by L. D. Davis
“Come on, beautiful,” he said holding out his hand to me. “Let’s get some clothes on you.”
I took his hand and allowed him to lead me back upstairs. When I started searching the floor and bed for my shirt, Emmet gave me one of his instead. It was a button down blue short-sleeved shirt. It was long on me, giving the illusion that I didn’t have anything on under it.
“I like that,” he said with a wink as he slipped his feet into a pair of sneakers.
I slipped on my flip flops, put my hand in his and we went to his car. I was glad it was parked in the garage. Though the neighbors weren’t very close in his neighborhood, if any of them spotted us coming out of the house together looking like we had spent all day in bed—which we had, but they didn’t need to know that—I was sure someone would say something to Fred or Sam.
We made a quick trip to a Burger King and bought entirely too much food for two people. We sat down side by side in the kitchen, but I had turned my chair to the side and put my legs up on his lap, just because I could. Emmet ate with one hand and caressed my bare skin with his other. Mostly he stayed below the knee, but sometimes he would venture further up my leg and under the long shirt. Sometimes when he looked at me, I knew he was thinking about what he had done to me earlier in the day.
“I really like you in my shirt,” he said, tracing small circles just above my knee. “I want you to keep it.”
I pulled the shirt up to my nose and inhaled. “It smells like you.”
“Good. My pillows smell like you.”
His eyes fell to my legs as his hand smoothed over my thigh. I unconsciously pressed my thighs together as shocking sensations traveled up my leg and settled between my legs. Emmet’s green eyes looked into my eyes knowingly as a small, sexy smile appeared on his lips.
“I can’t stop touching you,” he murmured as his hands drifted ever higher. His fingertips eased under my shorts.
“So, don’t stop,” I heard myself say in a breathy voice and could hardly believe it.
He gave me a look that should have scared me, but it thrilled me. He threw his fries down and took my milkshake from my hand and put it on the table. He pushed my legs off of him and stood up. Without asking, he took my hand, pulled me out of the chair and lead me through the house and back upstairs to his bedroom.
I had to question my sanity as he positioned me in front of the bed and kissed me. I knew it was going to lead to more third base action, but I didn’t want to stop him, though I knew I should. Even as his hands reached under the shirt to undo my shorts again, I knew I should have pulled away, but instead, a moment later my shorts were falling to the floor at my feet and I was stepping out of them.
Nervous, with a hard beating heart, by Emmet’s guidance I got on the bed and reclined back on the pillows. I watched, biting my bottom lip as he pulled off his shirt, revealing a nicely toned chest and abs that would only become more defined as he got older. He kicked his sneakers off and got into bed on his side beside me. He rested his hand on my rapidly rising and falling chest.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “If you want me to stop at any time I will, okay?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
“I can stop now if you want,” he offered. “I love you, but we don’t have to do anything but lay here and watch television. Do you want me to stop?”
Did I want him to stop? The sensible part of me definitely thought that we should. What if we went too far? Was I ready to lose my virginity? Was I even ready for more third base action? My sensible side said no, but my body ached for his touch. Though his hand on my chest was nonsexual, my breasts swelled in need, and I couldn’t escape the thought of his hand in my panties earlier in the day and how I had felt.
I shook my head no.
Emmet smiled and brought his lips to mine. His hand slid down and answered the needs of my nipples, and I gasped. As he manipulated my nipples through the shirt, my legs crossed and squeezed as that pressure built. With a light groan, he sat up and began to slowly unbutton the shirt.
“I feel like I’m unwrapping a present,” he said with a sexy smile.
When the shirt fell open, revealing me clad in my bra and panties, he groaned again as his eyes traveled over my body.
“You are and always have been the most beautiful girl I know,” he said as his fingers trailed between my breasts, over my tummy and stopped at the top of my panties before retracing their path.
“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. I knew I was a good looking girl, but I’d seen the other girls Emmet had been with. They were all well-endowed. I wasn’t flat chested, but my boobs weren’t big and bouncy either.
“Hey,” he said, putting fingers under my chin and making me look at him. “You are the most beautiful girl I know or have ever seen.”
I looked at him with doubt before looking down at my chest. He looked, too. He cupped a breast in his hand and kneaded.
“You fit perfectly in my hand,” he said with a groan. With one-handed skill, he unhooked my bra.
I tried to cover my face, embarrassed by my nakedness in front of him, but he took my hand away.
“You’re perfect, Donya,” he said sincerely. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
He put his hand on my bare breast, and I gasped and moaned as he pulled the nipple between his fingers. I couldn’t believe I was lying mostly naked on Emmet’s bed with him fondling me, turning me on and making me moan. When he looked me in the eyes as his head moved towards my breasts, I began to believe that the real Donya had exited the building, and I was an imposter because I didn’t stop him. I watched with fascination and licked my lips as his tongue flattened against my nipple. I groaned as I watched him repeat the action twice more before pulling the bud between his teeth.
“Oh, God!” I cried and threw my head back.
Once again I stared up at the ceiling as Emmet suckled me and tugged at the other nipple to give it proper attention. My fingers wound in his hair, and I held him to me. I didn’t want him to stop—or Imposter Donya didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to suck harder, so she said it.
“Suck harder,” I—she, the imposter—panted.
Emmet growled with pleasure and granted my request and sucked with such force that I cried out in pain. He looked at me with questioning eyes but did not stop, because I had not told him to. When I still did not stop him, his teeth sank into the sensitive peak, and I screamed as an unexpected, sudden orgasm slammed into me. My back arched, my hips rose off of the bed, and I squeezed my thighs together trying to drawl the orgasm out, as it was already beginning to die. Then Emmet’s hand was on my thighs, forcing them apart. Sensing time was of the essence; he cupped me through my shorts and rubbed, hard.
I shuddered and writhed and once again made sounds that I did not recognize. My whole body was over sensitized, and my orgasm seemed to go on and on. I couldn’t take any more, but he seemed to sense that too and stopped. I shuddered violently as my breaths came out uneven and ragged. I was completely caught up in my orgasmic haze and didn’t immediately register Emmet pulling off my panties.
The fog lifted a little and for a moment I was able to think clearly and again ask myself if this was something I wanted. Imposter Donya was all for it, but Sensible Donya told me to think hard about it because there was no returning once it was done. The moment I felt Emmet’s fingers sliding through my vaginal lips, the haze returned in full force, and I was once again arching off of the bed.
“Oh my god,” Emmet said in wonder. “You’re wet. I’ve never seen anyone so wet before.”
My cheeks blazed with embarrassment. Was I abnormally wet? Was that gross? Being wet to begin with sounded gross, but was I extra gross? The fact that he alluded to the other girls he slept with had not missed my notice, but I started to wonder if they had set expectations that I could not meet.
Emmet looked at my face and saw the concern there under the lust.
“I like it,” he whispered to me and planted a small
kiss on my lips. “I like that you’re so wet. I know it’s for me.”
He groaned softly as he swiped his fingers between my lips again. He held them up to the light where they glistened. I looked away embarrassed.
“I fucking love it. Look at it, Donya,” he quietly commanded.
Reluctantly, I looked at his fingers.
“This is just on the outside,” he murmured and then looked me in the eyes. “I wonder how wet you are inside.”
I was looking at him when he said that. Even though I saw his hand go back down out of my peripheral vision, I did not know what he was doing until he was doing it.
“Oh my god,” I whimpered as I felt one of Emmet’s fingers slide inside of me.
Emmet groaned again as he continued to hold my gaze and swirled his finger in a slow circle. It was just one finger, but I felt invaded. My walls involuntarily squeezed his finger.
“You are so snug,” Emmet whispered. “So warm and wet and perfect.”
He pulled his finger out of me and held it up for re-inspection. I was definitely wetter on the inside as he had suspected. I was surprised when Emmet looked down at me with a bashful expression. What did he have to be embarrassed about? It wasn’t his body fluids on his fingers.
“I’ve never wanted to taste anyone before,” he said shyly and then whispered. “I want to taste you.”
My eyes exploded out of my skull as I looked at him. My mouth had fallen open so wide; I was sure he could see every tooth in my mouth.
That one statement brought Sensible Donya back. I don’t know why. Maybe it was how intensely erotic his words were, and because it was only a brief glimpse of what the rest of the night entailed. Imposter Donya tried to hang on to the lust and even licked her lips as Emmet licked his finger and smiled down at her like maybe she was thinking of tasting herself on his lips!
Nuh-uh, Sensible Donya said. Sensible Donya asked me why, after all of my fighting about not being ready for sex, I was on my back with my shirt and bra hanging open and no bottoms on. She wanted to know why my so-called boyfriend agreed not that long ago that I wasn’t ready for sex, but he just licked my essence off of his finger. Sensible Donya reminded me that Emmet wasn’t a virgin and questioned whether or not he had any real intentions of waiting to begin with. She wondered if Emmet was going to get what he wanted and then walk away. It didn’t matter how well or how long we had known each other. Sensible Donya wasn’t sure if Emmet’s actions were acts of love or acts of pure teenage-boy horniness.
I agreed with Sensible Donya and my lust filled haze lifted.
I shot up in the bed so quickly that I narrowly missed bumping heads with Emmet. I got on my knees and scrambled to hold the shirt closed over my body as Emmet sat up and watched me with alarm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to touch me, but I backed away. I backed away and almost fell off of the bed. I stumbled to my feet and backed away from the bed and out of Emmet’s reach.
“Donya,” he said my name with exasperation. “What’s wrong?”
“We agreed that I wasn’t ready,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking as much as my body shook.
Emmet’s eyes opened wide for just a few seconds before they grew dark and stormy. “Downstairs, you practically invited this to happen.”
“Up here you told me I could stop at any time,” I snapped.
He held his hands up to placate me, but his expression was still angry.
“And I stopped,” he said. “But you were really into it.”
“We’re moving too fast,” I said, searching for my panties. I spotted them a few feet away and moved to pick them up. “It seems that every time we’re alone, we go too far.”
“We go far together,” Emmet pointed out defensively. “It’s not just me.”
“I know that,” I said, pulling my panties and shorts on together. “But I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to be that girl that sleeps with her new boyfriend this early in the relationship. Then our relationship will be based on sex more than our feelings. It happens to our friends all of the time, and it blows up in their faces all of the time, and when they move on to the next boyfriend or girlfriend, they make the same stupid mistake and it happens all over again.”
If Emmet looked angry before, he was infuriated now. He got off of the bed and stalked towards me. My heart twisted with anxiety as he backed me up against a wall and caged me in with his arms.
“There will be no other boyfriends for you, Donya,” he said, his tone harsh and possessive. “I am your boyfriend now and someday I will be your husband.”
I couldn’t help the humorless laugh that burst from my mouth, in his face.
“You’re leaving for college in a few weeks. How do you think we’re going to stay together then? You’ll be hours away, and I can’t drive for at least another year.”
“We’ll make it work,” he said through gritted teeth. “There are holidays and the summer and—”
“And what?” I demanded. “Are you kidding me, Emmet? Did you forget that no one can know about us, so even if you’re home from school, we still have to find time to sneak off together? That seriously reduces how much time we will get to spend together, and I’m betting it won’t be very much at all in the end.”
“So, we’ll tell everyone.”
“We can’t tell anyone! Your parents will still say I’m too young, they’ll question our relationship, and your sister has already made it more than clear that she would not approve.”
“I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, Donya!” I shrunk back as he yelled, but then I straightened up and yelled back.
“I care, Emmet! Your family is the only family I have. Excuse me if I don’t want to do anything that would make me lose them even a little bit.”
My words seemed to hit him hard. His mouth had fallen open, and he had stared at me intensely, with shock and then sadness, but he pushed it away. Anger returned to his features, but not as hard as it was moments before.
“So, when you agreed to be with me, were you going to dump me at the end of the summer?” he asked bitterly.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do,” I answered honestly.
“But now you do?” His voice rose again. “Now you know you want to break up with me?”
“I don’t see where we’ll have much of a choice.” Pain weaved through my words. “I don’t know how we can pull it off.”
My shoulders slumped, and my head dropped. I felt a sob begging to escape free in my chest, but I managed to keep it there when I spoke again. “I wanted to be with you, and I didn’t think that far ahead.”
Strong fingers were on my chin, tilting my head up.
“Do you still want to be with me, Donya?” Emmet asked softly. His eyes still looked stormy, but the muscles in his face had softened.
“Yes,” I said weakly.
“Then we need to find a way to work it out in the fall,” he said. “Because I want to be with you too.”
He kissed me sweetly, but briefly. He took a small step back and pulled the shirt together to hide my nakedness.
“I won’t do anything more than kiss you until you are absolutely sure you are ready for more,” he said gently, but then in a firmer voice, he added, “But you will have to convince me that you are actually ready.”
I nodded once.
“And I still want you to stay here with me when you can this summer,” he went on. “Tell me you’ll stay.”
Hesitantly, I nodded again. “I’ll stay.”
Emmet looked relieved. He kissed me once more and then moved away from me.
“I’m going back downstairs to finish dinner. You can fix your clothes and join me.”
He gave me a small smile, but there was sadness in his eyes before he walked out of the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Fred returned late the next morning. I thought it would be a good idea to be absent when he got back so that he wouldn’t have any wild ideas abo
ut his son and his almost-daughter shacking up in his son’s room. Sometimes wild ideas are truths, but Fred didn’t need to know that.
Even though I was pretty sure that my mom didn’t want to be bothered, I still tried to connect with her before she left for work. I talked about my time in Louisiana and considered what colleges I may want to attend in a couple of years. She listened, asked questions, and said the appropriate things, but part of me sensed that she wasn’t really into it. I felt like she was only communicating with me to appease me since I had the nerve to sit down directly across from her at her kitchen table.
When she finally left for work, I felt more relieved than anything. I didn’t have to put on the charade of chatty, loving daughter while the tension in the air between us hung heavy and pregnant, threatening to engulf me.
In the early afternoon, I called Emmy. I never went more than a couple of days without talking to her. It was second nature to include her in my daily life—except where her brother was concerned. I did tell her about my mom’s indifference to me, but I didn’t break down and cry like a baby like I had with Emmet.
“I can’t believe it,” Em said when I told her. “Your mom was never a social butterfly, but she was never mean like that. That’s just mean, and hurtful. Did she forget that you used to take care of her when she was ‘sick’?”
I also never told Emmy about the time my mom slapped me in the face. Only Emmet was privy to that information. So, she had no idea of my mom’s mean streak.
“Em, it’s been so long since I’ve really known my real mom,” I said. “Maybe she’s normally this way. Maybe I need thicker skin.”
“You’re in a lose-lose situation. Your real mom is a nut job, and your fake mom is a whack job.”
I laughed. What else could I do? I did enough crying for a lifetime already. It was laugh or cry or walk around with a chip on my shoulder. It was easier to laugh.
