Chapter 9
Emma
"I think I'm gonna vom," Alice sighs dramatically, preceded by an obnoxious hacking sound, sticking her finger in her mouth.
I roll up a napkin and throw it at her, but she swats it away and laughs. Raze and Stetson just left, and I'm embarrassed to admit I acted like a giggling, infatuated school girl the entire ten minutes they were here.
Raze and I have hung out every day for almost two weeks, though it's been way more tame. I think he's giving me time to get used to him before things progress. I already feel intensely attached to him, so when I'm not wrapped up in lust, with a bit of space to think, I'm grateful he's helping us try to slow down.
It still doesn't help that when he's around, all I want to do is jump on top of him. He could share the most mundane detail of his day, and I'd still stare at him wide-eyed and lusty. It's pathetic, hence the napkin throwing.
He's coming over again for dinner tonight and I'm not even close to getting bored even though we've essentially had the same date half a dozen times already.
I didn't buy ingredients to make tacos like we agreed on because I know he's on a strict diet, and I want to give him a break from the bad foods I eat. Not that tacos are bad, but after discovering the rigorous workout and food regimens he typically sticks to, I realized that even my version of healthy isn't his norm. And since he usually buys everything for dinner, I wanted to try to do something special for tonight.
A rolled-up napkin hits the side of my face again, and I drag my daydreaming self away from the window.
"So do I even bother asking how things are going with lover boy?"
Alice is happy for me, but also, 'so fuckin' jealous,' but I think her saying that was more obligatory than anything. I've seen the way Stetson watches her when he's here, especially since that morning when he made me cry. I don't know what she said to him, but he's been seeking her out every time he's here.
She could have her own 'lover boy' if she wanted, but for whatever reason, she's just not interested. Maybe it's that broken nose and massive bruise on his face he must have received during a fight at the gym that he was rocking all last week.
"It's been… intense? Hot? Life-changing? Ugh, that sounds terrible. Meeting a guy shouldn't change your life. Wait, but that's how people get married and have kids, so I guess it can be?" I push my glasses back up my nose when they slide down.
"Wow. I mean, no, I wouldn't call it terrible, but, you know, just be careful. He seems like an intense guy. Is he good in bed? I mean, that body! He must be good in bed." She squeals and dramatically shivers her shoulders, her hair bouncing in time with her movements.
"Uhhh, I wouldn't know. We haven't had sex yet."
"What!?" Alice shouts, and I'm grateful the shop is empty. It usually starts to die down around this time of the day. Raze used to only come in the mornings, but he's been visiting later in the day all week.
"What?"
"You're talking about having life-changing feels for a dude you barely know, and you haven't fucked him yet?"
"Well, when you put it like that…" I chew on my thumbnail. "I guess maybe I should fuck him tonight then?" I deadpan.
She gasps, "No! I didn't mean rush into anything!"
I laugh at her and throw another rolled-up napkin at her head. "Relax, I'm not going to rush home and have sex with him. I just feel like we have such insane chemistry…"
Her smile is genuine but cautious. "Just be careful. I think it's awesome, and I'm all for it. But, yeah, just be careful."
I nod and get back to work, so I can close the shop and get ready for tonight.
* * *
I hop out of the shower and take my time rubbing lotion into every inch of my skin. Tonight I'm going to make a move. I think. I don't have any fancy lingerie or at least none that aren't also assless or crotchless. I don't think I'll be using them tonight, though, because I don't want to explain why I own them.
I grab a regular pair of black boyshorts underwear and a matching black push-up bra. I rarely wear push-ups, having fully committed to laziness in my wardrobe with comfortable cotton everything. It's no wonder I haven't been able to attract a man before now.
I mean, it's not like I've never been asked out. I do kind of rock the sexy librarian trope. But I don't work it. And when a guy has, for example, come into the coffee shop and flirted with me, I typically manage nothing more than a squeak in response before running away.
How I ever managed to admit so much of myself to Raze so far is proof that there's something different about him.
I've thought about Rafi a few times this week and debated emailing him. He hasn't responded to my last email yet, though. He gets kind of quiet whenever I mention anything about a guy. Still, this is almost the longest he's ever gone without writing me back.
In my last email, I told him I might try to find a date somehow and put myself out there more, maybe join a dating app. The only reason I even mentioned it was because I'd been feeling really lonely and down. And when I'm feeling strongly about something, Rafi is usually the first person I want to talk to about it. We've always been each other's sounding board.
This past year though, it feels like we're ultimately drifting apart. Rafi doesn't respond as much or as quickly, and his emails have been more… perfunctory. Just a little more detached or clinical. I don't know how to explain it, but he's been acting differently toward me, and I miss him. A lot.
The one and only time I ever hinted at feeling something maybe more than friendship for him was a few years ago, and I wish all the time that I could take it back. I suggested that we could meet in person before I went off to college. I even sent him my phone number, hoping we could start texting instead of emailing.
He didn't reply for two months, and when he did, he didn't acknowledge the question, as if I never even asked. It was a strange email, and we never talked about it after that. Eventually, things started to return to normal up until last year.
It makes me sad because I miss my friend. And I want to be able to send him a letter and tell him I'm ridiculously happy and ask how he is and has he ever been in love?
I honestly have no clue what Rafi does with his life now, where he works. He used to stock shelves at a grocery store just to get out of the house when we were still in high school, but he hasn't mentioned a job since then.
Another point to us growing apart. Sometimes I get an overwhelming urge to track him down so I can smack him upside the head and yell, 'See! I'm still here! I'm your best friend, and you tell me nothing anymore!' But I don't. He has his secrets, and I have mine.
Maybe our friendship has run its course.
I just slipped a 90s-style floral button-up dress on when my phone chimes. Thinking it may be my sister, I ignore it. We've been arguing back and forth about holiday plans this year. She wants to invite her new boyfriend over for Thanksgiving, which is almost two months from now. We take Thanksgiving seriously at our house, hence the early planning.
I’ve never met her boyfriend, and when she talks about him, he sounds like a pretentious dumbass. For some reason, she's into him. But I feel like Thanksgiving, our and our parent's favorite holiday, is not the time to unleash him on the family.
I wonder if Raze and I would still be together. Maybe if she gets to bring her boyfriend, I can bring mine. Is that what he is, my boyfriend? He probably has plans with his family, he wouldn't want to come to our house. Not that I would know, since he won't tell me about his family, and can he really be my boyfriend if I don't even know his real name?
I don't want to spiral, but I think this is what Alice meant when she said to move slowly and be careful. I can't invite a man to Thanksgiving who I know so little about.
But do I have to know a lot about him to have sex with him?
The phone chimes again, breaking the silence, and I pick it up. The first message was Raze letting me know he was on his way, the second letting me know he's downstairs.
I don't bother putting shoes on since it's a private hallway. Heading to the stairwell at the back of the building off my kitchen, I practically run down the stairs, open the door and jump into Raze's arms. He catches me easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist like a spider monkey.
"Where are your shoes?" he growls into my neck, kissing me.
"Upstairs, I hate wearing shoes." I complain, kissing him back.
"Well then, hold on," he slides arms around me, hands under my ass, easily carrying me up the stairs.
"Wait!"
He slows his steps but doesn't stop completely, and instead of asking why, he kisses my neck again.
"Raze?"
"Yeah, babe," he asks in between kisses.
"Are you my boyfriend?"
He chuckles but doesn't stop. If anything, he moves more quickly up the steps. We reach my apartment; I left the door open, and he walks us right in.
"Raze?" I ask him again, quietly. He's distracting me, but I don't let him because it's important. Not the answer, exactly, but that he acknowledges me.
He releases me, and I slide down his body until I'm standing in front of him.
"Babe, I told you I went into the coffee shop every single day you worked for a fucking year just to get a glimpse of you. I also told you that I feel a lot stronger about you than you realize."
He kisses my neck, then my cheek, and continues, "I can be your boyfriend if you want me to be your boyfriend. I can be your lover." A kiss to my temple, "I could even be your husband if you wanted," he looks into my eyes before kissing my lips.
"I'm being serious, Raze," I stay, but not sternly enough. I'm a little weak in the knees, so he steps back to give me a little space to breathe. He's obviously not being serious, which annoys me all the more.
"So am I, Emma." He winks, turns to the kitchen and rubs his hands together. "So, how do we do this?" He looks around the kitchen in an attempt to start dinner and distract me from the conversation.
I squint my eyes at him skeptically, having opted for my contacts tonight. I prefer my glasses, but they've been driving me crazy lately, they're too loose. I keep trying to fix them, but it doesn't last.
We start cooking, and Raze is both surprised and relieved I attempted to pick something out that was better for him, since it's my first time picking out dinner for us. He keeps shooting me glances like he wants to say something while we chop and cook, but he never does. At least, not whatever's on his mind.
He has a big fight this week, so instead, he shares a little bit about how he prepares. How rigorous his training schedule will be the days leading up, but the day before and of the fight, he'll take it easy since he'll have to travel.
"And no sex," he finishes, but I don't hear what comes after that.
"What about sex?"
He chuckles as he pulls out plates. I like seeing him here, in my tiny little apartment, acting all domestic. I wonder what his place is like.
"Did you catch anything else or just the part about the sex?"
"Don't tease me. Tell me again," I laugh with him, and we sit down to eat.
"Coach is pretty old school. Doesn't want me having sex or jerking off the day of or day before a fight. Save up all my pent-up aggression or some shit. I don't know, it's an old tactic." He stabs a carrot with his fork, amusement shining in his dark eyes. "I can still get you off, though, so don't worry about that, okay, babe?"
I choke on a vegetable and get up to refill my glass. I pour a small glass of wine and put my plate aside while Raze finishes the rest of his meal.
"Thank you for this, by the way," gesturing to his plate.
"I tortured you with donuts yesterday. It's the least I could do." He didn't actually eat any, I just feel bad that I ate like three in front of him. To me, that would be pure torture.
Raze smiles and wraps his foot around the leg of my chair, tugging me closer to him, the sound creaking against the wooden floor. "You don't get it. Everyone always wants something from me. Stetson loves it, loves that chicks throw themselves at him, and doesn't give a fuck if it's only because he has money or because he's on TV winning fights. It's hollow, though. It felt hollow for a while. But this? Helping me eat healthy, taking care of me? This means a lot."
"Can I ask you something? About your past?" We haven't broached the subject since he put on the embargo, but he can say yes or no.
He sighs heavily, clasps my hand, and walks me over to the couch. "Yeah, you can ask me anything. I'll try to answer."
"Did you have a lot of… umm, you know. Relationships? Or dates, or whatever?"
He makes a disgruntled noise, clearing his throat, straightening his back a bit on the couch. "I admit I've slept with a lot of women. But it never meant anything. That's what I meant about it being hollow. I've never been in a relationship. And the chicks I've been with, well, I never really saw it going anywhere with any of them."
He's holding my hand and stroking my wrist with his thumb. I don't feel jealous, but hearing it is a little awkward. I did ask. He gives me a half-smile before continuing, "But then, I transferred here, walked into that coffee shop. You were just so fuckin' sweet. And you had no idea who I was. You were too shy to look at me when I'd order tea, but I'd catch you looking at me while you were making coffee. You looked at me like you wanted to know me."
"I did. I do," I reach out and wrap my hand around his neck. "I don't know why you want to be with me—"
"Emma, you're—"
"No, just let me finish. I'm not trying to be self-deprecating. But you have to admit at first glance, we don't seem like a good match, and I know I don't stand out in a crowd." He starts grumbling, trying to interrupt and argue. "But if there was anyone I was going to try and fight my own… um, hang-ups, or awkwardness, to be with, it's you."
His dark eyes weigh heavily on me, something deep passes between us. Maybe I can set the boyfriend and even the real name questions aside and see how he feels about getting to know the real me.
I decided to be brave.
"I have this recurring fantasy where I'm at work, and you come in for your tea. But for some reason, I'm so distracted I forget to make it. And I'm so turned on that I have to take a break because after seeing you, all I can think about is getting off, I need to so badly. So I abandon the register, leave Alice to deal with it, and run upstairs to my apartment. And I'm barely through my door when I tear off my underwear, and I'm so wet. And I start rubbing myself, and I'm trying to be quick because I have to make your tea still, but I was so anxious to get up here that I forgot to shut my door. And you followed me up. And you just watch me."
I've started to drift off, reliving the fantasy in my head, and I forget for a second that I'm sharing with him. His eyes are hooded, half-mast. He swallows, and it brings attention to his jaw, his mouth. Raze's soft, wide lips, dark facial hair, and rich, golden skin. I wonder what his cheeks would feel like between my thighs.
"What happens next," he asks, his gravelly voice nearly as quiet as mine.
"I don't know. I'm usually coming by then, so I never finish the story."
For a second, he's staring at me with such intensity. I watch as he works through something in his mind and when a decision is made, he stands abruptly. He's hard, judging by the tent in his jeans, and it thrills me.
He grabs my hand and pulls me off the couch, and I start to worry when he pulls me to the side door, the one that leads down to the coffee shop, and he unlocks it. Hand still wrapped around my wrist, I follow in confusion as we head downstairs. Is he trying to leave?
What is happening? When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he pushes me against the wall of the stairwell, caging me in with his arms on either side of me, but he doesn't touch me. Instead, he drops his head, and we lock eyes, his gaze heavy. I feel small and helpless boxed in like this, and a terrifying thrill shudders through my body.
"You just made me tea," his voice is deep, husky and direct, "but you're so fucking turned on you can't wait until tonight to touch yourself." He steps back, releases me, and gestures his head up toward my apartment.
Holy shit. We're doing this. He's role-playing my fantasy. Ohmigod, what do I do? I know what to do, and I'm too turned on to overthink it. So I turn and bolt up the stairs, taking them as fast as I can. If I wasn't so turned on, I might laugh. I run into the apartment but leave the door ajar behind me.
Would I just take off my underwear or my whole dress? In my fantasy, sometimes it changes. And I didn't specify. Whatever. I'm going to be brave. I tear my dress off and step out of my underwear. I'm only wearing a bra when I second-guess it. Is this too much? Neither of us has been naked around each other. God, we've only been together two weeks, what the fuck am I doing?
But I hear footsteps, and suddenly I don't care anymore. I'm so nervous and anxious and excited. I can't believe this is really happening. The gorgeous, dark, hot, famous MMA fighter I make tea for is stalking up the steps to my apartment.
I'm burning, shaking. I feel like the second I touch myself, I'm going to come. But I need to. I need it so bad it hurts. So I slide my finger between my folds, and I am soaked. I'm so wet it's embarrassing and almost too slippery. I need friction, and the need to be touched is so strong that I'm trembling.
I flatten my two fingers and slide them below my clit, and slip just the tip of my fingers inside me, then I pull them back out. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bring my fingers back up and over my clit, letting out a hiss when I hear the door to my apartment slowly push open. I keep my eyes closed tight. It's terrifying and exciting all at once because now I know he's watching me. This is real.
My fantasy usually ends here, so I only know he's going to watch. I keep rubbing and rocking my hips into my hand, and I'm so fucking wet I'm a mess.
"Mmhhmm," I let out a low, desperate moan because I'm hovering in this place where I could make myself come on command any second, but I want to prolong it, I want to see what happens next. I’m so turned on it’s painful.
I don't stop, but I slow my fingers and peek open my eyes. Somehow, so quietly, Raze has moved closer to me. The door is still ajar, and that's all the more thrilling, like he really did just follow me up here from the coffee shop. He's watching my hand work myself up, and I can't help the whine that escapes my mouth.
"Raze," I plead, desperate. For something. For him.
His hands are fisted at his sides, and he slowly stalks toward me. He doesn't stop when he gets to me, though, forcing me to step back with him. We move until my back hits the wall. It breaks my concentration, and he snatches my hand in his, keeping me from touching myself.
"You forgot to make my tea," he growls into my neck, taking a deep inhale of my scent, sliding his nose from the base of my neck to my ear, breathing me in. His tea… omigod, he's still role-playing.
I'm moaning and panting, pushing my hips into his. "I forgot your tea," I nod, whispering back, the words barely audible.
"But now, I'm thirsty," he growls, and I widen my eyes in response. Oh fuck. Is this what I think it means? I grip his shoulders, and he reaches around me to unclasp my bra, releasing my breasts. He slides his fingers under the straps and tugs my bra off, hanging it from one of his fingers, watching my reaction.
"I need… Raze, I need," I bring my hand back down and reach for my clit, but he catches me before I can touch myself, and I almost feel like crying. Everything’s so heightened, he's playing out my fantasy for me, and it's so much better in person, and god, I just want him to touch me.
"How wet are you, Emma?" He growls.
"I'm… ahh, oh god, Raze, I'm so wet. Please, I need you," I cry, and he starts to lower to the ground, sucking in each of my breasts, squeezing them as he moves down, pinching my nipples.
I can barely stand when he gets to his knees, and without any hesitation, licks me fully with the length of his tongue.
"Ahhh!" I cry out, and he takes hold of one of my legs and lifts it, so my knee is draped over his shoulder, and I'm standing on one leg. I lean my weight into him and against the wall behind me, and he devours me. No one has ever gone down on me before, but I can't imagine it would have ever compared to this.
He's licking and sucking and fucking me with his tongue. I was already so close. The sensation is surreal. It doesn't take long for me to start rocking my hips, trying to fuck his face. He doesn't seem to mind, making his own sounds of approval, heavy breathing, and grunts. He slips his two fingers into me and starts fucking me with his hand, then covers my clit with his mouth and sucks, flicking his tongue over the tiny bud.
I'm done for, the explosion is instant.
"Ahhh! Yes! Yes!" I cry out, incoherent and loud. My entire body is shaking, the orgasm is bright and intense. I chase the sensation for as long as I can, rocking my hips into him, feeling every bit of his fingers pumping inside me, his tongue and mouth still sucking and flicking, like he’s making out with my pussy.
I've fallen away from the wall and am practically in a heap on top of him, held up only by his shoulders when the orgasm starts to subside.
The aftershocks are intense, even as he slides his fingers out of me. I shift my body away from him, too sensitive to the touch, it almost feels like I'm still coming, spent and exhausted.
Raze is still kneeling on the floor, so he shifts my leg but lets me be heavy, picking me up and carrying me down the hall to my bedroom.
I should be thinking something coherent and intelligible, having just had the best sexual experience of my entire life, but at the same time, a bomb could go off in my apartment, and I'm not sure I'd care. All thoughts are like dust in a sunny window, drifting away, out of reach.
My body limp, Raze carries me to my bed and carefully lays me down. I don't know what time it is. But I know it's getting late, especially since we both get up around 5 am, so I'm not surprised when he kneels at my bedside after covering me with a blanket.
He leans up and kisses my temple, "Sleep, Emma. I'll lock the door behind me," he says quietly, and for a second, I think I hear the words 'I love you.' I attempt to ask him to repeat himself, but he's gone. I hear the echo of the back door shutting from down the hall.
I think he just told me he loved me. I must have misheard him. I'm a mess right now, I need to shower, clean the kitchen and do all sorts of things. But I do none of these and fall into a dreamless sleep.