Page 35 of A Touch of Fate

I heard the soft squeal of the wheelchair tires before Emma appeared in the doorway, shrouded in shadows. She was already in her nightgown. Her slim calves and elegant bare feet poked out despite the chill in the house.

She worried her lower lip as she watched me silently for a minute.

She wheeled over to me. I wished she would stop trying to drag me out from behind the walls I’d built, but I could see she wanted to try. She didn’t need my worries on top of her own.

I glanced away. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

I had avoided her for the past few days. Part of it to make it easier on me resisting her. My body called for her closeness. The other was my stubborn streak. I regretted my decision to forbid Emma from taking dance lessons, but admitting to it wasn’t easy.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked in her clear, gentle voice. “I’ve missed you these past few nights.”

Her vulnerable admittance surprised me. After she’d pushed me away, I had thought she would prefer a little distance too. I knew she was eager for my touch, had been that day too, but my father had been very clear in regard to certain lines even men with our power shouldn’t cross.

“I can’t sleep. I’ll return to work once I’m done with my drink.

” Or rather my drinks. On nights like this one, Scotch was never enough.

While Dante steered the Outfit toward more political involvement in Chicago, the overall mood in my city was to stick to our traditions even more than ever.

The Traditionalists were growing stronger again, asking to make bloody statements that would put the Bratva and our other enemies in place.

Father and I needed to decide whether we’d do that in Minneapolis and possibly risk the death of more soldiers for a limited time.

I knew the pressure on Danilo and Cincinatti was even higher, considering their territories bordered Famiglia territory.

Nights like this had become the standard.

Would a harder line condemn more young men to their deaths?

My gaze found the photo of Domenico, Arlo, and Enea.

Emma followed my gaze. “I want to help you, Samuel.”

I didn’t react.

“I’m a good listener.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I clipped.

Emma stopped right beside me. “Please let me help you, Samuel.”

My fingers around the glass tightened. “You can’t help me, so stop trying.” My words were harsher than intended.

Emma didn’t seem bothered by my tone. She simply nodded, but she still didn’t leave. “Then let me take care of you.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant until she arrested the brakes of her wheelchair and set down her bare feet on the floor.

Gripping my knees for support, she pushed forward, then slid to her knees before me.

I sat up abruptly and grasped her frail wrists in one of mine to stop her hands from reaching for my zipper.

“What are you doing?” I rasped. I’d dreamed about this, but I hadn’t expected Emma to make the first move.

“I’m going to take care of you.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped my zipper. “Or don’t you want me to?” The last part was said with a teasing smile that sent more blood down into my cock.

“I don’t want you to,” I said, but that wasn’t true. The idea of Emma giving me a blow job had crossed my mind repeatedly.

She raised her eyebrows, detecting the lie. Emma could read me better than many others. Maybe it was a good thing in a marriage, but it also made it harder to hide all the baggage I was carrying.

I shook my head with a sardonic smile, then I sighed. “I wasn’t sure you wanted it. Are you sure?”

She narrowed her eyes, and I could tell how angry my words made her, which surprised me. I thought she might be grateful for my consideration. I knew some women didn’t like giving head, and Emma was still very inexperienced.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just want to treat my wife right.”

“If I want to go down on you and offer to do it, you can be certain that I’m sure.”

I settled back against the armchair.

Her nimble fingers did quick work of my fly, pulling it down, and then she freed my cock, which was already half erect from just seeing her kneeling before me.

She curled her fingers around the base, squeezing hard so my cock twitched and filled with even more blood.

She leaned forward, her lips parting, and then she took my tip into her mouth.

I groaned at the feel of her heat enveloping me.

She took her time sucking and licking my tip, her eyes closed.

She was testing it out, and she was doing a good job.

Her hot mouth and teasing tongue relaxed my tense muscles and banished some of the darkness that cloaked my thoughts.

I began bucking my hips lightly, and she got my clue and took more of me into her mouth.

One of her hands began massaging my balls while she sucked me deeper and deeper into her mouth.

I moaned and leaned back against the backrest. Despite the tiredness that beckoned me to close my eyes, I kept watching Emma.

Sometimes she opened her eyes to follow her tongue tracing along my shaft.

I could tell she enjoyed this, and fuck, that was an additional turn-on.

“Suck harder,” I growled when I felt myself getting closer to release and Emma didn’t hesitate. Soon my hands gripped the armrest tightly, and my hips thrust up in rhythm with her sucking.

“I’m coming,” I warned seconds before my balls tightened. Emma’s hold around my shaft tightened, and she took me deeply into her mouth, and then my orgasm slammed into me. My head fell back, and my eyes fell shut as I pumped upward, my balls twitching as I released into Emma’s mouth.

I basked in the sensations, the feel of Emma’s silky tongue and lips, her heat and fierce pounding of my heart reminding me I was still very much alive. My cock stopped twitching, but Emma kept sucking me. Fuck, this felt good. Slowly, she released me.

When I opened my eyes, Emma still clutched my now softening cock, and she licked her lips, then her eyes darted up to meet mine.

Lust and embarrassment mingled in her brown eyes, a potent mix that set my blood on fire.

Some of my cum had dribbled down her chin and slid down between the valley of her pretty tits.

I wanted to give back. I wanted to taste her.

I wasn’t usually someone who gave oral. Not with the whores or my one-night stands.

A long time ago with my affairs, I had given on occasion, but now with Emma, I was desperate to eat her out, to taste her pussy, to claim her with my tongue and mouth like my cock and fingers had done.

Emma searched my eyes. “Was that okay for you?”

I let out a hoarse laugh and leaned forward, gripping her chin and pressing a kiss to her swollen lips. “It was more than okay, Emma. It was exactly what I needed, but now it’s my turn to give you what you need.”

She flushed, desire flashing in her eyes. Yes, she wanted my mouth on her pussy as much as I’d needed to come in her mouth. I stood, allowing my pants to slide down. Emma looked at my half-erect cock and bit her lip, then darted her gaze up to me. I couldn’t wait to be buried between her legs.

Samuel picked me up and hoisted me into his armchair.

I was completely surprised by his actions.

His gaze holding mine, he slipped his hands below my nightgown and gripped the waistband of my panties.

Slowly, he dragged them down. I stifled a gasp when the fabric came loose from where it stuck to my heated flesh.

My cheeks flushed when Samuel retrieved my drenched panties. His eyes took in their state and filled with a feral lust that increased the pounding between my legs. “I’m glad you enjoyed sucking me off.”

I had, but hearing him say it still drove heat into my cheeks. Enjoying sex, especially oral, wasn’t something that was part of our world’s programming of women. “I did,” I admitted, wanting to be honest. “And I want to do it again.”

A smirk ghosted over his face. “You will, Emma.”

His low growl made me ache for his touch in a torturous way.

As if he could sense my rising need, he pushed my legs apart and draped them over the armrests.

He gripped the hem of my nightgown and exposed my dripping center.

A new wave of embarrassment washed down on me, but I didn’t lower my gaze.

I’d come to hate people averting their eyes, and I didn’t want to do it with my husband.

Samuel didn’t give me much time to be embarrassed. Without another word, he leaned forward, bowed his head over my heated flesh, and dragged his tongue from my opening to my clit.

My hips twitched, and my hands shot out to grip the armrest. Samuel gripped my outer thighs hard and pulled my ass closer to the edge before he pressed his mouth to my pussy and dipped his tongue into me.

“Samuel,” I exclaimed. I was still a bit hesitant because of my state of arousal, wondering how it tasted for Samuel.

He briefly let up, his eyes arresting mine.

“Trust me, Emma, I like everything about this. Your delicious taste.” He dragged his tongue ever so slowly over my opening.

“The sounds coming from your mouth. Seeing proof of how much you got off on sucking my cock, and tasting how much you enjoy me eating you out. And now relax and let me lick that pussy like it deserves to be licked. I want you to come on my tongue.”

I was stunned by his words. So far, Samuel had been controlled and the silent, brooding type, even in bed. This new side of him was one I liked very much. Very very much.