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LANDON
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FUCK.
Emily's actually doing it.
After the hiccup of our conversation—another untimely blunder on my part—I wasn't sure how she’d react. But Emily's consent to continue proves her desire matches my own, leaving me as high as a kite with excitement.
The slow slide of denim and cotton is more erotic than any strip show I've seen during bachelor parties, and the final reveal of pale dimpled skin has my cock stretching the limits of my gym shorts. Stroking my hand in reverence over a round cheek, Emily tremors beneath the intimate caress, feeding my need to comfort her while also wringing more of those sensual shudders from her body.
"You're doing so well, sweetheart,” I murmur near her ear. “I can't wait to lick every inch of you. Every hill and valley traced by my tongue. Would you like that?"
“Mhmm...” Her head pushes back into my shoulder as the soft moan purrs from her throat, my fingers twitching at the sexy sensation. The trust she’s showing me, the privilege she’s granting me, brings me to my knees—every cell wants to kneel at her feet and worship her.
Later. Focus on what you can do now.
“I thought you would. Unfortunately, we need more time, so you can be properly savored.” Sliding a hand lower to chart the curve of her ass, I slip between thighs restrained by her jeans and sift through damp curls to circle the wet opening of her pussy. “For now, I'm gonna fuck you with my fingers while you play with your pretty little clit. Together we're gonna make you come all over my hand—give me a sweet teaser of what I’ll be eating later tonight.”
God willing.
“The dance is tonight.”
I forgot about the last big event for this homecoming weekend. There’s an alumni awards brunch on Sunday, but since I don’t know anyone receiving special accolades, I figured I’d skip it to spend more time with friends. Now, I’m thinking it’ll be time spent between Emily’s thighs—Josh and the rest of the guys will understand.
“Well, if you’re up for it, we could attend the dance together for an hour or two before going somewhere else.” Preferably one of our hotel rooms. I ease two fingers into her slick pussy, loving the immediate clenching of her walls and imagining the tight heat around my cock. With a couple of shallow thrusts, I test her response. She tries to follow my retreating hand, and I feel the graze of her fingertips as she begins to rub her clit between two fingers.
My obedient little good girl.
“You want me to be your date?” She sounds surprised, like the fact that I’m fingering her beneath the gym bleachers, where anyone could find us, means nothing. Like I’m only in this for a quick fuck.
“Hell, yes.” I emphasize the point with a sharp twist of my fingers to hit her g-spot and a brief exertion of pressure on her neck. “When are you going to realize I’m not giving you up so easily, Em. Whatever I must do to make things work with you, I’ll do. You want me to put it in writing? Done. Need me begging on my knees? No problem. Whatever you need to feel secure, tell me because it’s yours.”
A frustrated moan answers. “You say the most perfect things, and my mind’s so hazy I can’t refute your logic. Is this how you normally charm women into your bidding? Get them so high on pleasure they can’t think straight?” Her pace quickens on her clit, and I match the increased speed, pumping hard and deep, splitting my focus between listening and getting her off. It’s a novel experience that proves how unique Emily is to me—how she brings out another side of me.
“Not usually. But you’ve always been a special case for me, and frankly, I’m not above using any advantage I have to make you mine.” My teeth bite down on her neck in a show of possession. She’s going to wear my mark for everyone to see. So she knows I’m not fucking around with her.
Emily doesn’t reply as her pussy clamps down on my fingers and a gush of warmth floods my palm. The orgasm rips through her in waves, and I continue to propel her through it by taking over the jerky movement at her clit with firm strokes of my own.
Eventually, her body sags into mine for support, and I nuzzle the love bite I left behind, shifting my hand from her throat to her waist, holding tight to the precious gift she is. “That was good, sweetheart. You did so well... Now, will you please go to the dance with me?” I wasn’t kidding about taking advantage. If she’s blissed out on dopamine from her orgasm, then I’m going to press my luck by getting her agreement.
“Yes. I’ll go with you, persistent man.”
Damn straight.
***
“BIG DATE TONIGHT. ARE you ready for it?” Josh and I meet in the hallway at our hotel before I pick Emily up from her hotel room across the street. The rush of this afternoon is still a vivid memory inflaming my blood, and I can’t wait to see her again—to check in after our shared intimacy and just because I like being near her.
“I’ve been ready for ten fucking years.” I joke, adjusting the collar of my shirt where it scratches at my neck. “It all rides on how Emily’s feeling.”
Josh smiles in genuine happiness for me as Maggie exits their room to join us, their little girl following in a matching yellow dress. Grabbing his wife’s hand before leaving, he pats me on the back. “Good luck, man. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.”
“Thanks. I hope so.” Because I want what he has. After years of avoiding settling down because it never felt right, I’m ready.
Twenty-minutes later, Emily and I arrive at the decorated gymnasium after a companionable drive of small talk. This main gym is nicer than the one alumni games were relegated to earlier today, but the similar layout draws a satisfied smirk as I eye the bleachers. Emily must be thinking the same thing because an adorable flush reddens her skin.
Deciding to tease her a little, I step closer with the pretense of helping remove her coat and whisper, “It’s darker in here, with only the fairy lights brightening the room. We can get away with a lot more if you’re up for it.”
“Under the bleachers again?” Her quiet murmur is barely audible over the music playing in the background. A while back, the alumni committee requested everyone’s favorite songs from our time at Trinity College, so I’m guessing this playlist is the compilation of those responses as a poppy dance song fills the room.
A filthy idea bounces around my head. One I definitely shouldn’t suggest when we’re on uncertain ground, but this weekend’s been filled with mistakes on my part, yet Emily’s rolled with them. Perhaps she’ll continue the trend.
“Not exactly. Why don’t we say hello to everyone we need to before I share what I have in mind?” Figure starting slow and getting her comfortable might sway her to my side when the time comes.
Skepticism wrinkles her nose, but her friend Melanie saves me from answering any rebuttal she has.
“Hey, guys! Don’t you make a cute couple?” The lithe redhead winks and leads us to a table full of people I recognize though wouldn’t call close friends. Everyone welcomes me and Emily with giant smiles, and we chat about all the work done this weekend to set up events and the awards ceremony the next day. Apparently, this is the group of former student government alum, though they’re missing their leader, Kenzie.
“I haven’t seen her since the obstacle course yesterday.” A man in black glasses admits, shrugging his shoulders. “There was a minor accident, but she seemed okay. So, I’m not sure why she’s not here.”
“Maybe she was worn out. She’s had a busy weekend with organizing so much.” Emily’s voice softens in concern. Circling the back of her neck with my hand, I massage the tense muscles, hoping to soothe her. “I’ll text her just to check-in.”
The conversation moves on once Emily types out a message, and we stay a little longer before switching to hang out with my friends. It’s nice sharing friend groups and melding our lives even in this small way. It shows that we’re not so different. She gets along with my circle, and I get along with hers. No one feels so out of place that we could never work together.
But whatever happiness I feel pales in comparison to the anticipation in my gut as we’re finally free to be alone. Separating from the crowd, we drift to the side of the gym underneath a banner welcoming everyone back to campus, and my mind whirs with the evening’s possibilities.
However, Emily’s phone buzzes with an incoming text, and the moment she reads the message, her face falls into the same resigned expression of sadness I saw at the cocktail dinner.
“What’s wrong?”
She offers a weak smile before sighing and returning to her phone. “My reality check.” Letters bounce across the screen as Emily’s fingers type out a long response, her subdued demeanor a direct contrast to the positive glow she held earlier.
“What does that mean? How can I help?” Because I want to. Need to. At the cocktail party, I was stuck watching from afar, but we’re together now—allowed to delve into each other’s lives and do whatever we can to make it easier.
“You can’t.” She waves her phone through the air in frustration. A shaky hand runs through the long waves of hair she left loose for tonight. “I need to leave. I thought I could enjoy some casual fun. But this isn't fun. It reminds me of what I don't have, will probably never have, and I almost wish I didn't know what I was missing.”
“This isn’t casual,” I deny.
Emily grimaces, ignoring me as she continues, “I warned you, you don't want any part of my life. I'm still dealing with the same drama I had ten years ago. Because I'm too weak to end the cycle. The rest of my life is bound to be shackled. Yours doesn't have to be.”
“Come on.” I grab her hand, pulling her towards a side exit. “We’re not doing this here.” The backdrop of happy people and loud music provides little privacy for a conversation we clearly need to have. Our feet shuffle across scuffed linoleum as we enter an empty hallway—my strides measured and determined while Emily hurries to keep up with me.
“Where are we going?” Another notification resonates from her phone, and I’m tempted to snatch it away and tell whoever’s on the other side to leave Emily the hell alone.
A door appears on our left, so I try the knob and release a breath of gratitude as it turns. I usher Emily inside what turns out to be a locker room, flipping the metal lock to ensure no one bothers us before removing my jacket and tossing it on a wooden bench. Best to get comfortable while we wade into whatever mess she’s trying to keep from me.
“What are we doing here?” she asks, pacing the row of metal lockers, arms crossed over her chest in a protective gesture.
“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, who’s messaging you. And together,” I stress the word, catching the slight pause in her step. “We’ll figure out how to move forward because I meant it when I said I’m not giving you up. This isn’t a random fling that ends tomorrow. You’re mine, and I’m not dancing around that fact any longer. I won’t let you deny it either.”
Another message lights up her phone. That’s it. Holding out my hand, I wait for her to drop the offending piece of metal and plastic into my palm. The screen’s already unlocked, a barrage of messages stacked upon each other. Assuming her tacit agreement of me reading these texts since she gave me her phone willingly, I scroll through conversation after conversation of her parents demanding money, of her patiently asking questions—a couple of times even explaining how their constant financial demands made her feel—with no obvious remorse coming from her mom and dad.
Anger twists in my gut the further back I go, my grip tightening on the phone, threatening to crush it under my fury at how badly she’s been treated. The messages end six months prior to today, but I know that’s probably due to space constraints on the phone rather than the requests for money stopping.
Emily is the kindest, most generous person I’ve met—a genuinely good person. I recognized it in school, and I’ve seen it again this weekend with her choice to volunteer to make everyone else’s reunion better instead of enjoying time with her own friends. It took me seconds to discover what a treasure she is.
Yet her shitty family hasn’t figured it out, choosing to take advantage of her generous nature rather than protect it.
Yeah, that’s not going to fly anymore—not if I have any say in the matter.