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I kiss her deeper and our lips weave together, dancing between insistent presses, licks of tongue, and soft gasps for air. Warmth floods in the gap between us and before I know it, Emma’s grinding her hips against my thigh. I don’t even think it through. I lift onto my toes, driving my thigh up higher, and when she whimpers against my lips, I know I made the right choice.
My tongue weaves deep, caressing her own. Cupping the side of her neck, her pulse flutters frantically against my palm. I press closer. I want to feel every single curve of her body against mine and the only thing stopping me is the fact that I would press her into the car. That wouldn’t be comfortable.
So we kiss like maniacs, denying breath and thought. Like it’s our first and last ever kiss while she grinds against me. The heat of her core bleeds through the fabric and she warms my thigh, teasing me with what I desperately want.
Then, suddenly, Emma stutters and she whimpers loudly into my open mouth. Her soft fingers become claws in my neck and a shudder crashes through her entire body. Leaning back, I study her carefully as I try to work out what I just did.
The deep, crimson flush on her cheeks is a dead giveaway. I glance down to where her hips stutter in their grind against my thigh.
“Did you just …”
“Come?” she gasps, her eyes shining. “Yeah…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare.” I kiss her again, hungrily this time. “Do you know how good it is for my ego that you came just on my thigh?”
Emma laughs, peppering kisses over my lips. “I got carried away.”
“Please do, although…” I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making her look me right in the eye. Then I lift my leg, pressing against her sensitive pussy and she whimpers.
“Next time I make you come, it’ll be clothes off and behind closed doors.”
15
EMMA
“How long will you be?” From the tone of my mother’s voice, I’m already late to the party by her standards and there’s no right answer here.
“Maybe twenty minutes?” I offer, keeping my eyes on the road.
“You either will be or won’t be; there’s no maybe about it.” She tsks sharply and sighs. “Alright, drive safe.”
The line clicks and the call ends before I can say anything back to her. Typical. Being late to my father’s birthday party wasn’t intentional. Classes had run longer than anticipated and the present I’d ordered for him hadn’t arrived, so I’d had to drive halfway through the city in search of his favorite malt liquor to make up for it. One thing led to another and now I’m racing—responsibly—to the community center for the party.
Usually, I’d put more effort into trying to get there faster, but today, I keep my speed within the law and let my mind drift back to my time with Asher. Bumping into him again was lovely. Learning he was also interested in me was sweet, and I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength in that regard. What sticks in my mind, however, is how I was so turned on by his presence and his kissing that I came just from grinding against his thigh. Completely unintentional. Things were hot and heated so I just went with it.
He hadn’t minded, thankfully, and his promise of a next time sings warm in my mind.
Next time.
I now know for sure that Asher and Finn share the same deep interest in me. Caspian remains the outlier, but after my falling out with Meghan, a visit to the art studio has been off limits. Meghan hasn’t left the group chat—yet—so there’s still hope. Although she better have one hell of an amazing apology on her hands if she ever wants to talk to me again.
Arriving at the community center, I park near the building and turn the car off. Silence falls around me like a blanket and I stare up at the building in front of me. A row of tall windows illuminated in yellow light stare back at me, and a placard attached to a sign indicates that the Pierce party is in full swing. As soon as I step through the door, I’ll be fielding questions about my studies, career, and future, as well as whether or not I’ll be settling down to have a family anytime soon.
That’s definitely not in the cards.
Detaching my phone from the handheld, I gather up my gift only to pause when a few notifications blink up on the screen. Comments on my Instagram. I don’t post there that much, only when I have some decent pictures of me and the girls. Curiosity gets the better of me and I click the notification. It takes me straight to the pictures I took of me, Ana, and Meghan getting ready before going out. Amidst the sea of compliments, the new comments are sour.
What a whore.
She dresses like she’s skinny when she’s the size of a house!
Nothing worse than a fattie that doesn’t know she’s fat.
These kinds of comments aren’t new. Any kind of picture I post showing myself in a positive light usually gets flooded with trolls trying to make a terrible point. I screenshot a few of the comments and post them into my group chat with Ana and Meghan, followed by a few laughing emojis. Then I put it out of my mind and climbed out of the car.
Showtime.
“Emma!” My mother spots me within thirty seconds of my arrival and she appears at my elbow to help me out of my jacket. As she takes it, she pauses and glances me up and down. “You went with green? Really?”
