When I jerk up my chin, agreeing to Chef’s silent question, Emerson waves him to her side of the dining room. I can’t hear what she orders. My heart is thudding too loudly for that. But it doubles the devilish gleam in her eyes and wipes my schedule clean for the evening.
Hell has been vacated since a newer, more evil playground has been established.
With my meal selections returned to the kitchen to await the preparation of Emerson’s dish, I settle in for a long wait. I doubt it will be as long as the three hours Emerson took to leave our suite, but I’m so fucking hungry that it will seem like a lifetime.
If only food could fulfill all my cravings.
A thick pane of glass forms the dining table, which could easily seat twenty. The only other setting excluding mine is directly across from me, meaning I can see the skin the dangerous split of Emerson’s skirt exposes. It only needs to travel an inch higher, and I’d be able to see her panties.
Needing to take my focus off how damp her panties were when I raked my eyes over her body seconds after spilling my load down her throat, I attempt to spark a conversation. “Have you spoken with your mother tonight?”
Emerson scoffs but remains quiet.
So fucking stubborn.
“I read reports about her treatment earlier. The trial stats are impressive.”
Why the fuck am I waving a white flag like I detonated the first bomb?
Shekissed me.
Sheremoved my cock from my trousers before trekking her tongue across the tip.
Shebroke my heart, not the other way around.
So it shouldn’t bemyresponsibility to patch uphermistakes.
I’m saved from searching for answers I’ll never get from myself when Chef returns to the dining room and says, “Dinner is served.”
My brows furrow as my curiosity rises. Emerson must have ordered something basic, because it takes Chef almost twentyminutes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. That’s how pedantic he is with his ingredient selections.
Anyone who prepares meals for the head of our country receives the same anal-pleasing chip implant.
A server removes the silver dome from my plate. It shows a medium-rare steak, mini jacket potatoes, and an assortment of vegetables, drizzled in Chef’s secret garlic and herb sauce.
My stomach grumbles while taking in my meal, but I remember you don’t have to be raised with manners to use them before digging in.
I stray my eyes to Emerson’s side of the table in just enough time to see her dome lifted, exposing her dinner selection. She picked a peanut butter sandwich with a generous side serving of… You guessed it! Peanut butter.
As her teeth stab a sandwich filled with so much ghastly nuttiness that it oozes from the side, her eyes flare with victory. She wipes an enormous chunk of peanut butter from the corner of her mouth before pouting when it flops onto the exposed skin high on her thigh, completely missing the napkin she refused to place in her lap.
I banish the fantasy of licking the sheen her panties couldn’t conceal in the owner’s suite as Emerson mentally adjusts the score of our tit-for-tat game.
The fact she sucked my dick keeps the score even on my board, though I may need to change things up to keep it that way.
You can’t win if you’re unwilling to play out of the fear of losing, and Emerson hasn’t feared anything in her life.
Not even losing me.
Chapter 13
Emerson
My stomach grumbles in disgust about a lack of nutrients when I flop onto the king-size bed in my room before switching my phone call to a FaceTime chat. Adding her face to the video call doesn’t interrupt my mother’s conversation, but it does change her expression.
“Are you okay, Emmy? You’re looking a little pale.”
I slide my thumb over the microphone at the bottom of my phone so she won’t hear the angry grumbles of my hungry tummy before jerking up my chin.
