by JB Heller
I go for my bedside table, placing my cell at the base of the lamp so it doesn’t fall. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” he says as he positions his own phone somewhere in his room so I have a clear view of him too. “You are so fucking pretty, Emory,” he breathes, his hand skating down his bare chest to the band of his boxers.
Holy mother of all that’s hot and sexy in this world… he has abs. Thank you, Jesus!
My mouth waters as I devour the sight in front of me. Sebastian tips his head back and moans softly as his palm brushes over his seriously erect dick, then his eyes flash open, landing on me.
“What would you be doing if you were here with me right now?” he asks, the fire in his gaze heating my skin.
“I, ah,” I murmur then swallow. I may never have done anything like this before, but I’ve read enough books to give me a fair idea of how to play this. “I’d be getting rid of those boxers so I could see what I’m working with.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, yanking his boxers off in one swift movement and kicking them to the side. “Then what?” he growls, keeping his hands fisted at his sides.
Christ, he’s hot, lying there in nothing but his black-framed glasses, waiting for me to direct him. My eyes home in on his long, thick cock, and I clench my thighs again. “I’d settle myself between your spread legs and run my tongue around the tip of your dick, then I’d suck it into my mouth to taste you.”
“Fuuuck,” he groans, fisting his dick then dragging his palm up and down his shaft.
Emboldened by his reaction, I keep going. “I’d suck you to the back of my throat, over and over while rolling your balls in my palm, tugging on them every now and again.”
His hips jack up into his fist, and his free hand drops to his balls. All the while his eyes stay locked on me. “Touch yourself, Miss Moss. Show me that pretty pussy.”
A shiver races down my spine at the command in his tone, and I do as I’m told. After kicking off my simple black boyleg briefs, I glide one finger through my folds and moan at the much-needed contact.
Closing my eyes for the briefest of moments, I allow myself to imagine it’s Sebastian’s hand between my legs, and I rock my hips into my own touch.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Sebastian groans, and my eyes flick open to watch him stroking his length harder, faster than before. “I want to see you come. Dip a finger inside that perfect pussy for me. Pretend it’s mine sliding inside your tight, wet hole.”
I whimper and do what he says, dipping a finger inside myself while keeping my gaze trained on his hand working his own sex.
“Now two,” he demands, and when I obey, a feral growl ripples through the speaker, making my body clench. “Think of my fingers inside you and my tongue sliding over your clit,” he says, his tone deliciously deep.
As I flick my thumb over my clit, my back arches off the bed, and the pull of an intense orgasm builds low in my belly. My thighs tense, my pussy clenches, and shivers wrack my body as Sebastian chants, “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck…” and I explode.
When my eyes flutter open, Sebastian is working his cock furiously. His fist flies up and down his thick shaft while the other hand tugs on his balls. He throws his head back and groans as spurts of come coat his lower belly and hand.
I swallow hard, my body still pulsing from my own release.
Then, he rolls his head to the side and stares at me, a devastating smile on his handsome face. “That was...”—he pauses to swallow—“fucking phenomenal.”
Sighing, I nod then grin. “Yes, yes it was.”
Waking up alone after the epic O from last night feels… weird.
Lying in bed, I roll onto my side and stare at the phone on my bedside table, the events of last night running through my head. It was hot as hell. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I’m wondering why the hell not because damn.
One thought keeps bothering me, though: Does this make Sebastian and me friends with benefits now or something else entirely? I have no idea.
We’ve forged a friendship, but every now and then, the conversation veers into sexy-time territory. Not that I’m complaining about that; I like it when it happens. I’m just not sure if it means something or nothing at all.
Sebastian is hot AF with his messy dark hair, thick black-framed glasses, and, dear god, those abs and the magic V that makes women lose their ever-loving minds. Add to that the fact that he’s an author, and he may as well be custom-made for me. And he gets me—at least, I feel like he does.
Rolling to my back, I heave a sigh, throwing an arm over my eyes. I need coffee to process thoughts this heavy. After dragging my ass out of bed, I shuffle out to the kitchen, passing Kins and Atticus snuggled up on the couch together as I go.
“Morning,” I mumble.
“Hey,” Kinsley says, lifting her head from the crook of Atticus’s neck. He’s shirtless, and hot damn, the man is a fine specimen.
I smirk at them as I go about making a cup of joe. “You two have a good night?”
Kins glances at me over her shoulder, a crimson blush covering her cheeks. She bites her bottom lip and nods at me right as Atticus says, “Sure did. How about you?”
The photo Sebastian sent me pops into my head. “It was great.”
“Great?” Kins questions. “Did I miss something? You were locked away in your room most of it.”
“I know, but there are these things called cell phones,” I say then wink.
Her eyes widen, and Atticus chuckles.
“Oh, the author?” she asks, curiosity shining in her gaze.
Nodding, I pick up my coffee and take a sip then head over to sit in the armchair beside the couch.
“You are never this chipper in the mornings,” Kins says, grinning widely as she snuggles back into Atticus’s side. His arm is curled around her shoulders, a mug clutched in his free hand, and he’s looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
I glance down to sip my coffee and—
Shitballs...
I didn’t put any pants on over my undies… I yank the throw from the arm of the couch and tug it over my bare legs. But Atticus only has eyes for Kins; he doesn’t even notice my move to cover my half-naked ass. And that just makes me all kinds of happy for my friend.
He’s good for her. I’ve never seen Kinsley so comfortable in her own skin. It warms my heart and reinforces my belief in the power of love.
I sigh happily as I relax back into the armchair then sip my coffee. Whatever this thing with Sebastian and me is, for now, I’m content to just let it play out. What will be will be.
Before we hung up last night, I convinced Emory to meet me at The Brew Guru for brunch, seeing as she’s opposed to leaving the house before ten a.m.
I’m sitting at my usual table, watching the door for her arrival, when Mel steps into my line of sight. I lift my gaze to her face, taking note for the first time of just how much make-up she wears. It’s not something I even thought about prior to Emory.
Mel places a steaming mug on my table and smiles at me.
I frown. First at the coffee, then at her. “I haven’t ordered yet,” I say.
She shrugs her shoulders then places her hand on my forearm resting on the table. “I know what you like, Sebastian.”
Glancing at my arm where she’s touching me, I furrow my brows even further than they already were. This is ridiculous. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and remove her hand. “Listen, Mel—”
“Is there a reason you’re touching my boyfriend?” Emory’s stern voice comes from behind Mel, making her startle back a step.
Emory walks around a gaping Mel to my side then drops a kiss on my cheek, causing a massive smile to spread across my face. “As I was saying, Mel, thank you for the coffee, but I’m seeing someone.”
Mel’s jaw ticks as she eyes Emory in her black yoga pants and tee proclaiming her to be in a complicated relationship with a fictional character. “This,” Mel says, pointing at E
mory, “is your girlfriend?”
The way she says those words and the condescending look in her eyes pisses me the hell off.
But Emory speaks before I can. “Pretty sure that’s what the insanely awesome orgasm he gave me last night means,” she says with a bright smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love a vanilla latte. Mmkay, thanks!”
Mel storms off, and I’m left speechless.
My gaze is still glued to Emory as she takes the seat across from me then props her elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm. “And here I was worried this morning would be awkward,” she finally says.
“Umm,” is all I can muster.
Her eyes sparkle, and a grin tugs at her lips. “My jealous-girlfriend acting skills are on point, right?”
I blink dumbly then nod. “Yep. Had me fooled.”
She shrugs. “I’ve been watching a lot of Days of Our Lives. I think it really helps me channel my inner soapy star.”
“Oh yeah, you really nailed it,” I praise.
She chuckles. “Thank you, thank you, you’re far too kind.”
And just like that, any weirdness there might have been between us, after our phone sexcapade last night, is gone.
The wedding is ten days away, and I haven’t seen Emory in person since we met for coffee last week. It’s time to change that, so I shoot her a text.
SEBASTIAN: Hey, you free today?
EMORY: Umm, yeah, I guess.
My brows furrow. What does that mean?
SEBASTIAN: So, you’re free or you’re not?
EMORY: I can be. Depends what you have in mind.
SEBASTIAN: Shopping…
EMORY: You have my attention.
I grin. Bitches love shopping.
“What’s that face about?” Storm asks, a brow arched in my direction as she fills her to-go mug with coffee.
“Careful. You’re about to spill,” I say, making her snap her focus back to her hands.
“Shit,” she mutters as hot liquid laps at the lip of her cup.
I shake my head at her then scoop Hazel from around Storm’s legs up into my arms. “Careful, baby. Momma’s got a hot drink,” I tell her then, looking back to my sister, I say, “Me and the girls are going shopping today.”
Storm frowns. “Since when do you go shopping? Especially with the girls—and on your own, no less.”
“I won’t be on my own.” I smirk. “Emory is coming with us.”
“Oh,” she says, interest lighting her eyes. “Do tell.”
I shrug. “I figure the least I should do is buy her a dress for the wedding. She is doing me a solid, after all.”
“I see,” Storm murmurs.
“You see what?”
“You hate shopping, and you’re a tightass, yet you’re willing to not only brave a big, bad department store for her, you’re also going to part with your precious money,” she says. And when I nod, she continues, “You really like her.”
“I told you I do,” I say. “You didn’t believe me?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve only seen you with Jayla for the last seven years.”
All I can do is nod.
“It will be weird to see you with someone else. I think I had it in the back of my head that you two would get back together,” she says.
“That’s never going to happen, Storm,” I tell her. Maybe now is the time to tell her the real reason we broke up, but before I can open my mouth, Everly comes running into the kitchen, fully dressed, little boots and all.
“I’m weddy,” she exclaims.
I chuckle. “For what?”
She rolls her eyes at me, the little diva. “For shopping!”
Storm throws her head back, laughing. “That’s my girl,” she says, dropping a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Did you hear Mommy and Bash talking?”
Ever nods vigorously. “Yep. And I dot dwessed all by myself.”
“I see,” Storm says. “Do you have your purse?”
“Yep. But I need some moneys.”
Jake walks into the kitchen, swooping Ever up in his arms from behind. “I got you, baby girl,” he says to her then drops a kiss on her cheek.
She giggles and squeals when he tickles her ribs. “Dop it, Daddy!”
For all intents and purposes, Jacob is her father. He’s not her biological dad, but Ever doesn’t know that. Jake has been in her life since she was a baby, and he loves her with the same fierceness that he loves my sister and his bio daughter, Hazel.
He places Ever back on her feet then pulls his wallet from his pocket and gives her a twenty. “Spend it wisely, princess.”
Her eyes widen, and she nods up at him. “I will, Daddy,” she says in such a grave tone that I can’t help but chuckle. This girl takes her shopping very seriously.
“Okay, I’ve gotta run,” Storm says, squatting down in front of Ever. “Be good for Bash today, and no playing hide-and-seek in the store, okay?”
Ever heaves a dramatic sigh. “Otay.”
“Love you, baby,” Storm says and presses a kiss to Ever’s temple, then she stands and does the same to Hazel in my arms. My twin’s eyes meet mine, and she smiles then messes up my hair.
I swat her away, and she laughs. “Have fun shopping,” she calls on her way out with Jake hot on her heels.
My phone chimes with a new text, and I can’t help my smile when I see it’s another message from Emory.
EMORY: You’re just going to leave me hanging after you bait me with shopping? Not cool, dude. Not. Cool.
Grinning, I shoot off a quick reply.
SEBASTIAN: Sorry, got distracted with my sister. I’ll pick you up at 10?
Ten gives me enough time to get the girls properly organized—and myself. It is a mission and a half leaving the house with two little people in tow.
EMORY: Okay, I can do 10. I’ll meet you in the lobby.
She sends another text with her building details, then I slide my cell into my pocket and take Hazel to her room to get her ready. Ever trails behind, singing softly to herself.
An hour later, we’re finally ready to leave the house. I glance down at Ever. “You got your purse?”
“Yep.” She nods, holding up the little pink bag that’s strapped across her body. “Dot my moneys, too.”
“Thatta girl.” I wink then pick up the fully loaded diaper bag and lead the way to the garage. Jake and Storm insisted on buying me a car since I ferry the girls around so often, and it’s really the only time I need a vehicle. If I were on my own, I’d happily use public transport.
After strapping the girls into their seats, I double-check that I’ve packed everything I could possibly need, then I slide into the driver’s seat. “Ready to roll, ladies?”
Hazel claps her hands excitedly, and Ever hoots, “Yessssss, Bash, let’s dow!”
By the time I find a parking garage close to Emory’s building, it’s ten minutes to ten. I assemble the double stroller, secure the girls inside it, then hot-foot it to Emory’s building. She’s sitting at a table in a small coffee shop in the lobby when we walk in, and her eyes sparkle with humor when they land on me.
My heart pounds against my ribs at the sight of her. She’s so wildly beautiful. “Hey,” I say as we approach.
“Hi.” She smiles at me then shifts her focus to the girls in the stroller. “Nice to see you again, Everly. And you too, Hazel.”
Ever beams at her. “Hey, Emwee, we dowing shopping!”
Emory’s smile widens at my niece, and she feigns surprise. “Really? Can I come?”
“Otay!” Ever chirps. “Bash, Emwee is dowing shopping wit us!”
“Cool,” I say. “Should we take Emory in the car then?”
Ever nods. “Yep. Wet’s dow!”
Walking back to the parking garage, Emory asks, “You have a car?”
“Yeah, Storm and Jacob aren’t fans of the subway,” I explain. “Not for the g
irls, anyway—not at this age. Maybe when they’re older.”
“Hmm, fair enough, I guess. I don’t think I took public transport until I was twelve or thirteen. And even then, my parents preferred we used our driver.”
I arch a brow. “Your driver?”
“Yeah, Harrison was assigned to me and my closest brother since we had a lot of the same extracurricular activities. The older three boys shared one too, as did my parents,” she says.
Three drivers for one family? I side-eye her as we wait for my car to be brought up. “And you accused us of being the Kennedys,” I joke.
A pretty blush tints her cheeks as she averts her gaze. “We’re not Kennedy level,” she mumbles then licks her lips and glances at me from beneath her lashes. “I thought you knew who I was?”
“I do,” I say. “You’re Emory Moss, book blogger extraordinaire.”
She nods, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip for a brief moment before she says, “I am, but I’m also Emory Moss of Moss Publications Incorporated.”
My jaw drops. How did I not make that connection myself? What a fucking moron.
“My brothers all work for the company, but I couldn’t. I love words. They’re in my blood, but...” She pauses, seemingly thinking over how to explain herself.
Placing my hand on her arm, I tell her, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Emory.”
She looks down at what she’s wearing: a pair of fitted, dark-blue jeans, a long-sleeved gray shirt that says Bookish, and a scarf that matches her jeans. “Thanks,” she says just as my car pulls up at our side.
I help Ever into the back seat and secure her belt, then I turn to retrieve Hazel, but Emory already has. She’s smiling as Hazel clutches fists full of her vibrant red hair, examining it.
“Careful,” I warn. “She’s liable to give it a good yank when you’re least expecting it.”