A Bride for a Billionaire (Page 12)
A Bride for a Billionaire(12)
Author: Lauren Hawkeye
“No.” My fingers clench, pulling Emilia’s hair, and she hisses. Disentangling myself, I step back, putting space between us.
Her eyes spark dangerously.
“What do you mean, no?”Sliding forward on her knees, she reaches for me, and this time it is easier not to succumb to temptation.
“What’s going on, Emilia?’ It’s still hard to think, with those tits offered up on a black lace platter. But as I look down at my stepsister, I can see the rage distort her otherwise beautiful features, and the realization pumps clarity into my blood.
Emilia offers nothing without expecting something in return.
She meets my challenge with a slight nod of acknowledgement and stands. This makes those breasts sway enticingly, which makes my cock get even harder, but I haven’t let my second head do all of the thinking for quite a few years.
“Well?” Lifting my snifter, I again sip. The burn of the scotch sears my throat, helps pull me from the cloud of raw animal lust.
Emilia closes the space between us, her fingers reaching again for my belt buckle. This time I don’t pull away, but cover her hand with mine, stopping her movement.
I’m close enough that I can see the irritation again distort her face, but it’s gone within seconds as she teasingly brushes her lips over my own, then moves in for the kill.
She kisses me, hot and hard, her tongue pressing against the seam of my lips. I’m not easily shocked, but for the second time in as many minutes she manages it.
Heaven help me, it takes everything I have to pull away. She’s a warm, willing female, and I’m not used to denying myself. But this just isn’t right.
“Emilia. Stop.” For the first time in memory, I use a gentle, if still firm, tone, grabbing her upper arms in my hands and pushing her away. “Just tell me. What is going on?”
I can see the calculation, displayed over her features. But she deliberately tries to hide it behind that seductive curve of her lips.
“Fine then. Business first.” Before I can stop her, her fingers brush over my cock, and I groan before jerking back.
“I think we should get married.” Her lips are on the curve of my neck as her words hit me, and I’m not sure I’ve heard her correctly.
“What?” Everywhere I move, she moves with me, rubbing that long, sleek body against me. Offering herself to me in ways that I’ve only dreamt of.
Even as I want to turn her to face the wall, to push between those spread thighs, I find that I’m growing irritated, and disgusted. And then when she repeats herself, shocked.
I shove at her shoulders, and this time I’m not so gentle.
“You are out of your fucking mind.” Nothing this woman does should ever surprise me, but…
“It makes perfect sense. Think about it, Matteo.” She rubs against me again, and now I just want to shove her out the door and tell her to stop acting like a cheap whore. If she was seducing me because she genuinely wanted to, that would be different.
But she is not.
And am I asking Riley to have sex with me for something in return?
I suppose I am, and an emotion that I can only barely recognize as shame works its way through me at the realization… it’s not something I’m used to feeling.
I push it away. Double standard? Perhaps. But I never claimed to be a good man.
“It makes no sense.” And yet… it does.
“Matteo.” She fists her fingers in the collar of my shirt. “We’ve always cared for one another. Always wanted each other. If we married, neither of us would lose the company. We could both have it all.”
Her words are logical, absolutely. And it would be a giant fuck you to my dear dead dad.
“But then we would be sharing it.” I narrow my eyes, study the woman in front of me. She’s absolutely stunning, while the woman in the other room is fresh faced and possibly even a little bit plain.
But beyond the fact that she has tits and an ass, something has changed today, and I don’t want her.
I suspect that that something is named Riley Tremaine.
“You’re worried that you’ll lose.” I say slowly, and feel a deep satisfaction start flooding through my body when she startles, just the tiniest bit. “You wouldn’t be worried that I’d find a wife, because that’s easy enough. But you’re worried I’ll manage to stay faithful, because so much is at stake. And you can’t stand the idea that you’ll be left with nothing.”
I watch the red of fury slowly stain Emilia’s cheeks. Well, this is interesting. I’ve managed to touch a nerve in the ice queen.
“Why I’m doing this doesn’t matter, Matteo.” Stepping back so that I can see her full length, she cups her breasts, and damn it, my traitorous cock can’t help but swell. But by this point I would rather cut my own hands off than touch her with them.
“What matters is that I’m right. Think how powerful we could be, you and I. No one would ever tell us what to do again.”
I close my eyes, both against the image, and against what her words conjure.
The idea of freedom is a heady thing, but I know that I will never truly be free of Carmine.
“Get out of here, Emilia.” Knowing that she won’t respond to anything else, I make my voice deliberately cruel. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”
“You’re the one who will be embarrassed, when I take everything I’m due and leave you with nothing!” Emilia’s remaining control snaps, and she releases her breasts, her hands curling into fists at her side. Her face flushes darker still, and I knew that if looks could kill, in that moment I would be six feet under.
I’m not too pleased with her myself. “Everything you are due?”
She was always the favorite, the one treated well and shown favors. The one my father preferred, ever since she first joined our family.
No, Matteo. It does no good to dredge up the memories that I have worked so hard to suppress.
Carmine is gone now, and I won’t let him take up space in my head.
“Leave.” When Emilia starts toward me again, I push her hands away as though I’m swatting a fly. If she doesn’t leave, I’ll have to haul her bodily out the door, but she’s now made me so angry with her flippant statement, that my cock no longer wants anything to do with her. “Leave, and I’ll never mention this delusional episode of yours again.”
“You fucking bastard.” Emilia’s hand swings out, and just as I did with Riley not an hour ago, I catch it, stop the blow. She laughs, low in her throat, and I realize with a churning in my gut that she’s getting off on this.