Only His | (Book 1) 18+

eight

EMARA
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For all of the years I have gone to the gym, there was nothing as tiring as the exercises that Kade put me through. You would think he was in the Olympics because of how much stamina he had.

The thought of his tongue against me had my thighs clenching, or the movement of his hips as he thrust into me — no, no, no.

I was becoming incredibly needy for his touch suddenly, and in such a short time. Not even twenty-four hours.

If I keep thinking about him, I'll end up begging him to come home.

I sat on his couch in the living room with the end of my pen between my teeth, thinking back to the activities that were done in just the room upstairs. Kade had to run some errands for his businesses after giving me a nice long kiss that ended up with him pounding into me again, but he trusted that I would behave until he got back; that meant no messes in his house, no emptying his fridge, and no teasing pictures or videos.

I broke two of the three rules and by the looks of the clean apartment, it wasn't the messy rule of the three.

I looked at the papers in front of me, chewing on the pen. My phone buzzed and I jumped, looking at my screen and slowly grinning at the message.

K: Knock it off with the teasing pictures, I'm in a meeting

I raised a single eyebrow.

E: Make me

I turned my phone off but I bit my lip even harder when it immediately went off. I opened the message and inhaled slowly.

K: You really don't want to test me, baby

I really wanted to test him. I found myself looking through pictures that I had taken of myself. It was odd how I never felt the need to tease Tristan whenever he was at work but the moment Kade told me not to test him, I wanted to do everything in my power to make his meeting the most uncomfortable he has ever had.

I picked a photo of myself on the floor in Kade's guest bedroom in front of the giant mirror wearing a baby blue set of lingerie. The bra barely contained my breasts, the underwear I wore matching. What I personally loved the straps that clipped onto a pair of white stockings, finishing off the entire look.

Why did I have this photo? Exactly for this reason.

Swallowing my pride, I sent the photo.

E: Oops

I turned my phone off and threw it on the love-seat across from me, turning back to my MacBook with a red face. I bit my lip and looked through the people hiring for jobs, zoning in on the apprenticeships for a couple of well-known fashion lines.

The chances of me getting applied were a fifty-fifty; the pro because I had my own growing fashion line that tens of thousands of people were waiting to be released; a con because I never had a name for myself. I had to make myself recognized in this industry.

My phone began to shrill and I sighed, standing up and grabbing it.

"Emara speaking," I mumbled, going back to my MacBook and beginning to put in an application to the job, followed by a copy of my resumé and a cover letter.