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“Wow, you think you’re gonna get off so easy?”
“C’mon, you do this every Monday night, and then I have to deal with sour and jealous Logan.”
“Funny, you weren’t complaining when you came three times in a row.”
“No...” she trails off. “But still, why the hell do you watch? Who cares! It’s over with him now. I want no part in this.”
We have this argument every Monday night. I know she’s already watched the episodes when her producer couriers them over. I don’t know why I can’t stop. It drives me fucking insane having to watch her fool around with Wesley onscreen.
I don’t want to talk myself out of it, ignoring my raging dick and her half-naked body. With just one press of the remote the television comes on and I stare at the screen waiting.
Emmy lets out a loud huff, falling back onto the bed and covering her face with a muffled scream. I ignore her overdramatic behavior and spend the next forty minutes with my stomach in knots, bile rising in my throat, and my blood pumping so fucking hard I’m on the verge of a migraine.
It’s the episode when they went to London. I should seek solace in the fact she’d been fucking me behind his back yet, that doesn’t seem to make it any easier watching them with each other and the way the episodes are edited to make them so united.
I switch off the television and stare blankly at the black screen.
“You’re your own worst enemy,” she says stubbornly. “You can either sit there and sulk like you always do, and not talk to me for the rest of the night until you crack because, again, you’re your own worst enemy, or... you can turn around and keep perfectly still, quiet if you want to brood and I’ll just give you a show.”
It piques my attention, yet I maintain my broody persona because I don’t want to jump the gun so quickly and look like a pussy.
And speaking of pussies, there’s one staring at me when I turn around.
She’s lying on the bed, two pillows propped up behind her, so her body is angled perfectly. Her long, lean legs appear even longer in that position. Smooth and irresistible. Her knees are resting against each other, but when she notices she has my undivided attention, she spreads them enough for me to see the full view.
“I realized when we began our steamy affair you enjoy it when I try new things.”
My lips remain still, desperately trying to hide my smirk. “Well, you didn’t like anal play.”
“I didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I think we can both agree that I do now.”
“You certainly do.” I lick my lips, crawling toward her until I’m close enough to smell her arousal. “So, what’s left?”
“What did you tell me last week was a fantasy of yours?”
This is a trick question.
My male instinct tells me not to answer, yet I do because I have some sort of death wish.
“A threesome?”
She snorts. “Two guys and me?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Much like your answer.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes at her and continue to play this ridiculous game hoping I’d get a ‘happy ending’ soon. “Bondage?”
“No, but I’m not opposed to it.”
“Fisting?”
“Oh, my God!” she yells, wincing. “No.”
I give up in frustration because her naked body is begging to be fucked.
“Honestly, do you know how much I say during sex? You’re catching me at a weak moment. I can barely remember my name half the time.”
