my legs wide, hooking my knees over his thighs, and I felt the cool air against my exposed, soaking wet core.
I could see my reflection in the dark TV screen across from us—legs spread obscenely wide, my skirt bunched around my waist, my blouse hanging open with one bra cup still twisted to the side.
Alex's hands moved to my blouse, yanking it down my arms and tossing it somewhere behind us. Then he reached up and pulled my bra off completely, his fingers rough and impatient, and I was bare from the waist up, my skin flushed and hot under his touch.
"This skirt," he muttered, his hand gripping the fabric bunched at my waist. "It's in the way."
Before I could process what he meant, I heard the sound of fabric tearing. He ripped the skirt clean in half, the seams giving way like paper, and I let out a shocked gasp.
Now I was completely naked in his lap, and when I caught my reflection again in the TV screen, I looked wrecked. Flushed and trembling and utterly exposed.And then Alex shifted his hips and pushed into me in one slow, deliberate thrust that made my breath catch.
He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that bordered on too much, and then he went completely still.
It was torture. I could feel every inch of him inside me, thick and hard and unmoving, my body clenching around him involuntarily as I tried to get friction, tried to get anything. But his hands clamped down on my waist and held me still.
"Say you love me," he murmured against my ear, his voice low and dangerous. "And I'll let you come."
His hand slid down my stomach, slow and deliberate, and his fingers found my clit. He circled it lightly, barely any pressure at all, and I bit down on a whimper.
"Say it."
I shook my head, my breath coming fast and shallow. "Not unless you stop being jealous."
His fingers pressed down, just for a second, and then lifted away completely. I made a sound that was half sob, half protest, and I felt him smile against my neck.
"We can do this all night, sweetheart."