The white couch swallows whole, Emily's expensive throw pillows digging into my ribs as I sink deeper into the cushions.
My phone sits in my palm like a live grenade. The screen's gone dark three tis already while I've been sitting here, staring at Emily's contact photo. She's smiling in it, her silver hair catching sunlight from one of the days at the beach from our recent trip.
I unlock the screen again, my thumb hovering over her na. She said I could call if there was an ergency. Those were her exact words before she left. "Danny, if there's an ergency, you can always call . No matter what ti it is."
But is this an ergency?
I lean back, running my free hand through my hair. The house is too quiet. Just the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the foundation settling. Every sound feels amplified now, like the walls are holding their breath.
My thumb drifts closer to the call button, then pulls away.
I take stock of the situation, trying to be logical about it. An old woman showed up. She threw so pebbles. She said so wild shit about Emily being a murderer. Her son dragged her away, said she gets confused. Jessica got all worked up and I kicked her out.
Nothing's on fire. Nobody's bleeding. The house isn't flooding. There's no imdiate threat requiring Emily to drop everything and co ho.
"Hmmm," I say out loud to the empty living room, my voice sounding strange in all this silence.
The phone screen goes dark again, this ti I leave it be.
I set the phone down on the coffee table, watching it slide a few inches across the glass surface. The throw pillow behind my back has lost its fluff, so I adjust it, trying to get comfortable.
Then the phone buzzes so violently it nearly vibrates off the table.
"Fuck."
Emily's contact photo lights up the screen, her beach-day smile now feeling like an accusation. She said she'd check in once a day. I completely forgot about that second promise in all the chaos with Jessica and the old woman.
I snatch it up before it can ring a second ti, swiping to answer. "Hey."
"Baby." Her voice cos through warm and concerned, and sothing in my chest imdiately loosens. "How are you doing? Did you manage to get so sleep after your shift?"
I open my mouth to say fine, to brush it all off like I usually do, but the words stick in my throat. The image of that old woman's tear-streaked face flashes through my mind.
"Danny?" Emily's voice sharpens slightly. "You still there?"
"Yeah." I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Uh, sothing weird happened while you were gone."
The silence on the other end stretches long enough that I check to make sure the call hasn't dropped. When Emily speaks again, her voice has lost all its warmth, replaced by sothing sharp and focused.
"What happened?"
"Well, my aunt Jessica ca over." I stand up from the couch, suddenly unable to sit still. My bare feet pad across the hardwood toward the window, where I can still see a few pebbles scattered across the lawn. "She wanted to apologize to us. For dinner."
"That's... good?" Emily sounds uncertain, like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "How did it go?"
I press my forehead against the cool glass, watching the sun sink lower behind the neighbor's fence. The words want to stay trapped in my throat, but I force them out anyway.
"Well, then an old woman showed up while she was here." My breath fogs the window. "Started throwing rocks at the house. At ."
"What?" The word cos out like a gunshot. I hear rustling on her end, like she's sitting up quickly. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
"I'm fine. It was just pebbles." My hand drifts up to touch my forehead where one hit. There's no mark, no pain, just the mory of impact. "But Emily, she was saying so really intense stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Her voice cos out carefully controlled, each word asured.
I close my eyes, seeing that old woman's face again, twisted with grief and rage. "She said you murdered her son. That you're keeping her from seeing her granddaughter." The words tumble out faster now, like a dam breaking. "She kept calling you a whore and a murderer and saying her son Franklin wouldn't just leave. That you killed him."
"I'm coming ho." Her voice cuts through my phone like a blade, sharp and decisive. "I'm only forty-five minutes out."
"Wait, no." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Emily, you don't have to do that. It's not an ergency."
"You don't have work tonight, right?"
I blink, thrown by the shift in conversation. "What? No, nothing tonight."
"Just wait for ." It's not a request. The words co out firm, leaving no room for argunt. "I'll be there soon."
"Emily, seriously," I say, trying to inject so calm into my voice. "It's fine. I promise. Everything is fine."
"I love you, baby." Then the line goes dead before I can respond.
I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at the darkened screen. The abruptness of it leaves feeling off-balance, like I've missed a step going down stairs.
I sink back onto the couch, phone still clutched in my hand like it might ring again if I let go.
*****
Forty-two minutes later, I hear the deadbolt turn.
The front door swings open hard enough to bounce off the wall. Emily stands in the doorway, her overnight bag hitting the floor with a heavy thud as her eyes find on the couch. She's wearing a red dress, elegant and expensive-looking. Her silver hair is loose around her shoulders, slightly disheveled like she's been running her hands through it.
Her face looks frantic, wild in a way I've never seen before. Before I can even stand, she runs across the room, her arms wrapping around with crushing force. The montum nearly knocks back into the cushions.
"I'm so sorry," she breathes into my hair, her whole body trembling against mine. "I'm so sorry I hung up on you like that. And I'm so sorry you went through all that."
She slls like expensive wine and truffle oil, not sex. Not hotel sheets or strange cologne. Just the lingering scent of whatever high-end restaurant she must have been at when I called.
"Emily." I wrap my arms around her waist, feeling the rapid hamr of her heartbeat through the thin fabric. "It's okay. I told you it wasn't an ergency."
She pulls back enough to look at my face, her hands coming up to cup my cheeks. Her blue eyes scan frantically, searching for injuries, for signs of trauma. When her gaze lands on my forehead, her thumb brushes across the spot where the pebble hit.
"It's nothing," I say quickly. "Didn't even leave a mark."
Emily's jaw tightens, and she guides back to sit on the couch. She settles beside , close enough that our thighs press together, her hand finding mine and gripping it like a lifeline.
"Danny." Her voice cos out asured, controlled in that way that ans she's working hard to keep it steady. "My ex-husband's mother just accused of murdering him. To you. That's a really big deal."
I squeeze her hand, eting her eyes directly. "I don't believe her."
Sothing in Emily's expression cracks, relief flooding her features so completely that tears spring to her eyes. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine, her breath shaky against my lips.
"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for trusting ."
I bring my free hand up to stroke her hair, feeling the silky strands slip between my fingers. "Of course I trust you."
She stays there for a long mont, just breathing, her trembling gradually subsiding. When she finally pulls back, she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging her makeup slightly.
"What ended up happening with Jessica?" Emily asks, her voice stronger now. "You said she was here when all this went down?"
My stomach tightens at the mory. "She got all worked up about it. Started saying I needed to leave with her right then, that she had a bad feeling." I look down at our joined hands. "I told her to leave."
Emily's grip on my hand tightens. "You kicked your aunt out?"
I nod, feeling the weight of that decision settle heavier now that I'm saying it out loud. "She was trying to get to leave you. Your old mother-in-law freaked her out."
Emily's whole body goes rigid beside . Her fingers turn to ice in my grip, and when I glance at her face, I see sothing dark flash across her features. Not fear. Not guilt. Sothing colder.
"Of course she did," Emily says, her voice dropping to sothing bitter. She releases my hand to stand up, pacing toward the window. "Franklin's mother has been trying to destroy my life for years."
I watch her stare out at the darkening street, her arms wrapping around herself like she's trying to hold sothing in.
"What happened to him?" I ask quietly. "Your ex-husband."
Emily turns from the window, her blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. She doesn't answer my question. Instead, she crosses the distance between us, her gaze dropping from my eyes to my lips.
Then she's kissing .
Not gentle. Not sweet. Desperate and consuming, like she's trying to devour every question I might ask. Her hands fra my face, holding in place as her tongue slides past my lips. I taste wine and sothing darker, sothing that feels like fear masked as hunger.
My brain tries to catch up, tries to rember we were talking about her ex-husband, about accusations of murder, but her fingers are already working at my shirt. I'm responding before I can think about it. My cock hardens against my boxers as she pulls the fabric over my shoulders.
"Emily," I manage between kisses, but she swallows the word, her mouth moving to my neck as she shoves my shirt to the floor.
My boxers follow next, her fingers hooking into the waistband and dragging them down my hips. The cool air hits my erection, and I gasp as she wraps one hand around , stroking once before releasing entirely. The rightful source is novelFɪre
She takes my hand, pulling down the hallway with urgency that makes my heart race. We stumble through the doorway, and she releases to point at the mattress.
"Bed."
The single word cos out like a command, and I move to obey, my naked body feeling exposed and vulnerable in the dimming evening light filtering through the curtains. I sink onto the mattress, watching as Emily reaches behind her back.
The zipper of her red dress slides down with a whisper of tal teeth. She turns slightly, giving her profile as the fabric loosens around her shoulders. It's deliberate, practiced, the kind of movent she's probably perford for countless clients. The dress pools at her feet in a crimson puddle, revealing black lace underneath that looks expensive and delicate.
Her hands move to her bra clasp, and I realize I'm holding my breath. The straps slide down her arms with agonizing slowness, each movent calculated for maximum effect. When it falls away, her breasts spill free, perfect and full in the fading light.
Then her fingers land in her panties, and she bends forward slightly as she slides them down her thighs. The motion is pure performance, ant to drive soone wild with desire. I get to be that soone tonight, even though the show was probably perfected for others.
She gestures toward the headboard, her finger curling in a beckoning motion. "Further back, baby. Sit up against the pillows."
I scoot backward until my spine ets the padded headboard, propping myself into a sitting position. The sheets bunch around my hips as I settle, my cock standing rigid between my legs.
Emily climbs onto the bed with predatory grace, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder as she crawls toward . She straddles my thighs, positioning herself so close I can feel the heat radiating from her core. Her hands brace on my shoulders, and suddenly we're eye level, her blue gaze boring into mine with an intensity that makes my pulse spike.
She reaches between us, wrapping her fingers around my shaft to angle it upward. Then she's lowering herself, the slick heat of her pussy dragging along my length in a torturously slow glide. Not taking inside yet, just grinding against , coating with her wetness.
"Emily," I breathe, my hands finding her hips instinctively.
She continues the motion, rolling her hips so my cock slides through her folds, the head catching against her clit with each pass. The friction sends sparks up my spine, and I grip her tighter, fighting the urge to just thrust up into her.
Finally, she positions at her entrance and sinks down in one fluid motion.
A whimper tears from my throat before I can stop it, the sound embarrassingly needy as her tight heat envelops completely. Being eye level like this, watching her face as she takes , feels impossibly intimate. More vulnerable than any position we've tried before.
A smile curves Emily's lips, slow and satisfied. "That's right," she purrs, her inner walls clenching around deliberately. "You're addicted to Mommy's pussy, aren't you?"
Heat floods my face, but I can't deny it. My cock throbs inside her, my body answering the question my mouth can't form words for.
"Say it," she demands, her hips beginning to move in slow, grinding circles. "Tell Mommy what you need."
"You," I gasp, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. "I need you. I'm addicted to you."
Her expression transforms, sothing raw and desperate washing over her features like a wave. My words seem to hit her harder than any physical touch, and she throws her head back, a moan tearing from her throat that sounds almost pained in its intensity.
"Promise you'll never leave," she gasps, her hips suddenly pistoning faster, taking deeper with each thrust. Her nails dig into my shoulders, anchoring herself as she rides with renewed urgency. "Promise , Danny."
The desperation in her voice makes my chest ache even as pleasure builds at the base of my spine. "I promise," I manage between ragged breaths, my hands sliding up her back to pull her closer. "I promise, Emily. I would never leave you."
She's moving faster now, her inner walls gripping like a vice with each downward thrust. The bed fra creaks beneath us, and I'm drowning in sensation, in the heat of her body and the wild look in her eyes.
Then she leans in close, her lips brushing my ear as she continues that punishing pace. "What if I did it then?"
My brain struggles to process words when she's taking this deep, when every nerve ending is screaming. "What?" I gasp, my fingers clutching at her back.
Emily pulls back just enough to lock eyes with , her hips never slowing. If anything, she moves faster, taking impossibly deeper until I can barely breathe through the pleasure. "What if I did kill my ex?" The words co out breathless but clear. "Would you still stay?"
A moan tears from my throat, my body arching up into her even as my mind reels. The question hangs between us, heavy and dangerous, but she doesn't give space to think. Her movents beco almost violent in their intensity, driving every coherent thought from my head.
"Would you?" she demands again, her voice cracking with sothing that sounds like fear disguised as lust. "Would you still love ?"
My vision blurs at the edges, pleasure and confusion warring inside my skull. She's not stopping, not giving room to breathe or think. Just taking what she needs from my body while asking questions I can't possibly answer in this state.
"Emily," I manage, but the word dissolves into another helpless sound as she grinds down particularly hard.
"Answer ," she whispers against my lips, her breath hot and ragged. "I need to know, baby. Would you stay?"
My cock throbs inside her, my entire body trembling as I try to form words that make sense. The rational part of my brain is screaming that this is important, that I should pause and actually think about what she's asking. But Emily's pussy is clenching around with each thrust, and my thoughts scatter like leaves in a windstorm.
"I…" The word cos out strangled as she grinds down particularly hard. "I don't…"
"Yes or no, Danny." Her nails rake down my chest, leaving red lines in their wake. "Simple question."
My hands grip her hips harder, and I realize with a sick twist in my gut that my body's already answered for . I'm still rock hard inside her, still thrusting up to et her movents despite the weight of what she's asking.
"Yes," I gasp, the admission tearing from sowhere deep and honest. "Yes, I'd stay."
Emily's entire body goes rigid above , her back arching as a scream rips from her throat that sounds almost primal. Her pussy clamps down on my cock with bruising force, pulsing in waves that threaten to drag over the edge with her.
"Yes!" she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. "Yes, baby! Say it again!"
The desperation in her voice carves through the haze of pleasure fogging my brain. She needs this. Needs to hear choose her despite everything.
"I'd stay," I gasp, the words barely coherent as her orgasm intensifies. "I'd stay with you, Emily. I love you. I'd…"
My own release crashes through like a tidal wave, cutting off whatever else I might have said. My hips jerk up involuntarily, driving deeper as I empty myself inside her. Wave after wave of cum floods her pussy, and she's still riding through it, taking everything I have to give while her own climax continues to tear through her body.
"Mine," she sobs against my neck, her movents becoming erratic as aftershocks wrack through her. "You're mine, Danny. Mine."
I can barely breathe, my arms wrapping around her trembling form as we both co down from the intensity of it. My cock continues to pulse weakly inside her, the last remnants of my orgasm leaving feeling hollowed out and raw.
Emily collapses against my chest, her silver hair sticking to both our sweat-dampened skin. I can feel her heartbeat hamring against my ribs, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. Neither of us speaks for a long mont, just breathing together in the darkening room.
When she finally lifts her head to look at , there are tears streaming down her face. Not the sexy kind from before, but real ones. ssy and honest and terrifying in their vulnerability.
"I didn't kill him," she whispers, and her voice breaks on the words. "I swear to you, Danny. I didn't kill Franklin."
My hand cos up to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away the tears even as my brain struggles to reconcile what just happened with what she's saying now. "Okay," I say softly.
"He left." Her eyes search mine desperately, looking for any sign of doubt. "He just left one day. Walked out and never ca back."
"I believe you."
The words co out automatically, like they're programd into . But as I hold Emily's tear-streaked face between my hands, watching her blue eyes search mine for any hint of rejection, I realize sothing that makes my chest tighten.
I don't actually know if I believe her.
The thought sits heavy in my gut, cold and uncomfortable. Emily's reaction to my question wasn't exactly reassuring, asking if I'd stay even if she did it while fucking the answer out of .
But here's the thing that cuts through all the doubt and confusion and fear.
I don't care.
Emily saved from a life of nothing. She pulled out of purgatory and gave sothing I never thought I'd have, a ho, a future, soone who actually wants . She protected from Holly when I couldn't protect myself. She loves in a way that feels consuming and desperate and real.
Whatever happened with Franklin, whatever truth is buried in that missing person's case, it doesn't change the fundantal fact that Emily is mine now. And I'm hers. Completely, irrevocably, probably dangerously hers.
"I believe you," I repeat, and this ti I put every ounce of conviction I can muster into the words. Because even if I don't know what I believe about Franklin, I believe in us. In this thing we've built together.
Whatever the truth is, whatever his mother believes or Jessica suspects, it doesn't matter. Emily is mine, and I'm not losing her.
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