by Hannah Ford
My feelings for Emily are deeper than anything I’ve ever felt with a woman. They’re real and deep and totally fucking complicated because of my family. How can I ask her to be a part of such an ugly world, where siblings actually despise each other? Her family loves her, wants the best for her with no strings attached. If I did what I wanted to do—and what I want to do I can hardly admit to myself—and married this woman, what kind of life would I be bringing her into? Her mother is right—I can’t give her what she needs. She deserves someone better, who can be there for her at all times, not when my schedule allows.
“Come here,” I say. She moves close, facing me. I rest my forehead against hers. “My mind is tangled,” I say. I run my fingers along the smooth lines of her jaw.
Emily touches my chest, her hand gently rubbing right over my heart. “I know,” she says. “But it’s okay. I feel tangled too.”
“I’ve never felt this way before, Emily.”
“Neither have I,” she says, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “It’s a little scary, isn’t it?”
I can’t admit that out loud so I nod into her, our foreheads still together as if our thoughts are melding into each other, words not necessary.
Her lips look as plump and kissable as ever. I run my thumb over her bottom lip, so pliable under my touch.
“I’m sorry about my family,” she says.
“Don’t be,” I say, concentrating on her lips as she forms the words.
“They’re just protective. They mean well.”
“I know.” I gently kiss her, my fingers caressing her cheeks.
“If you ever want to talk about your family, I’m here,” she continues, her voice as soft on her skin. I continue my kisses down on her neck. “You can tell me anything, Jackson.”
I pull back and look at her. “I know.”
And I do—I can tell her anything. I can tell her that I am in love with her, because I am. I can tell her that she makes me crazy happy, because it’s true. I can tell her that I want to marry her and that I want to be with her always. Forever.
But I could never tell her about my father’s wishes, or that beating my brothers to the altar and the top of the company is something I feel the need to do. It’s beyond crass. I want Emily for who she is, how she makes me feel, and for who we are together. Nothing else matters.
I kiss her, her mouth opening up to me as my tongue finds hers. I drink her in. She moves her body closer to mine, pressing her breasts against my chest. I love this woman, and knowing that this mouth will be the only one I’ll kiss for the rest of my life makes me need her even more.
My hands roam across her stomach and up to her breast; I hold it gently, rubbing my thumb over her nipple, hard through all the fabric. Her heavy breathing and the want in her eyes makes me even harder—and then she takes off her blouse for me, showing me those luscious tits of hers, and I can’t help but bury my face in the them. She holds my head close to her chest as I kiss across those gorgeous mounds, kneading and licking until she reaches behind her and unclasps her bra. I take her bare breasts into my hands. I groan as I take her hard pink nipple in my mouth, working it with my tongue and gentle pulls of my teeth as she arches into me, her hands grasping for the edges of my shirt. I pull it off for her and watch her. She’s seen me shirtless plenty of times but each time I swear it’s like the first moment. Her hands skim across me, her touch so delicate.
I pull her close to me, our bare chests together as our tongues find each other again. Her hands on my skin, slipping down my abs, makes my head spin. When she reaches for my pants, I’m ready to give in to her. She can have me. She can have whatever she wants.
I let her strip me down to my boxer briefs, my dick so hard it’s practically pulsing. She runs her hand over it, so slowly that I swear I’m going to come right there. I start pulling at her skirt desperate to get every piece of clothing off her sumptuous body. She stands before me, her tits full and ripe with her hard nipples. I rest my hands on her hips and look up into her eyes. She unzips the skirt and lets it fall to the floor. Before I can say, Everything, wanting her to take even those tiny white lace panties off her body, she’s hooking her thumbs into the edge of the fabric and pulls them down. Emily stands before me completely naked, a sight so beautiful it hurts my heart. I cover her stomach in kisses as she sucks in for air, her arms wrapped around my head.
I dip my head just enough to kiss her mound, loving the way her body reacts—her stomach sucks in, her hips push slightly toward me, her hands hold tight for the ride she knows I’ll give her. I could live down here at her pussy; I can’t get enough. As my tongue reaches in for the wetness that awaits me, Emily moans and digs her hands in my hair like she always does.
“God, you are so good to me,” she says, her hips moving gently in my hands. Her words and her satisfaction only make me want to give her more. I flick my tongue at her clit as her moans fill my head. She’s leaning more into me, so I wrap my arms around her ass and pull her up on the couch with me so that my head is back and she’s straddling my face.
“Work me however you want,” I tell her. I dig my fingers into the plush cushion of her ass. “Fuck my face.”
She places her wet cunt right on my mouth, moving her hips down as I work her pussy with my tongue, her hips slowly circling and pushing on me. It’s so fucking hot how much she wants it. She went from a shy woman who was too timid to tell me what she wanted to this vixen who has no problem showing me what she wants and how. How is it possible that she keeps getting sexier and sexier?
As I increase the speed and thrust of my tongue her hips rock harder, pushing against my mouth and chin as I take as much of her as I can. Her moans become louder, her breath shaper, and she doesn’t even have to tell me she’s close. I know from her sounds. Her cunt clenches and I lick her up, holding her tight until the very last spasm.
In her haze she slowly slides down my body and I kiss every inch of her as she goes. Lucky for me she lands straddling me.
“You don’t think I'm done with you yet, do you?” I say.
“You better not be.”
I capture her mouth, letting her taste herself. She grinds down on me, my cock straining through the thin fabric. “You know,” she says, “I think we’re slowly making our way through all these rooms.”
“There’s still at least ten to go,” I say.
“Hmm,” she purrs. “I’m game if you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
She cups her tit in her hand and offers it up to me; I more than willingly take it in my mouth.
Emily reaches down between us for my dick, rubbing her hand over it. She’s already eager for more. I flip her onto her back on the couch as I take off the remaining bits of fabric from my body. She sits up and reaches for me, her hands covering me so quickly until my dick is in her hand, stroking me. My eyes fall shut and I feel the warm wetness of her mouth on me, making me catch my breath. She dips her head up and down, positively slobbering all over my cock, soaking it, making me want to spray down her throat in two seconds flat. But I have to give her more. She sucks on my dick then pulls back and pumps me with her hand, and there is nothing gentle about it. She is pure sex.
I push her back with my hand, getting her into position so that I can take her. But Emily isn’t having it. Not tonight. She turns until she is on her hands and knees, her ass popped up toward me. She looks over her shoulder at me and I swear, I couldn’t close my mouth if I tried. Staring at her round ass offered up to me is the hottest thing I’ve seen. I don’t even realize I’ve taken my dick in my hand, giving it slow strokes. As if she couldn’t get any hotter, she lowers her body to her forearms, so that her ass is really primed and waiting for me. I can’t wait a second longer.
I move forward and easily find her soaked slit and I push my long dick slowly into her cunt. We both moan out, the new angle giving us both new pleasure. I slide my dick out, coated in her juices, then push it back in, her hole so tight. I watch
as my dick widens her and disappears into her pussy. I pump her slowly, stretching out her walls. She moves back into my dick, moving with me, wanting more. I increase my tempo, gently at first, testing her out. Sweat is dotting her back, lining the ridge in her spine, and I run my hand over it. She’s pushing back even harder into me, so I give it to her back, slamming my dick into her, my balls smacking her ass until she’s screaming out and I’m exploding into her, grinding myself as deep into her as I can into her pussy. Fucking hell, I never knew a woman could be so hot.
After a moment I slowly pull myself out of her. She stands, reaching out for my shoulder as she sways.
“Whoa,” I say. “You okay?”
Her eyes have fallen shut; her cheeks are flushed red and her hair is a mess. Naked fucked Emily standing before me could get me hard again in about thirty seconds.
“Yeah,” she says. A smile forms on her lips. “I just need a minute.”
I hold her hand as she walks away to the bathroom. I rub my hand through my hair as my mind slowly comes back. She could make me forget everything, and gladly. I need her in my life, always. Business aside—in fact, screw the business. I don’t want anything, only Emily. I can’t continue keeping these feelings inside me. I have to tell her how I feel.
Emily
I splash water on my face in the bathroom not far from the living room. I cleaned myself up—as usual, Jackson had me absolutely drenched—and I still needed a cool down as my senses slowly come back to me. I dry my face and try to fix my hair, smoothing it down into something that doesn’t make me look like I just woke up in the forest.
I go into the kitchen for a couple glasses of water. The glow of a laptop illuminates the refrigerator. I can’t help but turn to look at the screen.
My eyes scan across an email. I see the words, but I have to go back and read it more slowly because I can’t believe my eyes.
The gist? In order for Jackson to take over the family business, he has to prove his “family values” by getting married.
He’s been using me this whole time as some sort of sick contest with his brothers. Draw me into his life, wine and dine me a little, and then pop the question—only so that he can get the real prize. I know how bitter he’s been about not taking over the company like his father had told him his whole life, but I never imagined I’d be a part of some plot to become his trophy wife. And here I am, standing naked in his kitchen, the cold of the travertine floors sending chills straight up my body. All I want is to get out of here but my clothes are in the living room, where Jackson still is—probably naked.
A shame builds up in me for believing someone like Jackson could be with someone like me—much less fall in love. I knew he was out of my league, and I only mean that in terms of hotness (damn him) and money. In all other ways, my family was right. He’s not the man for me. He only cares about himself and his business.
When I storm into the living room, he’s (thankfully) got his boxers back on and is lounging back on the couch, one arm behind his head like he’s posing for an underwear ad. Jesus, his body…. I literally can’t look at him. I find my panties and slip them on.
“Come here,” he says, lazily reaching a hand out for me.
“No,” I say.
He sits up on his forearms. “You okay?”
I throw his pants aside and find my skirt and blouse but where the hell is my bra?
“I just want to get dressed,” I say.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head no. I can’t speak. Not yet. I definitely can’t look at him. Finally I find my bra on the other side of the ottoman and I snatch it up. I turn my back to Jackson as I finish getting dressed.
“Emily,” he says. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I can’t stop the tears from coming, as much as I want to. I swipe my cheeks clear before turning back to him. He looks so confused, maybe even concerned. But it’s part of his act. I know that now.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I begin. “Not that it matters, but I wasn’t. Your laptop screen must lack a sleep mode or something because it was on, bright and shiny when I went to get some water.”
“What are you talking about? Come here. Sit down.”
“No. I saw it,” I say, and everything starts to bubble up at once, completely out of my control. “I saw the email between you and your brothers and some lawyer guy. First son who gets to altar gets the company? What kind of sick shit is that, Jackson? You’ve just been using me this whole time as a way to take over your family business. How sick in the head are you?”
“Emily, wait,” he says. He’s standing up now and stepping toward me. I step back.
“Stay away from me, Jackson.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “I’m not…I won’t touch you, Emily.”
“This has all been a lie,” I say. “It’s all bullshit. What, you thought I was dumb enough to go along with this? That you could woo me with your big house and private rooms and rooftop pools?” Tears stream down my face at the memories. All those things he did for me—that I thought he did for me. It was all a scam. “That whole time you were just priming me to be your little wife. Did you think I’d be thankful to you for saving me from a life of middle-class boredom? That you could appease me by writing a check to my cute little charity?”
“Emily, no. I swear. It’s not like that at all. It never has been,” he says.
“So you’ve never thought of being with me as a way to win the seat at the top of the company?”
“No, not like that. Let me explain…it’s complicated.”
“I was so blind. My first impression of you was that you were a complete asshole and somehow I let myself forget that.” That day in his office he was so cocky. He was toying with me even then. “So what happened? You learned that you had to get married so thought of me? Some fresh, pliable girl for you to mold to your liking?”
“Emily, it wasn’t like that at all. My feelings for you are genuine. I truly care about you. Please.” He takes another step toward me.
My voice quivers as I say, “Don’t you dare touch me.”
I hustle out of the room and across the house, so unnecessarily big, just like his ego. Jackson chases after me.
“I do care about you,” he says. “Please listen to me. I know how that email looks but I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what my asshole father wanted. I only care about you.”
“I may have been naïve once but my eyes are wide open now,” I say. “I don’t believe for one second that you don’t care about your business. It’s fine that you care about it—you should—but it’s the only thing you care about and that’s not okay. God, my family saw that within three minutes of meeting you. What took me so long?” I know what took me so long—I was swept up in those strong arms of his, those sensual kisses, those deft hands…
“Emily, I do care,” Jackson says, his eyes pleading—probably because he sees his beloved company slipping away. “I’ve been falling for you. Please. Stay.”
I want to slap him for saying that. His desperation to save himself is as pathetic as it is transparent.
“You’ve just proven my point,” I say. I swing open the heavy oak door and practically run down Marlborough Street, away from Jackson and everything I let myself believe.
I throw myself back into school and work with renewed force. I have to keep my mind occupied—it’s the only way I can survive. Natalie and I spend an evening studying our asses off for an upcoming exam. Afterward we hit up a pub in Brookline where I drink way too many beers. I don’t even mind the old guys flirting with me. I laugh loudly, toss peanut shells on the floor, and give two shits about what happens tomorrow and zero shits about what happened with Jackson. I go through the motions of being carefree.
But when I’m in bed at night, just before sleep takes hold of me, I see Jackson’s face and I cry. I hate myself for it. I hate myself for missing him and feeling like I need him.
Sitting through Brent’s class is
a different kind of hell. At least Natalie is next to me, but even she can’t shield me from the looks I get from other classmates—the disgust of some of the women, the salacious interest from some of the guys. I’m repulsed by the whole thing.
“Let’s think about examples due of process in public schools,” Brent says from the front of the class. It’s been a long week of trying to be okay, and I’m tired. It’s been raining and cold and everyone is coming down with colds. There’s a general miserableness to the room that’s felt by everyone, I think. Today it’s not just me. “What steps must be taken before any punishment is handed out when a student is suspected of wrongdoing?”
No one speaks up, so I raise my hand just to get the discussion moved on so we can get out of here. I want to get to the café and warm up with a hot tea and bagel.
“No one?” Brent says. “I’ll give you a hint—there are two things that must happen.” I keep my hand raised; he keeps ignoring me. “If these steps aren’t followed any conviction can be overturned so you better know this.” Someone yawns loudly. Brent sighs. “You must first—”
“Hello,” I say, pretty much surprising myself and everyone in the class—including Brent. “I know the answer. I’ve been raising my hand.” And we never raise our hands—we normally just speak out.
“The Fourth and Fifth Amendments, people,” Brent says. “Concerning—”
“Privacy and fundamental fairness,” I interrupt. Even from four rows back I can see Brent tighten his jaw. “The Fourth Amendment concerns itself with privacy issues and the Fifth Amendment gives the accused the right to heard. Ironic, huh?
“I don’t appreciate you speaking out of turn,” Brent says, and damn if he isn’t ballsy. Well, guess what? My balls are bigger.