Chapter 19
Emma
I hop out of the Uber and walk into the small market with my reusable bags all folded neatly. There's a small convenience store closer to my apartment which I'm ashamed to admit is where I typically buy most of my groceries.
But Rafi asked me to go to the actual market to get real groceries, so here I am. I don't know what he's doing with these ingredients but he's had meetings late every night this week and we leave for Vegas in just a few days, so he asked if I minded. Of course I didn't.
The list is super short anyway so I make my way through the store over to the fresh produce. I pick out a handful of ripe tomatoes and manage to find fresh oregano and a couple of other fresh herbs. I don't know what he wanted all this for, but while I'm here I head to the wine selection and pick out a couple of bottles.
I heft my bag over my shoulder and walk through another aisle, stocking up on peanut butter and jelly while I'm here. I'm just browsing through the bread when I hear, "Emma?"
I drop my hand away from the bread I was about to pick up and look over, finding a woman smiling at me.
She's wearing a light pink UC sweatshirt and short jean shorts. Her skin a rich golden tan, blonde hair blown out into perfect long waves, framing her lovely face. And she smells like coconuts. Which is strong since I'm a couple of feet away from her and can still smell her.
"Yeah… Tina, right?" I remember her. She snuck into the locker room and tried to tell Rafi I was up to something nefarious. She also kind of verbally accosted me the night of Rafi's last fight. That was a few weeks ago now, and neither of us have heard from her since. I wonder what she wants.
"Yeah! Crazy running into you here. What are you up to?" She asks, like we're old friends, holding a grocery basket in one hand and gesturing with the other.
"Uhmm… not much," I awkwardly lift my grocery bag in answer. I don't know what to say or why she's being nice. I chew on my lip and push my glasses further up my face. She doesn't respond, just keeps her smile wide and waits. "What are you up to?" I finally, reluctantly ask.
"Ugh, just running errands. I hate grocery shopping, it's like my least favorite thing to do. That's why I look so ratty, I'm just bumming around today. Gotta pick up laundry, then finish cleaning my apartment or my roommate will kill me."
I smile awkwardly and expect her to excuse herself. She doesn't. I wait a beat then reach for the bread. I push my glasses back up and yep, she's still there. Still smiling. I put the bread in my bag and say, "Well, it was nice to see you."
"You too," she turns and walks with me to the front of the store so we can pay for our things. I walk slowly wondering if she'll get bored and leave me alone, but she doesn't.
I reach into my bag to pay for everything when I find two twenties stuffed in the pocket where my wallet is. I told Rafi I got it, he pays for everything. He said 'okay' without argument for once, but obviously this is his. I'll sneak it back into his wallet later. I pay for the groceries and Tina is in the check-out aisle next to me paying for hers.
Unfortunately, we finish at the same time and she walks with me toward the exit. "So, are you going to Raze's fight in Vegas?" She asks, not a hint of the same mean girl from the last time we spoke. I'm hesitant to respond.
"Uhmm…" We exit the store, greeted by sunny warmth and a cool breeze flowing off the ocean beside us, maneuvering around hanging baskets of flowers and various plants for sale. I pull up my Uber app, hoping if I ignore the situation it'll resolve itself.
No such luck. She turns to me, forcing my attention on her. "Okay, look. I was an asshole. I'm sorry about that. My inner Queen B from high school never really went away and sometimes when I don't get what I want I can get bitchy. I'll admit that. I promise I'm not that mean."
She seems sincere in her apology and I don't want to be rude. Maybe Rafi and I were overreacting.
"It's okay. Yeah, I'm planning to go to Vegas. Will uh… will you be there?"
"Yes! I'm so excited. I've been to a few of Raze's fights in Santa Cruz before but this one should be killer. I can't wait. Maybe I'll see you there!"
The app on my phone alerts me my driver is pulling into the parking lot. We say goodnight and I give Tina an uncomfortable wave. I climb into the car, a little confused, watching her bounce into the parking lot toward her car. Huh.
I contemplate telling Rafi but he's so busy, I think if I told him we spoke it would just stress him out. Honestly, she seemed really nice, and I imagine Stetson was friends with her in the first place for a reason. I decide to keep the encounter to myself for now.
We pull up along the street at the back of my building since I have no alleyway and I thank the driver before hopping out. I let myself in and climb up the stairs to my apartment, but when I get to the top of the stairs, my door is ajar. I pause, fear spiking through me, until I hear music billowing out from a speaker coming from my kitchen.
Less afraid, more curious, I hold my bags in my arms and slowly push my door open the rest of the way with my foot. I step in and find Rafi standing at my kitchen counter, slapping his hands on some dough with extreme concentration.
He hears me come in and snaps his head up, his face splitting into a smile. There's white flour dusted across his cheek and he abandons his project and comes over to me, taking the bags from my hands.
"I needed to get you out of the house, I wanted to surprise you." He kisses my cheek and takes the bags back into the kitchen. I'm delighted even though I have no idea what I've just walked into. I shut the door behind me and walk over to join him.
"What's going on Rafi… need some help?" I ask in amusement.
"Nope. Sit. I'm making Pasta Puttanesca. From scratch." He tilts his head down at me, and I remember my demands when we got together. When I found out the truth about him.
I press my lips together and take a seat at a kitchen counter stool and watch him move around. "I can't believe you're doing this," I smile. "Wait! This is real pasta. I thought you couldn't eat gluten?"
"It's fine. Just tonight. I'm sorry I won't have much free time the rest of this week before we have to go, and I didn't want you to think I forgot. Believe it or not, I called my grandmother today to refresh my memory of the recipe."
He starts chopping the tomatoes I bought after washing them and dumps them into a pot on the stove. Then he begins plucking at the fresh oregano. I can't just sit here and watch so I help. At least this task is menial, and he lets me.
"So, how did that conversation go?" I ask. His relationship with his grandmother is contentious at best.
"It was fine. I think she felt bad I hadn't called her in a while so she didn't give me as much shit as I was expecting."
"That's a relief. Was your aunt home? Did you talk to her too?"
"No, she was out playing bingo or some shit. I don't know." He sighs and stirs the pot, setting it on simmer and putting on the lid. He pulls out a metal hand crank contraption out of a bag he brought and assembles it on the edge of the kitchen counter, clamping it in place.
I kind of feel bad for all the other people in the world that don't get to see Rafi like this. With his rich golden skin, black hair, thick lashes, and full lips pursed in concentration—using those muscular arms of his to slip handmade pasta dough through a machine. Gingerly carrying the flattened dough out and running it through again with his deft fingers. It's a little ridiculous that this is my life.
I close and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, realizing I might be drooling. He runs the dough through a couple more times before changing the attachment on the machine so it cuts the thinned dough into strands.
I clear my throat, and try to remember where we left off. "So how is she? Do you want to go visit her soon?"
He doesn't pause what he's doing, but he doesn't answer right away either. After cutting and draping the fresh pasta over a small metal tree, he pulls out another pot to cook it. Finally, he says, "I'd like to bring you to meet her. I think she'd like to meet you too. She still asks about you, you know."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, your letters showed up at our house every week for years, she knows who you are. Though I didn't tell her when I asked for the recipe that I was cooking for you. Not because I don't want her to know, I just didn't want to get into it with her. But maybe in a few weeks? Before Christmas, we can take a drive down?"
"Of course. I'm sure I can work something out with Alice. I've been thinking about trying to convince Greg to hire another person actually. Last time I asked, he said no, but it's been a while."
He doesn't say anything because I already know his feelings loud and clear. He thinks Greg takes advantage of me. But he doesn't get it. I love my apartment, and I don't want to rock the boat and lose this place, or give him a reason to raise my rent.
He finishes cooking and I change the music when the playlist ends. We sit down to eat and it's incredible. He is an incredible cook. I tell him so, and I notice a small blush, but he waves me off. He may say he hates doing this because it reminds him too much of his childhood, but I watched him tonight, he was enjoying himself.
I insist on cleaning up and after we argue about it, he relents and lets me.
Later that evening, I climb out of the shower, and find Rafi sitting up in my bed, wearing only his black boxer briefs, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He's reading something on his phone, but when I enter the bedroom in a short vintage silk robe, he drops his phone on the table and gives me all of his attention.
As domestic as we've started to become, our sex life has only grown more vibrant. I don't feel a need to keep things interesting—they just are. The way we crave each other. When I walk into a room his eyes are on me. When he's nearby, I'm completely distracted. There's a sense of rightness between us, a need fulfilled.
His expression grows heated, eyes trained on me. The lights in the room are on, though the bulbs create a soft, warm glow. I keep my robe on and walk over to my nightstand drawer.
I pull out my most basic vibrator, a dildo-like shape that's fairly small. But it has a very strong vibe, and though I have no idea what I'm doing, having never done this before, I figure it's worth a try. Rafi always lets me play and experiment. And I want to say thank you for dinner in my own way.
He assumes we're using this on me.
I turn to face him, pleased to see he's grown hard in the last few moments. He's not solid yet, though he will be shortly.
"Take off your boxers," I tell him, trying to infuse as much authority into my voice as possible. Though my voice doesn't shake, my words are quiet, so I clear my throat and push up my glasses. "Please."
He smiles, lifts his hips and pulls them all the way off, tossing them to the floor. Fully naked, his glorious body is on display for me. He reaches out to pull me onto his lap but I step away, out of reach.
Unhooking the belt from my robe, letting it drape open, I gently caress my abdomen with my hand, moving up, tracing my fingers over my breasts. I pinch my nipple, watching it pebble, and slide my hand back down my abdomen, leaving a sensitive trail of flesh behind. I glance up at Rafi and he's watching me intently, jaw clenching.
I push the robe off my shoulders and let it slide to the ground. "Don't touch yourself, okay?" I ask. He nods slowly, and I take a step closer to him. This is a little like the fantasy I told him about, only in that one, he was tied up.
I turn the vibrator on high and already, just looking at Rafi lying on my bed, his sculpted frame and fully erect cock pulsing of its own accord has me burning. I'm aching for him so I take the vibrator and hold it against my lower abdomen.
Then I slide it between my folds, letting it caress my clit and the sensation makes my knees buckle.
"Fuck," Rafi whispers and I open my eyes, and watch his cock pulse. It's moving, bobbing, like it's begging for a release. I can't wait to give it to him.
The tip of his cock drips, I watch it pulse as I push the vibrator inside of me and work it in and out. Rafi's fists clench, skin glistening. The room is silent, apart from the echo of the vibrator and mine and Rafi's rapid breaths growing more frantic each second. I feel myself getting too worked up, so I take the vibrator out and on wobbly legs climb onto the bed and straddle Rafi.
With the vibrator still on high, I hold it upright against the length of his cock.
"Unh!" He grunts, and I work the toy up and down.
"Tell me before you're close."
He grunts again, in agreement.
I hold the vibrator up against his cock, so they are side by side, the vibe running together along his entire length. He groans, but I don't relent. I lift up onto my knees, allowing my other hand to slip inside me, gathering a little of my wetness. I wrap my hand around his cock, and start to work him up and down, my hand hugging and clenching every part of his cock flush against the vibrator.
As I pump him with my hand, I squeeze his cock into the vibe and he starts to shake and grunt. He's hissing and swearing like a beast, I watch his abs contract and his hips start to shift and buck. The vibrator is working against his whole length while I jerk him off, ferociously.
"Fuck! Babe, I can't! I can't hold it, it's so fucking good, Emma, FUCK!" I quickly toss the toy on the ground and move into his lap and slam my hips down onto him. He roars and I squeeze my channel, gripping his length inside of me as much as I can and I fuck him with reckless abandon.
We're unhinged and it's not long before he's coming undone. "I can't hold it, babe! Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming!" He shouts.
I lean forward getting just the right amount of pressure and then I'm with him, my own release filling me with pleasure and euphoria. Even as I'm unwinding, somehow he's still coming, fucking up into me, gripping my hips and using my body.
I let him take everything, pumping every drop. Eventually he grunts once, twice, snapping his hips upward before collapsing, wrapping his arms around me and taking me down with him.
We're both sweating and breathing like we ran a marathon. I glance over and the vibrator is still shaking and dancing across the floor and I don't know if it's the release of serotonin or what but suddenly I'm giggling, then full on laughing against his chest.
He doesn't join me in my hysterics but he does chuckle and kiss my forehead.
"Will it always be this good?" I ask.
"It's never been… I've never had anything like this. But I think, between us, it'll always be this good. That was insane, by the way," he chuckles and I push up from his chest.
I have to turn the vibrator off or I'll start laughing again. I reach down off the bed and grab it.
"Emma, I need to tell you something." His voice slightly more serious now. I've just got the vibrator in my grasp and I turn it off, but slow as I pull myself back onto the bed fully and face him.
I open my mouth to ask if everything is okay but he continues, "I hate your bed."
A laugh bursts out of me. "What! Why? This was my first adult bed. What's wrong with it?"
"It's the fucking worst," he laughs good-naturedly. He's totally serious though which makes it more funny. "It's so small that you just reached onto the floor while still straddling me from the middle of the bed. That's too small." In all fairness it is technically a full but feels like a dorm twin size. And he has a king size bed so I imagine the difference is jarring for him.
"So you're saying, when we move in together, we have to keep your bed?" I squint, still holding the vibrator.
He pulls it out of my hand and tosses it on the floor before reaching for my shoulders and pulling me down on top of him. "I'll sleep wherever you are, on whatever you want to sleep on. But if you took pity on me, I'd love to keep my bed. Plus it's firmer and I think I can fuck you harder in it."
"Wanna bet?" I ask and start kissing him. Despite my challenge, we make love more gently the second time and it's sweet and everything it needs to be.
* * *
I wake up the next morning with Rafi around 5 am. He's going to jog to the gym from here and I need to get the coffee shop open. We have sex and it's quick and dirty, before getting ready for the day. He walks into the coffee shop with me and I make him a cup of tea while I get everything ready.
We say goodbye, knowing that while I will see him, the next couple of days will be pretty hectic. He has interviews and a photo shoot and a bunch of other weird things to do that I can in no way relate to, so I understand when he reluctantly tells me we may not get much time together.
I send him on his way for the day and after opening the shop at 6 am, I lean against the countertop, and open the email app on my phone.
The stories that I posted a couple of days ago have gotten some pretty great traction, I'm surprised how many people have read them. I make a note to remember my laptop when we go to Vegas since we'll be gone for almost three days and Rafi will be pretty busy the whole time. I feel confident enough to add another couple of stories.
I notice one other email from a company I don't recognize. I open it and read through and almost drop my coffee in excitement. "Holy shit!" I exclaim to no one at all.
A company called Vibes For All wants to offer me an advertisement deal. If I'm reading through this correctly, they want me to review their products—vibrators—on my website! Apparently the number of times all of the short stories I host for other authors and my reviews alone mention vibrators is so often that when you look up the words vibrators and reviews, my website is one of the first to pop up.
What they're offering is a huge deal, they pay per review and a monthly stipend for advertising with a promo code for my readers. Wow. They're offering a lot of money.
The door chimes and a customer walks in so I quickly put my phone away. I'll need to do some research into the company, but if they're serious, this could be really big for me. Rarely do I get advertisers I'm interested in, let alone ones that are offering that much financial incentive. It feels too good to be true.
I spend the next several hours trying not to be distracted by re-reading the email several times. I can't wait to tell Rafi. I wish I could tell Alice, but the idea of her finding out about my website, about my interests still makes my guts churn. By the end of the day Rafi is exhausted and I decide to share the news with him after his fight. It's only a couple of days away anyway.