by Mariah Cole
“Give me your other leg.”
My eyes widen and I look at him, saying “How?” with my eyes, and he smiles.
He bends down, the two of us still tightly connected and grabs it for me. He lifts it up and I obediently wrap it around him.
The water is still falling over us, and a light steam is beginning to fog the glass doors.
He’s simply looking into my eyes, saying so much without saying anything at all, and then he grips my hips and begins to move me up and down.
He fucks me slowly, so slowly that I feel like I’m about to lose my mind
I grab ahold of his back and dig my nails into his skin.
Burying my head into his neck, I try my best to suppress the moans that are escaping my lips.
“Em...” he whispers. “Look at me...”
For the first time, the mere mention of that name doesn’t make me angry. It only makes me want to be that much closer to him, makes me want him that much deeper inside of me.
“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He kisses my neck.
“Yes...”
“Does it feel good?”
I moan, shutting my eyes as he starts to move in and out of me faster.
“I can’t hear you...”
“Yes...Yes.” I wrap my legs around him even tighter.
He presses me against the wall, lowering his mouth to bite my nipple, sucking it until I scream.
My legs are trembling and we’re both seconds away from letting go when I feel him grabbing my leg.
“What are you doing?” I manage, breathlessly.
“I’m about to cum...” He tries to move my leg from around his waist, but I tighten it around him.
“Go ahead.” I look into his eyes, giving him the green-light to cum inside of me. “I have it covered...”
He hesitates for a brief second. Then he drives inside of me one last time—kissing me roughly as we climax together.
I whisper his name as my body shakes all over, as he holds me tightly and whispers mine back.
I press my mouth against his chin and smile, wanting to say something, but no words come out.
When I finally stop shaking, he moves my legs from around him and sets me on the floor. Without saying a word, he grabs a towel and wipes between my legs.
He holds me underneath the falling water and takes his time, washing every inch of me. He must sense that I’m having trouble standing up on my own because he keeps one arm wrapped around my waist as he washes his own body.
Picking me up, he carries me into the bedroom.
“Hold on to the wall.” He waits for me to press my hands against it, and then he presses a towel against my skin. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
“Good.” He lays me on the bed facedown and I feel him climbing in bed next to me.
I expect him to pull me into his arms so we can cuddle, but he suddenly moves over me and kisses his way down my spine.
“We’re not done yet...” He spreads my legs and slightly lifts my ass up.
He slides into me inch by inch, grabbing the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling it back.
“You still want me to be gentle?” he asks.
“Please...” I nod, feeling the weight of his hand in my hair.
He pulls my hair again, until my head is tilted back as far as it can go, and then he begins to move.
“You’re so beautiful...” he whispers as his skin slaps against mine. “You have no idea...”
“Ahhhh...Carter...”
He lets go of my hair and grips me by my waist, telling me that I’m beautiful again. As he starts to establish a rhythm, a slow and easy one like I wanted, he groans.
“Emerald...”
My voice is locked in my throat. He’s sliding into me and hitting places that I’ve never felt before.
I bite my lip as one of his hands slips underneath me and cups my breast.
“Emerald,” he repeats and I feel another orgasm building inside of me.
“I...” I can’t last for too much longer.
“Let go...” He kisses the groove in my back and thrust into me again, forcing my insides to explode.
I collapse onto the sheets, with him still holding me—him still whispering my name.
We lie there for a while, him on top of me, until he sighs and eases out of me. Rolling over, he wraps his arms around me and stares into my eyes.
“Are you tired?”
I nod, noticing that his dick is still hard when he pulls me closer.
“I need to ask you something,” he says. “What’s your end game?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure you don’t plan to work at The Phoenix forever. So, what’s your end game?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Promise.”
“Okay...” I hesitate because I’ve never told anyone my dreams before. Then again, no one has ever asked. “Every morning when I wake up, I force myself to write a couple hundred words for a new book. I’ve been doing that for years—stopping and starting book after book because I would send the first few chapters off and receive rejections in return. But, I think that the book I’m writing right now is the book, you know? I think it’s something special...I’ve already started to send off query letters to agencies in New York and at the end of the summer, I’m going to finalize my plans to move there and work for a publishing house.
“You’re going to leave me here in Alabama?”
“I’ll invite you up to visit.” I smile. “I want to be a writer more than anything. It’s the only thing I’m good at, minus stripping.”
“You have two years left of college to complete right?”
“Technically...” I sigh. “I’d probably have to take two summer terms to make up for all the classes I failed.”
“Why don’t you want to go back?”
“I’ll never go back to NYU.” Saying that college’s name aloud still hurts. “And when I get to New York, I’ll be avoiding that campus and anything within a ten mile radius.”
“You could always go somewhere else.”
I shake my head. “It costs way too much money without a scholarship. I’d probably have to strip for another year or two to even make a dent in college tuition type of money.”
“You should let me read some of your writing one day.”
“No thanks.”
“No thanks?” He looks offended. “Why not?”
“Because it’s personal.”
“Once you publish it, it won’t be.”
I smile, knowing that he has a point. “I’ll think about it...”
“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”
“I’m not going. I’m texting the owner when I wake up. I’m going to put my first sick day to use.”
“Why?”
“I can’t feel my legs right now...Pretty sure it won’t be any better twelve hours from now.”
He laughs. “I need to ask you something.”
“Can I go to sleep right after I answer it?”
“Depends on how well you answer it.” He rubs his hands across my back. “Where was your last date?”
“At the lake with you.”
“That wasn’t a real date, and I meant before me.”
“What makes it a date?” I shrug, suddenly hurt that he doesn’t remember what I told him in the car earlier, that he doesn’t understand that there was no one before him. “The Prince Charming shit where the guy takes me out and acts like he actually likes me over a candlelight dinner? Where he takes me somewhere in public and holds me by his side because he wants everyone to know we’re together? Does it count as a date if we’re always with his friends whenever we go out? Or that the point of us going out in the first place is just to find somewhere to have sex?”
He looks into my eyes and I can tell he regrets asking me this question, but it’s too late to take it back.
“Since that day at the lake with you doesn’t count...” I use all
of my strength to roll over, to prevent him from seeing the hurt in my eyes. “I’ve never been good enough for any guy to take me on a real date.”
I feel him pulling me into his arms, him kissing my cheek as he says he didn’t mean to offend me, but I shut my eyes. I just want to go to sleep and dream about all the moments that happened before he asked that question.
In the morning, I wake up in bed alone.
I can smell waffles and bacon from the kitchen, so I slowly sit up and stretch my legs—slightly smiling at the fact that they still feel weak.
I head into the bathroom and notice a new pink toothbrush and a note on the vanity:
Emerald,
If you see this and I’m not here, it’s because I left to get something else from the store.
PS—I’ll make last night’s question up to you.
Carter
I’ve honestly forgotten all about that question, especially since we woke up in the middle of the night and had sex again—and again, but I’ll try to remind myself that I need to act offended if he brings it up.
After I brush my teeth, I walk into the kitchen—blushing when his eyes meet mine.
“You’re a serial blusher now?” He smiles and pulls out a chair at the bar for me.
“I wasn’t blushing. The smell of your food is making me nauseous.”
He kisses me on the cheek and hands me a plate of waffles. “I made double just in case you like these better than my lasagna.”
“Have I ever told you how cocky you are?”
“No, but you can tell me that I have every reason to be.” He sits across from me and silently dares me to challenge him.
“I’m shocked you haven’t been fired from your job. You don’t seem to ever go. Are you secretly unemployed? Is that why you’re able to hang around me so often?”
He grins. “No.”
“I don’t date bums.”
“We’re dating now?”
I look down at my plate and stuff a piece of waffle into my mouth. I can’t concentrate when he smiles at me like that and my heart is beginning to race again.
“I want to take you out on a date tonight, Emerald.” He’s suddenly at my side, tilting my chin up. “Say yes.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Pretend like it was.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “It’s the least you can do after hurting my feelings last night. I guess...”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He trails his finger across my lips, clearly not catching my sarcasm. “I’m going to make it up to you.”
I don’t get a chance to tell him that I’m not being serious because he kisses me until I can’t remember a damn thing.
“I’m going to take you home and pick you up at six tonight.”
“Are you going to do all the Prince Charming shit?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “All the Prince Charming shit.”
***
I watch Carter pull out of the driveway and rush inside, giving quick hugs to Henry and Virginia.
“Are you alright, hun?” Virginia raises her eyebrow.
“Absolutely.” I smile and hug them both again before turning away. I’m halfway upstairs when I hear Henry whispering, “Do you think she’s been drinking?”
Laughing, I slip into the shower and stand under the streams for what feels like forever. I’ve never felt like this and I’m not sure how to exactly describe it, but if I could bottle it up and save it for my darkest days I would.
It’s one o’ clock when I finally step out of the shower with wrinkled skin and reddened blotches, but I’m too excited to care. I have five hours before I’ll be picked up, but when I thumb through all of the dresses I’ve bought this summer, I realize that none of them seem good enough for a “date.”
Virginia and Henry wouldn’t dare let me drive their cars to the store, and I don’t want them tagging along to see what I’m buying if they volunteer to take me.
My phone suddenly buzzes and I sigh, bringing it up to my face.
“Hey. Did you fuck him yet?” Sarah.
“NO. Do you have a little black dress I can borrow? He’s taking me out tonight. It’s my first date...”
“You really didn’t fuck him yet? Why not?”
“OMG. Yes. I fucked him! Do you have a dress or not?”
“I’ll be over in fifteen :-)”
Within minutes, Sarah is barging inside my room with shopping bags.
“Why does your grandmother still think that I’m your manager at a diner in Tallapoosa?” She crosses her arms. “If she tells me how I can improve ‘those apple pies’ one more time, I’m going to tell her what you really do for a living.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I wouldn’t, but if you fight me on any of my suggestions today, I just might.” She motions for me to sit on the bed and lays several dresses and shoes out for me to look over. As if she doesn’t trust my opinion, she hands me a sleeveless black dress with a low V-cut in the front and sparkling nude pumps.
I don’t expect for her to stay any longer, but she plugs my curling iron into the wall and asks to do my hair and makeup. I tell her that I’m perfectly fine doing it myself, but she insists.
“Friends don’t let friends do their own hair and make-up for their first big date,” she says, gliding a comb through my hair. “Were you at our prom in high school?”
“No. I didn’t feel like going.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “Everyone already had a date and no one knew me so I didn’t see a point.”
“I wish we’d been friends then so we could’ve gone together. I had to go solo.”
“No one asked you out? I refuse to believe that.”
“I had bangs and braces.” She laughs. “Believe it.”
“Oh...Have you ever been on a real date before?”
“Nope.” She slides a bobby pin into my hair. “This is the closest I’ve ever been. That’s why I’m trying to be a part of it.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror and I suddenly wish that I hadn’t turned her away so cruelly in high school—that I would’ve known that “friends” were okay to have after all.
For the next few hours, she coifs my hair and makes sure my makeup is the best it can be. When she’s done, it’s five forty five and I can hardly recognize myself.
The girl staring back at me looks more sophisticated than I’ve ever looked in my life.
My hair falls over my left shoulder in a bevy of curls that barely touches my breast, and my eyelids are coated in a glittering bronze shadow that brings out the green in my eyes. The black dress hugs my curves perfectly—the V-cut in the front is low enough to intrigue, but not deep enough to give anything away.
“You like it?” Sarah puts another coat of gloss onto my lips.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“That’s not a cue for you to hug me.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I laugh and start helping her put her things away. “I really appreciate this.”
“Anytime. Hopefully you’ll be doing the same for me one day, except my date will be a lot sexier and I won’t wait half a year to let him fuck me.”
“Looking forward to it.” I pick up one of her bags and open my door, prepared to help her carry it down to the car, but she stops me.
“It’s too close to pick up time. You don’t want his first glimpse of you to be with you carrying a bag do you?” She takes the bag from my arms. “You’ll tell me all about it tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
She smiles and disappears down the steps, so I sit on my bed and wait.
At exactly six o’ clock the doorbell rings and I jump.
I hear Virginia’s voice rise several octaves as she greets him.
“Well, hello!” She exclaims. “Who are you?”
I can’t make out what he says, but I’m sure his charm is working because she hasn’t said anything for several minutes and she can usually never shut up.
>
“Emerald!” She calls up the steps. “Your um, your boyfriend is here to pick you up for your date!”
Boyfriend?
I grab my clutch and take a deep breath before walking downstairs, telling myself that I’m going to have to address this “boyfriend” thing.
The second I step into the living room, Carter’s eyes widen and he slowly looks me up and down—looking as if he can’t believe it’s really me.
There’s a bouquet of red roses in his hand, and a smaller bouquet of white lilies in Virginia’s.
“You look stunning!” Virginia grabs me by my shoulder and spins me around. “Can I borrow you for a second?” She tugs me into the kitchen before I can reply.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all,” she says. “He seems like a nice young man—only a true gentleman knows to bring two sets of flowers.” She smiles. “I take it you’ll probably be out with him all night?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, well...” She sighs and opens a cabinet, pulling out a brown box. “I’m not sure if Leah ever had the talk with you or not.”
Oh my god...
“I know how kids your age act when they’re out on dates, and we all slip up and sin sometimes but...Be careful.” She pulls three condoms out of the box and hands them to me.
I look at them and realize that the packages all read, “What Would Jesus Do?”
With a dead-ass serious face, she tells me to “make the right decision” before leading me back to Carter.
Grateful that Henry isn’t here to question him and further embarrass me, I give him a look that says “Let’s go” and he thanks Virginia for allowing him “the pleasure” of taking me out tonight. Once he gives her a hug, he slips an arm around my waist and leads me outside.
“Cinderella.” He hands me the flowers before opening the door for me.
“You’re not supposed to call me that...”
“Get in the car before I fuck you in the driveway.”
I smile and slide into the seat, laughing as he speeds away from my grandparents’ house.
“You look beautiful tonight.” He places his hand on my thigh.
“Thank you.” I look down at the roses in my lap. “Do you normally give flowers to the women you take on dates?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Flowers are special. They’re only for people I actually care about.” He pauses. “You’re the first.”
