by Early, Mora
Emma gasped into his mouth, pressing against him. Her straight, white teeth nipped at his lower lip, pulling it gently into her mouth and stretching it a bit before releasing him with a soft pop.
“Josh,” she whimpered. “Please.”
Her green eyes were hazy with lust, her mouth soft and swollen and red. Her dark hair was mussed, loose tendrils curling slightly around her flushed cheeks. He pushed beneath the satin of her bra cups to cover the firm, sweet mound of her breast. He palmed her, massaging in a broad circle before capturing the stiff peak between his fingers and giving it a slight twist.
He accompanied the movement with a flick of his tongue against her lips. Emma’s hips jerked, rubbing her ass along his erection. The hand on her neck tightened and he plunged his tongue between her lips in response. Emma’s hands snaked up into his hair, her fingers clutching tight as she arched her back, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand.
She was making soft, sexy little sounds in the very back of her throat. Tiny, kittenish whimpers and purrs as he toyed with first one hard nipple and then the other. She sucked at his tongue as she writhed against him.
“Josh, oh god, Josh!”
If he hadn’t been hard as steel already, hearing Emma moan his name in that pleading tone would have done the trick.
“Emma,” he growled in response, trailing his mouth down to her throat and the rapidly beating pulse there. He nibbled with his teeth, making her gasp and jerk. “Jesus, you taste good.” He ran his tongue along her skin. Not as good as her pussy tasted, but almost. And he’d get to that soon.
She shifted in his lap, sliding to his knees. For a brief moment, Josh thought she was getting up and tightened his grip on her. Emma bit his lip in response, making him draw back a little.
“Christ!” The word burst from Josh’s lips like bullet from a gun as Emma palmed him through his jeans. She rubbed the heel of her hand in soft circles over his cock head while her fingers traced the length of him, squeezing.
He drew her mouth back to his, angling her head to sweep his tongue deep inside her. Her determined stroking sent heavenly tingles deep into the pit of his stomach, but it made it hard to reach her breasts. He pulled his hand free and slid it down to massage the taut, quivering plane of her belly.
When his fingertips dipped below her waistband and brushed against the front of her silk panties, Emma’s hand tightened around him. She gasped. He groaned. Josh moved his mouth over hers, loving the taste and feel of her lips and tongue.
“Spread your legs for me, love.”
She shuddered. Josh felt her knees part, her thighs opening to allow him access. Blood pounded through his veins, all intent on the one spot that Emma’s fingers caressed. His cock leapt against her hand.
Josh slid his hand lower, into her jeans and beneath the thin material of her underwear to cup her mound. She was hot and wet and soft in his hand. Emma moaned into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair, the stroking pressure of her hand almost frantic.
There was no way Josh could think about anything but touching her when Emma was in his arms like this. He parted the slick folds of her pussy and dragged two fingers up the length of her slippery slit, coating his digits in her juices. He swirled them over her satin flesh, tracing looping patterns around the stiff button of her clit before dipping down to press into the snug cavern of her pussy.
She curved into his hand as his fingers plunged inside her, her satin sheath clutching at his invasion. She was liquid flame, silky and scorching as her body gave way to him. She felt so good around his fingers; Josh couldn’t wait to have her wrapped around his shaft again.
Or, rather, he could. Because Josh wanted to taste her again first. He wanted to slide his tongue between the soft, slippery lips of her pussy, lap at the silken bump of her clit, and feel her press against his mouth, twitching and fluttering as she came, flooding his tongue with her sweet flavor. Then he’d push into her still quivering cunt and drive himself home.
“Emma, sweetheart, I need...” He pulled his hand free of her jeans, tugging at the waistband.
“What?” Her voice was a husky rasp, dazed and almost uncomprehending. She didn’t stop her wicked stroking though. “What?” She squeezed. Josh jerked and groaned. Pushing slowly to his feet, sliding her to hers, Josh pressed his mouth to her neck and breathed in her scent.
Reaching behind her he shoved his plate out of the way roughly. His wineglass tipped, clanking to its side and spinning, spilling a puddle of sweet wine. It poured over the edge of the table, dripping to the carpet. Josh didn’t care. He boosted Emma up, urging her to lean back on her hands as he pulled determinedly at her jeans.
“Help me out, baby. God, I need these off you now.”
She lifted her hips, chest heaving. Josh sank to his knees, kissing her belly, yanking harder at the jeans. Finally, they began to slip off her hips and over her ass.
Emma’s head tipped back and she moaned, her eyes closing to slits. But he saw her watching him through her lashes as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across her hip. She arched, already pressing herself against his lips, groaning.
“Oh! God damn it, Josh, your mouth!”
Josh chuckled, swiping his tongue across the top of her mound. He tugged her pants and underwear down to the tops of her thighs, pausing to slip his tongue between her lips. She was drenched and hot as a furnace as he licked at her.
He pulled back, sucking her juices from his lips, the spicy flavor of her pouring into his gut like lava. His cock throbbed in his jeans. He slid her pants and underwear down to her knees, brushing his mouth teasingly back and forth over her pussy. He stared up at her – her pert breasts, freed from her bra, were pushed upward by the bunched satin fabric and jiggled enticingly against the soft cotton of her t-shirt.
“I think I love that shirt. I don’t even care if you’re really a fan or not. I want to see you in just that and nothing else.” He chuckled, tapping his tongue against her clit.
Emma stiffened. “What?”
“I said –”
“Stop.” She sat up, her hand pressing hard against his shoulder, pushing him away. Josh frowned, leaning back.
“Why?”
She kept shoving, her eyes blinking rapidly, until Josh sat back on his heels. Then she slid off the end of the table and began yanking at her jeans, pulling them back up her legs.
“Emma, I don’t –”
“You don’t trust me,” she snarled. Josh recoiled at the anger in her voice. She gave another vicious tug and managed to pull her jeans all the way back up to her waist, fastening them with indignant jerks. “But you’ll fuck me?” She spat the words at him like ammo. “What kind of man are you?”
Josh flinched and lurched to his feet. Her words cut him. Both because there was some truth to them, and because she was the one saying them. Shame flared in his chest. But so did anger. “How am I any worse than you, Emma? You barely knew me when you lured me back to my bedroom. You were willing to fuck me just to get your watch back.” He threw the word back at her. “What kind of woman does that make you?”
Heat flared in her cheeks. “I never planned to have sex with you. It was just a way to get into your bedroom.”
“Bullshit.” Josh grabbed her arm, not hard but firmly enough to make her meet his eyes. “Don’t you dare try and tell me that if I hadn’t left to get that champagne, you wouldn’t have ended up spread-eagle on my bed. I bet that was your back-up plan, at any rate. Screw me into a stupor and then sneak out with the watch.”
Her gaze slid from his and it was all the confirmation he needed. He let go of her arm, pushing her slightly away from him. “At least I’m not lying to you about what I’m after. All I want from you is what’s between your legs.”
“And four months of my life to play a part in your ridiculous charade!” Her hands came up on her hips, her breasts swaying with the motion. Josh was too mad to notice. Much.
“You made that bed for yourself when you snuck into my
house under false pretenses and robbed me, sweetheart.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Please. Spare me the high-and-mighty noble act. False pretenses? Who’s the one demanding I play his fake wife just so some actor stops believing he’s a no-good manwhore? I deceived you – a man I hardly knew at the time, as you pointed out – for a few brief hours one night. You’re deceiving everyone you know, including your own parents, for months. And I’m the one who’s not trustworthy?”
Josh ground his teeth.
“It’s not the same thing.” Was it? No. What he was asking her to do didn’t take anything from anyone.
“Oh, of course not. Because you’re the perfect Joshua Owens. When you want something, like this movie, the universe is just supposed to arrange itself to get it for you. What you do, no matter how deceitful, you’re just helping it along, right?” She took a step toward him, hair loose around her shoulders, her clip gone, and her eyes blazing. “Me, on the other hand, I want to retrieve the one thing that is all I have left of my dead father, from someone to whom it had no worth, and I’m worse than Mata Hari!”
Each word was a physical blow. His head spun. He shook it, unsure what to say. Ever since he’d found out Emma was Madame Butterfly, he’d been going with his gut. Asking Emma to ‘marry’ him, the engagement announcement, the fake ceremony, her moving in. It had all seemed perfect. Everyone was getting what they wanted. No one was getting hurt. And Emma and Todd were getting off light, considering what they’d done.
Right?
Now, his gut ached. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Emma –”
“Go.” She spun away from him, shoulders up around her ears. “Get away from me. Don’t you dare lay a finger on me again unless it’s required for this little act you’re forcing on me.” Emma cast him a look over her shoulder, her eyes glittering like emeralds. Were those tears? Her voice was so husky and soft he couldn’t be sure. “I may be a lot of things, Josh, but willing to be used like a blowup doll isn’t one of them.”
Nausea coiled in Josh’s stomach at her words. The delicious meal she cooked threatened to reappear. He swallowed. Unable to think of anything to say, Josh gave Emma a stiff nod, spun on his heel, and strode away.
The clink of her gathering the dishes up was deafening in the silence. Josh winced at each tinkle or clatter. He might have heard a sniffle, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t even really know where he was headed; he just kept walking away until he couldn’t hear the sounds of her movements anymore.
Josh collapsed into a chair in the billiard room and put his head in his hands, squeezing his skull as if he could make all the angry words they’d exchanged pop out and roll away.
The ends will justify the means, he reminded himself. In four months, when the movie wrapped, none of this would matter anymore. Emma would go on with her life, he’d go on with his, William Ransler and the rest of the world would go on with theirs.
“The ends will justify the means,” he said aloud, hoping it would sound more convincing that way. But then he thought of Emma’s tight shoulders and the glitter in her eyes, and he felt a sudden hollowness in his chest.
He pressed his hands to his eyes, feeling a headache building behind them. A stress headache, no doubt. Or maybe a side effect of sexual frustration. He pressed harder, felt the cool, hard pressure of his wedding ring against his brow ridge and finger. The wedding band that Emma had chosen for him.
Josh could still smell her on his fingers, the spicy sweet scent of her pussy clinging to his skin. He could still faintly taste her on his lips as well. He slumped backward, overcome with an intense need to punch something. He glanced at the wall clock. He still had an hour and a half until he had to leave for the Foundation meeting.
He dug his cell out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for Ben. His best friend picked up on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“Up for a round or two at the gym?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then a sigh. “Fine. But don’t expect me to let you pummel me just because you’re in a bad mood.”
“I’m...” Josh stopped. There was no use denying it to his best friend, so instead, he just said, “Fine. Be there in 10.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.
A few rounds of sparring with Ben wouldn’t help him figure out what to do about Emma and the clusterfuck their fake marriage was quickly becoming, but it might help him at least blow off some steam. Maybe, with a clearer head, he could see his way through this.
She wasn’t ‘willing to be used like a blowup doll,’ she’d said. Josh winced. Was that what he was doing? He’d genuinely believed that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She’d responded to him. Hell, it was her responses, the noises she made and the slick wetness of her pussy, that drove him so over the edge. He wasn’t even sure what had triggered her sudden refusal. He’d been so worked up words were just falling out of his mouth.
Josh’s stomach bubbled with acid as he ran back through the last few moments with her in his head. He flinched. He’d told her he didn’t care if she liked that show or not. Had Emma taken that to mean he didn’t care anything about her? Based on her reaction, he’d guess the answer was a big, fat ‘yes’. Fuck. Then he’d gone ahead and confirmed it, hadn’t he? ‘All I want from you is what’s between your legs’. His mother would kill him if she ever heard him say that. And it wasn’t even true. That was the all-fired hell of it.
Emotion swirled through his veins like radiation at Chernobyl – guilt, frustration, anger. This might take more than a few rounds to work out of his system.
Chapter 3 ~ Arrogant Sock Puppet
It should be illegal for a man to smell this good when you were mad at him. Josh smelled liked a primeval forest. Not piney, but dark, mossy, earthy. Dangerous. Emma kept trying to hold her breath, but that just drew odd looks from the crew.
There was nothing she could do about it. She’d made her bed, now she had to lie in it. Or rather, avoid lying in it. With Josh. Emma gritted her teeth against the flood of images that thought conjured.
“Cut!” Morse Goodweather’s voice was a nasal bark. It suited the almost cadaverous man. In his plaid suit jacket and scarf, with a flop of pale, almost white blond hair and square, black glasses, he looked like a hipster Andy Warhol, a concept which made Emma’s head hurt. But, according to Josh, he was an incredibly talented director and the only one who could handle a film of this depth and complexity while still keeping it entertaining.
As soon as his voice faded, the set exploded into activity. The actors reset their marks, the boom operator checked sound, grips adjusted equipment. Conversations restarted as if no interruption had taken place.
With all the lights and bodies, the room felt close and hot. The building they stood in was on the back lot of the studio, a period authentic meeting hall, austere and simply decorated. They couldn’t run any sort of air conditioning, because the hum would get picked up on the mikes. The room smelled of damp wood and sweat, and Emma was afraid to move for fear of making a sound and ruining the take.
All of her glamorous impressions of the movie business were evaporating in the stultifying heat.
Beside her, Josh shifted in his chair, wafting another wave of his warm, delicious aroma in her direction. Couldn’t the man just smell sweaty, like normal people? Emma was glad she’d worn a cotton blouse and a lightweight linen skirt or she’d have melted into a puddle by now.
His arm brushed hers and Emma braced herself against the urge to pull back. They were in public. Public attention meant public displays of affection. That was the whole point of her presence here.
“You alright? I can have Jorge bring you a water.” Josh raised his hand to beckon the slender PA forward, but Emma shook her head.
She lifted one hand and gently touched his jaw. “I’m fine, darling. Thank you.” Beneath her fingertips, Josh’s muscles tensed. She withdrew. She didn’t want to push their tentative peace too far.
E
ver since their fight the other night, he’d maintained his distance. In private, they were back to behaving civilly. He’d even apologized for making her feel used.
A heat that had nothing to do with the close confines of the set prickled through Emma. Josh knew just how to touch her to drive her from zero to crazy in no seconds flat. She had no idea how he did it. She’d lost her virginity as a teenager when she succumbed to Lance Frederick’s incessant pleading in the back of his father’s SUV after a football game (go, Wildcats, indeed.)
All her encounters before now – not that there had been all that many, she had to admit – had been... nice. Things had felt good. One college boyfriend had even managed to get her off on a semi-regular basis. The orgasms she’d experienced with the few guys she’d slept with before Josh had been short and sharp. Satisfying, and yet... not entirely.