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I’ve just openedthe fridge when I hear Sam shout out, “Josh, stop. Don’t do it!”
I shut the door and tiptoe back out to the living room, where I can see that Josh has the creepy guy by the throat and up against the pristine white wall. It’s not the tattooed hand wrapped around his throat that has me frozen to my spot. It’s the gun Josh is holding to the man’s head.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your fucking brains out right now?” Josh seethes.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir,” the guy stammers out.
“Disrespect? You’ve been nothing but disrespectful since the moment we stepped through the lobby downstairs. Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at her? Do you take me for a fucking fool? Think I don’t know the thoughts running through your head?” Josh screams in his face.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t.” He shakes his head.
Holy shit, this is about me. Josh is losing his shit over me. I should say something, put a stop to this. I knew something was eating at him in the elevator, but I didn’t think it would be because someone was looking at me. Even though I know I should try to stop this, my feet are frozen in place, fear gripping me. What if he blames me? What if he thinks this is all my fault? I should have worn the sweats like he wanted me to.
“Josh, man, calm down. Put the gun away. You don’t want to do this in front of your girl.” Sam nods his head towards me.
Josh turns and looks at me. “Fuck!” he mumbles out, as he lets go of the guy before stepping back. He holds the gun down by the side of his leg, tapping it repeatedly against his thigh. I’m afraid he’s going to accidentally shoot himself if he keeps doing that, yet I’m still frozen to my spot. I still can’t seem to make my feet move. They should be running the hell out of here. Any reasonable, sane person would be running out of here.
“Fuck, man, you’re batshit crazy over a damn bitch. Talk about being fucking pussy-whipped. Must be a fucking gold-plated pussy,” the creepy guy, who has just been renamed in my head as dumbass, spits out.
Josh raises the gun up and shoots, hitting the man’s left kneecap. He doesn’t even blink as the guy falls to the ground. “That was a warning shot, motherfucker. The next one will be in your fucking head.”
The guy is rolling around on the ground, screaming incoherent nonsense—the once pristinely white floor and wall now covered in blood. Josh turns and looks me up and down.
“Clean this mess, and shut him the fuck up, before I do it permanently,” he says to Sam as he walks slowly towards me. This is the moment I should run; in my head, I know that. But my heart, it wants something completely different. It wants the devil who’s making his way to me, slowly, carefully, like I’m a wounded animal about to take flight. I fear it’s too late to run—even if I could, I’m not sure I would.
“Emmy.” Josh takes a breath in, releasing it slowly before continuing, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see that.” He’s standing in front of me, apologising.
I nod my head. I don’t know what to say. His grey sweats and white shirt are now stained with blood and he’s still clenching the gun in his hand. Yet, all I can think is how badly I want to climb him, claim him as mine.
My thighs tighten together as I feel myself getting wetter and wetter by the minute. I’m not wearing any underwear, and I’m at risk of having my desire run down my inner thighs right now. I can feel my hardened nipples rubbing against the flannelette fabric of the shirt.
“Josh, where’s the bedroom?” I ask.
He nods his head behind me. “Down that way. Why?” he says with a smirk.
“I-I’m going to need you to take me there now,” I whisper.
Josh wraps one arm around me and picks me up. My legs encircle his waist and cling on. My hands go to his hair as my mouth finds his. His groans of pleasure run through me as he walks us down a hall.
I’m so lost in all that is Josh that when I’m thrown down on a bed, confusion and dizziness take over as I open my eyes. Josh is standing at the end of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head.
I lick my lips as his perfectly-sculpted, tanned body comes into view. I really need to book an appointment with him. Hours long, where I can run my tongue along all those grooves. Draw the outline of those tattoos that cover him with (yep, you guessed it) my tongue.
Even as I lie here, conjuring up all of the things I want to do to his body, I know it’s wrong. I know that it’s only going to hurt more when everything I’ve done comes crashing down on me, on him, and ends up ruining us.
“I fear the longer I keep you, the more I’m going to ruin you,” Josh confesses as if reading my inner thoughts.
“And just how do you suppose you’re going to ruin me exactly?” I ask.
“My darkness is going to overtake your light; my darkness is going to ruin every good thing there is inside you. I can see it’s already happening. Yet, I can’t seem to let you go. I won’t ever let you go again, Emmy.”
“You can’t ruin me, Josh. I’m already ruined.”
“No, you’re not, but you will be.” He smirks as he strips off his sweats.
He doesn’t know that he already ruined me in this way… years ago. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Josh. Even in the beginning with Trent, when it was good, it wasn’t Josh-level good.
Josh climbs on the bed and undoes the belt, his belt, from around my waist. “As much as I want to tie you up and have you at my mercy, I want to feel your hands all over me. I want to feel those nails scratching my back when I make you come like you’ve never come before,” he says as he throws the belt across the room.
