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“I do not understand how she could look at this man: his body count, the obvious jealousy issues, not to mention the fact that he’s been stalking her, and think: ‘Yes, I want that one. Take me now!”
Neve arches a brow and floats Rook an amused sort of look as Bellara continues to rant, the elf still so new to reading smut that she hasn’t quite figured out the appeal, and she sucks in a breath and looks down at her lap as she launches into another tirade and Harding starts to laugh.
“That’s all part of the fun, Bellara. it’s not supposed to be realistic.”
“I’m not overly fond of the stalker trope either, Bellara. There are much better ways to seduce a person.”
“Right?!”
Rook takes a sip of her wine to occupy herself as Emmrich starts in on his very thorough analysis, because she is well-aware of his seductive prowess and how it typically leaves her spooled on the floor.
Smutty book club is meeting in Harding’s quarters tonight, and there is food and drinks galore, all put together by Lace, Lucanis, and Emmrich because Bellara had been too preoccupied to do it.
Lucanis had needed to be elsewhere last minute, which is a relief, because she’s quite certain he’d pass out if he had to listen to all of their musings, but she knows he likes romance and has no doubt he’s read it and probably discussed it with Neve already.
She’s not sure what brought them together and Lucanis prefers to keep it that way, despite her efforts to convince him to share, but with everything feeling so bleak, there’s hardly time to waste on such tiny, insignificant details.
“I am personally a big fan of the chase.” Rook chimes in, and Emmrich meets her eye and arches a brow, his expression mostly neutral, “Like I don’t want to be stalked, but that obsessive yearning is just —”
She groans for dramatic effect and Neve follows. “Oh, yeah. Delicious.”
“Mmhmm.”
“While I understand the appeal of the chase, my dear, I don’t understand why it all has to be so violent,” Emmrich replies casually, still holding her gaze as he takes a sip of his own drink, and a jolt of heat shoots up her spine.
Bellara hums, her brows furrowing as she rereads the excerpt they’d been discussing, and Rook lets her mind wander as Emmrich scans her face and darts his gaze away, taking care not to let the look linger too long, lest the others find them out.
“Impassioned yearning beyond all comprehension is one of the four pillars of romance, Emmrich,” Neve argues, punctuating it with a bit of fruit, and Rook doesn’t miss the way she arches a brow and tosses her a sidelong look.
“I understand that, my dear Neve, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree. The intensity with which the love interest pursues our heroine almost made me not finish.”
It’s then that the pair of them start to go back and forth, and by the time the debate has concluded, Rook is sporting a pleasant buzz, not so much that the world is spinning, but enough that it’s started to slow.
Her movements are syrupy as she gets up off the floor and helps Neve and Harding pick things up for the former to drop in the kitchen on her way back to her quarters, and her footsteps are slow and a touch heavy as she leaves them to the rest and walks out into the darkness.
“Darling.”
She wheels around to find Emmrich sauntering out of the shadows, having excused himself just before cleanup under the guise of checking on Manfred, and she can’t help the smirk that crosses her face as he holds his arm out for her to take.
“Are you stalking me, Professor?”
“If that’s the story you’d like to tell, far be it for me to deny it,” he replies as she loops her arm around his own and lets him start leading her away, “but truthfully, I was simply worried you’d stumble off the side of the lighthouse, all things considered.”
She snorts. “Pfft, I’m fine.”
“Just looking out, dearest.”
Emmrich’s weight is warm and solid at her side, his grip steady but gentle as they walk down the floating stairs, and although she’d have been perfectly capable of making it back to the main building on her own, the sentiment is nice, and he pushes her away and spins her around in a private dance as they cross the threshold and the big doors close behind them, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the lighthouse, for now.
“Alright?”
“Mmhmm,” she replies as he pulls her into his chest, carefully tossing the hand he’d been holding over his shoulder and encircling her waist with the other, and she sighs contentedly when he dips down to kiss her, taking care to toss a look over her shoulder just in case.
“Such a gentleman. Making sure I make it home safe,” she muses when they part, pulling back just enough to prompt him to chase her, and the second kiss he gives her is more intense and slower than before.
She could honestly kiss Emmrich all day and probably never grow tired of it, such special things wrapped in so much passion she’s quite certain he feels them with his whole body, and the hand at her waist drifts down to grab her ass as the other cradles her cheek, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip when they come up for air.
“A lovely sentiment, darling, but I’m afraid being gentlemanly is the last thing on my mind, at present.”
He traces the curve of her mouth and then reaches back to push her hair over her shoulder so that it’s out of the way, and his pupils are blown wide, a sultry smirk gracing his features as puts her back to the wall, twists that same hand in the hair at the base of her skull, and pulls it taut.
It’s not so tight it hurts, but it’s enough for him to control her movement, and he guides her head to one side and peppers kisses up and down the column of her throat, each soft touch leaving chills in its wake as he simply guides her where he wants her.
It’s a calm sort of control, not harsh or rushed, very methodical, very deliberate, and absolutely delicious, and she swallows a sigh as his lips find her ear and hot, uneven, breaths follow.
“I hope that’s not a problem, dearest.”
Want twists and simmers deep in her gut as the hand that had been on her ass starts to wander, up the side of her hips and across the plain of her abdomen before coming to rest just underneath her breasts, and his thumb grazes her nipple, coaxing it into a peak underneath the fabric as he mouths at the flesh just beneath her ear.
“You’d tell me if it was, yes?”
“Mmhmm.”
Her throat tightens and adrenaline starts roaring through her veins as he toys with the zipper on her blouse, slowly pulling it down until the fabric is loose enough for him to reach up underneath it, and she tips her head back and gasps when he peels back the cup of her bra, half-exposing her to the air even as he rolls her nipple between his fingers.
“You’re in quite the state already, darling.”
“Emm.”
He takes the skin of her neck between his teeth and sucks a mark as he pinches and pulls at her nipple, alternating that with soft and steady strokes so as to not make her too uncomfortable, and he slots his thigh between her knees and yanks her head to the side as the part of her blouse that he’s already mussed starts sliding down her shoulders, his hips pulled flush against her own as she starts to grind against him and reaches between their bodies.
Emmrich hisses a curse and snatches her wrist before she can get where she wants to, and he pulls back to shake his head gently, making his intentions clear as he pins both of them over her head and holds her there.
“You’ll need to come for me first before we move onto that, dearest,” he instructs simply, in the same manner he addresses the likes of say, Manfred, and it’s both infuriating and unbelievably hot to see just how in-control he can be, his gaze cool and collected despite the telltale press of his arousal between them.
It won’t take much, she doesn’t think, not with how he’s keyed her up, and Emmrich cants his head to one side and watches her thoughtfully, his expression fond but heated.
“Whether you’d like to do so on your own or not is up to you.”
“Meaning?”
Emmrich smirks again, and it’s a sharp, devilish thing that makes her feel like, for the first time with regards to him, she is in over her head, and there’s not a damn thing that could have possibly prepared her for his reply.
“Would you prefer to fuck my fingers or my thigh, my dear ?”
An incomparable heat is simmering low in his gut as Rook weighs all her options.
This is not his typical fare, he’s not one to narrate such things when his actions speak louder than any words, but the heated discussion she’d gotten into with Bellara during book club had sparked the insane idea.
It’s not a question of want, he knows how much she wants him, but her reaction is visceral, more powerful than any he’s yet seen as he thumbs at her nipple again and drags her across his thigh.
“Emmri—ah,” she bites back a moan as he stops where she’s most sensitive, and were he not trying to play a specific part in this particular scenario, he’d have already sequestered them in his quarters, in that spacious secret bedroom behind the bookcase, so he scans her face, honing in on the cadence of her breathing, the tight coil of her body, the heat between her thighs and the delicate flush on her face, and prompts her again.
“You need to show me how you want to come, darling, or I’m afraid you won’t come at all.”
He drags her across his thigh again and pins her with his hips, his lips ghosting across her pulse point, and he can feel the power (and restraint) coursing through her as he skims his hand down the length of her torso to cradle her hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh there as she rocks against him.
He can match her in power but not always in strength, her muscles honed for battle in a way that is difficult to describe, and her lips are parted, her pupils blown wide with lust when he meets her eye, matching her body language word-for-word as his carefully crafted composure starts to crack, her body calling out to him despite the fact that she still hasn’t made a decision.
Emmrich is a patient man, even more so with her, but this particular situation is practically unbearable, and his entire body is tight, his bloodstream surging with need while he gives her the space to think.
On the one hand, it’d be less messy if she got off on his thigh, but on the other sits his preference to bury himself inside her, hand or cock, it hardly matters, at least not right now, and Emmrich hums his assent when she pushes off the wall and moves to turn around, gently releasing her hands from over her head so she can position herself where she’d like, and she leans back against his chest and rests her head on his shoulder before starting in on the ties of her trousers.
“Good girl.”
Emmrich’s quiet praise sinks deep into her bones as she loosens the ties of her trousers and braces against the wall with one hand, the other moving up and back to tangle itself in his hair as his touch skims down her body, and she hisses when the soft leather of his glove catches her nipple and he pulls her hips flush against him.
He sucks a mark to the juncture of her neck and shoulder as the fingers of his free hand dip below her waistband, and he moans into her skin when he reaches the soaked front of her underwear and his hand comes away slick.
For all his restraint, she can tell that his patience is starting to wane, his face buried against her neck, and those long, deft, fingers pull the fabric to the side so he can touch her.
“Emmrich.”
“Ah ah, darling—” he croons as he starts to work her open, each stroke and slide deliberate in the way she’s come to expect, and her hips roll of their own accord when he circles her clit, the hand that had been on her breast finding its way back to her hair, “—we’ve little time for formalities.”
Her scalp stings and Rook winces when Emmrich pulls it taut, and his mouth is at her ear again as he dips two fingers inside her .
“Were we not where we are,” he muses, his fingers slowly sliding in and out, “I’d have had you out of these clothes already—” a soft moan as he slides them back out to play with her clit, “—your fingers twisted in my sheets, my name on your lips.”
She leans her head back to rest it on his shoulder as she conjures the image in her mind of Emmrich with his head between her thighs, the soft light of his bedroom casting an ethereal glow that always feels otherworldly, and she arches her back as her release starts to build, a low heat simmering at the base of her spine as she grinds against him.
“I do so love when you sing for me, darling, so why don’t you put me out of my misery?”
He punctuates the request with a pointed roll of his hips, making it clear to her (as if it’s not crystalline already) what he means, and her climax comes swiftly, her fingers twisting in his hair as she rides it out with his hand still down her pants, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood when she tries to stifle the sound, and Emmrich spins her around and slams her back into the wall as her orgasm ebbs away, promptly withdrawing his hand to rest it on her ass as his thigh slots between hers again.
“Emmrich, I —”
“Shhhh, darling.”
“But we need to—”
He cuts off her protest with a gentle, reverent kiss that nearly makes her forget her train of thought, and she can feel a new sort of tension coiling in his shoulders even as he’s still hard against her, his head turned slightly to the side when at last they part as two new voices float through the air above them.
“What do you think Lucanis is making for dinner?”
“Hopefully Paella. I’ll need it after that workout.”
“Maybe he made an extra batch for Assan.”
Taash and Davrin.
Emmrich shakes his head firmly when she tries to push off the wall so they can scatter before they’re found out, and just when she starts to panic, she feels a warmth wash over them, not unlike a soft blanket on a cold day.
“Emmrich?”
“Hush.”
She tracks their heavy footsteps across the floor and braces for some form of dramatics as the pair descend the stairs and dart around the corner, and they’re either unsurprised or don’t care as they come up on her and Emmrich and pass with nary an acknowledgment.
“What the hell?” Rook hisses, only for Emmrich to clap a hand over her mouth, and it takes every bit of her self-control not to bite his palm.
Taash stops and turns to look at the exact spot where they are standing; where she’s pinned between Emmrich’s body and the wall and his length is hard against her, and she catches their eye, but Taash does not react, instead sniffing the air while Davrin looks on, perplexed.
“What?”
“Did you hear something? Like a voice?”
“Not any more than usual,” he replies, nonchalant as ever as he scans Taash’s form, clearly trying to decide if having a workout buddy is worth it when they are prone to saying off-the-wall shit.
Rook breathes in through her nose and shakes her head gently as Emmrich pulls back on some of the pressure against her mouth, and Taash sniffs the air once more, she thinks for good measure before turning back toward the door.
“Smells like sex.”
Davrin arches a brow and scans the hallway behind them before the pair slips out the door, and the fuzzy sort of warmth she’d felt before falls away as it slams shut and Emmrich takes a step back.
“A glamour.”
“They walked right past us!”
He levels her with a look, and she thinks he looks the slightest bit annoyed. “And then they nearly caught us.”
“I’d have liked a heads up.”
“I wasn’t sure it would work.”
“Emmrich—”
“Clearly not soundproof yet. Maybe if I tweak the barrier spell—” he mumbles mostly to himself, and if his hair wasn’t mussed and he wasn’t still hard as a rock she’d think he was just reading another one of his research note entries out loud.
“Emmrich!”
He snaps back to attention at her tone and looks the slightest bit sheepish as the bubble he’d crafted for them falls away, and as much as she enjoyed whatever version of him she just witnessed, this one is by far her favorite.
“We should go.”
“I meant to warn you, dearest, but there wasn’t any time.”
“And there is hardly time to discuss it now,” she replies, reaching up to smooth what she can of his hair before she messes it all up again, “if Taash utters a single word of what they just witnessed, Neve and Harding will be next to investigate.”
“Right,” Emmrich nods as he drops his voice low and leans down to press their foreheads together, “we wouldn’t want that.”
“Not in our current state, anyway.”
He arches a brow and smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to point out that your predicament is quite a bit less precarious than mine.”
“That is not my fault,” she croons, her hands snaking back down his front, and Emmrich snorts and draws his bottom lip between his teeth when she fidgets with his belt, “but I can provide a resolution, far away from here. ”
“Your quarters or mine?”
“Beggar’s choice.”