Blasphemous Page 21
The main reason why I wanted to go in the powder room was to call Lindsey. The more I sat there with the guys, the more I thought about the shitstorm Lindsey was in.
I strolled indoors, towards one of the private powder rooms that weren’t open to the rest of the partygoers. Perks of being friends with the homeowner.
Taking my phone out of my purse, I let myself inside the gilded room with black granite wall and flooring. It had two, cream, Marie Antoinette chaise lounges and I immediately darted towards one.
Chapter 28
“They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!”
- C. Joybell. C.
Bass
I was seeing red as I strode to catch up with the woman who was walking with provocativeness, past caring that her ass was attracting a lot of attention or her cleavage that bounced with every step she took was instant-hard-on material.
She was in a flurry to get in the bathroom and I immediately pushed the door before it managed to close itself. That wasn’t on the top of the list of my incensed, past provoked, Neanderthal condition. No, that wasn’t the top one at all.
Emma looked up from her phone, taken aback at seeing me and I saw her anger come. “What the hell are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?”
Her anger be damned, I thought as I eyed her body scathingly, up and down, until she knew what I thought of it. “What in God’s name are you fucking toying with here, Emma? If you want to slut yourself around, I advise you do it somewhere private.”
She gasped, flinging her phone aside on the seat before she stood up and aggressively closed the gap between us. “I can slut myself anywhere I want to!”
Emma was playing dirty and I was past caring about her feelings at this point. I was ready to fucking rip everything apart until she knew how fucked up she made me feel. “You’re already implying that you are with how you look, Emma! If you’re aiming to look like a hooker, well, go right ahead!”
Her eyes popped out of her sockets when I hissed out the word hooker. “Excuse me? My swimwear’s a one-piece and pretty tame compared to the other women out there!”
“Well, the women out there are twigs and you’re not,” I bellowed back.
Her eyes flared, looking like she was about to strangle me. “Are you fucking telling me that I’m fat?!”
I wished that kind of fat was the problem, but hell this type of fat was the groin-stirring kind. “No. Not even close. You’re petite, but you have breasts and a very nice… ass.” I loved worshipping that ass of hers, in and out of it. I was so hopeless when it came to her body that my eyes snapped to the spot where I loved so much. Even in my about to murder rage, my physical reaction to her beauty was pathetic.
Emma gave a dry laugh when she caught me eyeing her like a starving man. “Well, too bad. You just have to deal with it. You just have to stop checking it out.”
Men were checking her out. It was driving me mad how Jacques freely had his hands all over her and she didn’t do shit about it. Instead, she slapped me with disrespect when she kissed Jacques like she couldn’t wait to get him alone and use that skillful mouth of hers.
“You think this is funny?” I hissed in her face, so close that with one move, I could capture those deceitful lips of hers. “You already knew how I was going to act before you even kissed Jacques in front of me. If you aimed to hurt me, congratulations, you did a splendid job. It’s what you’re good at.”
“Hurt you?” She snorted as if she found it hilarious. “You have the audacity to fling accusations when it was you who had another woman on your lap last night, kissing with no care that it was going to be out in the news the next day. Hurt you? Seriously, I’m done talking to you. I am done.”
Ah, that explained a lot of things, but it didn’t change my mood. Not. One. Little. Bit. She was done? Ha-fucking-ha. “You wish it was.”
“Huh! It’s been over, dude. Wake up! You’re not the only hot guy on the planet. I enjoy variety.” She spun around, faced the mirror and fixed the top part of her X-rated suit. Not caring if I was checking her out.
I was cold as ice when I moved behind her back, meeting those defiant eyes in the mirror. “Go change, Emma. One wrong move and your nipples will show.” And those nipples look aroused.
Without preamble, my hand snaked out and rubbed her pebbled nipple through the lycra. “Defying me turns you on, doesn’t it?”
Emma hissed, cupping her breasts, angry as hell. “These are mine. I get to do whatever I want, if I want to flash the entire world with them, that’s my damn right. I’m not yours to command, Bass. Those days are long gone.” She spun around, advancing on me with dark, furious and enraged eyes.
I was too dumbstruck and, frankly, in awe of her to move. Emma stopped and roughly shoved me against the cold, granite wall, leaving me heaving for a second, before her hand intensely captured my jaw, nails biting into my skin as she moved it briskly to the side, pushing my cheek against the cold surface. She then brought her lips close, brushing them against my ear. “Does this power play excite you, Bass? Does your fat cock harden at the sight of my body?”
Fuck, yes. I was so turned on by Emma’s cattiness that I was rendered speechless.
“Not talking, are we now, bad boy? Oh, I know! Your cock is taking over your body. Baby can’t think straight when cocky Bass wants to play,” Emma huskily rasped against my ear.
She then roughly let go of my chin. A sharp gasp escaped my lips when her nails dug against my shirt, scraping my skin as they slid down past my nipples and stopped when they reached my pants.
“Tsk-tsk.” Emma playfully toyed with the band of my pants, brushing my hot skin as she did so. “You are always rock hard and ready, aren’t you, Bass?” The vixen was on a roll as she lifted my shirt, scratched across my navel and bit into my nipple.
Shit. Jesus Christ. “Emma!” I grunted out in vain. Losing my bearings and any thoughts because the vixen was making me so hard, so hard that moisture seeped out of my engorged shaft.
This was inferno!
“Emma, what?” She stuck out her tongue and slowly swirled it around my earlobe. “Do you remember that time in Aspasia where I got down on my knees and gave you a deep-throat?” She gave a husky moan that rose the hairs all over my body. “Did you like that? Did you like it when I did everything you wanted? Do you like it when you came so hard in my mouth that I gagged from your size being shoved down my throat, but loved every single drop of you?”
I fucking loved it. I dreamt of you like that so many times.
“Yes…” a tortured reply came out of me. I let out a frustrated groan when her hand reached inside my boxers. She tsked again when she found me hard against her hand.
“So hard, so big and so thick… and always ready to fuck…” she continued to become my kryptonite.
“Fuck, Emma,” I grunted out when she bit into my neck as she stroked me.
Her lips trailed soft kissed on my jaw before she paused when she got to my ear again. “This was my wild ride. Big, angry and so powerful as you shoved it so hard into me, the pleasure so out of this world it hurt. You hurt me so well that I was always ready for you. You stretched me to limits I didn’t know possible.” When her hand cupped my balls, I hissed, as her nails cut through my skin when she squeezed them tighter. “Memories, Bass. That’s what you get for letting me go. Now, go fuck that flat-chested bitch because you aren’t getting any from me. Goodbye.” She pulled her hand and herself off me, dashing to get her things before she audaciously gave herself a onceover in the mirror and walked out the door.
I should’ve been pissed knowing she played at my weaknes
s, but hell. That was hot! I loved it when she played feisty. It made me want to goad her to scratch some more.
My beautiful, feisty Emma, you were going to be the death of me.
~B~
“I trust that you slept well?” Dimitris greeted Emma as she entered the patio, looking like a breath of fresh air. She held herself with such confidence that each time I saw her, I felt like my gut was being punched.
“I slept great! I’m excited for tonight. Jacques is taking me to a private viewing of The Louvre. How romantic is that?” She released a dreamy sigh before taking a seat across from mine, completely ignoring my existence.
“What time is Jacques picking you up?” Dimitris asked Emma whilst sipping his coffee.
“Six.”
“Jacques is a good friend, but be careful, okay? He likes to live in the moment. He’s untamable. He plays the field a lot, Emma, just to warn you.”
My stomach recoiled when I saw her give Dimitris a knowing smile. “Who said I wanted to tame him? I like the rough and untamable ones.” Emma simply purred the words out of her lips.
Did she now? Bet she just loved it.
My jaw locked as I burned holes at the woman sitting across me as she chose a magazine, acting oblivious to the storm she was causing in me. When Dimitris excused himself to get the call from his lawyer, I didn’t waste any time venting out my damning thoughts.
“You’re barely here a few days and you already plan to sleep your way around Paris?” I furiously hissed at her, shoving my coffee aside.
The witch just gave me a cat-like smile before she took a sip of her beverage and focused on the VOGUE magazine she’d been browsing.
“Damn it, Emma! Fucking talk to me!” I yelled, getting up from my seat. I was about to go around and try to force her talk to me, but I saw Dimitris coming back out so I sat back down and simmered to a boiling point.
Just when Dimitris was about to join us, her phone beeped.
Emma checked it, sighing. “My appointment is ready. Time for a nice Brazilian, fellas. See you men in an hour for the interview.” With that, she sashayed her way out of there while my temper was getting the best of me.
“She was talking about Brazilian wax? Why?” Dimitris wondered out loud, looking at me before taking his seat.
To fuck with my head. Emma was deviously good at that. She was punishing me for leaving her, for telling her to move on; and now, she was rubbing that in my face.
Chapter 29
“When I think of you and long for you, swearing all I want is one kiss, I smile and laugh because the lie in that is neither of us would settle for just this.”
-Nicole Gillen
Emma
I was still riding my high when Bass saw me step out with Jacques four hours later.
After the fantastic tour of The Louvre and a quick stop at the Eiffel Tower before he finally took me to dine at Le Meurice. We were now back at his place, enjoying a glass of red before he took me back to my hotel.
“Why do you like hanging out with me? I’m so boring,” I wondered out loud, studying his face before it went somber in a quick flash.
Jacques gave me half a smile before addressing my question. “I like being around you. You’re just so… untainted.”
Huh? “Untainted?”
“Oui. You remind me of a woman I knew once,” Jacques murmured with absolute melancholy.
His tone made me feel sad. Who was the woman? Well, whoever it was, it was clear that she meant a great deal to him. Or at least she did once upon a time.
Licking my dry lips, I managed to squeak, curiosity getting the best of me. “What happened to her?”
“Life. Life finally happened. I see her from time to time, but she’s a different woman now. She’s just a shell of the woman who I once knew.” He looked away, pondering with a large frown on his face.
“Jacques? Do you think I’ll turn out like her?” I didn’t know why I had asked the question, but his tone made my stomach churn as if giving me a warning.
“I hope not, ma belle.”
An hour and a half later, Jacques dropped me off. I was lost in thought with our conversation earlier when I saw the elevator was halfway to shutting its door. I scurried in my three-inch heels to catch it in time.
When it parted wide-open, I was dumbstruck for a second when I found Bass inside the cart.
“Emma,” he greeted me with grating politeness. I gave him a quick glance before I spun around, ignoring him while I stared at the gold-plated casing that held the buttons. Since we were staying on the same floor, all I had to do was keep myself sane for the next few minutes to come.
Exchanging pleasantries was not part of the agenda. When it came to Bass, I was irrational. Not to mention the bare fact that I was a hurting, still raw, I-want-to-stab-him-to-death bitter kind of ex. So, to keep him alive, I had to keep my mouth shut and pretend the world didn’t consist of a man named Bass Cole.
To keep myself entertained, I counted as the buttons lit up, indicating which floor we were passing through. When it hit past ten, the elevator halted into an abrupt stop, almost knocking me to my side before I managed to grab a hold of the metal bar. Before the bright white lights flickered and died. I sighed with relief when a tiny, yellow glow from one of the corners gave some light in the pitch-black surroundings.
My heart was pounding so loudly that it took me a second to realize that the speaker had a voice coming out of it. When the speaker boomed with rapid French, Bass instantly responded to it, careful not to touch me. Two minutes later, he strode back to his old post.
“They said that we should stay calm and they’ll get us out very shortly,” Bass murmured reassuringly.
Without turning back to face him, I gave a meek nod before leaning against the mirrored-wall.
“Do you mind if I play some music?” I heard him ask, but completely ignored him. “I’m taking your silence as a yes. Great, thanks,” he sarcastically added.
Shut the fuck up! I screamed in my head.
The idiot chose to play One Republic’s If I Lose Myself. The lyrics grated on me, as if he was doing it on purpose. Come to think of it, he probably was trying to piss me off. I wanted to yank his device and stomp on it with my three-inch heels until it died.
“Can you change that song?” I barked at him, losing my composure. I wasn’t being full of myself, thinking the song was about me. What was fucking with my emotions right now was the thought of him listening to the music and thinking of Nikki.
“Ah! She talks! As you wish, madam.”
I really was so close to committing murder when he chose another fucking emo song. Jason Mraz I Won’t Give Up. “What’s with the depressing music? Can you play something upbeat?”
“Hey, I’m feeling sentimental.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes, and, when he didn’t shut the crooning voice off, I snapped, “For the love of God, can you turn that fucking thing off?”
The silence was welcomed by my nerves.
Counting from one to ten, I tried to calm myself. I wasn’t about to have a breakdown here. I wasn’t going to allow it. My head rested on the side of the panel as I tried to massage my temples.
“How have you been, Emma?” he murmured, huskily. His voice sent tingles all over my body. With my eyes shut, it was easy to get lost in his raspy, bedroom tone. However, he continued to butcher my sanity. “Oh, I forgot. You just keep silence when it’s convenient for you. You were good at that and still are, apparently.”
Oh, he was back to that again. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone for fuck’s sake? I spun around and faced him like a possessed woman. “Are you blind? You know, you really need to learn when to back off and shut your stupid mouth. Isn’t it obvious that I don’t want to talk to you? Isn’t it clear that I don’t give a rat’s ass about you? I. Don’t. Care.”
“So Greece, us, you coming to my house at three in the morning, all meant nothing to you?” Bass looked at me squarely. His demeanor matched mine.
“Love and lust are both different, Emma,” he hissed, almost close to me. “When you combine both it’s… explosive.”
I busted out an evil, dry laugh. Oooh, my claws were out. “You think you’re that great? I think not. I’ve had better. You’re mediocre at best.”
Bass thundered like I was tipping him slowly to lose his temper. “You’re skirting on a subject that’s explosive to men, Emma.”
An evil smile pasted on my unperturbed face. “Who cares? Do men care if a woman is tight or loose? It’s the same thing. Who cares if your stud-moves aren’t that spectacular?”
He paused before he arched that hot brow of his, smoldering like a sex god before my eyes. “You’re the first to make such complaints.”
The effect pooled in between my thighs. Cursing inwardly at my treacherous body, I flashed an irritated look at the über-confident man about his sexual prowess. “Oh, right. I bet Nikki praised you all night long, didn’t she?” I snorted in disgust. “Bass! Oh, oh, oh, Bass! You’re so good. Harder, please, Bass! Bass, Bass, Bass! KINDLY FUCK OFF!”
Instead of the expected anger after I mocked him, I found him studying my body, my breasts in particular, before he raised those deadly eyes to me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded like a jealous girlfriend.”
“FUCK! YOU!” I threw my purse at him, so hard, but he inevitably caught it before it hit the floor.
“Why are you getting so worked up? Did I hit a sore spot?” Bass smirked before smiling sexily at me.
That movie star smile was out to murder my pleading vagina. I’d rather die than admit that, though. Nope, over my dead body. Instead, I growled at him like a savage woman ready to kill.
His eyes went to my fists before he raised his perfect brow at me. “Ready for a combat? Hit me. Hit me if it makes you feel better.”