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Emmie: Trust me, I’ve got my eyes wide open, not just my legs…
I hesitate before sending that back, wondering if it sounds too lad-ish. But in the end, I can’t come up with anything better, and after all, I’ve heard the way those two talk about sex. They may as well be guys for how crude they can be. Calli’s poor innocence never stood a chance once they both swept her into their circle.
Stella: Enjoy :)
The string of aubergine emojis that follows makes me bark out a laugh.
“Yeah, Stel. We all know how much you like the D.”
Pushing the start button, I sit myself up straighter and head back across town once more.
Thankfully, when I get back, nothing else has been trashed and everything that I’d already started tidying up is still as I left it.
Walking straight down to the room she’s claimed, I knock.
“Em, I’ve got your things.”
Nothing.
I knock harder this time. “Em?”
Silence.
Pushing the handle down, I crack the door open.
Despite it now being almost lunchtime, the room is in darkness, and she’s curled up on the bed still wearing my sweats and hoodie, her hair wet and splayed out over the dark pillow.
Placing everything in my hands down at the end of the bed, I continue walking until I can see her face.
Her eyelids are fluttering with whatever she’s dreaming about, and I can’t help but drop to my haunches to watch her.
She chews on her bottom lip like she does as she climbs toward her orgasm, and her fingers grip the duvet tightly.
“No,” she cries, startling me so much I fall back on my arse with a thud.
Her eyes fly open and she stares at me for a couple of seconds while her sleep-fogged brain catches up with her.
“Get out.” Her voice is so soft that I almost don’t think she means it.
“I-I brought your stuff.”
“And you thought because of that kind gesture that I’d want you watching me sleep. Newsflash, Theo. You’re a fucking creep. It’s fucked up that watching me while I’m unconscious gets you going, let alone that you actually jerk off over it.”
If she thinks kink-shaming is going to get a rise out of me right now, then she’s damn wrong.
I also suspect that deep down, she fucking loves it. She’s just not in the right headspace to admit it. She sure as shit never did anything to keep me out once she learned about my night-time hobby.
“Newsflash, Hellcat,” I sneer, using her term. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me.”
“Bullshit,” she spits, sitting up and glaring at me. “You care what everyone thinks. And,” she adds, “you’re worried that you’re not good enough.”
Her head tilts to the side as she waits for me to argue.
I wish I could, but damn it, I’m pretty sure she might be right.
Living in my father’s shadow, knowing that one day I’m going to have to fill his shoes, constantly makes me wonder if I’ll ever be as ruthless as him, as powerful, as formidable.
“You don’t know me, Emmie, so don’t pretend you do,” I bark, marching from the room and swinging the door closed behind me.
