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Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 01

By: ms_girl23



It had been a while since she’d had a good coffee. Strong, rich, bittersweet, and oh so bad for you. Like love, she thought, rather cynically. Emma was not a fan of love at that moment.

It had been two years, maybe three, since Kit had gotten married. His wife Mary was expecting their first child. Everyone had been invited to their mansion up in the country area of England for a house party that was to last ostensibly for over a month. Ridiculous extravagance, Emma thought, but then Kit Brandeworth was an enormously wealthy man and could afford to be extravagant. Emma had inevitably been one of those invited - her family and Kit’s had been lifelong friends, and though it had been a long time since Emma had last visited her family home up where Kit’s was, she was still a part of them and thus it would have been an unpardonable insult not to invite her. And while no one would have been surprised had she politely declined the invitation, she was not about to run away and hide like some snivelling coward and lick her wounds. No, she was better than that. She would show them that she had not been hurt, that Kit’s betrayal had not cut her straight through her heart...that she had not crumpled up and died.

And so, here she was, on the morning that the guests were to arrive, drinking her fifth fortifying cup of straight black coffee. She looked up as a thundering noise on the stairs indicated that her brother had come down. She smiled blearily at him. “Ready to go, Jordan?” she asked with false cheer, hoping he didn’t notice her bloodshot eyes or shaking hands.

Jordan regarded his sister for a moment, taking in the lackluster hue of her beautiful black hair, the redness of her usually bright sapphire blue eyes. She’d lost the plumpness he remembered she’d had at her vulnerable age of nineteen, and while her new slenderness undoubtedly suited her, she looked small and fragile, and ever so vulnerable. He felt a stab of rage at the man who’d left her at the altar, humiliated her, and broken her heart in front of the world, but quelled it quickly when he saw how weary she was. It would not do to cause a scene and besmirch her name further in any scandal - she would not be able to bear it. He forced a smile onto his face. “Shall we use my car or yours?”

They were all here, she thought, and wanted to cry. Every single one of them who had been at her wedding, who had watched her wait, and wait in vain, and then cry, and flee from the church once she had finally accepted that Kit was simply not going to come. And then they had all subsequently gone to Kit’s wedding, to watch him marry his chosen bride, the woman he loved, the woman he had always loved, and who had not been her.

She had wondered, sometimes, if Kit had ever felt any love, any tenderness for her at all. She had wondered during her engagement to him, and she had wondered after it had been broken. There had been times, when they were alone, and he had shown such love, such affection, she could have been in no doubt of his feelings. And yet, almost as soon as he saw her again, the next day or so, he would be like a polite stranger once again, dutiful, courteous, but distant. She had never understood it...even after the truth had come out and he had revealed his pining for Mary, his childhood sweetheart.

“Emma.” For a moment, she thought it was Kit coming towards her, and wanted to run. Then she realised that the hair was wrong, the expression was wrong, even the stance was wrong. It wasn’t Kit - it was James, his twin. James, with the same sculpted body, the same wide, broad chest and expansive shoulders, same muscular thighs and legs and rippling arms. She smiled faintly. James. She’d never liked him, and was quite certain her sentiments were returned, yet he had been strangely, her only support throughout her engagement with Kit - he’d been the one ally she had seemed to have within the walls of the wealthy, cold, and hauty Brandeworth family. The lesser of two evils, so to speak. The Brandeworths had all hated her - but he’d hated her the least. He’d cut his hair short sometime in the duration that she had not seen him - Kit wore his dark locks fashionably long and tied back in a que. James had lopped them off, and brushed them back of his forehead. His hooded, glittering green eyes were laughing mockingly as ever, the sensuous curve of his lips as sardonic as she remembered. His face was his brother’s, and yet it was not.

It was not just the superficial differences, but those engraved onto the planes of his face. Kit had always been sober, pleasant, dutiful. James, the older of the two was wry, cynical, always slightly mocking and a touch arrogant. Both were charming. Both were wealthy. But both were so very different.

“It has been a while.” His voice was distant, cultured, with a touch of hauteur.

She nodded. “It has. Are you well?”

“I am very well. And you?” he regarded her new slenderness with a frown. “You have lost weight, I see.”

“And glad of it,” Emma quipped.

“I am not,” he said abruptly. “You were perfect the way you were.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Kit strode into the room, Mary on his arm, and announced that lunch was ready.

After lunch, Emma found her way out to the old river, where she and Kit had used to sit, talk, and kiss sometimes. She sat for a while, lost in memories, and realised all of a sudden that while she was sad, and certainly mourned the days she had lost following a pointless dream, she was no longer bitter about Kit’s betrayal. In a way, the only reason she had felt so hurt was that he could have been so careless as to humiliate her in front of so many. She knew that if she had married him, she would not have been able to love him for the rest of her life. It was that simple - she had been in love with him for a short time, perhaps, but she would not have been able to love him for life. If she were, she would still assuredly be in love with him, and she was not. No, she was most definitely not. 

She consigned her love, and her hurt, to the past. It had happened. It was over. She was still alive. She would heal, completely, given time, and one day she would love again. There was no use fighting against what had happened. Better to accept it with good grace...and save her pride, in the meantime. It would always hurt, perhaps, but it did not hurt quite so much anylonger.

“A penny for your thoughts?” a deep, masculine voice interrupted them.

Emma laughed. It was a strangely light, relieved sound. She felt no reticence at all towards him, strangely enough. “It will cost you a million pennies for these thoughts,” she remarked.

James smiled. “That profound, are they?”

“I was contemplating divinity and infinity.”

“Again? Do you never tire of it?”

“Never,” Emma smiled back at him. “How can one ever tire of it? It is a concept as such that the human mind can never grasp. It makes one’s mind want to fold in on itself, simply trying to understand.”

“That’s what makes it so tiring,” James said wryly. “One becomes weary of one’s mind being folded in on itself over time. Its dreadfully difficult trying to straighten it out once again.”

Emma laughed, and James stared at her for a minute, transfixed by the light in her eyes, the lushness of her parted lips. He had never seen her so carefree, so happy. Her only warning was the strange gleam in his glittering eyes before he kissed her.

His mouth was pressed, hard, against her own. Startled into immobility, and more than a little fascinated, she stilled. His tongue slipped out from between his lips, and slowly, languidly, licked over hers, finally slipping to the seam of her mouth. Her mouth opened, and he slid inside, tasting her. His tongue curled around hers, stroking it, enticing it, until he had lured her inside his mouth, where he trapped it, and sucked it lazily.

She gasped, pulled away. There was something curiously familiar about his kisses - no, terrifyingly so.

They were Kit’s kisses.

During dinner, Emma, seated next to James, could hardly bear to look at him. Her newfound relief gone, she found in place of them, suddenly a million complications and problems. Wonderful, she thought to herself. Well done, Emma. Trade one twin for the other, so he break your heart again. Heck, it would have been bad enough if they were simply brothers, but twins? My god, she’d be seeing Kit’s face for the rest of her life!

“Could you pass the salt, please?”

Emma looked up. The salt was directly in front of them, a mere foot away from him. “Get it yourself!” she snapped, uncharacteristically rudely, then felt ashamed almost at once.

“My apologies,” James said smoothly. “I merely wished to distract you from your thoughts. They seem to be rather distressing.”

His kisses were just like Kit’s. But of course - they had the same lips, didn’t they? Perhaps they kissed exactly alike. But even as she made the excuses, she knew they were feeble. Men did not kiss alike. To find, and kiss two that did was almost impossible. “How would you know?” she said waspishly. “You cannot read my thoughts.”

His raised brow made her think that he could.

“You have been quiet all evening. Is there perhaps something wrong?”

“No,” she almost snarled.

He smiled slightly. “Ah - is it perhaps that time of the month?”

He thought she had PMS! She wanted to scream. “No!” she said furiously. “Not that its any of your business. But since you seem so eager to talk about my menstruation cycle, I’ll take leave to inform you that I’m not due for another three weeks.”

There was a faint curve to his lips that she knew were signs of mockery. “But perhaps you are irregular? It has been shown that some women who have to face intense emotional distress do become irregular, if only for the duration of that distress. An influx of hormones, I believe is toted as the cause.”

“I am not irregular!” she hissed, and because she knew that any more of conversation in this vein would cause her to tip the entire contents of the dining table on his lap she turned resolutely to her soup and pointedly ignored him for the rest of the evening.

It was dark out, but Emma was resolute. She needed a walk, and by god, she was going to take one. She had to think. She had to relieve the stress that was building up inside her.

She dragged on a robe, tied it up, and crept out into the hallway. She stopped and listened for a moment. Silence. All the other houseguests were asleep. Jordan was too, presumably, since she could hear nothing from his room, which was next to hers. Slowly, she began slinking down the hallway. Just as she reached the secluded, almost empty wing of the house where she thought the coast was clear and she could begin to walk normally, and quickly out of there, a door opened and she was dragged inside.

A blindfold was pulled over her eyes, tied with quick precision. Her wrists were clasped in powerful hands, and she suddenly found herself handcuffed, and pulled back against a powerful, muscular chest. A powerful, muscular bare chest if she was any judge. She was flung down onto the bed, her wrists restrained to the bedpost, and suddenly, quite helpless. It had all happened so quickly she had had no time to react, and even if she had, what could she have done? This part of the house had been built for privacy - almost living here for the duration of her engagement to Kit, she knew almost all its nuances and secrets. No one would hear her scream, and her captor was a powerful man - he would overpower any attempts at escape easily.

“Who are you?” she demanded, having struggled for a while and found that the only thing that accomplished was to scrape her wrists raw.

“I think you know,” he said, and she could almost hear his smile. James. Incredible. First he kisses her, now he abducts her. Was there something wrong with the world?

“What are you doing?” she said angrily. “Let me go at once!”

“No,” he said simply, and kissed her.

She struggled. She really did, but after a while, could not seem to be bothered. His kisses were drugging, illicit, delicious. Even while she protested, she craved for more. She wrenched herself away.

“Let me go!”

“I have said already - no. I cannot. I must show you something.”

She felt cool air, and discovered to her dismay, her robe had been cut away, and with it, her nightdress. He tugged, and she was naked.

“Ah,” James murmured. “That’s better.”

He’s insane, Emma thought wildly. I am in the clutches of a lunatic.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened shakily.

“Please do,” he replied coolly. “It turns me on.”

“What are you, sadistic? Do you torture people just to hear them scream?”

“Not at all,” he said, a laugh in his voice. “I will torture you, and you will scream, but not in the way you think. You will like it, you see. And nothing is more erotic than a screaming woman in the throes of pleasure.” He traced a finger down her body as he spoke, and a shiver coursed through her.

“You’re going to rape me.” It was not a question.

“It is only rape if you are unwilling,” he countered softly. “And I promise, you will not be unwilling.”

“Over my dead body!”

He took her breasts in her hands. Her nipples were tiny pebbled peaks of arousal. He kneaded gently, and she caught her breath. “Would you care to make a wager on that?”

She was aroused, Emma knew. Even now, she could feel the wetness between her thighs, feel her sex gaping. She only hoped that he could not. “Don’t,” she said weakly, as he caressed her nipples with his thumbs.

To her surprise, and relief, he obliged. She felt his hands leave her breasts. Her relief was shortlived, however, for his mouth was suddenly on it. Heat. Wetness. Hunger. She cried out at sensation, involuntarily arching her back. 

James smiled in satisfaction and sucked harder. He bit down gently, then harder. A whimper escaped her throat, and she writhed, unable to bear the pain, and the pleasure.

He moved to her other breast, licking first everywhere but the nipple, then circling it until she thought she would go mad. Finally, he sucked it intil his mouth, suckling so hard she thought he meant to devour her entire breast.

“Shall I stop?” he asked, lifting his head.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. She felt him shift, move, and knew not whether to be relieved, or disappointed.

His fingers plunged inside her. She screamed.

“Ah,” he said in satisfaction. “Music to my ears. Do you scream when you come? I think you do - scream for me, darling. Scream when you come.”

His fingers were plunging in and out of her rhythmically, roughly, steadily. She panted, gasped, fought not to buck against his fingers. His thumb rubbed at her clitoris. She moaned, writhing.

He withdrew his fingers, put them into his mouth, and suckled, drinking in the sweet taste of her. She whimpered at the loss, only to scream again, as she felt his mouth on her. His tongue was lapping at her, licking and devouring at her lips and sliding up inside her as if he were starved. His tongue was slick, hot, wet. His mouth enclosed her clitoris, and she felt his fingers sliding inside her again. She moaned in pleasure as he began to suck at her clitoris, moving his fingers inside her all the while.

She screamed when she came, pouring into his mouth. He lapped at her, swallowed, and smiled.

“Are you still unwilling?” he asked, and Emma felt something nudge at her.

“Yes,” she gasped, defiant to the last.

“Well,” he said softly. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped.”

With a great lunge, he shoved his cock inside her, and she moaned, arching up against her will.

“I love it when you moan,” he said, panting. He gripped her hips and pumped inside her, closing his eyes at the exquisite pleasure of having her, hot and tight and wet, wrapped around him. His fingers cradled her buttocks, squeezing and kneading in tune to his thrusts.

“How does it feel?” he demanded.

“Full,” she gasped. “So full.” And it was - he seemed to fill every inch of her as he plunged inside to the hilt. She was mindless, out of control. Every thought seemed to centre on the incredible sensation of being filled, being taken, again and again. She was wet, could feel her wetness running down her thighs, could feel his enormous cock pumping inside her, and it seemed that it was all that she could feel. She could feel herself coming, could almost taste the pleasure of her orgasm. She bit her lip, moaned again and bucked against him.

She was close, he knew. He revelled in the expression on her face, one of mingled pain and pleasure. He was being rough, and he knew it. She didn’t seem to care though. Her mouth opened - he withdrew.

She cried out in dismay. James cocked his head. “What is this - you are perhaps willing, after all?”

“Yes,” she said, almost screaming in rage. “Yes, I’m willing, you bastard. Finish me!”

He crawled up her body until his face was level with hers. He kissed her, openmouthed, and she reciprocated in passionate desperation. He pulled away after a moment with a sneer. “Beg me,” he whispered.

She whimpered and shook her head. He sighed, then moved up until his cock was level with her face and nudged at her lips. “Take me inside your mouth,” he commanded.

Dazed, she opened her lips obediently and he slipped inside, emitting a heartfelt groan of pleasure. Her tongue flicked at him and he almost came right then. “Suck me,” he said harshly. She did, and he groaned again, letting out a moan of pleasure as he began to thrust inside her mouth. “Harder, sweetheart. Harder.”

Emma closed her eyes and did as he ordered. She seemed to have lost all capacity for thought. She was sucking on him, and that seemed to be all that mattered, that and fire between her legs. She sucked harder, and he suddenly withdrew. “Enough,” he said. “Now, beg me.”

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?”

“Please!”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me. Please.” Even at the last, she was polite, he thought wildly.

With a laugh of triumph, he shoved himself back inside her, and started thrusting again, mating with her with vigor. She moaned with pleasure, and he felt her tightening around him. As she contracted in orgasm, she let out a scream, and he too let go, pouring into her in hot gushes, coming with a roar of pleasure, emptying himself inside her. He collapsed onto her, exhausted, feeling sleep creep over him. At the last moment, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, drawing her into the protective cocoon of his body before dropping off to sleep.

He was still inside her.

Emma woke to the sensation of something nudging against her buttocks. Her bare buttocks, she realised blearily, eyes still half closed. In fact, her bare, rather warm buttocks.

Her eyes opened like a shot and she made to bolt upright only to feel two arms wrap around her and pin her down again. “Hush, sweetheart,” a voice murmured warmly in her ear. “I’ve waited for more than three years for this and I’m not about to let you get away that easily.”

The memories came flooding back in a rush and she smothered a whimper of mortification, remembering her wantoness, the way she had responded, the way she had screamed and cried out for him. Her face went scarlett and she lay still, completely at a loss.

James’ lips feathered over the back of her neck, and she knew without a doubt that it was his penis that was nudging so boldly against her posteriour. His tongue flicked out, licking her, then she felt the scrape of his teeth as he bit gently into her, then harder. She gave a little whimper of mingled pain and pleasure and he chuckled. “You like it rough?” he remarked. “I think we can manage that...”

“Don’t hurt me,” she said softly, her voice small and vulnerable.

James’ demeanor changed abruptly. “Never that,” he said tenderly. “I’d never hurt you. Never.” His hands slid over her body to cup breasts that had tautened and peaked with arousal. “I want only to love you again...if you’ll let me.”


Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 01



She said nothing and for a moment he too was silent, concentrating only on caressing her breasts.

“Did you ever wonder why Kit was always so hot and cold with you?” he asked her suddenly.

“No,” she said, confused. “What do you mean?”

“How sometimes he seemed to change his attitude towards you in a split second?”

“Yes...” she murmured thoughtfully. “I wondered sometimes why he could be such an incredibly passionate, tender lover in bed...and then see me the next day and act as if nothing had happened. He was never affectionate to me in public, and yet in private, it seemed as if he completely adored me. I could never understand it. It was almost like it was two different people...”

“That’s because it was...” was the soft rejoinder.

She stiffened. “What do you mean?” she choked out.

“It was me, Emma my love...did you never recognise me? It was I who was your first...not Kit. It was never Kit. It was me, my darling.”

“I - I don’t understand.”

“Its simple. Kit was always in love with Mary - but she had broken up with him. He used you to make her jealous, going up to the point of even asking you to marry him. And meanwhile, you were falling in love with him - I believe he didn’t want any complications by refusing to sleep with you. At first, he asked me to only because he felt disloyal to Mary - but after that first time...he didn’t even have to ask me, anymore. I’d fallen completely and irrevocably in love with you...”

There was a long silence. When Emma finally spoke, her voice was as cool as ice. “So in other words, you slept with me out of pity? You took what I offered - my innocence, out of kindness? I was a simply a charity case for you, is that it?”

“No!” The protest was adament. “No, Emma, that wasn’t it at all. I couldn’t court you while Kit was still engaged to you - it was impossible. And I couldn’t make Kit break up with you, no matter what. I didn’t want to hurt you, but you were hurt anyway, weren’t you? When Kit left you for Mary.” He swore suddenly. “God, I should have done something!”

“Its no use crying over spilt milk, is it?” Emma said bitterly. “What’s done is done.”

“Yes,” James said. “But seeing you again - its made me realise that I never stopped loving you, even when I tried to convince myself that I had. Three years, Emma. I’ve waited three years for this. And now I’ve got you, I’m not going to let you go.”

“Excuse me?” her tone was one of blatant disbelief. “Not let me go? May I remind you that you can’t actually do that unless you have me? And you sure as hell don’t!” She made to struggle and get up but was pinned down quite firmly, and for her trouble was turned down onto her stomach, with him lying half on top of her. “I beg to differ,” he said coldly. “I would say that the position you are currently in fairly screams the fact that you’re mine.”

“I am nobody’s! I am not an object, to be sold and bought. And I certainly do not belong to you!”

“We shall simply have to see about that, won’t we?” His voice was silky, sibilant. She swivelled her head to look at him and the smouldering look of heat in his eyes made her inhale swiftly.

He bit her neck. She moaned softly, her head dropping onto the pillow as his hands wandered down her back, to her buttocks. “No, damn you. Stop it!” But her protest was weak and she knew it and he simply ignored her. He stroked, kneaded, and caressed for a moment, before sliding his fingers down to the hot wet centre of her. His fingers played and stroked...and suddenly plunged. She muffled her scream with the pillow. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, scream all you want, darling.”

She let out a little whimper as he probed, then started plunging rapidly in and out.

Then suddenly his fingers were gone, to be replaced by something thicker, heavier, and a great deal larger. He slid inside her slowly, teasingly, lingering at the edges of her. “So wet,” he moaned. “So hot and tight and wet...you feel so incredible, darling.” He shoved in to the hilt, roughly, groaning, “Yes!” Then he simply stopped moving.

“Do you want me to move?”

“Yes,” she said breathless, panting.

“Do you belong to me?”

“No!”

“Say you belong to me, or I won’t move.”

“No.”

He almost growled with frustration. “Say it, damn you!”

She was silent.

He cursed, then grabbed her hips and began thrusting. “Damn you,” he muttered. “Damn you.”

He forced her legs apart, slid between them and squeezed her buttocks vengefully, before gripping her hips and thrusting into her deeper and harder, faster and rougher. She let out a moan, panting, and writhing against the covers. “Take me,” he ground out, pushing himself into her deeper and deeper. “Take me - all of me!”

He slid in to the hilt, ground himself against her, and slid out again.

“Oh god,” she panted. “Oh dear god.”

He slammed into her again. 

“James...” she whispered.

He stilled. “Say that again.”

“James,” she said again, a little louder.

“Louder,” he said, thrusting deep. “Say it again.”

“James!”

He groaned. “Yes, darling. Scream my name.”

“James! Oh, god, James!” She bucked against him, but he pressed her down into the mattress, asserting his power over her. She moaned, her fingers curling into the sheet. He slid his hand underneath her, to the tight little nubbin that was her pleasure spot and caressed in rhythm to his thrusting. She began to buck, screaming out in pleasure, almost as if to throw him off but he held her down firmly with a growl.

“Oh no, my little love. I intend to ride you out until the end.”

His words seemed to send her over the edge, as, with a tiny scream she orgasmed, her muscles clenching tight around him as he thrust and he too erupted in a roar of pleasure. He spilled into her, her muscles milking the very last drops of his cum, and he collapsed, spent, once again.

Spent beyond exhaustion, Emma's head dropped back onto the pillow and her eyes fluttered closed...her last thought being of the heavy, comforting weight still above her.

End of Part One

To be continued in Part Two



Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 02



She was gone when he woke. Somehow she’d managed to get out of the bed without waking him, had dressed and left already. He swore softly. Perhaps she’d already even left the estate. He sat up abruptly and pushed the thought aside. No - she couldn’t have gone. He could not have waited three years for this, only to have her slip away. She’d already left him once - she never would again.

With another small curse James swung his feet over the side of the bed, stood, and stretched. His gaze fell on the pair of handcuffs lying on the ground and he smiled slightly to himself, his cool green eyes mocking and bitter. Perhaps he should have kept her handcuffed to his bed - that way she would never be able to leave him, ever...

With a small shake of his head, he headed towards the shower. If Emma had already left, he would track her down. If she hadn’t, well, there would be time enough to make her his...truly his.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Emma chanted to herself as she sat on her bed, dishevelled and still rather in shock. She’d been sitting there since almost dawn, replaying the events over and over again in her mind, and as yet did not seem to show any signs of moving anywhere anytime soon. The mind numbing mantra served to send her into a realm where her only thoughts seemed to centre around the words “oh god”, which really, wasn’t all that helpful, seeing as to how she must have screamed them out five times last night.

Last night. Good lord, had it really happened? If it weren’t for the fact that she could still smell the scent of James and their coupling on her, she would have doubted her own mind.

Even now, she struggled to accept it. It all seemed so farfetched, so ridiculous, so...cruel. Whilst Kit had been using her, stringing her affections along in order to make his real love Mary jealous, James had been sleeping with her in his brother’s place, so as to not make her suspicious when Kit refused to sleep with her in order to remain faithful to Mary... It was all such a soap opera, she could not believe it was the truth.

And yet, why would James lie? What did he stand to gain from it? She was already in a far from charitable frame of mind towards Kit, and he had already demonstrated that if all he wanted was to get inside her pants all he had to do was handcuff her...no, there was nothing in it for James. He was telling the truth. Instinctively, she knew that while James would evade and omit, he would never lie outright to her.

And thus, if he was telling the truth about that matter, it stood to reason that he had been telling the truth about the other. He claimed to love her. Did he really? Did she really want to know?

There was nothing for it, Emma decided, sitting up determinedly. She was leaving. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was about to stay here a minute longer.

She emerged from the shower, naked and rather wet still, since her hair simply refused to dry, no matter how vigorously she towled it, and opened the door which connected her bedroom to her bathroom in the opulent Brandeworth mansion. Lost in her thoughts, she wandered over to the chest of drawers where she had left her clothing, and bent to open the draws, completely unaware of the rather large, lean, masculine form lying sprawled on her bed, watching her.

“I see that you seem to have recovered your equilibrium remarkably well,” a throaty, deep masculine voice drawled from the bed.

Emma shrieked, spun around and instinctively covered her naked form with her arms. 

“Its a bit late for that, don’t you think?” James remarked dryly, cocking one arrogantly slashing eyebrow. His glittering eyes gleamed with something that made her want to shudder.

Emma said nothing, merely began backing away towards the door. James leapt out of the bed and advanced towards her, shaking his head at her. “I wouldn’t do that, my darling...you belong to me, you see, and I do not intend for a single other soul to ever lay eyes upon you in all your glory...and if you keep walking in that direction, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take steps in order to prevent just that from happening.”

“I - I don’t belong to you,” Emma said her voice wavering slightly. She tilted her chin. “You - you oaf!”

“Come here and say that,” he invited silkily, still advancing.

“What do you want?” Emma said desperately, a slightly hysterical note in her voice.

“What do I want?” James replied musingly. “Well, lets see. I’d like you to stop covering yourself. I’d like you to stop moving away. I’d like you to love me, and...oh yes. I want to be inside you.” There was a tiny warning glimmer in his eyes, before he struck.

“No,” Emma breathed, but it was too late. He had launched himself towards her, heaved her over his shoulder and dumped her onto the bed. He was on top of her before she had time to regain her breath.

He was heavy, and incredibly aroused, she realised, feeling the bulge against her stomach. She struggled, wriggling against him and watched in fascination as he groaned, his eyes closed and his face tortured. “Stop that,” he hissed, gripping her wrists and holding her to the mattress. Defiantly, she bucked, enflaming him further.

“Good lord,” James muttered. He let out a tortured breath through his teeth, his eyes still closed. “Will you stop wriggling?”

Emma stilled, watching his expression with interest. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to come in my pants, that’s why!”

A small, triumphant smile lit Emma’s features and with calculated intent, she wriggled slightly, testing him. When his features contorted further, she deliberately ground her hips against him, and he swore, rocking his own hips in response. Pleased with her success, she kept up the motion, sure of herself now.

He stopped, suddenly, pressing her so hard into the mattress that she could not move at all as his full weight rested on her. Her eyes widened in surprise and dismay. “No,” she said desperately.

“Oh, yes,” he said grimly. “You will not find me quite so easy to manipulate, my dear. I want to be inside you - and inside you, I will be.” His mouth hovered, close to hers, then settled ever so gently, over her lips. His lips were soft, velvet soft, and warm, brushing back and forth against her mouth. Then tentatively, she felt the hot lick of his tongue at the seam of her mouth - her lips opened, and suddenly the kiss was no longer gentle, but hard, and punishing. His tongue slid inside her mouth with insolence, stroked roughly at hers with demanding caresses, and his mouth was sealed to hers with an almost bruising violence, as bit by bit, he ripped her wits from her, turning the tables. Even as she whimpered in fear at his rage, her mouth opened wider, sought more of him, more of his taste. And then, quite suddenly, he was gone.

He sat up, shrugged quickly out of his shirt and the warm, musky male scent of him, spiced with a tang of soap and aftershave, filled her nostrils. His chest was wide and broade, his hips lean, his shoulders strong. He knelt up, and seizing her chance, Emma heaved, unbalancing him enough for her to scramble off the bed. He did nothing, merely watched, amused as she wavered, uncertain of his response, and continued to strip, until he was as starkly naked as she. Then, methodically, he advanced towards her, picked her up, and set her back on the bed again. 

“We would really save a great deal of time, Emma,” he remarked conversationally as he climbed on top of her and spread her legs. “If you would simply get on the bed yourself and save me the bother of having to carry you.”

“Why?” Emma taunted, defiant to the last. “I would have thought that you would like the sense of power that experience from being able to make others submit to your will.”

He smiled at her, brilliantly white teeth flashing, and she wanted to hate him in that moment, for having the power to subdue her, to charm her, and most unforgivable of all, to make her want what he was forcing on her.

“I can’t deny that I like it when you submit to my will, sweetheart...but you clearly don’t. Why did you leave me this morning?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

"This morning. After we were...together. You left me, without a word.”

“After you raped me,” Emma corrected, and yet even as she said them the words felt like a lie. “And as to the other - I went back to my room. I had to.”

“Why?”

“Well - I - Jordan - it wasn’t right - I mean -”

“You mean that if you had stayed, it would have looked like you were willing, and thus you would have been stripped of the ever so convenient excuse that I raped you. But its not true, is it Emma? I didn’t...not if you were willing. And as I remember...you were very willing.”

“I wasn’t!” she denied hotly.

“Oh?” Sensuously, he rubbed his body against her and for the first time, Emma was consciously aware that they were skin to skin, body to body, naked against eachother. He forced her legs slowly apart, until his hips rested in the cradle of her pelvis. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes,” she said, rather weakly.

He plunged inside her.

She screamed, arching her breasts towards him, and he bent his head, clamping his teeth around one. She whimpered like a small, hurt animal, and he began thrusting, moving quickly, deeply inside her.

“Leave me, will you?” he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly and lifting her towards him. “Run off on me, just like that, will you?” She gasped, exposed her throat to him and hungrily he bit into her, devouring at her neck. He slid deeper inside her, thrust harder. “Lie, will you? Deny this, deny what we have, will you? Well deny it all you want, my darling, but the fact remains that what we have is real...what I feel for you is real...and I know you’ll never admit it, but what you feel for me is real, too...”

She clamped hard around him and he erupted with a roar of ecstacy, his seed spurting deep inside her in hot bursts. He plunged deep inside her one last time, and she gave a scream of sheer, unadulterated pleasure, clamping hot and wetly around him, her hands, free at last from his bruising grip, free to wrap around his neck, to cling to him as the last vestiges of her orgasm drifted away.

“Don’t leave me again,” James murmured sleepily, when she made to move, to get out from under him. “Please don’t leave me again.”

And, cursing herself inwardly for her own weakness, Emma gave in, relaxing against the comforting heaviness of him atop her, closing her eyes as sleep claimed her, and feeling oddly safe.

When Emma woke again it was much later in the day - well past noon, to judge from the sun shining brightly through her drawn blinds. Yawning sleepily, she sat up, gazing around in bewilderment at the stained sheets for a moment, blinking. Memory rushed back and her face flushed - gritting her teeth, she climbed out of bed for the third time that morning. She did not question her hypocrisy, or the reason for her resentment, as she thought vengefully, don’t leave him, indeed. It was perfectly all right for him to leave her though.

She came down stairs half an hour later relatively refreshed but still very much in a quandery. She found Jordan sitting by himself in the morning parlour, eating from a plate of tiny sandwiches. He looked up as she approached. “Hello, sis,” he said cheerfully. “Had a late night, did you?”

“Yes,” Emma replied vaguely, feeling her face heat once again. She took a seat, then looked around in curiousity. “Where is everyone else?”

“Kit took them all hunting,” Jordan answered. “The Redwoods, you know. Fresh deer, apparently.”

“Ah,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Jordan looked at her curiously. “Aren’t you feeling well, Emma?”

“Its just a bit of a headache,” Emma said hastily. “Nothing to worry about. Although,” she continued as a sudden flash of inspiration hit her, “Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if I were to cut my visit just a little short, go home for the remainder of the houseparty. Just for a bit of a rest...”

Jordan bit his lip, eyed her worriedly. “Emma, if its Kit...”

Oh, it wasn’t Kit, Emma thought to herself rather hysterically. It had never been Kit, she realised abruptly. The man she had fallen in love with, the man she had believed to be Kit...that man had never existed. How could he have, when he was two people? Kit in daylight, and James at night...

“Its not that,” Emma said truthfully. “Its just that I’d really rather go home now...”

“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice said, surprising her from behind. She spun around, her face breaking into a smile at the sight of Lucien Tusane. Lucien, one of James and Kit’s best friends, had been a fount of support for her during the days after Kit’s defection. Word was that these days, he only spoke to one of the Brandeworth twins, and that one was definitely not Kit.

“Luc,” Emma said in pleasure. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Arrived last night,” he answered briefly. “Might convey the wrong idea,” he continued, his dark grey eyes twinkling at her as he raked a careless hand through his tousled blond hair. “Give people the impression that you can’t handle being here - that you’re running away.”

Emma frowned at him in consternation as Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “Its true, Em,” he agreed. “Keep your pride, at least.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “I just want to go home!”

“Well, there is another way,” Luc put in. “If all you want is to simply leave this place.”

“Well...” Emma began.

“If we put it about that you and I are...you know, involved, it won’t raise too much speculation when we both disappear together...and that way, we both get what we want.”

“Ah,” Jordan said, a gleam in his eyes.

Emma was silent for a moment. Luc’s plan made sense. She knew how wounded he’d been when Mary had broken up their engagement, in order to marry his best friend...yet another twist, Emma thought bitterly. The plot was thickening by the day! She felt like she was trapped inside some sort of absurd parody of a nightmarish soap opera.

“Its sounds like a perfect idea,” Emma said finally, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. “Two birds with one stone, so to speak. When can we leave?”

“You’ll have to keep up the pretence for a few days at least,” Jordan intervened. “It will look suspicious if you just up and go - take time to establish the lie first.”

Emma shrugged, meeting Luc’s querying gaze. “Why not?”

It was that evening, while the numerous guests mingled in the drawing room before dinner for drinks that the “announcement” was made. Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself, and stepped into the room.

Luc saw her at once. “Emma, darling!” he exclaimed, taking long legged strides towards her and looping an arm around her waist possessively. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“I was dressing,” Emma replied demurely, feeling James’ piercing gaze on her and deliberately playing up her part. “I wanted to look good for you, darling.” Perhaps that was a bit much, she thought wryly, as she saw the wickedly humourous look in Luc’s eyes. He pecked her nose fondly, and whispered intimately in her ear, “Tone it down a little, sweetie, or I might crack up and blow our cover.”

She whispered back, just as sweetly, “If you do, I’ll castrate you.”

He roared with laughter, drawing more attention to them, and offered his arm. She took it with a cloying smile, and together, they walked into the dining room, seemingly oblivious of the curious whispers they left behind, and one hot, furious gaze.

It was while she was standing outside on the balcony after dinner that evening, taking in the air and waiting for Luc to come back with her drink, that just what she had gotten into hit home.

The footsteps behind her came softly, almost silently, and suddenly, two large, male hands had clamped tight onto her shoulders. She stiffened, made to turn around, but found herself held forcefully where she was, gazing out into the darkness below.

“Do you know,” James voice was very near her ear, his body gradually positioning hers so that she nestled inside the cradle of his, “Its always been a fantasy of mine to take you like this, out here, before the world?”

“Funny,” Emma managed to retort, “I never would have picked you for an exhibitionist.”

“Oh its not that,” James said softly. “Its more a sign of ownership - a portrayal to the word that you are mine...that you belong to me, and only to me...”

“I can see where this is leading,” Emma said laconically. “I don’t suppose you ever listen when what you hear isn’t to your liking?”

She could almost feel him smile. “I listen...” he disagreed. “But I don’t have to accept. And I do not accept this - this charade - that you have set up with Luc.”

“Who says it is a charade?” And perhaps because her voice held just the right amount of indignation, anger, and scorn, she felt him still, heard him go silent for a moment before he ground out, “I say it is...and if it is not, it soon will be...”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Emma spat.

“Oh? You really are Luc’s woman, then, my love?” 

His scorn was apparent. “How very...fickle, you are, Emma my dear. You claim to be his woman and yet you are more than willing to respond to my touch...” His hands moved from her shoulders to her arms, and across to stroke featheringly across her breasts, pulling her even more firmly against him.

“You lie,” Emma gasped. “I was unwilling, and you simply - simply took me.”

“I took you,” he agreed, “But you were all too willing. As you are now.” He slid a hand inside her dress, toyed with a peaked nipple. “I could make you come, right now.”

“N-No,” Emma protested, but somehow her protest seemed only token, as he spun her around and sealed her mouth was his. His mouth was bruising, hurting her, and yet inciting her against her will. His tongue invaded, trapped, lured, and touched. His lips captured, sucked. His teeth grazed, possessed, and bit with a hungry voraciousness that drew an involuntary moan from her. “James,” she gasped.

“Hush,” James ground out against her lips. “You’re being punished.”

He wrenched away from her suddenly, a wild look in his eyes. His gaze fell to her red, swollen lips, and his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. “I want you,” he rasped. “If I don’t go, I’m going to take you, right here, right now.”

Dazed, she merely stared dreamily back at him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes clouded. With a curse, he turned abruptly, and walked swiftly away from her.

It seemed that minutes had barely passed when he returned again, for all of a sudden, whilst Emma was once again staring numbly out at the darkness, arms circled her waist from behind, and a voice breathed passionately into her ear, “Emma.” James, she thought, bemused. Had he decided to come back, then? “I’ve waited so long for this,” he continued, feathering soft, gentle kisses across her neck. “At last - at last, I’ll have you.”

Now that didn’t sound quite right, she thought, confused. What the devil was he talking about? Before she had much time to ponder that, however, she had been yanked into his arms and his mouth was covering his.

She sensed almost from the moment his lips touched hers that something was wrong. His kisses felt wrong, new, different, somehow, and his taste seemed different as well. She tasted whisky on his breath, and whilst before he had always been demanding, almost violent, now his lips were gentle, meek, shy, almost. “James?” she said, confused, but found her lips covered once again.

There was a harsh intake of breath from the doors that led to the house and Emma’s eyes shot open, looking from the very large, menacing figure standing in the balcony doorway, to the man who was holding her in his arms. Kit’s eyes stared back at her.

With a cry of dismay, she pushed him away from her, stumbling backwards, unsurprised when he lurched drunkenly, then had to grab the railing to steady himself.




Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 02



There was a look that could almost be construed as hurt in James’ eyes, Emma thought warily, as he stood and stared at them for a moment longer. She brushed the thought quickly away though, surprised at herself for feeling even an inkling of guilt, and watched waiting for the rage that she knew simmered in the depths of his eyes, then bit her lip, as he turned and strode abruptly away once again.

She must not feel guilty, Emma told herself, finding her way to a chair and sinking down heavily. She did not belong to him, and it was not as if she had asked Kit to kiss her. He’d been drunk, after all. And besides, who was he to say who she could kiss and who couldn’t? She had the right to kiss anyone she wanted!

“Emma,” Luc’s voice brought her back to the present. He was holding her drink in his hand. “Sorry I took so long. I just met Julianna...” he grinned, and the look in his eyes was rueful. “You understand why it took so long for me to extract myself.” Emma understood perfectly - Julianna had, after all, been angling after Luc for what must have been a decade. Ever since she’d turned thirteen, in fact, but as far as Emma knew, Luc had never felt anything for her but brotherly love. With ten years between them, it wasn’t that surprising.

But both Kit and James are ten years older than you, a small, niggling voice in the back of her mind reminded her. And god knew, what she felt for James was certainly not brotherly...

What she felt for James. With a stab of fear, Emma thought back to all the times he’d touched her, kissed her, coupled with her. He’d been her first, though she hadn’t known it, and after him, there had been no others. She was no fool. She knew that what she had experienced with him had been unusual - she’d certainly never experienced with anyone else. Not even Kit, she realised, feeling something cold in her stomach, and she believed she’d been in love with him. What if James was the only one who could feel that way? She had to know.

“Luc?” Emma said suddenly. “Would you kiss me, please?”

Luc was silent for so long, that Emma believed she must have utterly disgusted him and that she’d ruined their friendship forever. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Luc spoke before she could do so.

“I would certainly oblige,” he said carefully, “But may I ask why the sudden request?”

“It - I just - I just need to reassure myself on something, that’s all. Please Luc, just this once. I swear its nothing. And you really don’t need to -”

Before she could finish however, Luc had grinned, and was kissing her.

It was pleasant, comforting, but that was all it was. She knew that Luc wasn’t attracted to her, and she wasn’t to him, and that in essence made their kiss one that was merely companionably pleasant - his lips caressed hers, but nothing else. After a moment, he broke away and raised his eyebrows. “Your doubts have been quelled, I hope?” he asked, amused.

“No,” Emma said, rather deflated.

“Perhaps I should try again, then?”

Before Emma could answer however, a voice said icily from the shadows, “I wouldn’t, if I were you, Luc. Not if you want to leave this place with your manhood intact.”

There was an utter silence from all sides. Finally, Luc spoke, “Is there perhaps something you need to tell me, Emma?”

“Yes, Emma,” James agreed. “Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Emma said shakily. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh but there is,” James said silkily, stepping into the light and wrapping a possessive arm around her, drawing her slowly, but steadily towards him, into the curve of his body. “I think that there is.”

Luc stood for a moment, frowning, then a small smile curved his lips. “Is this what I think it is, Em?”

“No!” Emma said fervently, fighting to extract herself from James’ grip. He simply tightened his hold on her. “Its not what you think!”

“What I think,” Luc said with a sly look in his eye, “Is that you’ve been having a lover’s spat, and I just happened to be a handy escape route. Its all right, Em - I don’t mind in the least!”

“We have not been having a lovers spat! We’re not lovers!”

“Oh?” James retorted. “Then what do you call this?” His mouth was against hers again, hard and demanding, and cursing herself violently Emma found herself once again responding to his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She was gasping and breathless when he let her go at last, raising an eyebrow at Luc. “I hope that quells your doubts, Luc,” he murmured.

“Perfectly,” Luc agreed cheerfully and sauntered off, leaving Emma stranded once again, her last hope of escape having quite happily deserted her.

“And now, my dear,” James breathed, staring into her eyes, a look of mingled anger and heat simmering in his, “I shall deal with you.”

With two quick steps he had her backed up against the stone wall of the house, out of sight, unless someone decided to walk straight out onto the balcony and look around. 

“What -” Her words were cut off with his mouth, settling over hers, as he ravaged and plundered. His hands moved to her bodice, and with a quick, jerking motion, ripped it in half. The rest of it slid to the ground, and quite suddenly she was left standing in her bra and underwear, James’ hard, male body pressed up against her.

“You’re mine, Emma,” James breathed against her mouth, unclipping her bra easily. “No matter what. Nothing can change that.” A quick rip, a tearing sound and her underwear was gone, too.

“No,” Emma said desperately, her hands fisting against his chest. “No, please, James...”

To her surprise, he didn’t ignore her, but took her hands and laced her fingers with his. He moved them against the wall and stared intently at her, at the soft, vulnerable look in her eyes and the way she trembled against him. “Why, Emma?” he asked softly, and she could hear his voice shake slightly. “Why did you kiss them?”

“I didn’t,” Emma said, half truthfully. “Kit kissed me.” There was a look of hope in his eyes.

“And Luc?”

“I asked him to kiss me.”

He deflated. “Why?”

“Because Kit’s kisses did nothing for me.”

He stared at her blankly. She continued helplessly, “I needed to see if it was like that for me with everyone, or...”

James was suddenly looking at her with new intensity. “Or what?”

“Or - or if -”

“Or if mine were the only kisses you craved, is that right, Emma? Or if my touch was the only one that turned you on? Or if my body was the only one that could satisfy you?” She was silent, her face flushed, turned away from him. “Well, is it?”

When she didn’t reply, he tilted her face and brushed a kiss against her mouth. “Emma?”

“Yes,” she said, frustrated and angry. “Yes, damn you!”

“Oh, my love,” James murmured, and kissed her.

His lips trailed down her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her and he shuddered in pleasure. “Delicious,” he groaned. She whimpered when his mouth enveloped her nipples, his teeth grazing, his tongue laving at her. He suckled at her and she moaned, arching at him, and he sucked harder, driven into a frenzy at her abandon. He was marking her, and felt triumphant in the fact. He would brand her any way he could, any way that would proclaim that she was his, and his alone.

“Are you wet?” he queried, rubbing his body sensuously against her. “I think you’re dripping, my dear. I think you’re just about to come...”

“Oh god,” she breathed, dazed.

He let her go for a moment to fumble with the zip of his trousers, releasing the thick shaft that was his manhood, lifted her in his arms against the wall and suddenly he was inside her, impaling her with his hard, throbbing length.

“James!” she shrieked with the sensation of having him, full, deep, and embedded firmly inside her. “No!” Her protest felt fake to even her own ears.

“Oh, yes,” he growled, grabbing her hips and shoving her down on him again. She moaned, clutching at him. “No screaming this time,” he warned, moving her up and down on him. “You’ll be heard.”

No screaming? Emma thought dazedly. Impossible. He plunged inside her again and she clamped her mouth around his neck, biting to keep the scream inside. He moaned in pleasure, his fingers digging into her as he thrust inside her again, deeper, harder than before.

“You’re mine,” he declared, pulling her down on him. “Mine, do you hear? You belong to me. Say it.”

“I -”

“Say it, Emma.”

But she just shook her head helplessly and he growled in frustration, forcing himself up inside her, forcing her to take more of him, determined to make her accept him with her body, if not with her mind. She cried out, wrapping her legs around him, aware that whilst she was vulnerable and naked, he was almost fully clothed, powerful, impervious to weakness. As if the thought set off a trigger inside her, she spasmed around him, clenching around him, clinging tightly to his neck, sinking her teeth into him once again.

He shuddered, groaning and thrusting jerkily into her one last time, and she felt the hot flood of his seed filling her body as he stood immobile for a moment, recovering from the aftermath. She clung to him, breathing hard, feeling an incredible sensation of being small, and weak and helpless...and completely taken.

He’d taken her, Emma thought, when he finally withdrew from her body and set her on the ground. She fumbled for her bra, put in on, her mind dazed and confused. He’d taken her, completely and irrevocably, and somehow in the meantime, she had - or at least her body had - accepted that. She pulled the dress up, realising the futileness of the act as she saw that it had been ripped down the middle.

“Here,” James said softly, shrugging out of his evening jacket and wrapping it almost tenderly around her. She felt her eyes stinging with tears. She felt so lost, so confused - and it enraged her. She hated feeling helpless. Her eyes fell on her tormentor and clouded once again...who was this man, this man she had always felt she knew and yet had never really known?

“We’d better go inside,” James said when she made no move to leave, merely stood there with his jacket buttoned up around her, the scrap of ripped material that had once been her panties clutched in her hand. “They’ll miss us.”

She stuffed the material into a pocket as he took her arm, and, gently, ushered her inside.



Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 03



It was to be another two days before Emma ventured forth from her room again. Ever since that episode on the balcony that night, Emma had gone reclusive, not leaving her room even for meals, which Jordan brought to her. As her room at Brandeworth Manor was connected to a bathroom ensuit, there was no need for her to leave even for that, and Jordan did not at all mind doing the small favour for his sister. On Emma’s part, she did not really seem to notice whether or not food was brought to her at all, and seemed quite content to simply hide away.

It had gotten to a point, however, where Jordan was no longer content to simply bring her meals and sit and talk to her. Emma hardly seemed inclined to talk at all anymore, and he sensed that, far from being simply depressed as he had initially thought her to be, the problem ran far deeper.

In truth, Jordan was quite at a loss as to what to do, and when, after two days, Emma had shown no inclination whatsoever of recovering her spirits, he brought in the cavalry.

And thus it was that that Sunday, at eight-thirty in the morning, Jordan and Luc banged on Emma’s bedroom door, demanding to be let in.



“Go away!” Emma said blearily from her bed, her voice muffled by the pillow she had pulled over her head. “Sleeping.”



“Emma!” Luc and Jordan’s voices hollered in unison.



“Go ‘way!” Emma answered.



“Emma, if you don’t open this door, I’m calling James,” Luc threatened. “He has a key, you know.”



Emma made an incoherent sound of disgust and sat up, treading to the door and flinging it open. “What?” she demanded crossly.

“Good morning!” Jordan said brightly and skipped into the room, plunking himself down on the bed, making himself at home. He eyed with distaste the various items of clothing strewn about, seemingly debating with himself whether he dared to risk Emma’s wrath by cleaning her room. No, he decided finally. Better not risk it.

Emma, meanwhile, was regarding them both with something akin to murder in her eyes. “This better be good,” she said darkly. “Or I’ll make you both pay.”

“I hear you’ve been a bit of a hermit these days, Em,” Luc said with studied nonchalance, leaning against the wall. “Have another spat with James, did you?”

“Here now,” Jordan said, eyeing her curiously. “What’s this about?”

“I did not have a spat with James,” Emma said frigidly.

“Ah,” said Luc wisely. “A lover’s quarrel, then?”

“No!” Emma exclaimed, exasperated.

“Emma!” Jordan exclaimed at the same time. “You and James? Why the devil didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there’s nothing to tell!” Emma said angrily. “We’re not lovers! He’s nothing to me!”

“Aha!” Luc exclaimed. “There, you see?”

“Oh for the sake of the lord, Luc, if you’re going to be an ass, go away.”

“Alright, alright,” Luc conceded. “I’ll stop. You’re sure that there’s nothing going on there, though? James seemed quite... proprietary...with you the other night.”

“Nothing,” Emma said coldly. “Nothing at all.”

“All right,” Luc said, though clearly still disbelieving.

Emma sighed. She could see it was going to take some convincing to persuade Luc that she and James were not...lovers. He couldn’t be her lover if he’d forced her, could he? No...They were nothing to each other...nothing... Somehow, the thought didn’t bring as much comfort as it should have.

“Luc,” Emma said suddenly. “Do you remember that little plan we had - the one we decided on a few days ago?”

Luc regarded her with perplexity. “You don’t mean to go through with that, do you Em? Especially in light of...you know.”

“I do,” Emma said firmly. “I think it’s a perfect idea. In fact, we should put it straight into action right now. Can we leave today?”

“Well,” said Luc doubtfully, “I don’t know...”

“Please Luc,” Emma begged. “I really need to get out of this place.”

“Well, I can’t say I mind being used as an excuse,” Luc said with a grin. “But are you sure this is the best way to go about it? If you and James have had a falling out, then isn’t it better to stay and resolve things?”

Emma gritted her teeth. “We have not had a falling out,” she ground out. “We never had a ‘falling in’. I just want to leave, that’s all.”

Jordan was watching the both of them in fascination. “You’re serious, then, Emma?”

“Yes,” Emma said firmly. “As of now, Luc, we are engaged. We’re leaving tonight, and we’ll break up in a month, due to personal differences. You can break it off if you like.”

“Er -” said Luc.

“Excellent,” said Emma, “Its settled then.” And beaming, she danced into the bathroom. The other two, one her brother and the other her friend, exchanged glances, shook their heads in unison, then resignedly, walked out.

James was the only one in the morning parlour when she skipped down half an hour later, fresh and cheerful from her shower. She took one look at his grim, unsmiling visage, which was currently frowning at an unfortunate plate of bacon and eggs, and skipped right back out again. By this time however, James had, of course, noticed her, and his withering glower made her stop in her tracks and reluctantly walk in, forcing a semblance of serenity onto her features. She could hardly walk right out after he had seen her, could she?

Well, maybe she could, but something in her, something that had been bred in her since she had first learned to walk, repelled against the thought. After all, manners bred, and indicated, respect. As her mother had always said, if one did not respect others, one could not reasonably expect that same respect back from them. Ruefully, Emma thought that her sense of decorum would someday be the death of her. She would probably be fighting for her life against some crazed killer someday, kick him in the nuts, and then instead of running away sensibly, she’d probably stop, apologise, and ask if she could call an ambulance for him.

“Good morning,” James said coolly, setting aside his newspaper, and picking up his glass of apple juice. Emma smiled to herself, recalling his fondness for apple juice. Kit had always had a glass every morning, too, she thought, after they’d spent the night making love...But no. It hadn’t been Kit, had it? It had been James - James and his routine glass of apple juice. Oh, what a fool she’d been! She should have known, every time he’d fled just before the household awoke, that something was wrong... Impatiently, she brushed the thought aside, plastering a smile onto her face.

“Morning,” Emma said lightly, avoiding his eyes and taking the seat furthest possible from him. “Where is everyone else?”

“Gone shopping,” James said succinctly. “In Westbridge. Its just us until about six tonight, I think.”

“Oh,” said Emma, rather inadequately. “Is that the little Village just off North Road?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” said Emma again. She helped herself to a glass of apple juice, feeling oddly stupid. “Well, I should say goodbye, because I’ll be leaving this evening, and I probably won’t see you again.” Ever, she said silently.

James merely raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” he said lazily. “Running away, are we?”

“No,” Emma said defensively. “Just leaving. I have some business at home that can’t wait.”

“Surely it can wait a day more? It’s waited almost a week already, has it not?”

“N - no. I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

To her surprise, James got up out of his seat, and came over towards her, a grim look on his face. Too startled to move, she remained frozen in her seat, merely staring at him rather like a deer in headlights. She watched, bemused, as he dropped to his knees in front of her, planting one arm on the back of her chair and the other on the table, hemming her in, crowding her space yet again. He had a rather annoying habit of doing that, Emma thought irritably. Someday someone was going to punch his lights out. She just hoped she’d be there to see it!

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said abruptly. “Why?”

“I - I haven’t,” she denied shakily.

“You have. I’m not stupid, you know. I haven’t seen you for two days. Why have you been avoiding me?”

She glared at him, angry at his nerve for even asking the question. “Do you really have to ask?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast. Then, “Don’t leave, Emma,” he said gravely, startling her. “Please don’t leave.”

She had to smile. “Are you literally begging me on your knees?”

He smiled too. “If that’s what it takes.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, James, you’ve never sounded so sincere...” she paused, regarded him seriously, then smiled her sweetest smile. “How about...No.”

His eyes narrowed in irritation. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“It’s not that simple, Emma.”

Her eyes flashed. “Why not, James? It’s simple enough for you, when its something you want. You just take it. But when I want something? Oh, no, I’ve got to think of you, first. Are you really so selfish, James?”

She saw his knuckles go white as he clutched furiously at her chair and felt a stab of fear. Then suddenly, he relaxed. She saw him frown, as if wavering over something, and then his expression cleared, as if he had come to a decision. His lips curved on a smug, mocking smile, and he regarded her knowingly, his expression one of condescending indulgence. “Alright...if that’s what it’s going to take...If its marriage you want, I’ll marry you.”

The words were sudden, abrupt, unexpected. Emma’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening to saucer-like proportions. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “What?”

“That’s what you want is it? So be it. I’ll marry you.”

“Dear god, are you MAD?” She almost shrieked. “I can’t marry you!”

He cocked a brow at her, perplexed. “But why not?” His expression grew earnest. “I’ve told you, Emma. I love you.”

She brushed that aside. “Because - because I’m going to marry Luc, that’s why,” she said in a rush. “Yes - I’m marrying Luc, and I’m going away with him tonight, and that’s all there is to it, James. I can’t marry you. I don’t even like you!”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

Emma bristled. “What makes you say that?”

“There’s nothing the least loverlike towards the way Luc acts towards you. I’ve seen him, remember? I’m not blind. And the other night...out on the balcony...he said himself that you were only using him as an excuse. I’m not stupid, Emma. There’s nothing between you and Luc but friendship. In fact,” he continued, his eyes narrowing further as he looked at her, “I would say that there’s never been anything between you and anyone but friendship.”

Emma’s gaped at him, amazed at his sheer nerve. “Why, James?” she said finally, recovering her composure. Her tone was mocking. “Do you imagine that just because you - that is to say, Kit, because you do realise that that was who I thought it was - were the one who took my virginity, it means that there has been no one else? I am only human, James. I have needs. You are most certainly not the only man I’ve ever slept with...in fact, far from it. What makes you say it’s so unlikely that Luc and I are engaged?”

“Its impossible,” he said derisively. “I refuse to believe that you got engaged to him after that night - it’s been what, two days? He asked you to marry him even after knowing you were using him as an excuse?”

“No,” Emma said blithely, and satisfaction flashed in his eyes. “I asked him to marry me.” Well, it was sort of the truth, Emma thought wryly.

“What?” His incredulity was obvious.

“Is it really so hard to believe, James? Do you remember those two days you said that I’d been avoiding you? Well would you like to know where I spent them? In my room. In bed. Do you want to know with whom?”

“No,” James gritted, his face pale. “You’re lying.”

“Why should I?” Her voice was airy. “I’ve hardly anything to gain, now, have I? The fact of the matter is, I don’t need to make up some elaborate story just to reject your marriage proposal. Most people don’t - it’s simply a case of, no. But this is the truth, James. I just thought you deserved as much.” She had to say it, Emma justified to herself. She had to leave him with no illusions, whatsoever. But even as her justifications seemed logical and rational, a stab of completely irrational pain sliced through her heart at the wounded, betrayed expression on his face. He looked as if he were in physical pain, and she ached to take him into her arms, kiss him, and tell him it was all a lie. For a moment, she forgot the reason as to why she couldn’t.

But ah, there it was. This vulnerability of his, it was all but a lie. He seemed weak and hurt and wounded now, but the moment that she gave in, the moment that power returned to his hands, he would only use it to wound, to control her. And she could not allow that.



So she lied, and continued to lie. The words came easily now, flowing smoothly past her lips, so plausible that even she began to half believe them. “You’re not a fool, James. Surely even you must see that those...times...we were together...they meant nothing to me? A drop in the ocean, so to speak. And I can’t even say that I really enjoyed them - I don’t enjoy being forced.” A half truth...she had enjoyed it, involuntarily, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. 

There was a long, grim silence, then, “You could be pregnant,” James said suddenly, a triumphant look in his eye. 

“I could,” Emma agreed. “But then again, I might not be. And even if I was, there’s no guarantee the baby is yours, James.” She watched his face, saw his eyes darken with pain, and rage, and felt the fist around her heart clench tighter. It was for the best, she told herself fiercely. She had to be strong. “Besides which, we do live in age where we can now get rid of such...inconveniences...” Not that she ever would, of course. But he didn’t have to know that.

“You wouldn’t.” He ground out the words.

She shrugged. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. In any case, it’s a moot point, James. I’ll deal with it if and when it happens.”

“If you hurt our baby...” Emma opened her mouth to deny the existence of any such, but he cut her off. “Very well,” he bit off, rising to his feet. “If that is the way you wish it to be.” He inclined his head briefly to her, then, stiffly, walked out.

And Emma closed her eyes against the irrational tears that seemed to seep out, no matter what she did.

***

Home, at last, finally. It had been more than two weeks since her departure from the Brandeworth Estate, and it seemed that those few days spent were destined to come back and bite her on the posterior, no matter how long it had been since she’d left. First there had been the small matter of her brother - she’d abandoned him there and taken their car, and so had had to come back and pick him up. Then it turned out Luc - her supposed fiance - had actually gone off to France to be married, when he had been supposed to be spending time with her and proving to the world just how unaffected she was by James. Hell, she should have had a month, at least, of respite from the world, supposedly as Luc’s impromptu fiance. Who knew, maybe James would be knocking on her door at any minute. And now, with this last little development she’d only recently discovered...well, she’d deal with it. She always did.

She dropped her keys on the table in the hallway and trudged to the small, cramped kitchen, dumping her groceries on the old watermarked bench. Feeling too fatigued to do much more than that, she went to her bedroom, ignored the hole in the floor, kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed, closing her eyes for a quick catnap. 

Almost immediately, however, her eyes sprang open again. Creak, creak, creak. No, so she wasn’t imagining it. Kylie the Sex Kitten from upstairs was hard at work already. It wasn’t hard to imagine doing what, either.

Emma groaned. It was bad enough at night, but even now? Didn’t the girl ever rest? Eat? Sleep? She glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. She ought to probably eat - after all, she couldn’t afford not to.

It was nine by the time she’d finished the dishes and tidied everything up. She went to take out the trash - then stopped halfway through the doors as the elevator doors opened, and a familiar, tall, large, man stepped out. His eyes met hers from across the short distance between her apartment and the elevator, and Emma froze. Good lord - what was he doing here? The hysterical thought ran through her mind that he must have known, must have found out somehow, then disappeared just as quickly as she realised the need to flee, to get out of that timelock he seemed to have frozen her into somehow. 

As if in slow motion, Emma’s limbs came back into action, but too late, too late - even as she was stepping back, closing the door he had sprung forward, wedging an immaculately Gucci clad foot into her doorway. “Hello, Emma,” came the familiar, throaty voice. “Happy to see me?”

Her reply to this was to push harder at the door, hoping in vain that maybe he’d relent and step out of her apartment, out of her life. No such luck. With humiliating ease, he gave a little push and she found herself falling backwards, looking up to see him walk into her apartment with casual familiarity. The door shut behind him with a final sounding click.

“Get out of my house.” Her voice came out, not firm and confident as she’d hoped, but weak and trembling. God, how she hated the way he made her feel.

“What, no hug, no kiss? What reception is this, for an old friend?” He tisked. “I did expect better of your manners, Emma.” He looked around at the shabby furnishings, the peeling wallpaper, the old, dirty carpet. “Is this how you’re living these days? Shame on Luc...a poor way to treat his wife, I’d say...you are his wife, I assume, now?”

“N-no,” Emma stammered. “But I will be. Soon. Just as soon as Luc gets back from France.”

“Funny,” James looked at her slyly. “I never would have thought of Luc as the polygamous type.”

Emma felt cold. So he’d heard already, had he? Damn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Poor Emma,” James mocked with insincere pity. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the happy news. Luc’s on his honeymoon right now.”

Emma steeled herself. “I wish him happy, then,” she said calmly.

James eyed her with interest. “Not jealous, then?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m glad for him.” She was confused, unsure how to react. Should she act sad? No, better not to show any weakness to him. He was a predator - weakness was never wise. How ridiculous her charade had turned out to be! She settled for a small, grim smile. “I never did expect him to be serious - I never was.”

“Good,” said James, and grabbed her. His mouth came down on hers with hard, crushing brutality and she gasped, only realising her mistake when his tongue slid inside her mouth to plunder and ravage. His hands skimmed over her body, coming to a rest over the curve of her bottom. He kneaded for a moment, stroking and caressing her, then cupped and lifted, and suddenly Emma found herself with her legs wrapped around him, three feet off the ground. “I’m not going to make love to you standing against the wall again,” James muttered against her red, swollen mouth, ”Where’s your bedroom?”



“Wh-What?” Emma stuttered, dazed.

He cursed, and began walking, stopping every few moments to pause and open a door, then slam it shut again. It seemed he had opened every door in her tiny apartment before coming to her bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked, as he stepped inside, kicked the door shut behind him, then dumped her on the bed. Stupid girl - as if it wasn’t obvious!

He merely grunted in reply, stripping off his shirt and trousers. She stared in fascination at the scanty briefs that couldn’t seem to contain the throbbing erection between his legs. Then just as quickly, they were gone, and for the first time, it seemed, she got a good look at him. Oh my.




Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 03



He was large. Very large. And beautiful. She’d never thought she’d ever think of a man’s...thing...that way, but he was. She felt a strange compulsion to touch him, to stroke, and caress. She wanted to taste him. Odd - she’d never experienced any urge to do so before, not even when she had thought he was Kit. That time - that first time, when she had finally known it was he making love to her and not his brother - that was the first time she had ever...done it. But it had felt degrading then, and illicit, somehow. She did not want to think about then.

He was on top of her now, his mouth hungrily seeking hers. Instinctively, her lips parted - he slid inside, plundered, hot and wet. He rolled, and she found herself on top of him, her blouse gaping open, her bra tugged away. His hands gripped her waist, bent her forward, and Emma’s breast, quite suddenly, was in his mouth.

She let out a gasp of agonising pleasure. She felt hot, wanton, uninhibited, free. Freer than she’d ever felt in her life. She didn’t delude herself, this time, that he was forcing her. She wanted this. She wanted him.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it, afterwards.

Tugging herself away, she bent down, pressing her mouth against his bronzed, sculpted torso. There was a raw, masculine beauty in him, in the leashed power of his body. If only he wasn’t such an arrogant boor!



Her tongue touched his nipple and he groaned, closed his eyes and let his head drop back. “Oh, God, Emma,” he rasped. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, merely moved onto the other nipple, laving, then suckling at it. James’ hands crept into her hair, his fingers alternately caressing and twisting.

She moved down to his stomach, and he tensed. “Emma...” he began in a warning voice. “Do you -”

The rest of the sentence was cut off in a strangled gasp as she took him into her mouth, and he jackknifed forward. His fingers clenched in her hair. He uttered a weak moan, then dropped back, his entire body stiff with the strain of keeping himself from thrusting into her mouth. 

The taste, the scent of him filled her senses immediately. She experimented, bent down to try and take all of him. He was large - she couldn’t, but she tried anyway, and was rewarded with another agonised groan for her efforts. 

“Touch me,” James rasped. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

Emma complied, gingerly stroking him. He growled, low in his throat, his fingers clenching even tighter in her hair. Emma winced, but continued to caress him, wrapping her tongue around him. She suckled and he let out a yell of pleasure. Elated, she continued.

There was a new stiffening in his body. He seemed to grow larger in her mouth. “Emma,” James began, panting, “Emma, I’m - “ His hips bucked, thrusting involuntarily into her mouth. “Oh, god, Emma!”

She felt him before she tasted him, pouring into her mouth. Instinctively, she swallowed. His eyes widened. “Don’t - “ She ignored him, keeping her mouth sealed on him until he had spent the last of his seed in her mouth. At last, he finished, and she removed her mouth.

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” James said at last. “I shouldn’t have done that.” But there was an unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Silently, Emma crawled back up the bed, sliding under the covers. James reached out, drew her tightly to his side. There was a strange feeling of tightness in his chest, even after everything, after he’d believed he’d banished the last of that weakness. She curled up into his body and simply lay there. She did not sleep.

She did not sleep all night. James woke often, and before she knew it, he was on top of her, inside her. He made love to her almost constantly, sometimes rapid, hard, and explosive, sometimes slow and sweet and tender. She clawed at him, bit at him, leaving angry, passionate marks on him and he in turn marked her, his teeth sinking, it seemed, into every part of her body, even those she wouldn’t even have imagined it possible to bite.

Emma woke to the sensation of something hot, wet and probing between her legs. She sat up with a gasp, lifting the bedcovers and finding James’ head of dark silky hair between her thighs. “James,” she murmured weakly, before collapsing back onto the bed.

“Wider, sweetheart,” James’ voice, muffled, came from under the covers. Mindlessly, she did as ordered. He licked, lapped, and probed deep inside her some more, and she was soon orgasming around his tongue, not bothering to even muffle her cries of pleasure.

He crawled up her body, stopping as his face was level with her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, suckled, and Emma moaned. His lips travelled upwards, lingering in the curve of her throat. He licked the length of her neck, sank his teeth into her. She moaned. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Delicious.”

His mouth sealed over hers, his tongue, tasting of her, filling her mouth. His hips settled into the cradle of hers, she felt him probing at her entrance, and then he was inside her, full and thick and heavy, pulsing with arousal. She was so swollen from her orgasm that he felt impossibly huge inside her.

And then he began to move.

Long, fast strokes, rapidly in and out, his hips grinding against her, his shaft sliding in and out of her with slick and frantic lunges. She whimpered, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He let out a low growl, digging his fingers into her hips as he lifted her, forced her up to meet his thrusts, to take him deep, deeper than before.

“James,” Emma gasped, writhing, yet unable to move in his iron grip.

“Say it again,” James ground out. “Say my name.”

“James. James, oh, god, James. I love you.”

He stilled, suddenly, his glittering green eyes blazing into hers. Then he growled again, low, reverberating in his throat, and quickened his thrusts, clasping her closer against him so her breasts were crushed against his chest, her face buried against the strong column of his throat.

He pumped rapidly, ever harder inside her, their two bodies joined as if one. And quite suddenly, the moment came. He let out an exultant roar of ecstasy, spilling himself inside her, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. It had never been like this. Never. He recovered in time to feel her pulsing against him, clenching around his cock. He smiled, his eyes closed, and collapsed atop her. He did not care, at that moment, that he was probably too heavy for him. What mattered was the fact that she was his, that he was inside and on top of her, and that was where he wanted to be.

“Shit,” James said sometime later. 

“What is it?” Emma stirred sleepily from on top of him. He’d rolled over soon after he’d realised he’d probably been suffocating her.

“I’ve got to go. I have an appointment this afternoon.”

“What time?”

“Three,” he answered. “Its almost two-thirty. I have to run, sweetheart.”

“Ok,” Emma said sleepily, and closed her eyes again. She was warm and comfortable. She wasn’t going to move.

“Emma,” James said after a moment.

She opened one eye. “Hmm?”

“I have to go.”

She felt vaguely irritated. “Ok.”

Her eyes closed again.

“Emma...” There was a note of rueful amusement in her voice.

“What?” This time she woke fully, sitting up on top of him in some exasperation. “What is it?”

“I really do need to go.”

“So go!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re on top of me.”

Emma looked down to find herself straddling him. “Oh,” she murmured, and climbed off him. He smiled at her, his teeth flashing white in the leonine face, and slid out of bed. Emma lay in bed, the bedcovers drawn up around her and watched while he dressed.


“James,” she said, suddenly. “What - What does all this mean? Why did you come to find me?”

His face grew suddenly cold, distant. “What do you mean?” he said coolly.

“Well...you - you came here. To find me. What does that mean?” She wanted to hear him say it, she realised. She needed to hear it.

His eyes seemed shuttered, closed now, as they looked at her. “What do you think, Emma?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you imagine, perhaps, that I had come to declare my love for you yet again?”

Her face flushed bright red. She had so hoped...

“That, perhaps, I had come to beg you to reconsider my suit? Just so you could throw it back in my face again? I may have been foolish, Emma, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I am no fool now.”

“I never said you were,” she said, cold fingers clutching at her heart. “So - so this was, was just sex?”

He smiled. “Not just sex, sweetheart. Great sex. And what else does one need, after all?” So saying, he bent down, kissed her thoroughly, then left the house. She heard the front door close behind him.

And wanted to cry, yet again.

A short while longer, the bedsprings from the house upstairs started again.

* * *

She went through the rest of the day mindlessly, in a horrified sort of daze. He didn’t love her. Dear god - she’d told him she loved him. Had she really? Yes - yes, she had. And it was true, she realised with an ever more sinking heart. She did love him. Now, when it was too late, when she was carrying his child and he thought of her only as a vessel for his sexual gratification, she suddenly realised she loved him. Oh, if it had only come sooner! If only she known, before, when he had offered her everything and the world...

But it was no use crying over the past. There was nothing she could do now. She knew one thing, though...she couldn’t continue to have an affair with him. It would hurt too much, when he finally tired of her and cast her off. And the baby would show soon, too, and she could not bear the thought of him rejecting their child, too...

She had been interrupted in taking out the trash last night - by him, of course - she had to do it tonight. As she opened the apartment door, the elevator doors pinged, the down arrow lighting up and the doors sliding open. James stepped out. Her eyes met his, fleetingly, then she continued her task, resolutely ignoring him until she was done. Brows raised, he followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Emma headed for the kitchen. He followed, stopping beside her.

“There’s something we have to talk about,” Emma said briefly.

He merely looked at her, silent.

“I - I can’t see you anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “Explain,” he said with deadly precision.

“I just - I can’t.”

“So what prompted this sudden change of heart?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes widened. Something had just occurred to her. The light on the elevator...it had lit up the down arrow... “Did you just come down from upstairs?” she demanded abruptly.

James appeared puzzled. “As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Why?”

“And do you happen to be acquainted with a certain young woman by the name of Kylie, by any chance?”

He seemed even more perplexed. “Do you mean Kyriane?”

Emma’s lip curled. “Is that her name, then?”

“Yes, I do. She’s my - “ Emma didn’t wait to hear more. Her hand struck out, slapping him soundly across the face. He barely flinched, but his face flushed darkly.

“What was that for?” he said softly, dangerously.

She kicked him. “As if you don’t know,” hissed furiously. She pummelled his chest, but only managed to hurt her fists. “You lying, cheating - “

James caught her wrists in one hand, held her easily. “Stop that,” he said impatiently. “You’re only going to hurt yourself. And if you hit me one more time, darling, I’m going to spank you.”

Emma stamped on his foot. Hard. He winced, then just as quickly hauled her against him, stroked his hand down her back and to her derriere, lingered for just a moment, and slapped her, hard enough to make her eyes widen in surprise. She gasped, winced, and stared at him accusingly. “You hit me!” she said, sounding shocked and horrified all at once, her pride more injured than her bottom. 

“Hardly, darling,” James murmured disdainfully. “Besides, you started it.”

“Oh!” Emma resisted the urge to stamp her foot and scream. She contented herself with merely wrenching away from his tight grasp, telling him flatly that she never wanted to see him again, then storming off into her bedroom. She slammed the door in his face, locked it with a satisfying click.

“Emma,” James called from the other side. “Emma, open the door.”

“No!” Emma shouted back. “Go away!”

After a minute of silence, she heard a sigh, and then his footsteps walking away. Curiously enough, she felt a pang. Then there was the sound of the front door opening, and closing faintly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone. Good.

The thought wasn’t in the least comforting.

Wiping away the few stray tears that had somehow managed to leak out despite her best attempts to keep them in, she straightened up, then grabbed her bathrobe, figuring a shower would cheer her up. A nice, long, hot shower, where she’d drown her sorrows in the calming rain of the water.

Opening her bedroom door, she headed for the bathroom, turned the water on, stripped quickly out of her bathrobe and stepped under the warm spray. It felt wonderful.

The bathroom door opened behind her and she spun around with a stifled scream, staring in amazement through the clear glass walls of her shower unit at the man who had simply walked into her bathroom and was even now in the process of divesting himself of his tie and shirt.

“You!” Emma gasped her astonishment. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” James demanded grimly. “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

“No,” Emma said, backing away. “Oh no, not that again. You can’t just - just decide to fuck me whenever you want, James. I’m not your whore. In fact, you already have a whore! Why don’t you go to her?”

“I want you,” James said simply, and sliding the glass door open, he stepped into the shower with her.

“Why?” Emma whispered, pain in her eyes.

James shrugged. “You turn me on.” The evidence was there, for her to see. Only she didn’t want to see it. She turned away, her back to him, facing the wall.

It didn’t deter him. He merely began to attack her senses from behind.

“I’ll scream,” Emma warned.

James laughed. “Go ahead,” he invited. “I don’t expect anyone would hear you, and in any case, its not as if they haven’t heard you scream before.” She flushed bright red. “And don’t you remember? I told you I love it when you scream.”

She bit her lips in frustration, when she felt his hands, large and rough and warm, on her shoulders, unable to do anything to stop him. He kneaded gently, working out the stiffness, and she couldn’t stifle the groan of relief that tore from her. Emma could almost feel him smile.

His hands slid down, cup her breasts. She looked down, feeling weak, at the sight of his large, dark hands holding her breasts. His fingers, long and skilled, stroked her lazily, his thumb brushing over the stiffening buds of her nipples. Her head dropping forward, and he took immediate advantage, bending to press his body against her, his mouth, hot and wet, against the nape of her neck, his tongue flicking out to touch and taste her intimately.

Emma let out a muffled sigh as she felt his teeth graze her throat, then bite into her. He was like an animal sometimes, and the worst thing was, it excited her. God, and she called herself civilised!

“Place your hands against the wall,” James whispered against her ear. He nipped at it playfully, and mindlessly, she obeyed. “Now part your legs. Wider.”

One hand slid from her breasts down to her thighs, before dipping between them and quite suddenly, sliding one long finger inside her slick, hot, wetness. They let out a simultaneous groan. Slowly, he slid his finger out, then in again. Emma gasped - let out a whimper. A second finger joined the first, then a third. Her head had dropped back against his chest, and his other hand was now clenching and unclenching around her breast in his arousal, almost without his notice. His cock was straining against her buttocks, and he ached with the need to simply shove it up inside her.

“James,” Emma pleaded. “James...”

“What is it, Emma? What do you want? Tell me.”

“I need you.”

“Beg me.” His voice was soft, silken.

“James...please...I need you.”

His control snapped. Positioning himself, he plunged himself inside her savagely, closing his eyes as her hot wetness enveloped him. She let out a cry at the sensation of fullness as he filled her, took her.

He thrust, grabbing her hips and working himself deep inside her, rapidly, almost brutally. Emma’s fists clenched - she braced herself against the wall, her head dropping down. The beat of the water against their backs no longer seemed calm, lazy, luxuriant, but now seemed to drum out an ever increasingly frantic beat. He seemed to want to get completely inside her, so deeply was he driving himself into her. Low, deep sounds emanated from his chest, his teeth ground together, sweat beaded on his forehead. His fingers on her hips forced her back against him as he pumped into her, pleasure filled, agonising groans tore from his throat with every deep thrust.

His cock was so deeply embedded inside her, filing her so completely, she felt like he was touching every part of her body. His thrusts, ever quickening, seemed more rapid than ever. As he seemed to reach orgasm, he lent over, biting her shoulder and letting out a loud groan, and she, too, came, her screams echoing around the bathroom. She pulsed around him, seemed to sag against the wall, merely enjoying the sensation of his seed pumping inside her, marking her as his possession. Almost as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, his arms wrapped around her possessively, drawing her back against his body, supporting her.

“Now...what was that you said about not being able to see me again?” James murmured into her ear.

Emma stiffened. “I meant it,” she said, softly. “I still do. This can’t go on, James.”

He said nothing for a moment, and there was only the sound of the spray of water around them. “You told me you loved me,” he said finally. “Don’t say something that you’ll regret later on, Emma.”

Emma steeled herself. She looked up into his eyes, her brows raised inquiringly. “You didn’t really believe me, did you?” she asked with cheerful embarrassment. “You know people say all sorts of odd things when they’re...you know...”

“Coming?” James suggested dryly. “Climaxing? Orgasming?”

“Yes,” Emma said, feeling ridiculously gauche.

“I see.”

“Yes. And, well, to be honest, James, I’m glad I’ve gotten you out of my system. Its time I moved on. I haven’t had a good few weeks.” Inspiration struck. “What with Luc and all.”

His eyes had grown cold, shuttered, though the body he held her against was as warm and strong and alive as ever. “Of course.”

She willed her voice to stay steady. “And I expect you’d like to move on as well. We probably needed to get each other out of our systems. Repression and all that.”

“Yes. Repression. Of course.”

“Well...”

“I’m leaving,” James said abruptly.

He left as quickly and silently as he came, and Emma felt, at that moment, all the loneliness of before come crashing back. Except that this time, she did not even have that tiny flicker of hope which she had cherished before. Now, she had nothing.

Except his child. And that, she vowed fiercely, he was never going to find out.

* * *

“Emma!” There was a loud, irritating banging on the front door. Emma opened a bleary eye from where she was sprawled across the old sagging couch. “Emma, love, open the door. Its me, Luc.”

Oh, Luc. She’d thought it was Jordan again. Her brother had been pestering her all month, and she was in no mood for more. She closed her eyes again.

“Emma! If you don’t open up, I’m going to tell James about the baby!”

Shit. How on earth had he found out? Fool - Jordan, of course. The little rat had probably spilled all the beans when she’d started refusing to let him in. Sighing tiredly, she heaved herself up and went to open the door.




Love...and Love Intensely Ch. 03



She’d run into James twice more after he’d left that last time, and both times he’d been on his way up, to see Kylie or Kyriane or whatever her name was. She’d had to endure listening to the bedsprings from upstairs creak and wonder if it had been James up there every time. Not even the loudest heavy metal music could drown out the creaking of those springs, and besides, people had started banging on her walls when she’d turned it up really loud. 

Luc burst into the room, took one look at her dishevelled state and the ruins of an apartment around her, and immediately took her into his arms. “Poor Emma,” Luc murmured consolingly. “You’re not feeling well at all, are you?”

Emma shook her head piteously.

“Come on then. I’ll make you a cup of tea and something to eat, and you can tell me all about it.” He led the way into the kitchen and she followed.

One mug of hot tea and a sandwich later, Luc was holding her hand while she sobbed her heart out.

“That’s it,” he was murmuring consolingly. “Just let it all out.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Emma was hiccupping. “I’ve thought and thought and I just don’t know! I mean...I have a job, and some savings, but when the baby’s born I’ll have to quit it, and then what will I do? I can’t afford not to have a job!”

“Maybe you should talk to James,” Luc suggested gently.

“Are you kidding? He doesn’t want anything to do with me. What would he care about a baby? He cares nothing for me.”

“Doesn’t he?” Luc smiled. “I know he’s been storming around like a bear with a sore head for the last couple of weeks. And I know why.”

Emma’s chin jutted out defiantly. “And even if he wanted anything to do with me, I don’t want anything to do with him. He - he’s shagging the whore upstairs!”

Luc burst out laughing. “Shagging, Emma?” he queried with brows raised. “Shagging?”

“Well, he’s sleeping with her,” she amended. “He went straight from me to her!”

“Yes, but how do you know he’s sleeping with her? They might just be friends, or business acquaintances or some such thing.”

“Her apartment is directly above mine,” Emma replied dryly. “I can hear the bedsprings creak. What do you suppose they’re doing? Simply playing ‘jumping castle’?”

“I suppose not,” Luc said ruefully. “In any case, you can’t keep living like this. You’ve got to get yourself together, Emma, if only for the baby’s sake. Come on, I’ll take you out to dinner, and you can get drunk one last time, and then we’ll come back and sleep on the floor one last time before I get the crew in and clean up. Deal?”

“I don’t get drunk,” Emma informed him indignantly. “And I’ve never slept on the floor in my life! Besides, won’t your wife object if you spend the night with me?”

“Well, might as well get it out of your system,” Luc replied pragmatically. “Better now than when the baby really starts to show. And my wife’s not my wife anymore. She did a runner on our honeymoon. By the way, have you been eating? You seem to be gaining weight.”

“Wonderful, Luc,” Emma said with mock sarcasm. “Thanks for telling me I’m getting fat. That’s sure to cheer me up.”

Luc shrugged. “Go freshen up, eh? Then we’ll go.”

* * *

They spent the night at a cheap bistro where she could eat as much as she want and drink as much as she want, without getting noticed, with the result that by the time Luc got round to taking her home she could barely stand without leaning on something.

They staggered into the elevator together, Emma laughing hysterically at something he’d said. “You know, Luc,” she giggled, her hand stroking her stomach. “I think I’ll survive after all.” The elevator doors opened. “I might actually look forward to having this baby.”

Emma stopped dead in her tracks, leaning heavily on Luc. Luc’s eyes widened and he said in a slightly singsong voice, “Uh-oh.”

“Hello, Emma,” said James, with a dangerous smile. “Did you enjoy yourself, children?”

“Goodbye, love,” Luc said with a hiccup. “Afraid you’ll have to sleep on the floor by yourself tonight. I’m not up to getting beat to a pulp. Not even for you.” So saying, he gave her a little push and she stumbled toward James, then lurched back into the elevator. The doors closed with a ping.

James caught her before she could bang into the wall. “Whoops,” she said cheerfully, leaning against him. “Must find the keys!”

“Give me your bag,” James said impatiently, then rifled through it quickly. He couldn’t seem to find the damn things. “Where are they?”

“Hmm,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Must be in my pocket somewhere.” She struggled, clumsily, to dig into the pockets of the tight fitting jeans to no avail.

“Here,” said James, exasperated. “Lean on me. Both hands.” She did as ordered, then stood stock still, shocked, as she felt his hands sliding into her front pockets. “Not here,” he announced grimly. “Turn a bit.” He slid his hands into her back pockets. She gave a little gasp, feeling his fingers curl and scoop out the keys. He didn’t seem to notice as he efficiently inserted the key into the lock and turned the doorknob.

Emma had sobered up by now, realising, perhaps, the seriousness of the situation. He knew - or at least, he knew that she was pregnant. He didn’t know by whom.

James flicked the switch and the kitchen lit up. He gazed, vaguely disgusted, at the mess of the kitchen. Dishes cluttered up the sink, the bench top. There was an opened, but untouched, bottle of wine on the table. “Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair for her. Emma sat.

“Now,” said James, remaining on his feet and looking down at him. “Care to tell me just what the hell Luc was doing here?”

Emma shrugged. “That’s none of your business,” she said, struggling to sound cool and composed.

“It damn well is my business!” James raged. “He was here, with you. That makes it my business!”

She looked away. “I don’t see how.”

“When someone is running around with what belongs to me behind my back,” James said coldly, “I generally make it my business.”

She glowered. “What do you care? Its not as though I mean anything to you.”

“You mean everything to me!” James shouted. “That’s the damn point!” His tone softened. “And what about the baby, Emma? When were you going to tell me, Em?”

“I don’t see why I should have.”

His eyes widened, and she thought there was just the tiniest hint of pain in them. “You don’t think I had a right to know about my own child?”

“It’s not as though you wanted it, or as if you cared.” Quickly she realised her mistake and amended, “It’s not as though its yours.”

His lip curled. “Nice try, sweetheart. Jordan’s told me everything. There’s no point denying it. The baby is mine. You’re mine.”

She looked up at him at last, her eyes flashing. “I don’t belong to anybody!”

“You belong to me, Emma. You carry my child within you. You’ve been mine the moment I laid eyes on you. Do you know how it killed me, having to pretend for those entire months while you believed you were Kit’s fiance? How, during the nights you’d lie in my arms and yet in the days would not look twice at me? Your eyes were all for Kit, and he didn’t even know you were alive, half the time! And then those months that I waited, waited for you to recover and finally move on, so I, at last, could court you. I’ve waited, Emma. I’ve waited for longer than you could imagine. And now I’m tired of waiting.”

Her lips parted, her eyes bewildered.

“I’m not going to force you. I’ve had enough of that. I’ve had enough of the uncertainty, the constant terror that you’re going to just disappear. Choose, Emma. Choose. I can go, or I can stay. Which is it to be?”

She shook her head, numbly.

“I love you, Emma.”

Emma stared at him. “But - but you said - it was just sex. And what about Kylie?” Her voice hardened. “Or Kyriane. Whatever her name is from upstairs with the noisy bed.”

James smiled. “Jealous, darling?” he taunted softly.

She looked away. “No,” she denied.

He bent down to cup her face in her hands. “Liar.”

Emma scowled. “What were you doing with her anyway?”

He grinned. “You won’t believe this - but she’s my cousin. Actually, she made me sit in the living room while she serviced her boyfriends. It made for bloody awkward conversation, I can tell you.”

“What?” Emma was astonished. “You’re related to Kylie the Sex Kitten? And here I was, thinking the Brandeworths were all high and mighty posh types...”

“Good lord!” James laughed out loud. “Is that what you call her? By the way, she’s related to me on my mother’s side. Not a Brandeworth, you see!”

“Its what everyone calls her. She’s famous in this building.”

“Hmm. I daresay Uncle George isn’t going to be pleased about that. He never has been, about her chosen profession. But never mind. Well? What’s your answer?”

“I love you.” Her eyes widened. The words had slipped from her lips, involuntarily. She groaned, closed her eyes for a moment then leapt to her feet and ran for the bedroom, intending to lock herself in. Startled, James remained frozen for a moment, then bounded after her. He wedged his foot into the crack just before the door slammed. He winced when the door banged into his foot. Pushing slowly, but inextricably, he managed to open to door wide enough to get inside. He grabbed both her arms, and held her against the wall. “What did you say?” James demanded.

Emma flushed. “I – You – you heard.”

“Say it, Emma.”

“I love you.”

James groaned, buried his face in her throat. “God, I thought I'd never hear you say those sweet words again. I was so stupid, sweetheart, forgive me…Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Do you belong to me? As I belong to you?”

“James…I love you. I’m yours. No matter what happens, I will always be yours, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

He shouted out exultantly. “And I love you. I’ll never stop loving you, sweetheart. And I’ll never stop belonging to you, either. And are you going to marry me? And have my child? And many more as well?”

She smiled shyly. “Do you really love me, James?”

“Little idiot,” he kissed her, and she suddenly found herself with a mouthful of tongue. “As if anyone could not.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.

“Good,” James said, satisfaction emanating from every part of his body. His eyes gleamed with a fierce possessiveness. “Now kiss me.”

“Ok.” She brushed her mouth against his.

“Not like that,” he murmured against her lips. “Like this.” And then he was kissing her, hard, fiercely, with an unrestrained joy and a hungry, savage possessiveness. He picked her up, hefting her over his shoulder rather like the proverbial caveman claiming his woman. 

Emma did not mind. In fact, she quite found that she thoroughly enjoyed being loved...and loved intensely.

The End.