“And you were choking on your enemy’s cock a few nights ago,” he continues silkily, “moaning around it like your life depended on drinking my cum. I’m sure your superiors at the bureau would be fascinated to discoverthatparticular nugget of information.”
The threat pulls my gaze from his pants and the tempting outline of his cock.
I blink at him, trying to regain my train of thought. “And where is your proof?” I shoot back, smirking. Pretty damn proudof myself for stringing together a smart coherent response after being distracted by… well,him. “Nobody at the agency is going to believe the words of a criminal like you over me.”
He raises an arrogant brow and extracts his phone from his jacket pocket.
My heart plummets to my stomach, then bounces back up to lodge in my throat.
He doesn’t actually have proof… does he?
26
EMILIA
My jaw drops as I stare at the unmistakable footage of me on my knees in front of Rafael, eagerly pulling down his pants and taking him into my mouth. From the angle, it’s obvious it came from one of the surveillance cameras in his supermarket.
Jesus. When did security footage get this fucking sharp?
“How the hell—” I lunge for the phone, trying to snatch it from his hand, desperate to delete the damning evidence of me going down on my enemy like some sex-crazed fool.
Fuck him for keeping this. And fuckmefor getting aroused even now. I just fucking came so hard, I think I might have shaved three years off my life, and here I am—getting turned on again while he’s actively threatening me with video evidence. What kind of masochistic wiring does my brain have?
“Ah ha.” He raises his phone above my reach before sliding it back into his pocket with a smug grin. “Nice try, but no. I think I’ll keep this.”
“You perverted asshole.” The words shoot from my mouth as my brain screams at my own stupidity. How could I have been so careless? Not once did it even cross my mind that I’d leave behind evidence of that momentary insanity.
“It’s only perverted if both sides don’t enjoy it. And we could bothclearlysee you enjoying sucking my cock in that video. You would have orgasmed if we hadn’t been interrupted.” His eyes dance with wicked amusement as he watches me.
He’s not lying, the fucker.
I cross my arms and huff. “So what now? You’re going to use that video to blackmail me?” Is he going to jerk me around like his little puppet?
“Now that’s an interesting notion… but no.” His expression shifts, intensity replacing amusement. “I’m never letting anyone see what I do to you. It’s for my viewing pleasure only.”
He means it. Those steel-grey eyes lock onto mine with a sincerity that throws me off balance. “If you’re not going to use it to blackmail me, why the hell save this video on your phone in the first place?” As soon as the question slips out of my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have asked.
He smirks. “Like I said, it’s formy pleasure. Do you know how many lives I've washed down my shower drain with this video etched in my brain?”
I hate that I immediately understand what he means. “Gross.” I make a face, but my body betrays me again—my clit actually pulses at the mental image of him stroking himself while watching me service him.
Hell, I need to get out of here.
“Are you sure that’s how you really feel? I know you would kill to see that, wouldn’t you?”
I grab the door handle and yank it, desperate to escape. Knowing him, he might actually try to enact that scene right here and now, sexual deviant that he is.
“Let me out, Rafael,” I demand when the door doesn’t budge.
He chuckles as he undoes the child lock from his side. Only then do I realize we’ve stopped moving and are parked—rightin front of my apartment building. How long was I lost in that haze of pleasure?
As I start to leave, his fingers wrap around my elbow, sending unwanted tingles up my arm. “Won’t you thank me for saving your life?” His hungry gaze drops to my lips, and I’m painfully aware that he never got to cum earlier.
I lick my lips reflexively, hating how his eyes track the movement. “I never asked for your interference. I would’ve been fine. I–”
He lets go of my arm with a disgruntled sound. “Get out of here.”
I should go.Right now.But I hesitate. Despite everything, I do appreciate his intervention—I’m not delusional enough to believe I would have survived a close-range bullet to the skull. But saying it out loud… I feel like that would change the dynamic between us somehow.
