After All

by Karina Halle

  In the end I reach over and grab the racoon by the scruff of its neck and yank him off her before throwing him to the bushes where he lands on his three feet.

  Alyssa is still trying to spin around, flailing her arms. As she does, the piece of jerky goes flying to the ground, which Cyril scoops up with his hand before running into the brush.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to calm her down while I grab her by the shoulders. “It’s gone. It’s gone.”

  “I told you Cyril Sneer was the enemy!” she yells at me, almost in tears.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I repeat. “Let’s get a look at you.”

  She’s fairly scratched up on her arms and there’s a swipe across her chest, but there doesn’t seem to be any puncture wounds or bites. “Minor scratches,” I tell her. “But we’ll still get you to the hospital to get a rabies shot just in case.”

  “No, no I’m fine,” she says, taking a step back from me and trying to compose herself. “I’m fine.”

  “He could have rabies,” I tell her.

  She inspects her arms briefly and then looks at me squarely. “I’ve had worse.”

  “What do you mean you’ve had worse?”

  “I’ve already had a rabies shot.”

  “What? When?”

  “Last year.”

  “Last year? Why?”

  “This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

  I cock my head, trying to form words but the only thing that comes out is, “Huh?”

  “I said this has happened before. I told you I’ve had bad experiences.”

  As she’s saying this, I recall something that Tiffany had said at the wedding.

  “Bad luck with animals?” I ask.

  She shrugs and brushes a strand of hair from her face. “I love them but they don’t seem to love me.”

  “Maybe they love you too much,” I tell her.

  She laughs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  I grab her by the hand and give it a squeeze. “Hey. Let’s get out of here before the squirrels turn on us.” She visibly shudders when I say that, which makes me think it’s happened before too. “We’ll go back to my house and I’ll get you fixed right up.”

  “I’m okay,” she says feebly.

  But after the long walk back to the car, she’s too weary to put up any sort of argument.

  I take her home.

  Chapter 10

  Emmett

  By the time we’re pulling up to my place, Alyssa is practically asleep in her seat, yawning as we walk toward the house.

  “This is where you live?” she asks as we enter the front courtyard.

  “My humble abode.”

  She snorts. “Good lord, to have this type of money.”

  “Hey, this is my Degrassi money. I invested and I saved.”

  “I’m not saying you don’t deserve it,” she says, giving me a quick smile. “I’m just saying…you’re lucky.”

  In some ways, I think to myself. But the last thing I want to do is bring up the whole “money doesn’t buy you happiness” argument to someone who agreed to fake date me in order to get money. Alyssa doesn’t have time for my douchebag thoughts, she’d call me on it right away.

  Which is one thing I like about her.

  I open the door and we step inside.

  My house is fairly simple. The best part is the open kitchen, living and dining area, with the massive patio over the ocean. Otherwise it’s a pretty small two-bedroom. I’m mainly paying for the view of the water, the city, the mountains.

  “I’d give you the tour but there isn’t much to see except the view,” I tell her as I start looking through my cupboards for a first aid kit. Finally, I find it in one of the kitchen drawers as Alyssa slowly wanders along the white tile floor.

  “Take a seat,” I tell her, gesturing to the couch.

  She eases herself down, her eyes taking in everything. “All white. Don’t you find it so hard to clean?”

  I drop to a crouch in front of her and fish out the iodine and cotton pads, then pull her arm out so the scratches are facing me. “To be honest, I’m just here to sleep. I’m on set most of the time or I’m out.”

  “Out where?” she asks and winces as I press the yellow liquid into her.

  “Sorry,” I apologize for the pain. “Out with you.”

  “But we’re a new thing. So, you were out with other girls before me?”

  I try and shrug it off as I dab it along her arm. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “And Will.”

  I nod. “Sometimes Will.”

  “Who else do you hang out with?”

  I pause, lick my lips. “I have a friend, Jimmy. Known him all my life.”

  “Will I ever meet this Jimmy?”

  I glance up at her face, her big eyes earnest and questioning. Despite the fact that she’s injured and I’m fixing her up, she looks so fucking sweet right now it makes my heart ache.

  “Maybe,” I tell her. No one I know has ever met Jimmy and I can’t imagine how she would react. Then again, something tells me that maybe she might be one to understand.

  I push the thoughts away, to dwell on for another time.

  “Does this hurt?” I ask her, gently working on the other arm.

  She shakes her head. “Not really,” she says softly, watching me as I work. Then she nods to the corner of the room where I have a few plants. “I like your cactus.”

  I grin. “Thanks. I just got it. Named it after you.”

  She laughs. “You did not.”

  “I did. Alyssa the cactus. She’s a prickly one.”

  “Oh come on,” she says. “You are too much, you know that.”

  Too much and not enough all at once.

  I ignore that sobering thought. “I thought when I start missing you, I’d have something just like you to talk to.”

  She just laughs and I feel this strange warmth spreading in my chest, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I like her. A lot. And I like being with her. A lot.

  Maybe she can read the expression on my face or pick up on the vibe I’m giving, because she then lowers her voice and says, “Do you ever get lonely?”

  I pause and meet her eyes. “That’s a bold question.”

  “I know,” she says and see that she’s completely serious. Her questions are coming from a soft, kind place though.

  I run my tongue over my teeth as I think. “Yes. Very much so,” I admit.

  She nods slowly. “So why don’t you ever settle down?”

  “You’re asking the thirty-eight-year-old man-child why he doesn’t settle down?”

  “Yeah. I am. There’s a reason. What is it?”

  I exhale, taking a moment to get a new cotton ball out. “Honestly? I just…I don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”

  “Because you haven’t met the right person. Have you ever had a serious relationship?”

  “Of course. I was even engaged.”

  She jerks her head back in surprise. “Really? Who? What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. Not very interesting. She was in wardrobe. We met on our play in London. I fell in love, or in something I thought was love. So did she. I moved back here and convinced her to come. She left it all behind. And then I realized…she didn’t really know the real me. And I couldn’t pretend anymore. So I broke it off.” The dark sticky swirls of the memory attempt to drag me down but I brush them off. “Poor girl. I felt horrible. Honestly, I still do. She gave it all up to be with me, moved her life all the way over here, and I left her in the end. I guess that’s just the type of person I am.”

  I briefly meet Alyssa’s eyes but instead of seeing disappointment in them, I see compassion. “But that’s life,” she says after a moment. “People take chances and get their hearts broken and break up. It’s the chance every single one of us have to take if we ever really want to get anywhere. And in the end, it means she just wasn’t the right person for you.”

  I shake my head. “I can�
��t even imagine who the right person could possibly be.”

  But that’s a lie. You can imagine. She might be right in front of you.

  Scratch that. I don’t want to imagine.

  “I’m complicated,” I go on. “And complicated people need other complicated people to work. Otherwise, you don’t fit.”

  “That’s a load of crap,” she says, eyes fiery. “The right person might be complicated or simple or both. The right person will find a way to fit into your cracks until you’re flush.”

  Alyssa is taking me by surprise here. For someone so dry and cynical as she seems to be, she’s doling out the advice like it’s her job. I’m starting to think there’s something much softer hidden under her armor. Whoever gets to see that secret part of her is a lucky man.

  “I’m not an easy person to love,” I admit and the words crash around us like a demolition.

  Fuck.

  I can’t believe I just said that. That’s the kind of thing you tell your therapist, not your date.

  Then it’s good you aren’t actually dating her.

  Nothing to lose.

  “That was a brave thing to say,” Alyssa says softly, seeming as surprised as I am. “But if that’s true, then it just means the right person needs to work a little harder, that’s all.”

  “Love shouldn’t be work.” I pour more iodine on the pad and lean in closer, patting it on her chest.

  “Sometimes it is though,” she says. “But it’s worth it.”

  I bite my lip and nod, trying to pay attention to the scratches on her chest and not look into her eyes. The last thing I want is to believe that I might be worth it.

  Deep down, I know I’m not.

  I screw the cap back on the iodine bottle and finish up on her chest, even though it’s pretty obvious now that she’s cleaned up enough and I’m just touching her for the sake of touching her.

  “Thank you,” she says in a whisper.

  I take in a deep breath through my nose and look up at her. “For what?” My throat feels dry, my words come out slow.

  “For patching me up,” she says, giving me a wane smile that puts a dimple in her left cheek. “It feels nice to be taken care of.”

  In this moment, she looks absolutely vulnerable. She looks like her armor is starting to slip, that I might be getting a glimpse of the beautiful pink heart underneath.

  Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching up to cup her face, pulling her face toward mine until our lips are crashing against each other. She lets out a moan I feel all the way to my toes as our tongues stroke each other into an inferno.

  “Emmett,” she says softly–fuck, does my name sound good right now–and her hand disappears into my hair, taking a hold and tugging.

  I unleash myself on her neck, licking and sucking just the way she liked it before, until she seems to yield, her body running hot, her moans so sweet and desperate and hungry for more.

  Fuck I’ll give her more. So much more.

  While she sits there, all flushed and bothered on the couch, I get undressed to my briefs in a flash, her eyes taking in my body before she’s joining in and ripping her shirt over her head, her breasts bouncing free. I drop to my knees and take off her running shoes, then pull down her tights. My hands slowly work their way back up her thighs.

  My fingers find her underwear, the silky material wet with her desire.

  “God, you’re so wet for me,” I whisper to her, my voice catching in my throat. “Can I make you wetter?” I move her panties to the side and slip my finger along her sweet pussy, the sensation making me delirious with lust. She lets out a lengthy moan, her hands tighter in my hair. “I want my cock to slide into you, just like this.” I add an extra finger and move them in together. “In and out, in and out,” I whisper as my fingers go along. “You want it harder, deeper?”

  She groans and I look up to see her arch back, her breasts pointed forward, her sweet, pink nipples tight and hard.

  What a fucking sight, her pale skin glowing against my white couch, like an angel waiting to be fucked.

  I can scarcely believe what’s happening but all thoughts in my head are slowly shutting down, drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the raw, hot tension running through me. How easy this is to touch her here, to coax these perfect sounds out of her, to say all the dirty things I want to say.

  “Do you want my cock?” I ask softly. “My tongue? How would you like me to fuck you?”

  “Anything, anything,” she says through another moan as I drive my fingers even deeper.

  I hunch down and press my face in, my tongue snaking out and licking up to her clit.

  Heaven. This angel tastes like heaven.

  “You taste so good,” I murmur into her and she shudders from the vibrations. “I could feast on you for hours. Would you like that? Tell me what you like, what you want.”

  “More, I want more.” She’s practically whimpering.

  I suck her clit into my mouth, wet, warm, and she gives a sharp cry, calling out my name in such a way that it will be my undoing if she keeps this up.

  My tongue and fingers work her harder and from the way she bucks her hips into me, I know she can take more. But I don’t want it all to end here.

  I pull away and get to my feet. Her eyes are half-closed, dazed, mouth open. Lust and sex just oozes out of her. God, I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

  I step out of my briefs, my cock popping out. I lazily stroke myself, my eyes never leaving hers. “Is this what you want?”

  She swallows loudly, her eyes pleading. “God, yes.”

  I grin. I fucking love how she isn’t afraid of my mouth. She’s got quite the dirty one herself.

  “Flip over,” I tell her.

  She bites her lip and grins and then slowly turns over so she’s on all fours.

  “Just a second,” I tell her, grabbing a condom from my bedroom and coming right back. I roll it over my shaft, my cock hot and inflexible in my hands. “Can you move yourself up a bit?”

  She pulls herself forward so that she’s in the middle of the couch and I climb behind her, my thighs on either side of hers, tanned skin against pale, straddling her just below her ass.

  And what an ass. I can’t help myself, I quickly lean over and sink my teeth into her perfect skin.

  She lets out a yelp.

  “Sorry,” I tell her, my finger trailing down the middle of it. It’s so soft and plump that I instinctively give it a smack with my palm.

  She yelps again, though this time it’s choked and wanting.

  I wait a moment, watching for her reaction. Her ass rises a little higher, wanting more, teasing me, daring me.

  I smack it again, hard–crack–the sound filling the room. My handprint blooms on her pale skin like a cherry blossom.

  “You like that too?” I murmur and the moment she nods, I spank her again, this time getting both cheeks.

  “And this?” I ask, bringing my finger back to her crack and trailing it down until it settles deep into her pussy. She’s slippery, warm, completely intoxicating. The sounds coming out of her mouth are growing deeper, more primal and raw, causing my skin to feel tight and hot, the blood to pound wildly in my head.

  Fucking hell. This woman feels so good, my cock is jealous of my finger. But as much as I want to be inside her, I could literally spend hours just exploring every single crevice of her plush body, finding what she likes, what she wants. I don’t think I could ever get enough of her, ever get my fill.

  These are dangerous thoughts, especially when we probably shouldn’t be having sex in the first place. But fuck, does this ever feel right. Just me straddling her, the tip of my cock rutting against her ass, her skin still red from my hands–it’s the tip of the iceberg.

  She wiggles her hips, trying to push my finger in deeper, crazy for more.

  “Don’t be so greedy,” I admonish her but it’s futile. I grab my cock at the base and steadily push it in between her legs, into her as deep as I can go.


  I groan as she envelops me, a tight velvet fist. The fact that her legs are close together means I have the added friction from her thighs.

  Fuck. I’m not sure how long I’m going to last.

  Everything is hot and electric. My heart pounds inside my chest.

  This woman, this woman…

  She grips me from the inside out and I push in further, my breath shuddering.

  I press my hand down on her shoulder for leverage, slowly pulling myself out, then back in, trying to find the rhythm without crushing her. My thighs are doing most of the work, shaking slightly, the muscles popping as I move faster and faster, my cock disappearing entirely inside her, the base shiny from her desire.

  My hips circle and I shorten my thrusts so I don’t slip out. She’s wet down to the middle of her thighs and I want to stay inside her deep like this, tightly packed. It’s such a fucking squeeze that a sweat is breaking out at my temples, my muscles wound too tight.

  Alyssa is moaning something deep and desperate which only makes me more desperate in return.

  “Do you want to come, sunshine?” I whisper hoarsely. “Will you come on my cock? Make my cock so fucking wet.”

  She’s groaning, whimpering.

  “I’m going to make you come,” I say. Breathless. Rough. “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard you won’t be able to move for days.”

  I move one hand down to her waist and grip her while the other reaches under her until I reach her clit. It’s soaked and my finger slides over it with ease.

  That’s all it takes.

  Her body tenses and then starts to quake beneath me. She pulses around my cock, her clit throbbing under my finger. A sharp cry leaves her lips, then fades off into breathless little moans.

  I come immediately after. There’s a rush along my spine until something at the base of me explodes. I grunt like an animal, thrusting deeper and deeper, the couch shaking while the cum shoots hard into the condom.

  I exhale loudly, my breath elsewhere, my heart thudding to a marching beat inside my head. I lean back on my thighs, absently run my hands over her ass while I remember how to breathe. Then, when it doesn’t feel like I’m having a heart attack, when the sweat stops rolling off my brow, I gently pull out.