The Eccedentesiast

Chapter Forty-four

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Chapter Forty-four
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Emma couldn't stop biting her lips or cracking her knuckles. She couldn't stop thinking about jumping Emiliano once he opened one of the double doors. She wanted to so badly surprise him with the sight of her standing in only sweats and a baggy shirt—maybe not the sight but just the fact that she's here.

She tilted her head from side to side as if she was singing a kid's song and leaned on one hip until she switched to the other.

She stepped back again and looked at the windows that were on either side of the front entrance. It was still dark inside which meant he didn't hear her ring the doorbell or he was ignoring it until whoever he thought was outside left. But that wouldn't be possible because nobody can come in through the front gates unless they knew the six-digit code—which she did.

She started getting a little mad, it was cold outside and it didn't cross her mind—not once—that she might need a sweater.

She sighed once again and pressed her finger down on the small button beside the doors. She pressed it multiple times, she could almost hear it echoing from inside.

Finally, she smiled, the lights in the foyer went on and she's never been so happy to see light before. She waited patiently—sort of. When a door finally opened, she couldn't help herself. She jumped into his arms, leaving her bag outside on the front steps.

Her lips crashed into his and the heat of his body radiated through the hands that she had on his hairy chest.

He kissed her back immediately, the kiss she just gave him woke him up with a jolt of electricity, and he wanted to get zapped again and again.

"What . . ." he kissed down her jaw, ". . . are . . ." he viciously gripped onto one of her clothed butt cheeks, ". . . you . . ." he went back to her lips, ". . . doing here."

Emma moaned, feeling his hands pull her hips down to meet with his. "I missed you." She kissed him feverishly.

"Dammit, Emma." He gripped the back of her head, tangling her hair through his thick fingers. "You're driving me crazy."

They looked into each other's eyes. Not one of them said a thing. They felt so close, their minds felt palpable, and their feelings, too.

She brought her hands up to his face and cupped it with both. She rested her forehead against his, starting to thrust once more against him. He clenched his jaw. She moaned when he pulled her head back to kiss and bite her throat. She's never felt this way before, not even the other times they've slept together made her feel this real and fictional at the same time.

He sucked on her skin and soothed her with his tongue. She moaned—his reward. She pulled at the nape of his neck as he pulled back her head. She moaned louder when he yanked her head towards his lips. It hurt so bad and so good.

He pulled away to find some sort of surface to lay her on. He didn't want to walk up to his bedroom so with one arm, he pushed the vase with water and flowers inside to the shiny floor and sat her down on the table in the middle of the foyer.

She tried pulling down his boxer briefs but he violently pulled her hands away. His grip on her wrists always left bruises—he always left marks on her body looking like a tattoo.