9. Emerson #2
I slowly took my time walking after her, nodding to the few who were still working, and then called the elevator.
Impatience was causing me to tap my fingers incessantly against my thigh as I waited.
When it finally came, the ride down to the lobby was excruciating, and by the time the door opened, I was all but running to catch up to her.
But Pearl was taking her time, and I immediately had to slow my pace so I could follow her.
Does she know anything about being aware of her surroundings?
The more I followed her, the more annoyed I got. Most of the time, she was either listening to music or whatever it was on her phone or looking at it directly. Still, I couldn’t help but notice she never crossed the street without looking or even bumped into someone walking the opposite way.
We finally got to her apartment. I had done my research on where she lived, but the pictures were from a few years ago and looked much better than now. It had zero security and looked condemned. Anxiously, I waited outside, checking my phone every few minutes, but I didn’t see any lights going on.
She should’ve been up in her apartment by now. Maybe I should text her?
The longer I stayed away from her, the more unsure I was about her staying at her apartment for the rest of the night.
It was New York City, so sirens going off constantly were a common thing, but one sounded a little less than a block away, and I immediately started to panic.
I pulled up her contact and started typing, but to my surprise, she sent me a message first.
Pearl
Don’t work late tonight.
My lips quirked. Is Pearl Meadows worrying about me? It was endearing, but my mind didn’t stray from the fact that she was going to be staying in this apartment alone without me.
Me
Miss me already? Or have you already tried making yourself come and failed?
Even without seeing her, I knew that that blush was probably working its way down her body.
Pearl
Why don’t you come and see for yourself?
Her flirtatiousness had desire coiling in my belly. I wanted to prove to her exactly how serious I’d been about showing up at her house the other night.
So, deciding to act on it instead of texting her back, I entered her apartment building and climbed up the steps. When I finally reached her door, I didn’t hesitate to knock.
There were a few moments of silence before I heard her shuffling on the other side of the door. Then it swung open.
She had changed into a loose tank top—with no bra—and shorts so tiny her ass cheeks were probably hanging out.
Delicious. The peaks of her nipples were pushing through the thin fabric, and I had trouble keeping my hands to myself.
Pushing her into the apartment, I grabbed the hand that was on the doorknob and locked the door behind me. Her eyes were trained on me the entire time, her breath catching as we touched.
“That was fast,” she whispered.
“Are you giving up already?” I asked. “You told me to come see, but are you also going to ask me to take you home?”
She swallowed, and I watched, mesmerized, as the column of her throat tensed. My hand moved there on its own, and my fingers started to trail down the sensitive part of her neck to her chest. I couldn’t stop myself from tracing her nipple through her shirt.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Specifics,” I reminded. “Yes, what?”
“Take me home, Emerson,” she said, her breath quickening. “Fuck me. Here or there, I don’t care, as long as you put your hands on me again.”
I backed her up, her back hitting the small kitchen island.
“Are you admitting you can’t make yourself come without me?”
Her eyes searched my face, but her answer took too long. I pulled her shirt down, exposing her perfect bare breasts to me, and she let out a gasp as I leaned down and licked up her neck to her ear.
She squirmed against me. Her hands fisted my shirt and pulled me closer.
“Beg me.”
“Please,” she panted. “Please fuck me, Emerson.”
I trailed open-mouthed kisses on her skin. My perfect little whore arched into me as I got to her chest, and just to indulge myself, I pulled her hard nipple into my mouth, running my tongue around the rosy bud.
“Oh, fuck.”
My hand trailed up her leg until I got to her cunt, cupping it through her thin shorts. She jerked against me, searching for friction.
I sucked and nibbled on her nipple, finally forcing myself away as her hands buried themselves in my hair. Our faces were close, her pants wafting across my face.
Teasingly, I nipped her bottom lip.
“Get your stuff.” My voice came out huskier than I intended. Her eyes flashed up to mine.
“What? You’re stopping?” she asked, her tone rising.
I couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across my lips.
“It’s called delayed gratification,” I said and leaned toward her ear, nipping the lobe. “And brats who don’t listen don’t get fucked.”
I pulled away and drank in the sight. Red and panting desire clear in her eyes. Nipple shiny and wet from my mouth and begging for more. Shorts pushed up so I could just make out the silhouette of her cunt.
So perfect.
Then I turned away, enjoying her whine as I left to start helping her pack up her things.