It was an episode from the first season, and Emery was helping a cat get over his irrational fear of balls. Not balls as in testicles. Actual balls. You wouldn’t think eliminating all round objects in the house would be that hard, but with three young children, the family had been having a lot of trouble.
Mr. Boots expressed his fear by going to the bathroom anywhere and everywhere.
“We just can’t live like this anymore. We need your help.” She sighed.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Franklin,” Emery assured her. Then he turned his eyes straight into the camera, and it almost felt like he was looking right at me when he said the next words. “I’m going to tame your pussy.”
Equal parts amused and turned on, I rolled my eyes at the cheesy line.
Ever since the show started, I’d been a fan, making sure I watched every episode. The perfect mix of perverted and heart-warming, it was extremely entertaining. I’d even made a drinking game out of it: Every time someone says pussy, take a shot. Or a sip.
Which reminded me, I was due for a refill.
Dizziness hit me when I stood up too fast, and I stumbled my way to the kitchen. I decided to grab the whole bottle because there wasn’t much left anyway.
I got back to the couch in time to see a slow-motion segment where Emery was tying his hair up. Once it was secured at the back of his head, the camera zoomed in on his face and he smirked.
“Here, kitty kitty.”
The hot flashes were back.
Before him, I’d never thought the man bun thing was sexy. But damn.
It was a shame they chopped it off, but I had to admit his new style really worked for him. Also, it gave me a reason to touch him when it got all messed up, and I had no complaints about that.
No wonder cats responded to him the way they did. The man was half-animal himself. During his time on the show, Emery had been hailed a hero. The healer of family feuds. Some had even called him an exorcist.
After seeing what went on behind the scenes, I could say with complete certainty that Emery was the real deal. I had always assumed the show was staged. No one could be that good with animals.
But Emery was.
In just two days, he’d worked his magic. Thanks to him, Cindy was snuggled up at her new home. We still had six more cats to go, but I was confident he could help me find a good match for every one of them.
As Emery started making a game plan for the family—something about positive reinforcement with treats and introducing round-shaped cat toys into everyday playtime—I tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
But every time he said playtime, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about all the ways I wanted to play with him.
Tipping up the wine bottle, I took a swig.
Does he like having his hair pulled?
Another swig.
Why does he have to be so good-looking and nice?
I chugged the rest and set the empty container on the coffee table with a thud.
And why do I have to be so pathetic and horny?
I was a woman in my prime, yet here I was, getting drunk by myself, fantasizing about a man on TV while trying to remember when the last time I’d had an orgasm was.
It’d been a long fucking time.
Hitting pause on the show, I made my way down the hall to my room. I shut the door behind me; I didn’t want any of the cats to witness what I was about to do.
I was severely overdue for a session with my battery-operated-boyfriend, and a few minutes was all I needed.
Sitting on the side of my bed, I opened the second drawer down on my nightstand and took out my vibrator. The pink cock was equivalent to the average penis size, complete with a clit stimulator and three rotational speed settings. Oh yeah, and it glowed in the dark.
We’d been through some hard times together—pun intended. It was everything men weren’t: reliable, always erect, and got the job done every time.
Turning off the lamp, I got comfortable under the covers, held up the glowing rod, and hit the on switch.
And… nothing. No buzzing. No vibrating. No glorious rotating.
“Oh, come on. Don’t fail me now,” I groaned, slapping it a few times. Still nothing. Apparently, it’d been so long since I used it the batteries had gone bad.
Sitting back up, I shuffled through my drawer and found an unopened pack of batteries I kept on hand for this very reason. Because of my uncoordinated fumbling, I ripped the package harder than I’d meant to, and batteries scattered to the floor, rolling in all directions.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
I nearly fell off the bed when I reached down to snatch them up. After grabbing the closest three, I decided not to bother with the rest. It took some serious concentration, but eventually I got the new ones in.
I lay back to try again and… still nothing.
Disgruntled and sexually frustrated, I glared at the useless rubber wand. Maybe it wasn’t the batteries. Maybe my vibrator’s lifespan had come to an end.
So much for being reliable.
I tossed the traitorous device at the open drawer, but I missed by a long shot. Like, I didn’t even hit the nightstand. The vibrator bounced off the closet door with a loud clatter and rolled underneath the bed.
Shit. I didn’t even have the energy to retrieve it. I fell back onto the pillows and let out a huff.
What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t use my own hands—that had never worked for me. It was like trying to tickle yourself. Not possible.
I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life and the one thing I could count on had let me down. I wanted to weep at the injustice of it all.
The ache between my legs made me feel irrational and desperate.
Throb. Throb. Throb.
Emery was such a gentleman. So fucking wholesome. Level-headed. And it wasn’t an act—that was just him.
Ache. Ache. Ache.
Desperation coursed through me. I wanted to get under his skin, to make him lose his cool.
Want. Want. Want.
What the hell was in that wine?
I spied a rectangular piece of paper on my dresser. Ambling over to it with unsteady footsteps, I picked up the business card, remembering the way Emery had emphasized the fact that he was putting his personal number on the back.
I’d never had a fuck-buddy before, but I could make an exception.
Just this once.
Okay, maybe not just once. Maybe, like, ten times. A dozen, tops. That would definitely be enough to get Emery out of my system.
I went back out to the couch and as I plopped down onto the cushion, I looked around my feline-filled living room.
The wine bottle had been knocked to the floor. Carol swatted at it, causing it to spin in a circle. She got spooked when it clanked against the leg of the coffee table, and she ran into the kitchen.
One set of boots sat next to my door. One jacket hung from the hook on the wall. My singular plastic glass mocked me.
I could blame my reclusive ways on the cats all I wanted, but honestly, my social life had been nonexistent long before I adopted Alice.
What happened to me? I used to be fun.
Picking up my cell phone in one hand and holding the business card in the other, I made an impulsive, alcohol-induced decision. My uncoordinated fingers tapped over the number keys.
The other end of the line rang twice, then a deep voice came through the phone. “Hello?”
Suddenly, I couldn’t find the words. There were no words. What happened to my words?
I heard Emery clear his throat. “Heavy breathing is pretty much the most unoriginal prank call ever,” he deadpanned. “Just saying, you might want to up your game next time.”
“Wh-what?” I stammered.
“Estelle?” he asked, immediately sounding concerned.
“Um, yeah.” I said, taken aback. “How did you know it was me?”
“I, ah, I recognized your voice when you spoke just now. Tha
t’s not creepy, is it?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Surprising, but not creepy.”
“What’s wrong?”
My smile faded, his question reminding me of why I’d called in the first place. Using the code words on the back of the business card, I cringed at what I was about to say next.
“I have a pussy emergency.”
CHAPTER 8
ESTELLE
Because I was an overeager, sex-crazed, half-drunk maniac, I didn’t even give Emery time to say hello before I grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt and dragged him into my apartment.
As soon as the door slammed shut, I pushed him up against it. Rising on my tiptoes, I pressed my lips to his.
Fireworks exploded in my belly. To hell with butterflies—this was some good shit. His lips were so soft, a sharp contrast to the two-day scruff scraping against my chin. My tongue swept out, tasting him.
Mmm. Beer and a hint of something minty.
It took me about three seconds to realize Emery wasn’t reciprocating. At all.
Opening my eyes, the first thing I noticed was his shocked, wide-eyed expression.
I immediately stepped back. His hands were splayed against the door behind him—hands that should’ve been on my waist, my ass, my anything.
Confusion and rejection rang loudly in my mind, extinguishing those sparks until it felt like my stomach was filled with heavy, wet sludge.
“Emery, I—” The explanation died in my throat, my head swimming from all the wine.
What could I possibly say? My vibrator broke and I need your dick?
Not exactly the best pickup line in the book.
And I wasn’t too drunk to realize he just wasn’t into me. Clearly, I’d read him wrong. The flirtation, the eye contact, the sexual tension. All the signs were there. How could I have been so off?
“Estelle?” He swallowed hard, still flat against the door, looking at me like I was a wild animal that had escaped from the zoo. “What’s going on?”
“The—the secret code,” I stuttered. “I said the pussy emergency thing.”
His eyebrows knitted together and he stepped toward me. “Yeah. Are the cats okay?”
“So that’s… not a booty call thing?” My voice got smaller as my embarrassment grew to epic proportions.
Laughing, he ran a hand over his jaw.
“No. I get a lot of prank calls if my number gets out. I have people say some kind of catch phrase so I know they’re calling me for a reason. I switch it up now and then, just in case people figure it out. Pussy emergency is the latest one…” he trailed off awkwardly, hiking a shoulder.
I could’ve died from mortification right then and there.
He was trying to avoid sexual harassment, and I’d assumed he just wanted to get into my pants.
That damn blushing thing was happening again. I covered my burning face with both hands. I couldn’t look at him.
“I am so sorry.” The apology came out muffled. “You can go now. Please just forget this whole thing happened.”
“I’m not in the habit of mixing business with pleasure. I don’t get involved with coworkers or clients,” he kindly explained.
Most polite rejection ever.
Without removing my hands, I nodded. “Got it.”
“And I’m not into casual sex,” he added.
“Very admirable of you.”
Could this moment get any worse?
I felt ridiculous. The dress I’d bought at Target the night before wasn’t super short, but I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing pants.
Thinking I was getting lucky tonight, I’d thrown it on and fluffed my hair. I had even touched up my makeup and quickly swiped a coat of red fast-drying nail polish on my toes.
The vinyl kitchen floor was cold beneath my bare feet. I wished a hole would just open up and swallow me so I could escape the unbelievable awkwardness that was my life.
Several moments of silence ticked by, and the only sounds in the apartment were our breathing and one of the cats using a scratching post in the other room.
“But I’m not saying no,” Emery added quietly. So quiet, I almost didn’t hear it.
I peeked through my fingers. “You’re not?”
Warm hands wrapped around my wrists and gently pulled down. Braving a glance at his face, I looked up.
He licked his perfect-as-fuck lips. “I want you.”
“I thought you said you don’t get involved with clients.”
“I don’t. Usually, I have a lot of self-control.” Prowling toward me, his hands landed on my hips. He backed me up until my ass hit the edge of the table. His face was just inches from mine. “You’ve taken away my ability to give a fuck, Estelle. Right now I don’t care about what’s right or wrong.” He sounded pissed and sexy as hell.
“I’m sorry?” I squeaked, and my apology ended up sounding like a question. I wasn’t really sorry. In fact, I was pretty damn proud of myself.
Up until now, Emery had seemed surprisingly shy, sometimes awkward, and even a little submissive. It was incredibly endearing.
But that wasn’t the man in front of me now. This man was hungry. Predatory.
It was exactly what I wanted.
I wanted both sides of him. The gentleman and the animal. Honorable and depraved.
His eyes zeroed in on my face, focusing on my mouth. He brought his hand up and brushed his thumb over it, just like he’d done earlier when he wiped away my tears. Only this time he pulled down, opening my lips.
Without hesitation, he moved in on me. His mouth descended over mine, hot and wet, his smooth tongue pushing past my teeth. A surprised moan resounded in the back of my throat because I hadn’t expected him to be so vigorous.
First kisses tended to be tentative—I’d had plenty of them. First kisses were meant to test the waters. They were supposed to be brief and gentle.
Nothing about Emery’s kiss was quick or apprehensive.
I’d waited my entire life for a kiss like this—I just didn’t realize I’d been waiting for it. Until now. Adrenaline surged through my body, kicking my heartrate into overdrive.
Technically, it was our second kiss, but the first one didn’t count because I’d obviously shocked the hell out of him.
Picking me up, Emery set my butt on the edge of the table before moving between my legs.
The hand that had been gently cradling the back of my neck came up and fisted the strands at my scalp, tilting my head back while he continued the assault on my mouth. Sucking at my bottom lip, he bit down.
I was panting. I couldn’t seem to get enough air. Clutching Emery’s shirt, I tried to pull him closer, even though it wasn’t possible.
“I think we have an audience.” His voice pulled me out of the lusty haze.
“What?” My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely hear anything over the rushing of blood in my ears. “Oh, shit. The cameras.”
I started scooting away from him on the table, but he chuckled before grabbing my ankle and dragging me back. “No cameras. These are turned off at the end of the day. The only one that’s on right now is in the cat room. I was talking about them.”
He nodded his head toward the living room, and I followed his line of sight. Eight pairs of curious eyes were focused on us.
“I think they’re judging us,” he said, amused.
“They definitely are.”
“Bedroom?”
I nodded.
A surprised noise left me when he picked me up, hands on my ass, and started carrying me down the hall.
Laughing, I looped my arms around his neck and linked my ankles behind his back. “I can walk, you know.”
Shaking his head, he grinned before grappling with the doorknob. “More fun this way.”
As soon as we got into my room, he pinned me up against the door. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment. Then there was silence and darkness. I moved forward to kiss him again, but he pulled ba
ck.
“I feel like I need to tell you that I’m not in a good place to be starting a relationship,” he stated.
“I appreciate the disclaimer, but it’s not needed. And that’s perfect because I’m not looking for one.”
“What are you looking for?”
I nipped at his lips. “What does it look like?”
“I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”
Palming the front of his jeans, I rubbed at the thick length beneath. “How’s this?”
“That’s pretty specific.” He let out a sexy grunt before asking, “We going all the way?”
I appreciated his straightforwardness. “Fuck yeah, we are.”
Sliding his fingers up my thigh, his hand slipped under the dress. His thumb grazed the sensitive skin on my hip before he grabbed the waist of my panties and pulled. Hard.
Aaaand wedgie city.
“Ow!” I yelped.
“Sorry! Shit, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my ass. “What are you doing?”
Seeming caught between concerned and embarrassed, he said, “I was trying to do a thing.”
“What kind of thing? Seduction by wedgie?” I squirmed as I tried to dislodge the fabric from between my ass cheeks.
He laughed and leaned his forehead against mine. “A sexy thing. I thought they’d just rip off. And I was impatient.” Giving them another light tug, he growled. “It’s—wow, they’re really on there. These things are pretty durable, huh?”
Giggles bubbled up as I attempted to respond.
“One hundred percent cotton and elastic… So, yeah.” Laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, I dug my fingers into his muscular shoulders. “I think… I—have a… rug burn on my butt.”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” He started to put me down.
“Wait.” I tightened my legs around his waist and pressed my back against the wall for leverage. The humor died away as I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the room. I ran my fingertip over the indent in Emery’s bottom lip. “We don’t have to stop. Here—like this.” Taking his hand, I brought it to my center. Both of our fingertips grazed the inside of my thigh as I helped him move my soaked panties to the side. “There.”
Untamable Page 8