I lay awake in the night with his body coiled around me possessively, his face buried in the back of my
hair breathing soundly. My arm free of the restraint and only the sheets of the bed keeping me captive
as he’s still not got under the comforter with me. I must have dosed off at some point and he’d taken it
off, but I can only remember turning and tossing until he switched off that damn movie.
His arms are wrapped around my upper body and fingers entwined with mine, I sigh and relax into his
hold, needing this to balm over the events of yesterday. I’m too weak for this game, already that ache
of insecurity threatening to engulf me at the lack of his body joined with mine. He’s right. I don’t just
need the sex though; I need the small things. The gestures and touches, the attentiveness and
kindness too. All the things he deprives me of when he wants to win a stupid game. This helps though,
that even in sleep he needs to cling to me and revives my will a tiny little bit, giving me a little inner
strength.
That stupid stubborn part of me, that inner teen Emma, who can’t relinquish control, won’t give into this
challenge and let him win. Jake’s too good at these games, he always wins, it’s his mission in life to
always come out on top. It’s why he’s a ferocious CEO and more than a match for his father, he just
can’t help it, it’s in his nature to dominate at everything. Even though he’s a laid-back and easy-going
kind of man, there’s an inner alpha male dominance that shines through and shows face whenever
pressed. I shiver as the thought comes over me that maybe in this, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
If neither of us breaks, then what? Jake won’t back down, it’s not in his capabilities to do it. Will I?
I’m suddenly saddened by the fact that this game has turned into something more, a battle of the wills
and feelings are starting to get bruised. My feelings are starting to get crushed. The knowledge that he
doesn’t need any emotional security to get through it, because emotionally he’s stable while I’m flailing.
Always that internal fear in me that this is only temporary for him. That he will see what I really am and
get bored or just hurt me, the way everyone else did. That is his upper hand, not the sex alone. He is
emotionally capable of playing this game because to him it is just that, harmless and thrilling. He has
that inner confidence and self-assurance, he's stable in my feelings for him and feels secure in our
relationship. I don’t.
He mumbles in his sleep and it makes me smile despite the turmoil of emotions brewing inside of me.
His low sexy voice, husky as always, seems even more so, and I recognize my name among the garble
of words he whispers into my hair. He shifts lazily, his arm letting go of my fingers and coming across
my upper chest, pulling me closer to him. His face and mouth coming down to bury into my neck and
warm me with his return to steady breathing. He mutters ‘love you, bambino’ almost silently under his
breath and I melt.
I let my fingers trail his muscular arm, the light feathering of hair across that perfect olive skin,
surprisingly light considering his dark hair and Italian coloring, but then he is overall not a particularly
hairy man and the amount of time he spends in the sun probably bleaches away most of the darkness.
I trace my fingers over the symbols tattooed along his arm almost reaching his wrist. A long straight
row of black ink, possibly Arabic, maybe Buddhist and wonder at what they mean in the early dusk
light. I have never asked him about his tattoos or the meaning of each, or why such a weakness for
symbols and tribal patterns.
I close my eyes to try to return to sleep but find it near impossible, that sudden urge to cry envelopes
me again and for no reason at all it springs on me from nowhere. Maybe it’s the calm gentle way I’m
being held and being able to steal genuine moments of affection with no games, maybe it’s how lonely
he made me feel yesterday by his distance and commitment to winning. Before I know it, I’m breaking
my heart, face wet with tears and trying to be silent; trying not to move despite my racking sobs. My
heart breaking without any good reason to. I curl up into the fetal position on my side to try to quiet it,
try to hide it.
“Baby?” His voice comes at me through my pain, his arms tightening slightly. “Emma, baby, what is it?”
His body moves so he’s leaning over me, trying to see my face but I only bury the evidence of my
sadness into my palms and try to hide from him.
“N … N … Nothing.” I stammer out amid painful tears, gut-wrenching and pain so sharp inside of me I
can barely breathe.
“Emma, this isn’t nothing … Hey …” He pulls me toward him so I’m on my back in the crook of his arms
and tries to tug my hands away.
“Is this about yesterday? Emma, you know none of it’s serious. Baby, talk to me.” He sounds different,
huskiness from sleep and gentle concern mixed to make him sound devastating, it makes me cry more.
I can’t answer and finally he tugs my hands down, bringing his nose to mine.
“Baby … You know I love you more than life. Don’t do this. I hate seeing you cry.” He runs a hand
across my face gently and wipes some of the tears away. Realizing just how tear stained I am, he
slides out of bed, flicks on the lamp, and grabs a box of tissues before hauling me against him again. I
take a few, unable to meet his eyes and wipe my face, only to let fresh tears roll from my eyes. “I’m
calling an end to this. Seriously this time.” He sighs and pulls me against him hard. “Nothing is worth
this.” He kisses me then, not forceful, or passionate but needily, his mouth taking mine and pushing all
the emotion he can muster into kissing me intensely. I kiss him back hungrily, needing him more than
air right now. It’s as though he’s trying to push away my heartbreak and I’m clinging onto him.
Pulling back, he stays nose to nose, his fingers tracing my face and finally I sniff back the newest tears.
Gulping down an onslaught of more.
“Talk to me.” He pleads, his eyes never leaving mine. “It kills me to see you this way, bambino.”
“I miss you.” Is the only thing I can force out and it’s true, in only a day Jake feels a million miles away
from me, my security shaky in the name of a game, and the carpet ripped out from under me in ways I
don’t even understand. He groans regretfully.
“Baby, I’ve never left you.” He kisses me harder this time, sliding over me to cover my body with his,
impatiently he yanks the sheets from between us, so he can mold himself to me. I’m still in the black
lingerie and he’s in sweatpants. His hands come to my wrists pulling them to the sides of my head as
he pushes himself up, still connected to my mouth but shifting so his body and mine become wrapped
up sexily, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips. His mouth is hungry for me and kisses me
so thoroughly I’m left panting. “No more games, Emma. I can’t do this to you anymore.” The steel in his
voice reassures me and I surrender to him in every way possible.
Jake makes love to me slowly and tenderly until my body is beyond exhausted. His hands cover every
inch of my skin as though they’ve been starved for an eternity, from lack of my touch. His passion brims
under the surface, threatening to break free, staying harnessed so that he can look into my eyes while
taking me. I’ve experienced gentleness from him many times, but this is beyond anything I knew him
capable of. His mouth soft and fluttering on my face and lips, his hands light and gentle. For the first
time, I know exactly how it feels to be made love to and Jake is wiping away every ounce of pain and
insecurity with every second.
Despite its low-key motion, and the lack of fiery passion, he makes me climax spectacularly, twice,
before finding his own release and covering me with kisses. Laid in the crook of his arms I’m sated,
both mentally, physically, and emotionally.
“Feel better, neonata?” He kisses my ear, his arm across my neck and hand buried in my hair, cupping
my scalp on the opposite side, holding my face to his.
“Much.” I blush and turn into him, nuzzling closer at his affection.
“I can’t stand seeing you cry.” He moves to my temple, kissing me firmly, our bodies still entwined.
“Makes me feel like someone rammed a poker straight into my chest.” His confession sends a
bittersweet knot of pain through my heart.
“Maybe I should feel victorious.” I sigh. “Jake Carrero threw in the towel while he was ahead.” I glance
up at him with a shy smile, he smiles back.
“I knew the second I saw you crying, baby, that I was never ahead, winning should never come at that
cost.” He presses his forehead to me and frowns. “I guess you found my Achilles heel. Lesson well
learned.”
“I learned that I’ll never be a match for you.” I pout in jest, but he only shakes his head and moves a
hair from my cheek. A small, intimate motion that makes me wants him so much more. His eyes
grazing my face as he lifts strands of my wild waves away.
“You’ve no idea how crazy you were making me. I was losing badly, I couldn’t stand to touch you for
long or I would have folded, so I tried to keep my distance instead.” His mouth lifts at one corner, a self-
defeated smile of sorts.
“Maybe I just should have held out after all.” I reflect with a cheeky smile on my face, he bites his lip,
his eyes moving to my mouth and grins.
“You almost had me so many times, that sexy set up when I walked in here … Jesus, Emma. I almost
came in my pants, you’ve no idea the restraint that took. Why do you think I got away from you at
dinner?” He grins at me and brings his eyes back to mine, light green and clear.
“To make me jealous!” I pout again, throwing him a haughty glare.
“Neonata, I knew if I sat next to you picturing what was under that dress, I was going to end up banging
you on the table in front of my family. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you through the entire meal, I don’t
think I ate anything.” He brushes his mouth against mine with the gentlest of kisses.
“You’re a jerk … You had me believing I had zero effect on you.” I smile as his fingers move down my
naked cleavage and starts circling my nipple, bringing it to immediate attention. His focus most
definitely honed in on what he’s doing.
“I’ve been a walking hard-on since you issued the challenge.” He leans down and kisses the swell of
my breast before turning back to me with a wicked glint.
“I know I said no more games, baby, but I’ve other plans for those handcuffs and I’m pretty sure it’s a
game you’ll like.” He leans in fast, kissing me hard and I know before he even slides his hand under the
sheet to my warm hot core that he will find no resistance.
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