Chapter 12
Rafi
I take her hand and lead her up the long carpeted staircase, down the hall. My bedroom is on the opposite side of the house from Stetson's and for good reason. Opening the door, I push in, not exactly ready to face the music, but the longer I hesitate, the harder this will be. Now that I'm here, I want to tell her the truth. I don't want any more barriers between us.
My fight was quicker than anyone expected, and it was all her. I've never had a knockout that fast, I couldn't wait to get home. And knowing she was watching, I wanted to impress her. I also didn't want her to worry, if the fight went on too long, even when I get hit or taken down—I know I'm fine, but she might worry regardless.
"No dolls…" She comments, looking around.
"Dolls?" I frown, looking from her to the rest of my room. It's big, twice the size of her bedroom. It's also simple. No decorations or anything. Just a low mattress without bed posts, so all the tying up will have to be done at her place. Or I could get a bed frame…
There's a bureau near the bed and some shelves on the opposite wall with various books and DVDs. And a small box with folded letters. One of the reasons I didn't want her to come in here without me here to explain, should she look around. Which, she'd be welcome to. But I need to tell her everything first.
She laughs lightly and walks around the room. "You said I couldn't come in without you here, I wondered what you were hiding," she gives me a saucy smirk.
I wrap my arms around her, slamming the door shut behind us. "And you thought, he must be into dolls?" She giggles as I kiss her neck.
"You were incredible tonight. I'm sorry I doubted you, you didn't even get hit once."
"It's okay, babe, concussions are a legit fear to have. Maybe you'll come to the next one?"
"Yes! I would love to. Really," she says and I keep kissing her neck all the way up to her mouth where we devour each other. The mood shifts and suddenly, where we are, the days apart, the heat of the moment, it takes over the both of us.
Emma pushes her tongue into mine, and I grip her ass, lifting her up and she grinds into me. She lets out a moan, and starts tugging at my shirt. Fuck.
Reluctantly, I release her, bringing her back down to her feet. She whimpers in defiance, but I put my hands on her shoulders and take a step back. It's time. A minute ago, I was excited. Now, I'm nervous. What if she rejects me?
I swallow and suddenly she looks worried. "Raze?"
I let out a big sigh and grab her hand, pulling her toward my bed. I put my hand on her shoulder and position her so she's facing my nightstand. I let go and move around her, so I can watch her face. Her gaze moves to follow me, but they snag on the picture frame.
She furrows her brow, then reaches out and picks it up.
"This is me!" She exclaims. She's not upset. Not yet. "Wait, how'd you get this? This is my senior year picture from when I was 18. Why do you have this?" She asks innocently. Not freaked out, or worried, or upset. Just confused.
Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. I walk over to the shelf on the wall and pull down the small box full of old letters. I carry it over to her and, before I can change my mind, push it into her hands.
She's still confused when she takes the box and sits down on the edge of the bed. She picks up a letter and reads the address, and I watch her expression transform. Confusion. Awe. Surprise. Finally, anger. Or something akin to anger, for sure.
"Raze… why do you have these?" She asks quietly.
"I think you know why, Emma. You can guess."
She takes a deep breath and continues to sort through the letters, her hands starting to shake. We didn't switch to email until we were in our late teens, so this is five years' worth of hand-written letters from her.
"Rafi?" She asks, looking up at me. Her big, beautiful brown eyes are shining, in sadness or happiness, I'm not sure. Maybe both. I nod yes.
"I don't understand. How is this… you're Rafi? You're my Rafi??"
I kneel down and take her hands into mine but she shakes them off, ripping them away and stands, moving several feet away from me. "How the fuck are you Rafi!" She tosses the box on the ground, letters flying out around her.
"Emma. Please. I've wanted to tell you. I've tried to…" Fuck. That's not true, I haven't tried. I haven't wanted to.
"Fourteen months ago, my coach, Max Boseman, nationally renowned, had a spot open up on his roster. And out of all the fucking places in the goddamn country for him to be, he was here, in Wescott. I'd kept an eye on him for a while, already knowing this, but as soon as he offered to take me on, I was packing my bag."
Her eyes are still shining, but she's not crying. She's not yelling. And she's not leaving. Yet. So, I keep talking. "I knew you worked at a coffee shop, but I didn't know which one. So I went to a bunch, all over town. When I found you, I never intended not to tell you who I was. But the first time I saw you… God, Emma, you were so sweet. And shy. You'd barely look at me, and I thought, I'll just keep coming in, get you to warm up to me, and then tell you who I was."
A tear falls, and she wipes it away quickly. I take a step toward her, and she takes her own step back.
"Emma, I've been in love with you for years. But you were always just a girl on paper. When I saw you for real, I just… I wanted to get to know real-life Emma. And I wanted you to get to know real-life me. We're both different on paper and in person. But we aren't, we're more. I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you. But I love you. And I…"
"You lied to me," she spits out.
"I never lied."
Her mouth drops open, "Semantics, asshole! You know what I mean. You let me tell you all those things about me, what if I emailed you and tried to talk to you about you! That's crazy! You lied to me!"
"No! I never lied. I admit, it's in the same ballpark, but any words I ever told you have been truthful. Emma, please. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"I don't believe you. I don't believe you! How can I trust this?" She yells and gestures between us, angrily.
I sigh and reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. I open it and sift through, pulling out my ID. I hand it over to her, and she reaches out and takes it, careful not to touch me.
Her eyes scan my name, Rafi Singh, next to my picture. She stares at it for a long time.
Her tears are flowing now and I try to take a step closer. But her expression changes again, less sad and more angry. "Rafi! Where the fuck have you been!"
"What?"
"You've been ignoring my emails! You barely respond to me anymore! Where have you been!?"
"I'm… shit." I run my hand through my hair, not sure how to explain. "It was hard, and I didn't want to say anything that… Okay, this is going to sound bad. I didn't want to say anything that tipped you off. I just, I really wanted to give real-life us a chance."
"So you just bail on me? You're supposed to be my best friend! All year I thought you were avoiding me, leaving me behind! That our friendship was dying."
She's angry, but she still hasn't left.
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't know how to talk to you anymore and pretend like I wasn't already here. When you asked if we could meet a few years ago, I panicked. Because even though I wanted to, you're the only good and consistent person in my life, and I didn't want to lose that. It's why I put it off. But then, after seeing you… I didn't know how to email you and pretend like everything was the same when in reality, everything was completely changed."
"Then why didn't you just say something! It took Stetson to make you talk to me! I don't understand."
"Because so much time had passed that I became even more worried that I would lose you. The real you, the letter you. If you found out that I had been watching you, without your knowledge, all year, I knew how pissed you would be."
She opens her mouth to yell again, and I interject, "Rightfully! Rightfully pissed. But I didn't want to risk losing you."
I take a step away and sit at the edge of the bed.
"So, Stetson forced your hand. Why not tell me right away?"
"For the same reasons. I just wanted a little bit more time. But I knew I couldn't keep putting it off. And I didn't want to sleep with you until you knew the truth."
"But going down on me was okay?" She crosses her hand and cocks her head. I try to ignore the zap of pleasure at the memory.
"No, probably not."
"It's so dumb, Rafi. It's such a shitty excuse not to tell me. How can I trust you?" Her eyes shine with vulnerability.
"I'll make this right. I swear to you Emma, I'll make it right. But nothing's changed. I'm still Raze, and I'm Rafi. I'm the same person to you, you just know me better than you thought you did."
"I'm mad at you, Rafi. I'm so mad at you."
"I know."
"I don't know if I forgive you."
I open my mouth to argue, but relent. "I know."
"You're coming with me to Thanksgiving."
I shoot my head up and look at her, confused. She continues, "My asshole sister is inviting some d-bag and I know you hate hanging out with your family, so to make it up to me, you're coming to Thanksgiving dinner. My parents have always wanted to meet you anyway."
She's not smiling, her arms are still crossed. She may say she hasn't forgiven me, but she's willing to give me a break. A small one. I'll take what I can get. I walk over to her until I'm standing right in front of her. This time, she doesn't take a step back.
"Done," I nod, not yet touching her, but not giving her any space, either.
"And you're making me Pasta Puttanesca. From scratch."
I can't help the smile splitting my face. She knows I hate to cook authentic Italian food, but my grandmother taught me well. I make excellent hand-made pasta just like my ancestors did, and she knows it.
"Done. Anything else?"
"Yes. I'm sure I'll think of lots of things." Her arms are still crossed but she's no longer frowning. Now, there's a fire in her eyes.
"Rafi?" She asks tentatively. Damn, I had no idea how much I wanted her to use my real name.
"Yeah, babe?"
"I love you too."
Her confession does it. I lean down and kiss her, hard, and it's like our first, all over again. In a way, it is. No barriers, no half-truths. Emma and Rafi, childhood sweethearts in a way. The love of my life, finally in my arms, fully accepting me.
Our kiss turns punishing, and suddenly, without those barriers, I realize there's nothing holding us back. It hits me like a sledgehammer and I'm tearing at her clothes, pulling open her sweater. Her hands shake, trying to unzip my jeans.
I don't help her, instead focusing on pulling off this tiny shirt she's wearing, exposing her beautiful body. I'm grateful she's not wearing glasses right now when I rip it over her head and toss it on the ground.
Her dusty pink nipples are hard, forming mouthwatering peaks, shaping her perfect perky tits. They bounce as she tries to unzip me and tugs, trying fruitlessly to pull my jeans down. I chuckle at her desperation and help her out, stepping out of my jeans. She reaches for my briefs, hands shaking and trembling, and I keep helping her along.
Tearing off the rest of her clothes while she paws at me, finally, we're naked together. But neither of us takes a moment to bask, too ready, too excited. I'm rock fucking hard, and as I hug her close, and kiss her lips, I grip her ass and lift her up, careful not to just slip inside her. My cock is a fucking missile, I can feel her wetness, her want and need, she's dripping and ready for it. But we've waited this long, we're gonna do it right, so I resist with tremendous effort.
I carry her to the bed and lower her down, climbing on top of her. She spreads her knees wide, and I settle between them. A moment passes and we're staring into each other's eyes, and I want to kiss her tits and work her body with my tongue but while I'm locked in a gaze with her, understanding passes between us. We both need this. Right now.
She reaches between us, dragging her open palm across my chest, leaving a trail of craving in its wake, everywhere she touches left on fire. Her hand fists between us, gripping my cock. A flashback to that epic fucking handjob she gave me has me involuntarily pumping into her fist. I hiss as she squeezes me, rotating her grip. I reach down and run my hand along the length of her smooth leg, pushing one of her knees up to open her wider. Her beautiful pussy glistens, hot, wet, needy. My cock pulses, precum dripping out.
She holds my thick cock in her hand and guides me to her entrance. Our eyes are locked when I push in. Just the tip at first, her wet heat inviting me in. But she hasn't had a lot of sex and it's been a long time for her, for us both, and I don't want to hurt her. So I move slowly, still watching her eyes, the pace aching, my cock throbbing in excitement.
Finally, I push all the way inside her, and she's so tight it's like a vice grip, suctioning, beckoning me in. Her eyes squeeze shut and her breath quickens when I slide out, tilting my body forward, angling my cock to slide along the top seam of her pussy, gliding along her swelling clit.
The friction makes her buck her hips, shouting out, "Ahhh!"
"You like that babe?" I do it again, pulling out enough to push into her pelvis, sliding along her clit, her soaking wet pussy sucking me in. "You fuckin' love it. You need it so bad, don't you Emma? My cock filling you up?"
"Oh, goddamn, yes Rafi! Yes!" She swallows and rolls her hips, pressing upward and into me as hard as she can, chasing her need. Trembling, her hands grip my shoulders, clawing at my back, desperate and needy. I shift my weight into my arms and hover over her, pounding into her, hard, while she begs and sobs.
"Say it again! Say my name, Emma, say my fuckin' name," I thrust upward, squeezing her thigh, pushing her knee closer to her head. Rolling my hips, I hit every part of her soaking wet pussy with each thrust.
"Rafi! Rafi!" She sobs.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, both legs behind my back, and clings to me while I pound into her. I've been wanting to fuck Emma Baker for so long, I savor every single second. She's moaning and squeezing her legs, pulling me closer. I thrust a little faster, in and out of her warm, tight pussy.
Emma cries out my real name again. Hearing my name on her lips, it’s a fucking gift.
"Oh god! Yes! Yes!" She's screaming, and I'm fucking her like a beast. She's titling her hips, and I'm pistoning so hard her body starts to shake and move up the bed. She lifts her legs higher, opening wider, and it deepens the angle, and I keep thrusting, pounding, and sliding along, tapping her G-spot with each upward thrust.
"Fuck, Emma, fuck! I love you so much! So fucking much!" I pant, holding her so close. There's almost no space between us now, just a mess of sweat and heat and desperation.
She's squeezing her walls tight, and I know she's close, her channel starts to pulse, milking my cock. "Rafi, I love you too. I—ahhhh!" She comes undone beneath me as she rolls her hips chasing her climax. I follow suit and when her pussy gives a final clench and squeezes around me, I'm roaring her name.
I empty my cock, feeding her every fucking drop. Her walls start to soften, and only then do I relent, slowing down until I'm collapsing on top of her.
We're both breathing heavily, sweaty and sticky. My cock slowly slips out of her, causing us both to shiver.
We don't say anything for several minutes.
"Hey, Rafi?" Her voice tentative and soft.
"Yeah, Emma?" I lean off her and look down, her eyes shining.
"Can we do that again?"
A laugh bursts out of me, and I lean down to kiss her gorgeous lips.