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“What time is it?” he asked.
“Nearly five in the morning,” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “There’s a rest stop coming up. We can grab something there.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We drove in silence again, my thoughts ranging over the last few days. Emory had gone from a stranger to the only person I trusted in the world. As far as I knew, he was the only person who understood what was happening to me and could do anything about it.
We turned off the highway a half hour later and drove down a long off ramp toward a rest stop. The place was basically deserted, and Emory parked as far away from the other cars as possible.
He cut the engine and looked at me. “Okay, do your thing,” he said.
I nodded. “Watch Mason?”
“You got it.”
I climbed out of the car and walked quickly toward the building. I pushed open the doors and stepped inside.
The place was empty and most of the stores were closed. The only place that was open was a fast food place, and I just couldn’t’ stomach that kind of food. Instead, I bought some crackers from a vending machine and ate them while leaning up against a wall.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I wanted to feel something, fear or mourning or anything, but I was just numb. After this most recent attack, the only thing I felt was a numb nothingness. And that scared me so much more than anything else had so far.
At least before I’d had the good sense to feel afraid. During the attack I’d felt fear, real terror deep down in my bones, but it had been for Mason. I hadn’t felt any fear for myself at all, and now that it was over I didn’t feel anything else. I was totally blank, a clean slate, empty.
I finished the crackers and went into the bathroom, feeling unsatisfied. It was empty, like everything else in the rest stop.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. I didn’t understand it. I knew I should probably feel afraid now that we were out of the safe house and on the run again, but as I looked at myself in the mirror and splashed water on my face, I couldn’t bring myself to care. We’d drive and drive and the terrorists would get to us again eventually. Either Emory would save us or he wouldn’t. It was all going to end eventually anyway, so I might as well just stop trying to fight it.
A movement to my left caught my eye. I looked over, and standing there, framed in the door, was Emory.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
He took a few steps toward me, the door closing behind him. He kicked a trashcan in front of the door and then looked up at me, his eyes dark and heavy.
“Emory?” I asked again.
He walked up to me and grabbed me by the hips, pulling my body against his.
He didn’t say a word. He just kissed me hard, his lips soft and hard against mine, his mouth hungrily kissing me hard.
I pushed him back. “What are you doing? What about Mason?”
“Travis is with him,” he said, and he grabbed me back, pressing me against his body.
His eyes, his lips, they stared into me. Travis was with Mason. Emory was with me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him again.
“You know why I’m here.”
“We’re in a rest stop bathroom. Someone could come in.”
“Nobody’s coming in, princess,” he said. He began to kiss my neck again, pushing me back up against the wall. I moaned as he unbuttoned my jeans.
“Emory, someone could. We can’t do this. We need to get back on the road.”
“I need to feel this soaking pussy,” he said, slipping his hands down my panties. I gasped as his fingers found my clit, and I realized in that moment how incredibly wet I was.
As he stroked my clit, fingers rolling around my skin, I felt something suddenly wash over me. I had been numb the whole time, but suddenly something rushed into me, took me over, put life back into my limbs.
It was Emory. He was the thing that kept me going. I was walking and fighting for Mason, but Emory was what gave me any strength at all. Without Emory, I’d be dead, and my family would be dead. Everyone I loved and cared about would be gone.
I pressed myself against him, grinding down against his fingers, kissing his lips hard. I needed this, needed it just as much as he did. I needed to feel again, to feel him. Emory gave me strength, and I needed him to give me everything he had.
His fingers worked me, pressing deep inside my wet pussy, stroking in and out, rolling along my clit. Pleasure and desire flooded through me as I rolled my hips, kissing his lips harder, my arms locked around his neck. He pressed his fingers deep inside me and I gasped, kissing him and moaning against his lips.
“Fuck I needed this too,” I gasped as he kissed my neck and tugged my jeans down over my hips. “I really needed this.”
