My head shook. “I’m who I am. Emma O’Brien is my identity.”
“You are correct. However, Miss North, you are more important than that. Your biological father was my father’s greatest adversary. They were each involved in the other’s demise. New Orleans is now mine, and who better to be at my side than the daughter of Isaiah Boudreau?”
Isaiah Boudreau.
I’d never heard that name.
My head shook. “I don’t know him or you.”
Again, Rett traced my lips as his chest flattened my breasts, and his hips pushed closer. “Fight me, Emma. Tell me you don’t want me.”
I pulled against his grip, yet I didn’t have the strength to break it. The undeniable truth, evident by the warmth pooling between my thighs and dampening my panties, my nipples tightening, and my breasts becoming heavy with need, was that I didn’t want to fight.
I wanted him too. Instead of replying, I asked, “Rett, what deal did you make?”
His stare bore into me, heating me from within. The tepid coolness of the air conditioning disappeared as the temperature rose.
“I traded the investment for something I desired more than a piece of an insignificant software program.”
This time I gave it effort, fighting his grip. “Our work isnotinsignificant.”
Rett’s grin returned, a bit more sinister than before. “Easy, tiger. Do not take offense. You see” —he was still holding my wrists— “...everything is insignificant in comparison.”
“What is this thing of great value that you want?”
“Who.” He leaned down, bringing his firm lips to mine.
I didn’t fight, not to get away.
Maybe I’d been drugged, or perhaps it was Everett Ramses who had me intoxicated. Whatever the case, in his presence I wasn’t thinking straight. As his kiss deepened, the air filled with moans and whimpers.
Were they from me?
I pulled at his grip, wanting my hands free. I needed to touch him as his free hand was touching me, fingers splayed over my back, coming forward and caressing my breasts. Under my top, he tweaked my diamond-hard nipples as energy zapped from his touch to my twisting core.
Multitalented, he was competent in more than caresses as he held me captive. Simultaneously, his tongue teased the seam of my lips. I’d lost the will to protest, opening and welcoming his unique taste, like that of the wine.
Rett pulled away as I gasped for breath. His dark stare focused on mine. “Are you wet, Emma?”
His question seemed too personal, but then again, if I was, he was the cause. “Yes,” I panted.
Releasing my hands, he grinned, taking a step back. “Lift your skirt. I want to see for myself.”
I couldn’t move my gaze away from his even if I wanted it to. “Rett, please.”
His large hand reached for my chin. “Listen carefully, sweet Emma. The deal is done. You’re now mine. As mine, you will be pampered beyond your wildest imagination. The world is yours. I will lay the heads of your enemies at your feet and indulge your every desire. Your one task is to be mine, ready for me and willing to obey whatever I ask.”
My eyes opened wider and my breathing quickened as he continued.
Obey.
Who used words like that in today’s world?
“What…?”
“You will fall to your knees or spread your sexy legs when I command. You will submit to me when and where I want. That is nonnegotiable. And you will do whatever I demand willingly because when you do, you will be rewarded with earthshaking orgasms, the greatest of your life—because I promise that with me, you will come over and over.”
He was wrong. I wasn’t a multiple-orgasm woman. One and done.