Chapter 30
Luke
I’ve just enjoyed one of the most intense scenes of recent times and I’m feeling absolutely blissed out as I reach up to pull off Emmy’s blindfold.
She was magnificent even with me edging her, and I can’t wait to chat through what she liked and didn’t like about the scene. But when I look down at her, something is very very wrong. A look of panic flits across her face before it crumples and she bursts into tears. My stomach drops.
Fucking fuck. Did I completely misread the scene? Did I hurt her?
I scramble to undo the silk ties holding her wrists and she instantly covers her face, drawing herself into a ball as she’s wracked by uncontrollable sobs.
She’s shaking with the force of her crying, and I immediately scoop her into my arms and hold her.
She stays curled up tightly and I manoeuvre her into my lap so I can maximise skin-to-skin contact.
I’ve seen sub drop. Sometimes the body crashes after an intense scene, emotions spilling out in ways you can’t predict.
But this doesn’t feel like that. I knew there was something a bit off about her energy before we began the scene but I put it down to a bad day at work, not something that would trigger this level of anguish.
All I can do is rock her in my arms and make shushing noises, while I desperately try and work out what’s wrong.
Eventually, her sobs give way to sniffles and hiccups as she comes back into herself, her hands still pressed against her face.
I’ve managed to shift just enough to subtly take off the condom and chuck it under the bed but otherwise we’re both still stark bollock naked.
I stop my shushing but keep stroking her back as she does a final shudder. The storm has passed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, peeking at me through damp lashes.
“You never apologise for this,” I say quickly. “Was it me? The scene? Or… something else?”
“No, the scene was amazing,” she says, drawing in a jagged breath. “I loved it. Though the edging made me hate you slightly.” She coughs out a laugh and my heart lifts a little.
She pulls away a little so she can turn to face me.
“Colin’s having a baby,” she whispers, her lip wobbling again. My heart drops in my chest like a fucking stone.
“Oh sweetheart,” I reply, pulling her into me even more tightly. She relaxes and I stroke her hair as I hold her. She’s not crying anymore but I can feel the pain coursing through her.
“Turns out the fling I walked in on had been going on for a few months,” she sniffs. “I feel like such a fucking fool.”
“You’re not a fool.”
“I don’t even know why I’m upset,” she says. “It would have been a mess if we’d have had kids together. But… I didn’t expect this to happen. And so soon. She’s moving into my old house this weekend. I’ve got to go get the rest of my stuff.”
I feel a stab of anger flash through me at the idea of Colin dropping this on her while moving his mistress into their home. He’s a callous bastard. I’d take great delight in punching him in his smug face if I ever have the misfortune of seeing him again.
“Do you need a hand moving things?” I offer.
“Oh gosh, don’t worry. I’ll get Chloe to help. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” she says.
I’m about to protest but then I remember that tomorrow is one of Jessie’s themed nights – her ladies night, if I remember right.
“Ok, if you’re sure.”
“Sorry for crying all over you,” she says again, looking away from me. “Not sure the drowned rat look is my sexiest.”
I pinch her chin lightly between my finger and thumb, turning her widening gaze back to me.
“You never have to apologise to me. And Christ, Em, you could be covered in tears and snot and still be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I add, giving her a chaste kiss on the nose. She laughs.
“Thanks Luke,” she says. She holds my gaze for a beat, as if she’s choosing her next words carefully. Another beat and then: “I better get going. Sloane’ll be wondering where I’ve got to, I said I’d be back for spicy margs and another re-run of The Great British Bake Off.”
With that, she peels herself off me and gets dressed. I watch as she pulls her clothes on, putting the pieces of herself back together as if she hadn’t come apart in every sense just a few moments ago.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” I say, standing as she pulls her shoes on. “I’ll call you this weekend, ok?”
“Ok, Luke,” she says, with a soft smile. “Goodnight.”
She slips out the door, leaving me naked in the middle of room eight with an empty bed, damp sheets, and her tears still ghosting my skin.