She hadn’t had good coffee in a while. Strong, rich, bitter-sweet, and very bad for you. Just like love, she thought cynically. Emma had no desire for love at the moment.
Kit has been married for two years, maybe three. His wife, Mary, is expecting their first child. Everyone is invited to their mansion in rural England for a house party that will last for over a month. It was a ridiculous extravagance, Emma thought, but Kit Brandworth was a very rich man and could afford extravagance. Emma was essentially one of the people invited – her family and Kit’s family had been lifelong friends, and although it had been a long time since Emma’s last visit to their home where Kit was, she is still part of them, so this becomes a part of them. Although no one would be surprised if she politely declined the invitation, she wasn’t planning on running away or hiding to lick her wounds like some petulant coward. No, she’s better than that. She wanted to show them that she wasn’t hurt, that Kit’s betrayal didn’t pierce her heart… that she wasn’t broken and dead.
So here she is, drinking her fifth cup of fortified black coffee the morning her guests arrive. She looks up and sees the sound of thumping on the stairs, signaling that her brother has come downstairs. She smiles sleepily at him. “Are you ready to go, Jordan?” she asks with fake happiness, hoping he hasn’t noticed her bloodshot eyes or shaking hands.
Jordan looked at his sister for a moment, admiring the dull tone of her beautiful black hair and the redness of her usually bright royal blue eyes. She had lost the delicate fullness he remembered from nineteen, and while her new thinness undoubtedly suited her well, she looked small and frail and very fragile. He felt angry at the man who had left her at the altar, humiliated her, and broken her heart in front of the world, but he quickly pushed his anger away when he saw how tired she was. He couldn’t bear the thought of the scandal that would rage and further tarnish her reputation. He forced a smile. “Shall we use my car or yours?”
They’re all here, she thought, and wanted to cry. All the people who attended his wedding watched him wait, wait in vain, then cry, and then run out of the church when he finally admitted that Kit wasn’t coming. Then they all went to Kit’s wedding and watched him marry the bride of his choice, the woman he loved, the woman he had always loved, but it wasn’t her.
Sometimes she wondered if Kit had any love or tenderness for her. She had thought about it during her engagement to him, and she had thought about it even after it was over. Once, when they were alone, he had shown so much love, so much affection, that she had no doubt of his feelings for her. However, the next day or so, when he saw her again, he behaved like a polite stranger again, dutiful, courteous, but distant. She never understood…even after the truth came out and he revealed how much he missed his childhood sweetheart, Mary.
“Emma.” For a moment, she thought it was Kit coming toward her, and she wanted to run. Then she realized his hair was wrong, his expression was wrong, and even his posture was wrong. It was not Kit, but his twin brother James. James, the same well-built body, the same broad chest and wide shoulders, the same muscular thighs and calves and flabby arms. She smiled faintly. James. She had never liked him, and she was pretty sure her feelings were mutual, but strangely enough he had been her only support during her engagement to Kit–he seemed to be her only ally within the walls of the rich, cold, and arrogant Brandworth family. It was the lesser of two evils, so to speak. All of the Brandworths hated him–but he hated her the least. In the time she had not seen him, he had cut his hair short–Kit had long, stylish hair that was tied back. James cut it and rubbed it across his forehead. His hooded, sparkling green eyes were as mocking as ever, and the sexy curve of his lips was as sarcastic as she remembered. His face is her brother’s, but not like that.
It’s not just a superficial difference, it’s a difference etched on their faces. Kit has been quiet, cheerful and conscientious. James, the older of the two, has been sarcastic, cynical, always a little sarcastic and a little cocky. Both are attractive. Both are very rich. But both are very different.
“It’s been a while.” His voice was distant, cultured, with a hint of arrogance.
She nodded. “Indeed. How are you?”
“I’m fine. What about you?” He furrowed his brows at her newly slimmed down frame, “I see, you’ve lost weight.”
“Glad so,” Emma quipped.
“I’m not,” she said suddenly. “You’re perfect the way you are.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Kit entered the room, Mary put her arms around him and announced that lunch was ready.
After lunch, Emma found the old riverbank path where she and Kit used to sit and talk, sometimes kissing. She sat for a moment, lost in memories, and suddenly she realized that, although she was sad and certainly mourning the days she had lost following a futile dream, she no longer felt the pain of Kit’s betrayal. In a way, she was only so hurt because he had been so careless as to humiliate her in front of so many people. She knew that if she married him she would not be able to love him for the rest of her life. It’s that simple – maybe she loved him for a short time, but she couldn’t love him for the rest of her life. If she had, she would definitely still love him, but she doesn’t. No, she definitely doesn’t.
She has consigned both her love and her pain to the past. It’s already done. It’s over. She’s still alive. Given time, she’ll heal completely and fall in love again one day. There’s no use fighting what’s done. It’s better to accept it gracefully…while preserving her pride. It’ll probably always hurt, but not so much anymore.
“What do you think?” a deep male voice interrupted them.
Emma smiled. It was an oddly comforting sound. Strangely, she had no objection to it. “You would spend millions of rupees on these ideas,” she said.
James smiled. “So deep, isn’t it?”
“I’m thinking about divinity and infinity.”
“Again? You never get tired of it?
“Never,” Emma smiled at him. “How can anyone be bored? It’s a concept the human brain can never comprehend. It tends to make the human mind curl in on itself, just trying to understand.
“That’s why it’s so tiring,” James said sarcastically. “Over time, a person gets tired of keeping his mind in check. It’s very hard to straighten it out again.”
Emma smiled, and James stared at her for a moment, mesmerized by the sparkle in her eyes and the parted lips. He had never seen her so relaxed, so happy. His only warning was the strange gleam in her bright eyes before she kissed him.
His mouth was pressed firmly against hers. Startled, motionless and a little fascinated, she fell silent. His tongue slipped between her lips, licking them slowly and lazily, and finally slipped to the edge of her lips. Her mouth opened and he dove in, tasting her. His tongue swirled around her tongue, caressing it, teasing it, until he took it into his mouth, entwined it and began to suck it lazily.
She gasped and turned away. There was something strangely familiar about his kiss – no, terrifyingly familiar.
That was Kit’s kiss.
Emma, who had sat next to James at dinner, could barely look at him. She found her newfound relief vanishing, replaced by a million complications and problems. Great, she thought. Well done, Emma. Replace one twin with another and let him break your heart again. Oh, it would be bad enough if they were just brothers, but twins? God, she’d be looking at Kit’s face for the rest of her life!
“Can you pass the salt, please?”
Emma looked up. The salt was right in front of them, only a foot away from them. “Go get it yourself!” she said uncharacteristically rudely, and then felt insulted almost immediately.
“I’m sorry,” James said quietly. “I just wanted to distract you. They look so painful.
His kiss was just like Kit’s. Of course, their lips are the same, right? Maybe they just kiss the same way. But even with those excuses, she knew they were weak. Men kiss differently. It’s nearly impossible to find and kiss two people like that. “How do you know that?” she said sharply. “You can’t read my mind.”
His raised eyebrows made her think he could do that.
“You’ve been quiet all night. Is something wrong?”
“No,” she nearly growled.
He grinned. “Ah – it’s about that time of the month, isn’t it?”
She thought she had PMS! She wanted to scream. “No!” she said angrily. “This is none of your business. But since you seem so eager to talk about my menstrual cycle, I am taking the day off to inform you that my period is not due in three weeks.
There was a slight curve to his lips, and she knew it was a sign of mockery. “But maybe you’re not normal? Research shows that some women who have to deal with intense emotional distress become irregular, even if only for the duration of that distress. I think it’s because of the influx of hormones.
“I’m not abnormal!” she whispered, knowing that further talk like that would result in her throwing everything on the table into her lap, so she turned resolutely back to her soup and I deliberately ignored her for the rest of the evening.
It was dark, but Emma was determined. She needed to go for a walk, God, she needed to go for a walk. She had to think. She had to release the pressure that had built up inside her.
She put on her cloak, tied it up, and tiptoed down the hallway. She paused for a moment and listened. Quiet. All the other tenants were asleep. The same was probably true for Jordan, since she couldn’t hear from her room, which was right next to hers. Slowly she began to slip down the hallway. As she reached a secluded, almost deserted part of the house, where she thought the edge was clear enough that she could walk normally, and soon she was out of there, a door opened and she was pulled inside.
She was blindfolded and bound quickly and precisely. Her wrists were bound by strong hands and she suddenly found herself handcuffed and pulled backwards against a strong, muscular chest. If she was the judge of anything, it was a strong, muscular bare chest. She was thrown onto the bed, her wrists tied to the bedposts and suddenly she was helpless. It all happened so fast that she had no time to react, if she even did. What would she have done? This part of the house was built for secrecy – having lived here almost all of the time during her engagement with Kit, she knew almost all of its nuances and secrets. No one heard her screams, and the one holding her was a powerful man – one who could easily suppress any attempt at escape.
“Who are you?” she asked, struggling for a moment and finding she could only scratch her wrist.
“I think you do,” he said, and she could almost hear his smile. James. Excellent. First he kissed her, now he kidnapped her. Is something wrong with the world?
“What are you doing?” she said angrily. “Let me go quickly!”
“No,” she said simply, and kissed him.
She struggled. She did, but after a while it didn’t matter. His kisses were heady, illicit, and delicious. Despite her protests, she still wanted more. She was released.
“Let me go!”
“I already said – no. I can’t. I have to show you something.”
She felt the coolness of the wind and was dismayed to see that her cloak and nightgown had been cut off. She pulled hard and she was naked.
“Ah,” James whispered. “That’s so much better.”
He’s crazy, Emma thought frantically. I’m caught in the clutches of a lunatic.
“I’ll scream,” she threatened, trembling.
“Please do that,” she replied coolly. “It excites me.”
“Who are you, sadist? Do you torture people just to hear them scream?
“Not at all,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’m going to torture you and you’ll scream, but not in the way you imagine. You’ll like it, you’ll see. There’s nothing sexier than a woman screaming with pleasure.” Fingers touched her body, and her whole body shivered.
“You’re going to rape me.” That’s not a question.
“If you don’t want it, it’s rape,” he replied softly. “I promise, you won’t be unwilling.”
“over my dead body!”
He cupped her breasts in his hands. Her nipples were little pebbly peaks of arousal. He squeezed gently and she held her breath. “Would you bet on that?”
Emma knew, and she was excited. Even now, she could feel the wetness between her thighs, feel his cock opening. She just hoped he couldn’t do it. “No,” she said weakly as he ran his thumb over her nipple.
To her surprise and relief, he agreed. She felt his hands release from her breasts. Her relief didn’t last long, though, as his mouth was suddenly on hers. Warm. Wet. Hungry. She cried out suddenly, arching her back involuntarily.
James smiled with satisfaction and sucked harder. He bit gently, then harder. A scream came from her throat and she writhed, unable to bear the pain and pleasure.
He moved to her other breast, licking everything except the nipple and then moving it in circles until she thought she was going crazy. Eventually, he sucked it into his mouth so hard that she thought he would swallow her whole breast.
“Should I stop?” he asked, looking up.
“Yes,” she said reluctantly. She felt him move, shake, and she didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment.
His fingers slip inside her. She screams.
“Ah,” he said with satisfaction. “The music reaches my ears. Will you scream when you come? I think you will scream—scream for me, dear. You will scream when you come.
His fingers moved in and out of her rhythmically, roughly, relentlessly. She was panting, trying not to resist his fingers. His thumb rubbed her clit. She moaned and writhed.
He removed his fingers and put them in his mouth, sucking on her sweet taste. She cried out in pain but started screaming again when she felt his mouth on her. His tongue was licking her, licking her lips, devouring her lips, sliding in like he was hungry. His tongue was smooth, warm and wet. His mouth wrapped around her clit and she felt his fingers sliding inside her again. She moaned with pleasure as he began to suck on her clit, moving his fingers inside her.
She cried out as she came, right into his mouth. He lapped it up, swallowed, and smiled.
“Are you willing yet?” he asked, and Emma felt something push her.
“Yes,” she gasped, holding out in defiance until the last moment.
“Well,” she said softly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about it.”
In one thrust he put his cock inside her and she moaned, arching upward against her will.
“I love it when you moan,” he panted. He grabbed her hips and thrust hard into her, closing his eyes and enjoying the delicious feel of her hot, tight, wet body wrapped around him. His fingers grabbed her buttocks, squeezing and kneading them as he thrusted.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“Full,” she gasped. “So full.” It was true – he filled every inch of her as he plunged fully into her. She lost her mind and control. Every thought seemed to focus on the incredible feeling of being filled, taken over, over again. She was wet, she could feel the moisture flowing down her thighs, she could feel his huge cock throbbing inside her, it seemed like that was all she could feel. She could feel herself coming, almost tasting orgasm. She bit her lip and groaned again, grinding against him.
She was close, he knew. He relished in the look of pain and pleasure on her face. He was rude and he knew it. But he didn’t care. Her mouth opened and he drew back.
she cried in frustration. James tilted his head. “What is it—you might like it?”
“Yes,” he said, nearly yelling in anger. “Yes, I do, you bastard. Kill me!”
He crawled up her body until his face was level with hers. He kissed her open-mouthed, and she responded with intense desperation. After a while he pulled away, annoyed. “Please,” she whimpered.
She whimpered and nodded. He sighed and moved up until his cock was level with her face and lightly touching her lips. “Take me in your mouth,” he ordered.
She opened her lips in surprise, and he thrusted inside her, eliciting a hearty groan of pleasure. Her tongue brushed against his and he nearly came. “Suck me,” he cried out. She did so and he moaned again, moaning with pleasure as he began thrusting into her mouth. “Harder, darling. Harder.”
Emma closed her eyes and did as he commanded. It was as if she had lost all ability to think. She sucked him and it seemed that was all that mattered, and the fire between her legs. She sucked harder and he pulled back abruptly. “That’s enough,” he said. “Now, beg me.”
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Sorry?”
“Please!”
“tell me you want me.”
“I want you.”
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I want you to fuck me. Please. Even at the end, she was submissive,” he thought wildly.
With a triumphant laugh, he pushed himself back into her and began fucking her hard and fast again. She moaned with pleasure and he felt her tighten around him. She let out a scream as she contracted in orgasm and he released her, pumping hotly into her and emptying himself inside her with a roar of pleasure. He collapsed on top of her, exhausted and sleepy. At the last moment, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, pulling her into the protective cocoon of his body and falling asleep.
He was still inside her.
Emma woke up when she felt someone touching her buttocks. She felt drowsy looking at her bare buttocks, eyes still half closed. Indeed, her bare, rather warm buttocks.
Her eyes suddenly opened and she stood up abruptly, but she felt two arms encircle her again and push her to the ground. “Shh, darling,” a voice whispered softly in her ear. “I’ve been waiting for over three years, and I’m not going to let you escape that easily.”
The memories came back to her, and she stifled sobs of shame, remembering her own adultery, the way she reacted, the way she screamed and cried for him. Her face turned red and she lay motionless, absolutely stunned.
James’ lips brushed against the back of her neck, and she knew without a doubt that it was his cock that was pressing so boldly against her rear. His tongue darted out to lick at her, and she felt the scratch of his teeth when he bit her gently, then harder. She let out a cry of pain and pleasure, and he smiled. “Do you like it hard?” he said. “I think we could do this…”
“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered, her voice small and fragile.
James’ expression suddenly changed. “Never,” he said softly. “I would never hurt you. Never.” His hands slid down her body, fondling her breasts, which were tense and peaking with excitement. “I want to make love to you again… if you’ll let me.”
