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I want to keep arguing, but then that soft part of my heart cries out, longing for him. That’s what I came here for. To feel his warm skin against mine and forget all of the bad that is flooding my mind. Without saying another word, I march up to him and throw myself against his chest. He’s tense and still at first, but slowly his arms wrap around me. His palms spread around my back, lowering to my upper thighs.
I look up into his eyes, and he lowers his lips to mine. Our kiss quickly deepens into a passionate, hurried frenzy. We want to make each other feel good. We want to forget about the complicated mess around us. We haven’t had enough of this lately and our bodies miss each other. Not just the motions of having sex, but the primal connection that used to spark between us. For everything I don’t know, I am certain so much of me still belongs to him and probably always will, no matter what kinds of crimes or wrongdoings he could commit.
He throws me onto the couch and begins to unbutton my jeans. I try to pull him back down to kiss me, but he pushes my hands away. I expect him to go down on me or slide his fingers inside, but the moment he takes off my pants, he starts to remove his own.
“Wait,” I rasp, running my hands across his skin. I want him, but I’m not ready yet.
He ignores me and quickly throws the rest of his clothes to the floor. He touches himself and there’s a mad look in his eye. His nostrils are flaring and he looks angry, but like he wants me just as badly as I want him at the same time. I do want him, but my body isn’t responding. Has it finally caught up to the logical, rational side of me that never thought I should trust Emmett in the first place?
Emmett pushes inside of me, but there’s a sharp pain. I wince and dig my fingers into the couch cushions, trying to go somewhere in my brain that forces my body to do what I want it to. To be wet and excited over him. I think back on how sure I felt of everything after his family cut him off. They knew he wasn’t like them. That he wouldn’t choose money, power, or greed over human lives. When did I lose that certainty? Where is all of this doubt and mistrust coming from?
My mind races as he moves, grunting with deep thrusts. I tense up, still not feeling any of the pleasure I am used to feeling at his hands.
“Stop,” I whisper, pushing his hips back with my hands. “It hurts.”
As if he’s in another world, he doesn’t seem to hear my words. He keeps moving, ignoring me completely.
“Emmett!” I shout louder. “Did you hear me!? Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
He freezes and looks down at me with a mortified expression, but it melts away into something else. Something I haven’t seen since long before I started to think I understood who he really was. Suddenly I am face to face with the Emmett I first knew at WJ Prep. The Emmett who bullied, humiliated, and threatened me.
“Oh, what?” he smirks with a cruel spark. “First you think I’d murder someone…and now you think I’d…what? Rape you?”
I shake my head, but I’m not sure if I’m telling him no or just asking for the world to go away. That’s not what was happening, was it? I look into his darkened eyes and search for what I came here for. Safety. Assurance. Why can’t he give me any of that? But once again, only the old Emmett stares back. I remember the times he used to grope me, force his lips on mine with the other Elites standing there to watch. The time in the car with Trey and Vincent when he blindfolded me and teased me. Only no matter how fucked-up it was, I wanted him. I wasn’t just freezing and going along with it. My entire body shook with desire for him.
“Do you want this or not?” he demands, stroking himself again.
I should be furious with how cold and bossy he’s being. That moments ago, he didn’t stop when I asked. That he had to say that terrible word in the middle of all this. But the traumas that used to make me cringe are melting me from the inside out. I feel the pulsing sensation between my legs that longs to feel him inside, but I can’t bring myself to tell him just how badly I do want it suddenly.
Unable to speak, I run my fingers between my legs. I tease the tingling folds and coax him inside. His eyes spark again as he thrusts forward with an animalistic grunt. Our nerves are shot and everything is tense, causing us both to sweat. But somehow it just makes it feel better. My brain wants me to yell at him, to push him away. But everything else just wants to get off on him. I need to.
I writhe underneath him as he pounds into me, and all the sharpness from before is gone. I dig my nails into his skin so hard, I’m certain I’m drawing blood. He deserves it, I think, for hurting me a moment ago. And again, the thought turns me on more. He hisses from the scratches but doesn’t stop or ask me to stop.
The more I replay in my head, the more turned on but angrier I get. I grab his shoulders and pull myself up, forcing my lips against his. We bite at each other’s lips and tongues as the sweat pools around my clit. His thrusting body rubs against the slickness in all the most perfect ways, swelling with pleasure. I pull on him so hard, he finally flips over, rolling me on top of him as he sits back against the couch.
With our mouths and teeth still nipping at each other’s skin, I start to ride him harder than I ever have before. It’s more than enough, but we’re both feeling insatiable and greedy, so he thrusts up into me in return, our rhythms so rushed and frantic that we barely sync up. Our rush makes it sloppy, but we slip into some trance where all that matters is how it feels. We stop caring about what we look like or what kinds of sounds we make and lose ourselves completely in the feeling. Immense pleasure with a tinge of exquisite pain.
I don’t realize we’re on the floor until the orgasm is rippling through my body, with Emmett climaxing right behind me. I don’t even know how we got down there. I feel like I’ve been floating up out of my body for the past half hour.
“What the fuck,” I grumble under my breath as I lift my head to confirm I am in fact laid out on the carpet.
Emmett blows out a big gushing breath, then looks troubled. His eyes glint with worry as he rolls over and scoops me up into his arms. He carries me into the bedroom and lays me tenderly down onto the bed before kneeling at my side.
“I’m sorry,” he says urgently. “I can’t believe I…I should have never…”
“It’s okay,” I shake my head and run my fingers through his dampened curls. I don’t know how it’s okay. It should never be okay for him to keep doing anything when I ask him to stop. Not anymore, even if it did used to be a normal occurrence before he started trying to be his real self.
My heart twists in my chest as I finally begin to think maybe I have been trying to draw too many lines in the sand. There was the Emmett from before and the one from now, the good, the bad, the one who would do this thing or would never do that thing. The one who lies, the one who owns my heart, the one who loves me more than anything. It all starts to shatter as I think…It’s all him.
I don’t think people change. They’re multifaceted. Emmett has all of these different sides, but just because I can only see the good now doesn’t mean the bad couldn’t resurface at any time. The same goes for Theo, even if I have been purposefully blinding myself to any good he has shown lately.
But as we accept all of the different sides to a person, can it all start to blend and bleed together? Maybe the good will somehow neutralize the bad. I don’t know, but somehow, I mean it as I tell Emmett over and over that it’s okay. Because it is. I don’t know how or why, but it is.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks suddenly, desperate to redeem himself.
I shake my head no, and he finally peels himself up to get a towel and a glass of water. I wrap myself up in his sheets and realize I don’t even remember what day it is. Wednesday, I think. We had the day off for Malcolm’s funeral service and prom will be this weekend. I’ve still lost my excitement for prom, but now for completely different reasons.
Our sex trance seems to have woken up so many old feelings. I don’t feel indifferent at all. The opposite. I feel too much. Maybe I have just been suppressing my feelings this entire time to be able to get through the days. I had to learn to control the all-consuming, obsessive love I feel for him. But now it rushes back over me and something like prom seems silly. Like we’re above it. Our love is too big for stupid little high school dances.
