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Emily
“Ah, I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, Emily,” Sam shouts as he walks out, leaving Josh and me alone. The moment his footsteps can’t be heard anymore, Josh picks me up and sits me on the island bench. Spreading my thighs apart, he places himself between them. His fingers trail their way up the outside of my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Using one hand, Josh pulls his phone out, presses a few buttons, then shows me the screen with the seven-minute timer.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a seven minutes in heaven memory to replace the other one you shouldn’t have had—which, by the way, I’m gonna need a name.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty fond of the first memory,” I tease.
“Emmy, you do not want to poke the beast right now. Do you really think I won’t go on a rampage and murder every fucking boy you went to school with?”
“That would be a lot of boys, considering I went to ten different schools. And what makes you so sure it was even with a boy?”
“Emmy, did you kiss a girl?” Josh asks, then shakes his head. “You know what… it doesn’t fucking matter if it was a girl, a boy, or a fucking unicorn. Whoever it was touched something that didn’t belong to them. So, name, Emmy. Who was it?”
“That name will go with me to the grave, which is exactly where you’re going to be real soon if you don’t shut up and kiss me already.”
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lock my ankles, one over the other, to hold him in. My arms go around his neck and drag his head towards me. My lips hungrily find his, my tongue pushing its way into his mouth. Not that he puts up any fight, his tongue eagerly swirling around my own.
My emotions are so messed up at the moment. One minute, I’m scared. The next, I’m crying. And now, I’m bloody horny as hell. I wonder if my increased libido is just a coping mechanism for escaping my own mind. Am I using Josh as an emotional outlet?
My thoughts are quickly forgotten as Josh grabs hold of my braided hair, yanking my head back and tilting my face at an angle that allows him better access. He devours me.
“Mmm.” Tightening my legs, I shamelessly dry-hump him, the outline of his hard cock beneath the denim of his jeans rubbing against my clit. I can’t get enough. I need more. I want more. It’s always more with Josh. I can never be close enough.
Josh’s hands reach behind him and unwrap my legs from his waist. He pulls away from my mouth, taking a step back. My body unconsciously follows his, almost causing me to fall off the damn bench.
“Why’d you stop?”
Clutching the phone, which I now notice he’s holding up as it’s blaring some god-awful bell alarm, he says, “Time’s up, babe.”
“No, I need more time, Josh. Set it again. Practice makes perfect. We should practice this whole seven minutes in heaven game.” My stomach chooses this moment to make itself known, the rumble so loud it echoes in the room.
Josh laughs as he reaches out and helps me down, waiting for me to be steady on my feet. “Sorry, I need to feed you before that monster gets out.”
Pain radiates through me as I put all my weight on my left foot. I wince slightly—a wince that Josh does not miss. I’ve been doing so well with not letting on how much my hip hurts. I can deal with the pain, block it out to a point.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. What have you got to eat in this place anyway?” I try to change the subject.
“Nice try. You’re in pain. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Fuck, Em. Should I get the doctor over?”
“NO! Do not go calling any more doctors. I’m fine. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”
His face goes blank. His body stiffens. I guess that was the wrong thing to say. “Josh, I’m fine. Really. I just need to eat.”
He takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes, and is he…? I think he’s counting to ten in his head. When he mouths ten, he opens his eyes again. Smiling at me, he scoops me up in his arms.
“Let’s get you fed.”
“Put me down. I can walk.”
He doesn’t respond, just looks at me with his eyebrows drawn down, and shakes his head, continuing his way out to the kitchen.
Josh sits me on a bar stool at the counter, kissing my forehead before he stalks into the walk-in pantry. I swoon, like full-blown swoon. Why does being kissed on the forehead feel so good? It’s such a simple gesture, yet one I haven’t had in a very long time.
