Page 26 of Bound to the EMT

“I- I would like to think our tongues can do the same thing. I just happen to be more in control of mine.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you, Princess? Trust me, I have full control over my tongue.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

The poor, naïve, little thing doesn’t get it. But she will. Just as soon as she lets me show her all the wonders sex can hold.

“None of this changes the fact that you need to loosen up a bit. To hell with how I talk. It’s how I treat you that should matter.”

“I suppose,” she hedges, uncertainty darkening her eyes.

“Back to the subject at hand. Why aren’t you committed to making this marriage work?”

“Do we really have to talk about that?” The soft whine in her tone makes my balls draw up and my cock harden.

“Well, it’s either that, or you tell me where you got the butt plug.”

Emmeline lowers her head so I can’t see her eyes, but I can still see the climbing red that engulfs her face. “Sex Sex Sex Emporium.”

The fact that she’d rather talk about the source of her greatest shame instead of her reasons for holding back in the marriage is telling. But I won’t push. Not yet, at least.

“Well, there’s your problem right there. They don’t have the good stuff. Come on. Let me take you somewhere better.”

Her head snaps up as she pins me with a frantic stare. “Oh, must we? People will see me. They will-”

“Well, how did you get the butt plug from the other place?”

“I had a hood concealing most of me. My friends were really the ones who picked it out.”

“Your friends?” Anger sizzles along my synapsis. “You mean like the ones who didn’t give a shit you were getting married today?”

Tears drip down her cheeks, staining her face as misery surrounds her body like a cloak. Well hell, the last thing I wanted to do was make her cry like this. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I reach over and undo hers so I can gather her as best as I can into my arms.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. That was unkind of me to say.”

“No,” she hiccups. “You’re right. They aren’t my friends. None of them are. Not really. They only tolerate me because of my parents.”

I run my hand over her soft hair and breathe in her alluring scent. “Then why do it? Why let them talk you into something you clearly weren’t ready for?”

“They all did it. At least, that’s what they said. I’d listen to them all talk around the lunch table when our breaks would line up. Nothing to it. No one would know. And honestly, how could they know? But then everything went wrong. Everything always goes wrong when I try to rebel. I should have known better.”

“You’re safe with me. You can rebel to your heart’s content. Well, maybe not toward me. I’ve been known to be able to take a brat or two in hand. But you don’t strike me as the bratty type. Hell, I’d be elated if you actually did.”

“Oh. Oh, I can’t do that. Ladies are demure, mindful, respectful-”

“Fuck demure, mindful, and respectful. I want you wild, free, and unencumbered from all these bullshit rules your parents put on you. Brat. Hell, become a little hellion I have to wrangle. As long as you don’t put yourself into some sort of danger I can’t save you from, do it. You’re my wife now. You’re not your mother’s daughter anymore.”

Her eyes narrow as she pulls back. Though her body trembles, she puts on what I can only hope is a brave face as she levels her glare at me.

“Go to hell,” she whispers, making my lips twitch in a ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.”

“F- Fuck you.” The moment the words leave her lips, she slaps both hands over her mouth and looks around.

When nothing bad immediately happens, she giggles, the squealing sound loosening the tight band around my heart a touch.

“Fuck you!” she cries out a bit louder, a maniacal gleam shining in her eyes.