How would my blushing bride-to-be react if I carried her over the threshold after our wedding and took her straight here?
As I stretched out on the bed, all my back-patting suddenly gave way to the tiniest hint of guilt. About Emzee. Would she still be my friend at the end of this?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Was I shamelessly exploiting her crush on me to get what I wanted?
Yeah, I was.
She didn’t even realize that I knew about her long-held torch for me, but I’d always pretended I was oblivious. I liked our friendship just the way it was, and sex (and the inevitable messy breakup later) would have destroyed us. So I’d always considered to be Emzee off-limits.
Nowthatcould be a problem.
Because there was no way I could go a whole year without sex.
Though frankly, I wouldn’t mind having it with my new fiancée. It was all I could think about, seeing her in that dress tonight. And it wasn’t like it had been any kind of hardship to kiss her all those times—making out with Emzee was hot. I’d even gotten a little turned on when she was pressed right up against me. Who wouldn’t? She had those lush tits, that curvy little body, and a pair of the softest, thickest lips I’d ever seen. They’d always looked absolutely prime for giving head; I’d had the thought more than once over our seven years of friendship.
But at the end of the day, she was still a girl. A girl with a crush.
I knew that for her, sex would come with feelings. Lots of them. Under the tough-girl attitude and the dark eye makeup and the boots, Em was secretly a big softie. Her heart was a delicate thing. Shit, I’d witnessed her blinking back actual tears just talking about the sweaters she’d bought for her rescue dog. So yeah, I had to give this sex thing some consideration. Because once we started sleeping together, she’d stop thinking of our relationship as fake.
Which would be a problem when it came time to orchestrate the divorce.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, as they said. It wouldn’t do me any good to upset Emzee and give her a reason to seek revenge in court later. She could blow this whole thing up if she wanted to, go to the press with her story, hire a top dollar legal team to get her some massive alimony payment, maybe even try to take my apartment. I’d have to play my cards exactly right throughout all of this. Emzee the best friend would never do anything to hurt me. Emzee the heartbroken ex-wife? I had no idea.
I rubbed my eyes, realizing I’d made a major misstep in not giving more thought to the intimacy aspect of our arrangement. If Emzee and I were married, even if it was for show, I couldn’t step out on her, couldn’t sleep around. And our chemistry had to be off the charts if we were really going to sell the whole thing. So I’d have to somehow navigate the emotional minefield ahead of me, because abstinence was not an option.
It had been bad enough going without since Claudia and I had broken up—it wasn’t intentional celibacy, of course, but I’d been swamped at work for a few weeks, and then I had to focus all my attention on getting my family to believe that Emzee and I were actually together.
At this point, I was starting to get antsy.
My mind wandered back to the dress Emzee had worn tonight. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at that open back. How much bare, creamy skin was exposed. I’d had to satisfy myself with running my hand gently up and down her spine all evening, keeping everything G-rated, my fingers itching to slide straight down the fabric and cup her gorgeous ass the whole time.
If our night out had been real, that dress would be in a puddle on my bedroom floor right now. I’d have Emzee lying spreadeagle on the bed, thighs spread wide, making her whimper with pleasure as I gave her a taste of what this cock was capable of.
I felt myself growing hard at the thought.
Sex with her would be good, I had no doubt—we had chemistry, the kiss proved that—but I also knew that Emzee didn’t have a lot of experience. Sure, she had dated plenty, but no one had ever lasted long enough to really learn all her hot spots, and I was confident that whomever she’d slept with—mostly self-absorbed artist types in skinny jeans—probably hadn’t taken the time or effort to bring her to the explosive orgasms I always provided my sexual partners. I doubted her usual type even knew how. It’d be up to me to chart unknown waters.
I wrapped my hand around my hard cock as I thought about all that would entail. The long, wet kisses, my hands gliding over her curves, her soft moans as her body opened up to me. I would make it good for her. Good for both of us.
And because she was halfway in love with me already, I knew that when the time came to seduce Emzee, she wouldn’t say no.
Emzee
Chapter 12
If I was going to get married, there had to be some structure.
Now that I’d taken the time to really think about what it would mean for me and Ford to walk down the aisle—even if it was just for show—I knew that we needed to lay down some ground rules and guidelines before this went any further.
I’d initially learned a bit about how to set up a sham marriage thanks to watching both of my brothers have theirs arranged—and then later, I’d gotten some of the real nitty-gritty, behind-the-scenes stuff via conversations with The Wives. I had a pretty good idea of what needed to happen before anyone said “I do.” In fact, at this point, I felt like a bit of an expert on the subject.
Now I had to get Ford on the same page.
I’d texted him that morning, telling him to meet me at my place because, and I quote, “Munchkin has spent way too much time without me lately, and I think he misses you too.” I knew it would get him to agree; Ford loved my little guy, and the feeling was mutual.
In reality, it was just an excuse to stay on my turf for now. There was no way I’d be comfortable meeting up at the country club again, or at that shag pad of a bachelor apartment Ford lived in. Especially when this conversation was going to be so loaded.
