Chapter 7
My phone vibrates at midnight. Just once.
The screen lights up with the incoming text notification next to my pillow.
I lift my head, fingers curling around it and eyes squinting as I bring it up above my face to look at my phone. I flick through my lock screen to find a new message from Ben, and I’m suddenly very awake.
| [ downloading video… ]
It’s just the text at first, until it loads. No preamble, no follow up. But it’s obvious what the video is, even without pressing play. It’s my pale pink panties.
My thumb hovers over the screen, and I bite my lip. Just the fact that he even— My thumb presses down to play the video, because my brain is short circuiting and I can’t think about anything else until I know.
All I can see are my panties laying on the end of his neatly pressed bedsheets, the sharp contrast of pink against the dark gray. The camera moves closer, and I bite my lip hard. My insides clench and twist like he’s just ripped through my skin and grabbed a handful of my guts.
My panties are rumpled, damp, with pearly threads of cum covering them.
I almost drop my phone on my face when the video just ends. I shriek, and before I think better of it, I’m pressing on his name and the phone’s fucking dialing. I shove it up to my ear, and it rings once before he sends me to voicemail.
I call again.
This motherfucker is picking up the phone if it’s the last thing I do. Even if I have to wake up Cora and Fred and blackmail his address out of them so I can go over there and shove my—
“Hello?”
“Hello?” I repeat, realizing that I’m nearly shouting. But it matches the frantic beat of my heart, the pound of the blood in my ears. “You’re an absolute dick.”
Ben’s chuckle through the line sends a shudder down my spine, making me burrow my head back into my pillow.
“Something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Mmm, and what’s that?”
“Okay, for one—I was asleep, and you woke me up.” Truth be told, I am a light sleeper. Though I’m not sure I was even really all that asleep, but for the sake of this argument, yes, I was in fact asleep. “And two—why bother? That video was all of ten seconds.”
“Oh,” he drawls. I can practically hear the tilt of his mouth as it drags upward. “Was that disappointing? Did you want to watch me wrap your panties around my cock and jerk it while I thought about your sweet little pussy grinding on my lap?”
Well, duh.
God, just the thought of Ben masturbating with my panties has my thighs pressing together. The memory of his hands on my hips and fingers on my clit is like a brand beneath my eyelids. The ghost of his touch on my skin is haunting, and I want to be possessed.
“Maybe.”
“Come on, Emme. You can do better than that.”
A whine settles low in my throat, and I clench my eyes shut. This man—
“I wanted to watch you come.”
“Well, sometimes we don’t get everything we want, do we? But, baby, you be a good girl for me and I’ll give you the fucking world.”
I suck in a shuddering breath. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder,” he taunts. “I can’t wait to turn your ass red next time I see you.”
I stare up at the ceiling, my window only letting a faint glow in through the sliver in the middle of the curtains as I count the chipped points on the patterned texture. My grip tightens around my phone with my free hand fisting the sheets, because it’s so hard to choke down the fact that I want to slide my fingers through my pussy while Ben’s voice carries me through.
I’ve never felt like this. Never wanted anything—anyone—like this.
“This is the biggest fucking tease of my life.”
“Know a thing or two about that, don’t you?”
“Shut up,” I groan. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
He’s right, even as I utter the words—“Yes, I am.”
“Go to bed,” Ben says, making me want to pout. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
That’s the only thing that’s going to get me through Saturday at this point. Which is sad, because I’ve spent less than three hours with this man and he’s already got me wrapped around his cock like I want to own it. And I haven’t even seen it yet.
I roll onto my side and let out a sigh. “Fine. Good night, Ben.”
“Good night, Emme.”
The line quiets as I end the call, and I’m tempted to throw my phone across the room. I shove it under my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I know it’ll take a long time for me to fall back asleep. I feel the minutes tick by in long drags as I try to think of anything but tonight’s events—of anything other than Ben.
It’s fucking hard.
Eventually I open my eyes again and the light is streaming in through my window, shining across the bed right in my face. I swat at it like that’s going to get rid of it. I’m not a morning person by any means, even if it’s afternoon by the time I wake up. I glance at my phone before heading into the bathroom to shower. At least the hot water might do me some good, since my body vehemently refused to want to actually do anything last night after I got through the door.
I stand in the shower till the water runs cold. With numb skin, I pull on my robe and stretch my fingers and toes until the warmth returns. Running my brush through my wet hair, I leave it to air dry and go through my skin care routine that I only bother with a couple days out of the week. On a good day, I’ll wash my face and put some moisturizer on. On a bad day, I need something else to occupy my time, my hands. And today’s a bad day.
Not because of last night, but like…because of last night.
Bad in the way that I can’t stop thinking about every moment from yesterday. Second guessing myself, my actions, wondering if I’m doing something crazy or something I’ll regret down the line. My mind wanders, stretching toward each and every possibility, an endless journey that I have to reign in before it consumes me.
Blowing a raspberry at myself in the mirror, I seek out the kitchen while unlocking my phone, opening the link, and downloading the file that Ben sent me at dinner.
There’s a sticky note on the freezer with a frowny face—one fruit or vegetable every day.
I pivot between the fridge and the fruit bowl, trying to decide what I’m going to snack on until I remember there are also mandarin orange cups in the pantry. Even though those aren’t fresh, they’re still fruit. It’s a good-size portion, though I could actually eat two cups and still want more. My phone buzzes in my hand—I plant my feet on the floor, my limbs vibrating before I make myself pull the fridge handle and yank it open.
Pulling out a bag of baby carrots, I move to sit at the kitchen table, ignoring the pile of dishes in the sink that I’ve been meaning to do later for days now. Crunching down on a carrot, I pull up the link Ben sent again, download the file again, and read the text.
‘Not a Checklist’ negotiation sheet for BDSM. Interesting. I’ve filled out sexual exploration questionnaires and done kink tests, but not something quite like this.
Look at this as a collection of ideas that may be useful to you in understanding yourself or that you may want your partner to know about you.
I read the top portion, absently crunching on carrots while grabbing an open envelope from the discarded pile of mail from the basket in the center of the table and hunting for a pen. Clicking the top of the pen, I scan the columns:
What I want from this session
When we’re done
How you treat me
What happens in my head
Pain
Intimacy
Sex
Dominance and submission
It goes on for a couple more categories. My heart gives an annoying little flutter, because this is honestly great. It really gives you a glimpse of what’s in your partner’s head, what makes them tick. It would be useful for any set of partners.
Scanning the sentences for what resonates most as the sheet instructed, I finish another carrot. There are several sentences that stand out, like they were already written in bold ink, drawing my eye. I write them down on the back of the envelope.
I want to feel vulnerable with you.
I want to work for your approval, knowing that I only get it if I succeed.
Punish me for something I did in real life.
Break me and then put me back together again.
Tell me what to do with your words/by force.
I want to not have to be in control for a while.
I want to feel physically overwhelmed by you.
Keep me guessing and off balance.
I could list plenty more, like a lot more, but this selection paints a pretty good picture for now. I put the pen down and pop another carrot in my mouth while I take a picture of what I wrote and send it to Ben. Then I pull up my email and scroll till I find the one from the walk-in clinic for my STD test results, also sending a screenshot. Finally I go perusing the standard checklist of limits so he can go over that, too.
There, that only took me all of twenty minutes. My fingers reach nothing but the watery remains of the carrot bag, so I head to the pantry to pull the doors open. My snack shelf is so barren, I can see the dust on the rack. I grab a box of crackers and a can of cola, because I’ve had my freaking vegetable for the day, settling in the corner of the couch in the living room.
I’m mid-way through an episode of Golden Girls when I get a text from Ben. It’s just a screenshot of his own STD results, mirroring that we are both clean. Nothing to say about the sentences I sent over. Hopefully it was even legible—my lazy scrawl is halfway between print and cursive. Sometimes I can’t even read it myself.
Just when the episode of the show finishes and another starts up, the sound of keys turning the lock in the front door catches my ear, making me turn to look over the back of the couch.
Cora glides through the entryway and tosses her purse on the kitchen counter where it slides another foot as she hangs her coat up.
“Hey, late night?” I ask, closing up the box of crackers and setting it on the coffee table.
“Oh, hi.” She glances over to me as she kicks off her sky high heels. “I was going to stay at Freddy’s today, but I wanted to catch up with you since you never texted me back.” She comes around the corner of the couch to curl into the side opposite me, pulling her feet up underneath her as she grabs the blanket off the back to spread over her bare legs.
“I was a little busy.” Not untrue.
“The whole night?”
“Well… no.” I don’t imagine it when her shoulders deflate. “I went straight to bed when I got home. Sorry for not letting you know I was okay.”
She’s silent for a moment, cool calculation in those amber eyes as they sweep over me. “Did you have a good time?”
There is more than one question there—I know it because I know Cora. It’s why she didn’t just ask how things went. She’s also a greedy little tea goblin who loves a play-by-play, but I’m not going to indulge her that readily.
“I did. A really good time despite how I sorta freaked out at the beginning.”
“Freaked out?”
“I got lost in my head a little bit, then the word vomit came spewing out.”
She scrunches her nose up. “That visual is so unappealing. But you were able to get past it?”
“Yeah, Ben’s actually kind of good at pulling me back. Like you but different.”
Cora brightens considerably, leaning forward to grab my hand on the couch cushion. “That’s great. So things went well between you? You’re going to see him again?”
“I’m seeing him tomorrow.”
She squeezes my hand so tight it’s a wonder she doesn’t drag me across the cushions and into her chest for a hug. I know she wants to.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’m glad it’s working out so far. Ben’s a really nice guy, and you deserve this.”
Oh, he’s nice all right.
“What do you mean by that?” Cora tilts her head with intrigue.
Shit. I said that out loud.
Now she’s giving me the look, the one that makes me want to sink into the couch and bury myself beneath the cushions to escape. Surely, I could make a break for it. Slip past her and those talons she calls nails before they catch me and drag me back for the interrogation that’s about to occur.
“Emme.”
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. A sigh breaks my lips, and I slouch down while she picks up my arm and waves it around like a limp noodle, jostling me.
“Tell me right fucking now.”
“Rude. You didn’t even say please.”
“Please tell me right fucking now,” she says with so much saccharine that I feel my teeth ache.
I yank my arm back and roll my eyes. “Listen, we had a good time at dinner. It was easy conversation once we got going. He’s just…more than what I expected.” I kick her knee with the heel of my foot as she looms over me. “You didn’t say he was so fucking hot. The man’s a walking wet dream.”
Cora tosses her head back and giggles, fingers wrapping a strand of hair around her finger and curling it. “I said he was a DILF.”
“Well, your DILF asked—no, told me—to take my panties off at the dinner table in the middle of the restaurant and hand them over. I did, by the way. Then I may have dry humped him in his car and left him high and dry after he made me come.”
Her jaw unhinges, and she reaches out a hand and smacks my leg. “You did not. Oh my God. Who are you, and what did you do with my cousin?”
To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing.
I feel like an imposter in my skin. I glance over at the table where my purse sits like there isn’t six hundred dollars cash inside. The thing is, it’s not even the money that made me bold—if anything, it’s holding me back.
“I don’t know, Cora. But I kind of liked myself when I was with him. It didn’t feel like I was pretending.”
Something flickers in her gaze, but I can’t place the emotion before it slides from her face, like it was never there.
“If that’s what you want, then that’s good,” she says, her eyes softening from the hard edge they took on. “I’m glad you’re seeing him again, then. Just see where it goes from here.”
I nod. “I’m giving it a chance. And at least I’m going to be able to pay my half of the rent now—and I’m going to pay you back the last couple months’ worth, too.”
“Not necessary—”
“Yes,” I interrupt her with a pointed glare. “It is. You’ll take the money with a smile if you’re really proud of me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, if you’re going to be so insistent. But wait a little while and treat yourself first. You deserve it, you know.”
“Sure.” Though I think Cora can see right through my tight smile.
“Speaking of—we need some groceries. Do you want to come to the store with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll come with you. I desperately need some more gummy bears.” Plus, you know, other food, I guess. Anything to distract myself sounds good at this point. Otherwise, I might just go back to sleep or pick off all the brand new gel polish from my fingernails while I think about tomorrow.
“Perfe—” she trills, and I freeze at the same time as her.
Cold dread seeps through my pores, filling my gut like a heavy weight ready to drag me to the floor. My hands tremble as I move to slide them flat under my thighs so I don’t curl my hands into fists. Even after all this time, a single word can bring me close to panic. It’s something I still haven’t managed to conquer, even with the time away from my parents.
“I’m sorry,” Cora hedges, concern marring her brow. “It just slipped out.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I need to get over it already.”
“I don’t know if it’s just that easy to get over it, Emme. I know you’re doing a lot better, I can see it every day—but it’s still okay to not be okay. I just want you to know that.”
And I do. I think.
My gaze slides away from Cora to the floor, because sometimes it hurts that she’s so supportive, that she understands. Which doesn’t make any rational sense; I’m all too aware of that. There’s just something that pulls in my chest, a tug in opposite directions that’s hard to overcome. I want to leave it in the past, but years of being berated by my parents for not being good enough—for not being their perfect daughter like my sister—has deeply taken root. I’m still digging my way out, thorns along the way.
“I know,” I say with a sigh, looking back up. “I’m trying. I can feel their influence fading, it’s just a trauma response at this point.”
“Which is understandable. I don’t begrudge you that, even with my side of the family’s misgivings.” She scrunches her nose up and shakes her head. “God, we’re so fucked up. It’s no wonder this is where we’ve landed.”
I can’t stop the snort that leaves me. I put my hand over my mouth as laughter bubbles out. “You’ve got that right. But at least we have each other.”
“Always.” Cora scoots closer to me and bumps my shoulder with her own before pulling me in for a hug.
Her perfume and shampoo fill my nose with notes of jasmine and something deep and woody. It’s a comfort, and as much as I want to pull away and fold in on myself, I put my arms around her and squeeze.
“All right,” I say after a moment, and we pull apart. “Time to stock up on candy and frozen pizza.”
“And hard seltzers?”
“Oh, now you’re getting wild. Absolutely. We can come back and watch trashy TV for the rest of the night—unless you had plans?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing more important than spending the night with my best friend.”
And my heart aches just a little bit, because she’s mine, too.