The Righteous and The Wicked (21 page)

Aroused by her forward request, Eric is more than willing to accommodate her fantasy. “Emma, are you saying you’d like to watch me flirt with that woman?”

She bites her lip and crosses her legs. She doesn’t speak, but nods.

He smiles a devilish grin. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The cotton candy has dissolved into sweet syrup in her mouth, and as she watches Eric walk away from her, she fantasizes about all the things her emerging vixen wants to do with him. Emma glances toward the stone cross that tops the steeple of the church in the distance, and then back down at the anonymous woman Eric is approaching. She’s just the type Eric would pursue, and that threat and possibility heightens the thrill of this even further for her. The flame that burns inside Emma smolders and she’s feeding it with her sinful request to watch Eric toy with this stunning woman.

The woman’s face lights up as Eric approaches her. She wants him. He’s irresistible. Emma can’t hear what they’re saying, but she knows Eric is flirting. He says something in her ear and the woman finds it amusing. She puts her hand on Eric’s shoulder. He looks toward Emma and returns the gesture by grasping the woman’s hip as he speaks to her. His eyes are on Emma’s—he never even looks at the woman. He touches her, but stares at Emma . . . and Emma is on fire.

The eroticism of watching Eric flirt with this woman has incited her crazed lust. She takes another bite of the cotton candy and begins to envision Eric touching that woman, what it would look like if they were together. Her darkness rises and she imagines watching him fuck the hell out of that girl. The jealousy stirred over that false image overrides her lust, and then she imagines it’s her that he’s touching, that
she
is the one Eric is making love to. She will have to seduce him tonight—she can’t help herself. He may need to restrain from crossing over into the dark depths, but Emma no longer can.

When Deborah sees Mr. Gorgeous walk toward her, she’s not the least bit surprised. She looks good tonight and she knows it. She’s used to receiving attention from all kinds of men and tonight she has struck gold. He says hello and she can’t take her eyes off his full lips.

“I was just noticing you standing over here all alone, but you can’t be here all by yourself. Someone as tempting as you must be waiting for a date,” he says.

He moves closer. Deborah knows how to play this game. She touches his shoulder and giggles at his compliment. Then she feels his hands on her hip and her skin tingles. Deborah’s already thinking of where he will take her. She envisions herself riding him, his hands groping her breasts. She envisions his head between her legs. She yearns to make her dirty thoughts of this stranger a reality.

Eric recognizes the woman, but he can’t place from where. Was she a victim of his? No . . . then he remembers, he saw her that day at the hardware store. She hunts just like he does. This woman is like the others Eric used to seek, but now that he’s presented with this familiar scenario, he realizes he no longer wants to live this life. His sick need and constant craving for sexual release still occupy his mind, but the desire for the woman to be a random stranger is gone. Although he doesn’t want to let the dark parts of himself touch Emma, he doesn’t want to be with anyone else.

He follows through on Emma’s request, flirting and touching and saying empty things. He looks at Emma—her legs are clenched together, her cheeks are flushed, she licks her lips—she’s enjoying this farce. He wants everything about Emma—her body, her heart, and her mind. This forced interaction is proving to him that she’s the only woman for him. Then, his view of her is obstructed by two very large, very drunk men. They begin to argue.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

Emma should move out of the way of the inevitable altercation that’s about to take place, but her instincts are not quick enough. One of the burly men throws a punch. The other retaliates. Elbows fly and fists meet flesh and she feels a sharp thud against her chest. Emma’s caught in the fray. She tries to move, but she’s trapped between the bench and the brawling men. Emma’s filled with relief when she sees Eric coming toward her.

Eric doesn’t think, he just reacts. He lifts her up and pulls her out of danger.

“Wait here.”

Once she’s secure, he turns and heads back toward the brawl. Eric wraps his forearm around one of the men’s necks, pulling him away from the other. He has blood all over his face and Eric shouts, “It’s over! Relax, man, it’s over!”

His ability to protect her and end a silly, macho altercation causes Emma’s already boiling lust to overflow. He marches toward her. His shirt is torn and he’s out of breath.

“We need to leave before I kill that fucking guy. How bad are you hurt?”

Eric rubs Emma’s collarbone where she caught one of the men’s elbows. It’s sore and she will have a bruise, but her tiny body being caught in the crossfire of those cavemen could have been much worse. Eric takes her hand and walks her to his car with care.

She’s quiet as they sit, parked in her driveway. She wishes he would touch her. She wants to ask him to come inside, but she doesn’t have the nerve, and he doesn’t offer. This is the first night they’ve spent together since they had sex in the backseat of the Jeep, and even though the air is charged with mutual want, they both hesitate. Perhaps it’s fear of rejection, or fear of losing control.

Eric leans in and places a gentle kiss on Emma’s forehead. He touches her bruise. “You should put some ice on that and get some rest.”

Emma nods. “Okay.”

Although she doesn’t want to, Emma subdues her desire. She gets out of the car and does as Eric says.

Once inside his trailer, Eric takes off his torn shirt and changes into nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. He ties the string and they hang on his lean body. He grabs a beer from the fridge, and a book from the shelf. He lies back on the bed and does his best to distract himself from thoughts of Emma and her cotton candy.

He sips the cold ale and reads, then begins to drift off to sleep. His eyes flutter closed and then open. He battles against their heaviness, but at last, he gives in. His book falls against his naked chest with a thud.

He jerks awake when he hears a gentle tapping on the door of his trailer. Groggy, he rises, swings open the door and squints out into the night.

Chapter Twenty

“Who’s there?”

Emma appears, dressed in a tiny, white, eyelet nightgown. She’s beautiful, an angel. Eric wonders if he’s dreaming until she steps into the trailer and touches his chest with greed. She rises up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Eric, I need it.”

He can’t believe this is happening. He wants her, but he can’t lose control. She leans in and kisses him, but he pulls away. He can’t degrade her again.

“Emma, wait . . .”

“I can’t. I need you. Don’t you want to touch me this way? I can’t stop thinking about you . . . about this. Eric, please . . .”

His effort to resist her crumbles at her words.

Emma unties his sweatpants and they drop to his ankles. He’s naked before her and she slides her hands down below his waist. She touches him as they kiss. His tongue touches hers and he moans. Gripping the back of her thighs, he lifts her up, spins around, and drops her down on his bed. She lies back, expecting him to bombard her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he paces the room, like an animal toying with the impulse to attack its fragile prey. Eric will soon be gone and it will be Stormy who takes her.

But Eric doesn’t want to let his demon win tonight. He wants to take his time, to treat Emma with respect and adoration, instead of just fucking her like he did last time. Eric knows she likes it, she’s here asking for it. It would be so easy to just use her. He has to find a way to meet his need and still remain himself with her. He doesn’t know if it can be done, but he’s sure as hell going to try.

He must exercise restraint to make real pleasure possible for both of them. Inside his bedside drawer is the lone weapon he has to fight against Emma the seductress, and his evil sickness. He descends on her, kisses her, and rubs his body against her soft flesh. He slides her nightgown over her shoulders and then hooks his thumbs under the narrow waistband of her panties, removing them as well. Then he takes her thin wrists in his hand, raises them above her head, and handcuffs her to the bedpost.

Emma’s lost in his touch. When he constricts her roaming hands, she hears a click, and then she can’t move. Emma’s previous sexual experiences, before Eric, have been very tame, but she craves just this. She wants to follow Eric into the perilous depths. They’re both nude, she is bound, and he kneels before her. His lips curl up into a grin, and Emma smiles back.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make you feel good, Emma.”

He makes that promise a reality as he buries his gorgeous face between her thighs. Emma’s back arches when she feels his sweet mouth, and she’s submerged in the delight of getting what she wants. He works her most sensitive places, pushing her toward ecstasy. She feels her heart convulse in her chest . . .

And then he stops.

Eric leaves her tied up and walks to the fridge. She’s chained, naked, and powerless. All she can do is burn for him. He takes out a beer and opens it, standing naked in the glow from the refrigerator. He walks toward her, gorgeous and erect. He sips the beer and watches her wriggling.

“What are you doing? Why did you stop?” she asks.

“I’m going to take myself to the edge tonight. When I feel I’m losing control, I’m going to have to stop. I want to be myself when I’m with you. I don’t know how else to explain it. This isn’t easy for me.” He pounds half the beer, his eyes roam her exposed body from head to toe as he drinks, and then he gets back in the bed.

“Are you comfortable?” He lies down beside her.

She’s never been more comfortable in her life, except for the burning ache between her legs.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She licks her lips.

He enjoys seeing her this way, so desperate for his touch. He wraps his beer-kissed, cold lips around her breast, and licks until she is firm. He caresses her body, and when he finds her wetness, he slips his fingers inside. She moans and he sucks her nipple harder.

“That feels so good, don’t stop . . .” He’s pleasing her, but she wants to feel him penetrate, to fill her.

He swirls his fingers and teases her with his thumb. Emma whimpers and groans and bucks her hips. He releases her nipple from his lips and then kisses her neck. She needs to feel his lips on hers and is thankful when Eric covers her mouth with his.

The kiss is deep and filled with primal passion. The handcuffs clink against themselves and he chuckles at her desperation. He rubs his hard-on against her thigh and she can feel his wet tip against her skin. She cannot fathom how difficult it is for him to refrain from entering her and fucking her into oblivion. Just when she feels like she won’t be able to stand it if he removes his touch again, he withdraws his hand and his lips.

Eric moves away and lies across the edge of the bed, propped up on his elbow, out of Emma’s reach. He grabs his book and opens it. His erection protrudes from his body, tempting and taunting Emma.

She remains restrained and writhing, tortured by her unsatisfied lust. Some may consider what he’s doing to be cruel, but Emma is enthralled by his control, and her heightened passion.