Chapter 12 Emma #2
He takes that as an invitation to add another finger inside and increases the pace.
My hips begin rocking against his hand, my body desperate for more.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone, let alone been touched by a man that actually knows what he’s doing, that I already feel myself about to climax.
My eyes roll back as I gasp for air in anticipation.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asks, a mischievous grin taking over.
“Yes.” I murmur through shaky breaths.
Alex immediately pulls out his fingers from inside me. “That’s too bad.”
My eyes shoot open and my jaw drops in pure shock from what just happened. He brings the fingers up to his mouth and sucks the wetness off of them slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You taste even better than I remember.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Alex?” I don’t mean for it to come out so loudly, but it does. Fuck it, I don’t care if people can hear me. I don’t wait for a response. Pushing him away, I pull down my skirt and march away as anger claims every inch of my body.
“Em!” I hear Alex call out but I ignore him, making my way through the crowds and back to the bakery’s booth.
Every step feels heavier than the last and my vision starts to blur slightly at the corners again.
By the time I reach Liv, my body is screaming.
I am truly seconds away from passing out if I don’t get out of here.
“I need to go home,” I call out, rushing to grab my things with the last bit of energy I have.
Liv’s eyes widen. “Em, what—”
“I just need to go, Liv. Please.”
I’m on the verge of tears. Without another word, she nods, wrapping an arm around me as she leads me away. Away from the noise and the crowd. Away from him.
Liv’s car jerks to a stop in front of the house. She turns to look at me, her face tight with concern. “Em, are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
I force a weak smile, though even doing only that feels exhausting.
Luckily, I was able to manage my symptoms on the ride here, with some controlled deep breathing and fresh air from the open window.
The last place on earth I want to be after Mom’s passing is a hospital, so I’m willing to do anything necessary to avoid it.
I also didn’t tell Liv what happened in the park with Alex, and I don’t plan on it, at least not any time soon.
I’m mad at myself for even letting it happen in the first place.
I feel so out of control with every aspect of my life right now.
My heart is shutting down on me. I can’t even properly hate Alex because every time he’s around, something feels like it’s pulling me to him.
I have no control and I feel like I’m losing it.
But I’m not going to admit that, at least not willingly.
“I’m fine now. Really. I just need to rest.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything?”
“I promise,” I say, already reaching for the door handle.
Liv hesitates but gives my arm a small squeeze in acceptance.
“Thanks for the ride,” I mutter as I shove the door open and crawl out.
I hear her let out a deep sigh before driving off. Standing on the rickety porch steps for a moment, I watch as the tail lights disappear into the night. As I make my way inside the house, my legs feel like lead, my body aches, and the day’s exhaustion presses down on me like a weight.
Collapsing onto the couch, I let out a shaky breath. The night plays over in my mind like a bad movie—the festival, Alex’s breath against my ear, how his fingers felt inside of me. The void I felt when he pulled them out, denying what my body craved.
A few minutes pass before a sharp knock at the door startles me. I groan and consider ignoring it. Another more insistent knock comes and, with an exasperated sigh, I push myself up and trudge to the door, yanking it open.
Alex is standing there, his face tense, like he is waiting for my reaction.
“What are you doing here?” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. My body betrays me once again, reacting to his presence with an annoying flutter in my chest, different from the kind I had earlier.
“I came to check on you,” he says, softer than I expect it. “You didn’t look good when you left.”
“Gee, I wonder why?” I scoff.
“You didn’t like that I didn’t let you come, huh?” he asks with that stupid mischievous grin appearing again and I want to smack him. Or alternatively, I could edge him and see if he likes it? I like that plan better.
I roll my eyes instead.
“You really thought I was going to make you come in a fucking park?” he continues on. Crossing the door frame, he takes one step towards me. “I don’t want anyone but me even having the chance of seeing you like that. You deserve somewhere more proper, don’t chu think?”
Another step.
“Don’t,” I whisper, but it is weak, unsure.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving closer, his presence overwhelming. I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I can’t,” his voice is low and rough. “I’ve tried to stay away from you since you’ve been back, but I can’t. You drive me crazy, Em. Every time I see you, I—”
“Shut up,” I interrupt, choking back memories and feelings trying to resurface. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to mess with my life and then act like you actually care.”
“I do care,” he says, fierce and in control. “I have always made it very obvious that I care about you. How do you not see that?”
God, I hate him. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m something precious. I hate how my body reacts, how my pulse races when he is near. I hate that some part of me still wants him to close the distance between us.
“Just go.” I whisper, trying to regain some control, but it comes out weak like a plea.
“Em…” He reaches out, his hand hovering near my cheek, and I freeze, torn between wanting him to touch me again and wanting to push him away.
My heart is pounding. I don’t know what to do or what to say. All I know is that I hate him for making me feel this way, and I hate myself even more for wanting him despite it all. My emotions are a fucking chaotic mess.
“Please.” I whisper again, but I don’t even know what I am asking for anymore. I don’t know if I want him to leave or touch me, or to just feel his warm touch against my skin again.
His fingers gently make contact with my cheek and glide to the back of my neck, tangling slightly in my hair. I feel like I’m going to explode from the tension building up inside of me. The anger, confusion, attraction… it’s all too much.
He leans in closer to my face, his breath warm against my skin, and I think he’s going to kiss me.
But I pull away, stepping back to create distance between us.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his eyes searching mine for some kind of sign as to what it is I actually want.
But even I don’t know the answer to that.
Finally, he exhales, long and heavy. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll go.” A look of resignation crosses his face.
I don’t turn away until I hear the door close behind him. The second he’s gone, my legs give out and I sink to the floor, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.
I want to scream. I want to punch something. I want to forget the way his eyes searched mine, the way he sounded defeated, the way I think I wanted him to kiss me.