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She’s engrossed in reading, wearing her new glasses which she complains make her look like a grandma. I think she looks like a hot librarian—a virgin at that—one who’s never had her clothes ripped off by any man.
“Are you still reading Abbi’s manuscript?”
Emmy nods, barely acknowledging me.
“And?”
She places it down, annoyed at my interruption. “It’s so good. I haven’t put it down since I began two hours ago. Except for now, because you’re needy and crave attention.”
I bury myself into her side, sliding my hand into my favorite spot—the crevice just beneath her tits. Her scent is intoxicating, and I feel myself becoming instantly hard. “I am needy,” I tell her, rubbing myself against her hip. “I need you on all fours and your ass in my face... now.”
She smacks me with the manuscript, bruising my ego only. I pull away and lie on my back. My head’s against the soft pillow, so I switch the television on until she yanks the remote out of my hands and switches it off.
“I’m ready.” There’s a nervous smile on her face and a sudden burst of energy. Odd, coming from a distracted woman who was busy reading only moments ago.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She removes her tank exposing her tits. Fuck, they’re so fucking perfect I could cry. Seriously—tit heaven. “Oh, and I have something special.”
“A swing?”
“No.”
“Anal beads?”
“No…” she hesitates. “But I guess you could use it in my ass if you want.”
She removes something from under the bed and places it in front of me. It’s a black box. I open it and find a vibrator inside. It’s blue with pink polka dots all over it.
“Apparently, it has multiple speed settings and can get you off in less than a minute. Plus, it’s pretty, don’t you think?” she rambles on.
I can hear the anxious tone in her voice. Something isn’t quite right, and rather than lead with my dick, I watch her with curiosity. She’s on her knees, topless with her eyes wide staring back at me. The corner of her lip is trapped beneath
her bite while she twists the end of her hair around her finger almost fidgeting.
“I can get you off in less than a minute,” I remind her, gazing longingly at her chest. “And your nipples are hard.”
“Yeah, they’re sensitive.”
“You’re hiding something.”
She’s quick to open her mouth. “No, I’m not.”
I know her too well, she’s definitely hiding something. But what? Then, it dawns on me.
The day of the week. Monday night. The deadliest night of the week.
“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.
