3 - Happy Birthday

3 - Happy Birthday

Emma

I don’t like possessive men. Period. Nine out of the ten times, they think I’m their objects of desire and a toy to play with when bored. Like a kitten who would hiss at anyone who tries to steal his favourite toy.

But… when Cillian said it.

I don’t like to share what’s mine. And you’re mine for tonight, Doll.

It wasn’t possessive. It was demanding. An order. A prayer, if you will. And it was just for one night. I was his, and he was mine.

So why not have a little bit of fun?

My eyes ran over his form in the suit, stripping him naked in my head and wondering how hot he’d look with tattoos all over his body. Did he have them all over his body? I was willing to find out as soon as I get him alone.

It was different with him standing so close in the elevator but not touch me. My thighs were still a little shaky at what he had told me to do in the hallway, and I had done it without a single thought. Because no one challenged Emma Moore and won. I had done it out