85. Holy and Un-Holy

85. Holy and Un-Holy
Emara Stone

“You are sweet.” Dakota whispers, pushing a lock of hair gently behind my ear.

Heat slaps my face at his words, and I feel my cheeks burning with shame. 

I can’t believe I let him kiss me, use me. The way his tongue licked me like I owe him my mouth and soul.

I watch him breathlessly as his fingers slide to my cheek and stroke it lightly, almost caringly. Like I am a fragile doll and he wants to protect at any cost.

The sound of our raw breaths fill the storage room, loud and heavy, as we stare at each other in charged silence.

Dakota licks his lips and leans in again, slower this time.

My eyes close as his warm lips touch my flesh. His tongue unhurriedly wipes the tears on my cheek, savouring their taste.

And I hate it, how my body is arching towards him instead of pulling away, as if it has already accepted its fate.

A helpless gasp escapes my throat as his lips feel so damn soft, pressing against my skin tenderly.

His fingers gently tilt my chin up as he slowly draws his mouth down to my neck, slow and sensual, leaving a wet path down to the column of my throat.

My lips part in a silent moan as his hard, masculine body presses fully into mine. His other hand curves around my waist, locking me in his cage as if letting go is not an option.

His mouth lowers to my collarbones, caressing the sensitive skin with his tongue, and finally to the swell of my breasts.

My chest rises and falls aggressively as his lips linger above my cleavage, kissing softly, tasting me like I am something holy and unholy at the same time.

My breath hike sharply when I feel his teeth on my flesh, dragging across the top of my breasts while he leaves open mouthed wet kisses.

“You said you love me.” My voice shaky and breathless.

Dakota pauses. My stomach twists as he lifts his head slowly and dark, stormy eyes collide mine like thunderclouds.

“I do.” His hot breath fans over my wet cleavage, sending shivers racing down my spine and straight between my legs.

I tremble and squeeze my thighs as I murmur against my body’s demand, “Then let me go.”

My heart is thrashing so violently, it feels like it might burst out of my chest as he remains quiet and frozen.

For a long, terrified minute, Dakota just stares at me in heavy silence.

His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches hard like marble, as if the beast inside him is raging behind those eyes, unwilling to let go of me.

Then with visible restraint, his hands leave my body as he stands straight to his cruel 6’4 height.

With a controlled face, he takes one deliberate step back from me, and gestures towards the door, as if I am free to go.

I stand here for a moment, stunned by the sudden shift in behaviour.

Really? He is actually letting me go?

My heart thrashes anxiously in my ribcage as I take a daring step away from him and towards the door.

Poisonous green eyes follow my every movement precisely as I slowly twist the lock and open the door with my trembling fingers.

He does nothing. No movement. Not an inch.

Dakota just stands there, watching me with dreadful patience, like a hungry beast watching its prey get away, while still deciding whether or not to pounce.

My pulse thrums frantically as I burst out of the storage room, running on my feet like I am escaping a cage of the deadliest predator.

My knees threaten to buckle, but I keep moving, driven by the fear that if I slow down, he will come chasing after me.

I glance over my shoulder, and the empty corridor flashes behind me. 

He is not following me!

I swallow the distaste down my throat, unable to believe he really let me go. But why?

Cool air washes over my overheated skin as I enter the hall, where everyone is still drinking, partying, and now enjoying the delicacies.

I scan the crowd, searching for my bestie, but other than unfamiliar eye contact, I don’t see her anywhere. 

“Emara.” 

I freeze at the smooth, familiar voice, and turn to see Dr. Lance walking towards me with the same professional clinic smile.

Ana is nowhere around him, yet he remains unbothered, and only stares at me.

“I didn’t get the chance to speak with you properly earlier. How are you?” Xavier smirks as he stops in front of me in his black tux.

Sharp grey eyes sweep over my face, blushed cheeks, swollen lips, then slowly drifting down to the faint red marks on my neck, and flushed skin of my cleavage.

Of course! He noticed it all.

“Good, but I gotta go.” I say quickly, already moving, “My Uber is here.”

“I am sorry.” Xavier takes a step forward, effortlessly blocking my escape route.

“It pains me deeply that we didn’t start on a good note. I take entire responsibility for our last meeting.” He states humbly, though his gaze far too bold.

“It’s fine.” I fake a smile, trying to walk past him, but he steps in again.

“No. I know, I may have crossed a line.” His voice drops an octave as he whispers, “I wasn’t trying to provoke you, Emara.”

My eyes forget to blink as I gaze blankly, realising whom exactly he is talking about.

“Anyway, if you ever need someone to talk about your workload, or your boss.. I am all ears.” A faint smile touches his lips, almost genuine.

“Okay..” I stare at him for a second, unsure how to respond.

Xavier pulls out his hand from pocket and extends it toward me, tilting slightly as he says, “It was nice meeting you, Emara.”

I take his neat and clean hand, only to feel something hard, paper square poking into my palm.

“I hope we meet again soon.” His lips curve in a mysterious smirk, as he slips the paper smoothly into my palm, before releasing my hand.

Grey eyes flicker behind me and he mouths, “There he is.”

My heart skips a beat in fear. I don’t turn around as I already know who he is staring at.

Dakota.

Without another word, I walk away quietly. I stroll through the crowd of investors and executives, pushing open the grand entrance doors, and practically running towards the line of waiting cars.

I catch the first available cab, sliding into the backseat and slamming the door shut. Only when the car starts moving, I finally let out a shaky breath.

I close my eyes, and see toxic green eyes staring into my soul. I lick my lips, feeling the ghost of his burning lips on mine.

I gulp, sensing the pressure of his brutal fingers still wrapped around my neck. My chest expands as I breathe deeply, feeling my cleavage marked by his teeth. 

Too many memories.

Too much of him!

It’s like he himself imprinted on my skin. My mind can’t stop replaying his penetrative gaze, his jealousy words, his slow kisses, and how my hands were holding him instead of pushing back.

My eyes flash open and I look down, opening my palm.

A plain white card rests in my hand. It has a private number, clinic address printed neatly in golden letters on the back, and a name stamped on the front..

Dr. Xavier Lance (Neurosurgeon & Psychiatrist)