Second Touch (Emma's Arabian Nights, #2) (5 page)

Adam was soon bucking as much as he could against the bench, lifting his hips while Jenny rubbed his dick with a practiced touch. Jenny began to tremble, and Emma became lost in the wet, sucking sounds of sex. Her own sheath ached for Ryan’s dick, and she shuddered at the thought of the four of them fucking together at once. He’d support her with his strong body, driving them all as they approached their climax like a runaway train.

“You can come when he comes,” Emma whispered into Jenny’s ear, nibbling at the delicate skin of her lobe.

“Give it to me,” Jenny said in a harsh voice. “I want you to come for me, Adam. I want you to come while I fuck your ass.”

Her husband went frantic at that point, moaning and then roaring while Jenny pounded into him. She let out her own scream and threw her head back, her hips moving in frantic jerks while Emma fucked her through her orgasm while holding off her own. She didn’t want to come like this, she wanted the touch of another person, the connection to her submissive that made her orgasm so good. She wanted Ryan with a desperation that bordered on pain, but would use Jenny instead. It drove Adam wild to watch his wife eat Emma, and she was only too happy to comply.

Pulling out of Jenny she helped her out of her harness, and laughed softly when Jenny’s legs shook.

“Wow,” the redhead breathed out.

Emma stepped out of her own harness and took both toys and set them next to the sink. “Aftercare, Jenny. Clean him then release him. I’m going to watch. Don’t disappoint me.”

Emma moved over to the queening chair at the other side of the room and took a seat on the oddly shaped chair. It had a high back and arms like a regular chair, but a half moon shape was cut out from the front edge to reveal her pussy. The submissive would lie beneath the chair and place his head on the padded lift beneath it that would allow the bottom to eat the Top’s pussy without hurting the sub’s neck.

The sight of Jenny touching her husband with such love as she cleaned and unstrapped him sent a bolt of longing through Emma that threatened to tear her heart apart. She wanted that intimacy with Ryan, ached for it, but she had no idea how to make it work between them. When she was with Ryan the rest of the world faded away to nothing, but in the end, she was still left to deal with the same financial bullshit. Jenny and Adam kissed, and tears came to Emma’s eyes as she remembered the gentle way Ryan kissed her, how he looked at her like she was his world.

Jenny glanced over at Emma and gave her a gentle smile filled with understanding. She grabbed her husband’s head and forced him to his knees. “Go service our Mistress.”

A twinge of unease went through Emma as Adam crawled toward her, the sour pang of guilt cooling her desire. She tried to push it aside and accept Jenny’s gift to her with the appreciation and respect it deserved, but it was hard. In an effort to keep her unease from the couple, she closed her eyes and forced herself to assume a relaxed position. The warmth of Adam’s breath on her exposed sex tickled her. She tried to get into his attempts to please her, she really did, but the more he licked at her pussy, the more she thought about Ryan eating her and the less turned on she became until she was resisting the urge to bolt from the chair. She wanted to yank Adam’s head away, to cringe back from his efforts to please her. He deserved better than that from her, and so did Jenny.

But, God, if he didn’t stop soon she was going to scream, and not in a good way.

This was wrong, she didn’t want any man but Ryan touching her like this. He’d be furious if he could see her now and would hate her for her betrayal. Her heart belonged to him and her body knew it. Fuck, this was why she never should have gone to his house no matter how much she’d enjoyed it. Angry at herself, disgusted by her selfish reaction to Adams’s efforts to please her, and wanting this over with as soon as possible before she lost it, she did one of the things she hated most.

She faked her orgasm.

Moaning and making her pussy contract by squeezing her Kegel muscles, she gave an Oscar-worthy performance and loathed every fucking second of it.

As soon as she could she went through the motions of coming down and moved off of the chair, helping Adam up and thanking him for his efforts to please her. She kissed and cuddled Jenny before hugging them both and tried to reclaim the emotional connection she had with them in the past. Instead, she felt like a complete fraud, like she’d betrayed them and herself. By the time they left, she was seconds away from bursting into tears. The moment the door closed she did just that, sinking to her knees and hugging herself as shame filled her. She cried for herself, for Ryan, for her parents and for how fucked up her life was. The tears just kept coming and she curled up on her side, hugging her knees to her chest and desperately wishing Ryan were here.

Ryan gripped the arms of his computer chair hard enough that they creaked in protest and forced himself to remember that getting into his car and driving down to the Kiss of Blue was
not
an option. Not only had he had far too much to drink, there was no fucking way on Earth he could come to Emma’s rescue without exposing himself for the fucking asshole peeping Tom that he was. But God, his heart was breaking as he watched her cry, and he’d never felt more helpless in his life.

Even worse, his guilt and shame had turned to self-hate. He’d jacked off three times while watching Emma top Jenny and Adam, and loved every second of it once he was sure Adam was no threat at all to his standing with Emma. Seeing his Mistress in her element, watching her guide the other couple with such compassion and understanding made him so proud of her, and horny as hell. For a while, it had been like watching his own private porno flick, right up to the point where he realized Emma was no longer having fun.

He’d seen it in her face the moment she sat down in that queening chair. While she’d kept her expression smooth and cool, there was something in her eyes, in the subtle way she held herself that set off all of Ryan’s internal alarms. When Adam touched her, Ryan’s protective instincts roared to life at the way Emma seemed to shrink from the other man; he was surprised the couple didn’t notice. Then again, they were still riding a high from their orgasms and the scene itself, and they’d probably never even thought that Emma wouldn’t enjoy Adam’s efforts to please her.

He heard something, a faint whisper from the speakers among Emma’s sobs. Trying to quiet his inner turmoil, he raised the volume and listened closer. The sound of Emma’s voice came again, still too faint to be heard clearly and distorted by her crying. He turned his speakers up all the way and strained to hear what she was saying over and over again.

“Ryan, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Emma whispered on the screen and he had to blink back the burning sensation in his eyes.

He released the arms of his chair before he broke them, then stood up and paced, the whiskey rolling in his stomach, nausea filling him along with his self-disgust and rage.

“Fuck!” he yelled and looked around for something to destroy, something to dissipate his rage, but the sight of Emma continuing to cry and make moaning sounds of torment dragged him back to his computer screen.

He needed to go to her, to help her. He had to let her know it was okay, he didn’t hate her, and that he was the sorry one. He was the selfish bastard who had pushed her too fast.
He
was the asshole who did this to her when he was only trying to love her. She’d told him she couldn’t handle it, but deep down, he hadn’t believed her…or maybe he hadn’t
wanted
to believe her. Emma was so strong, so sure of herself, that he thought she’d be able to separate their lovemaking from her work, but it was clear now she couldn’t.

“Emma, please forgive me,” he whispered as he sat back into the chair and watched his beautiful Mistress as she continued to cry. “I’ll find a way to make this right, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t ever have to go through this again. I promise. I swear I’ll make this right.”

Emma turned her head as the door to the room opened and watched with watery eyes as Moira came in and shook her head.

“Oh, honey, what are you doing to yourself?” Moira murmured and took Emma into her arms, cleaning her face with tissues while Emma continued to cry.

The soft cotton of Moira’s casual dress shirt felt good against her cheek as Moira held her and she inhaled the familiar scent of Moira’s rose scented perfume. For a long time they sat on the cold floor, while Emma sobbed and Moira whispered all the usual nonsense phrases people told their loved ones. Her sobs finally tapered off to those stupid hitching breaths she hated. Moira gave her face one more good wipe before gently moving back and unsnapping the corset Emma wore and pulling it off. Emma took a deep breath, let out a shuddering sigh and kept her gaze on the ground, unable to look at her friend, ashamed of her weakness, emotionally drained and exhausted.

“Stay here, don’t move.”

She nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on them while she tried to regain some semblance of control.

Moira returned a few minutes later with Emma’s favorite fluffy pink robe and a bottle of vodka. “Take that off and put this on.”

Not even bothering to argue, Emma stripped out of what used to be one of her favorite outfits. She couldn’t look at it now without remembering how she betrayed both her clients and Ryan. She wanted to burn it, to never see it again. After tightening the belt of the robe around her waist she finally glanced up at Moira and almost started crying again at the understanding she saw on her friend’s face.

“Come on.”

Emma was grateful the dungeon had closed for the night and none of the other Dommes were walking around the main level. Moira took them two doors down from the room where Emma had done her scene into what they liked to call the ‘princess room’. An enormous canopy bed filled with fluffy pillows dominated the peaches and cream room with its lovely antique chandelier. The lighting had been turned down low and Emma followed Moira onto the bed. They’d used this room before to hang out after work, usually so she could comfort Moira after one of her relationships went south. Moira loved easily which often resulted in getting her heart broken on a regular basis.

Moira twisted the top off and handed Emma the bottle. “Drink.”

Still sniffling, she took a big gulp and gasped at the slow burn of the alcohol sliding down into her stomach. It helped clear her head a bit and she took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thanks.”

“Ready to tell me what the hell happened in there?”

Emma flinched, then played with the silky tassels on the edges of the pillow next to her. “It won’t happen again. I promise I won’t screw up another session.”

To Emma’s shock, Moira smacked her with a pillow. “Don’t be an idiot. I don’t give a shit if you fake your way through every orgasm, you’re still one of the best Dommes I have. I’m worried about
you
.”

She almost asked Moira how she knew, but realized her friend would have been watching her on the security cameras. Moira made no secret that she found watching Emma top her clients hot as hell, but Emma had a feeling her friend hadn’t been watching her for titillation tonight. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on? Is it Ryan? You won’t tell me anything about your date with him but you’ve been a fucking wreck since that night. I hoped seeing Jenny and Adam would snap you out of it, but fuck, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Just admit you love the man, get married and have a bunch of little baby girls for me to spoil.”

Anger filled her and she snarled at Moira, “What choice do I have? I’m a whore, Moira, men don’t marry whores.”

Moira’s gasp of shock crushed Emma’s anger and more tears began to slip down her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? Did she have to hurt everyone around her?

“You. Are. Not. A. Whore.” Moira grabbed her chin in a firm grip and made Emma look her in the eyes. “I never want to hear you call yourself that again.”

“I get paid for sex. That makes me a whore.”

With a disgusted look Moira gripped her chin harder. “I don’t give a fuck what our uptight, backwards, screwed up society says, you are
not
a whore. You provide good people with something that, for whatever reason, they can’t get in their everyday lives. Are they bad because they come to you for BDSM? Should they go home after a session and call themselves a John or whatever?”

The thought of any of her clients feeling bad because of what they did with Emma struck her as wrong on a fundamental level. “Well, no.”

“Then why should you chastise yourself for making them happy? Why should you feel misplaced guilt for providing them with a service? Even if it was full out, ball slapping sex, that doesn’t make it wrong. We just live in a fucked up society that won’t show a dick in a movie but will show people being tortured, raped, maimed and killed and still label it PG-13.” She pushed Emma’s shoulder then took a swig of vodka. “Fuck, you know these things. Think with your mind instead of being ruled by your stupid guilt. If you’re that determined to punish yourself we have a nice cross in the gladiator room that I can tie you to and whip you.”

A bit of anger sparked in Emma and she narrowed her eyes at Moira. “I know Ryan would be disgusted by what I did tonight. How can I have a relationship with a man who will eventually hate me because of my job? You don’t understand him, Moira, he’s the real deal. I want him more than I want my next breath but it’s a dead end relationship until I can get my parents out of debt.”

“Tell your parents to sell the fucking house and move into an affordable apartment. Shit, Emma, they’re your parents. They’re old enough to take care of themselves.”

“Don’t even start on that again,” Emma said with a clear warning in her voice.

“Fine, you continue to rescue them from their own bad decisions, whatever. But don’t you fucking
dare
let them ruin what might be a really good thing with Ryan. I may not be an expert on monogamous relationships, but I’d bet my Porsche he loves you. No man goes to all that effort for a woman he doesn’t love, and if you love someone, you love all of them. Or at least you should. Have you even asked him if he could deal with your job?”