by Gabi Moore
“Do it. If you fucking love me so much, then do it. Tell me how dirty I am.”
“Emily,” I moaned, now collapsed onto her, breathing in the faint memory of shampoo on her hair, my cock now pummeling hard into her.
“Tell me how good it feels to fuck my little slutty cunt, tell me--”
“But Emily…”
“Tell me.”
Something hot and fierce snapped inside me. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I cried out and drove my hips even harder into her, bringing her whole pelvis high off the rough flour bags with a brutality I had never felt with her before. She squealed and clung to my shoulders but I pulled back my hips and did it again, and then again… It seemed to nearly knock the breath right out of her. Her eyes flickered half closed and rolled back.
“You like that? You fucking like that? Fucking slut” I snarled, and the instant that tight, stinging word left my lips, she came alive underneath me, squirming with an energy and strength I couldn’t understand, bucking back up against me and moaning like an animal. She didn’t falter. She was right – she wasn’t sweet, innocent Emily as I had known her. Wedged balls deep into her glorious, greedy body, I saw it: she was a slut. I understood.
I grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her back down onto me, linking my one arm around her tight waist and the other over her thigh, easing into a faster, more brutal rhythm now. She accepted it all, her red-brown hair bobbing and bouncing around her.
“Little fucking whore. Getting fucked on camera, is that what you like?” I whispered, and the moan that left her body didn’t seem human anymore. Her pussy was streaming wet, sending little wet rivers all down my thighs. I loved it. I pounded her harder, to see just how wet she could get.
“I think you do like it. I think you love being fucked by that asshole, and having the world see how dirty you are, having the whole world see your little tits and your filthy little pussy, you love it don’t you? Being fucked? Say how much you like it, how much you love being fucked like this…”
I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. I was soon speaking without thinking, the obscene words just rolling off my tongue, the words melting into one another, and every time her body clenched and warmed against mine, every time she leant into my cock and pulled me deeper, I said more, and I went further. I started to enjoy myself.
“I love it,” she cried.
I clutched her at the waist and spun her around, my cock still in her, and continued jamming myself inside, every stroke pushing me closer to the edge. Everything was wet now. It seemed like her whole body was covered in a film of sweat. I could smell her. I felt like I could almost taste her. I couldn’t believe how turned on she was. I could almost feel her body swell against mine, deep inside. I knew she was close to coming.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned and grabbed her ass tightly to steady myself.
“Now tell me how much you like fucking me,” she moaned, her voice muffled against her hair as she pressed her face down against the flour bags. I slammed into her.
“Fuck, Emily, you little whore.”
“Yes…”
“I never knew how fucking naughty you were, you hot little slut.”
“Oh god yes…”
“I’m going to fuck the living shit out of you. You’re my dirty little fuck bunny, aren’t you?” I said, pressing my whole weight down onto her.
When she came she bucked so hard it felt like her whole body lifted off the floor. She convulsed silently for a second, but then all hell broke loose and she cried out, wracked through with an orgasm that looked like it was possessing her. I had to clamp down at her waist to stop her from flying off my cock. The sight of her twisting, ecstatic body and the way she arched her spine and clenched down on me was enough to send me over the edge, too. I growled and grabbed down hard on her ass, slamming my eyes shut and trying to contain myself as I shot glob after glob of hot cum deep into her.
“Oh fuck, Felix, fuck,” she moaned and collapsed down onto the flour bags, completely exhausted. The blood came rushing back to my face. I didn’t know what the fuck had just happened. But I think I liked it. It took effort to pull back and slowly slide out of her. It felt strange to be outside of her body again. My body flushed again in goosebumps. I staggered a little, reached for her as she turned around and smiled at me with a look of intoxication on her face.
“Em… Em what did we just do?”
She lowered her body and crouched down on the floor in front of the flour bags, hugging her knees, her hair wild. But she was smiling. There was something loose and wonderful and unspeakably beautiful on her face. I knelt down in front of her and grabbed her.
“Emily …oh Emily…”
I rocked a little with her, and our bodies began to cool again.
“Emily, I don’t know what I was saying …I don’t know what just happened…”
“I liked it,” she said simply.
I squeezed her.
“That was …intense,” I said.
“It’s been hard for me, Felix” she said. Her voice was edged with something that sounded almost like crying. “I don’t know why I feel this way. I just needed you to… I can’t explain it. I needed you to see me, too.”
“Shh, it’s OK, I understand.”
And I think I did understand. It didn’t make any logical sense. She hadn’t told me all her secrets. But I knew there was pain there. I felt it, somehow. She had shown me something. Something special, something very, very private. I felt honored that I had seen that side of her. Honored that she felt safe enough.
“Of course, I’m not really a slut though,” she said.
“Of course not.”
“It’s just, it turns me on. I know it shouldn’t but…”
“I understand.”
“Well, just a moment ago I asked if you’d ever leave me again and you said no. What about now? Are you still so sure?” she said and smiled at me. Her face was bright and clear and sex-flushed. She had a halo of disheveled hair all around her. Fuck she was gorgeous.
“Leave you? No.”
“No?”
“No. In fact, I’m going to ask you again.”
“Ask me what?”
“To marry me,” I said.
Chapter 10 - Emily
And so we played this game with one another. For the next few weeks, I kept daring him to lose interest, kept holding my breath, waiting for that moment he’d realize that getting involved with the girl with a sketchy past maybe wasn’t the smartest idea, kept waiting for him to forget about this stupid marriage business and move onto something better.
But he didn’t.
Every day, he’d come into the shop with another pink letter, one that brought us one day closer to ‘catch up’, a little window into his head as it was five years ago. I never told him what a comfort it was to see how little he had changed since then. Even now, he used all the same little phrases he had always used, the same pet names, the same corny jokes. He started every letter with “Hey Em”. Some letters had little cartoons scribbled on the back. Others had (admittedly rather bad) poetry included. Each one left me feeling warm and happy.
Gradually, though I can’t say when exactly it happened, I fell in love with him again. One letter at a time. Every day he’d come in, he’d hand me the day’s letter and I’d read it quickly while he was out getting a delivery or dealing with a customer. It was a like having a secret affair …with him. I made jokes about it at first, but there was something soothing about this daily ritual. A letter, every day, no matter what happened. Written in the past, preserved way back on a planet I had never been to, during the time when everyone else on this planet had decided I was scum.
It made me a little sad to think how I could have used some of these kind words back when they would have really mattered. There were nights I had felt so alone …were any of those nights the same nights he had spent, scribbling secret pink letters to me? It felt strange. But a good kind of strange. Getting a new letter from him every morning
soon became the highlight of my day. It was a second chance. Like getting the opportunity to merge a little with that parallel world in which I didn’t throw my life away the night I swallowed all those pills and went to that party.
“Hey Em!”
I looked up from the register to see him tinkling through the front door, already taking his coat off.
“Sorry I’m late”.
He was never late. He was always on time.
“Hey you,” I said and smiled broadly at him. I went over, hugged him and then watched him wind his scarf on the coat hook at the door. We hadn’t …done anything more since that unexpected day in the storeroom. In fact, Felix, either being a complete gentleman or else feeling confused as hell about it all, had kept his mouth shut and never mentioned it again.
He plonked himself down at the table and spread out some notebooks.
“Now, I’ve had a look at that new fermentation model you mentioned you wanted, and honestly we’re just not ready to scale up to that volume yet, but there’s this,” he said and held out a brochure to me, “and that looks like it might be in our price range for now. Oh and I also got in touch with that woman? The woman who does the branding? She’s really keen on doing some work for the bakery.”
“Wait, her? She’s so expensive though.”
“I know, but this place desperately needs a rebrand, Em.”
“I’d really rather concentrate on sorting out the fermenters first, so we actually had something to brag about. I don’t see the point of marketing ourselves as zero-input until we’re actually there.”
“Absolutely. But don’t sell yourself short Em. The place needs money for now. If you focus on that first, you’ll actually have the cash to start making money from all these good ideas of yours…”
I smiled. He had a point. I did tend to treat the bakery like some giant lab experiment, forgetting that practically nobody else shared my passion for, I don’t know, what hybrid strain of wheat ultimately went into our croissants.
“So with that in mind, I wanted to show you this,” he said, then sprang up, went over to the main counter, crouched down and pulled out a big chalkboard. He held it up proudly. On it were painted the most wonderful designs, all leaves and flowers with geometric shapes as their petals, and everything curling up and around a giant logo that said “Warren’s”. There was blank space in the middle to write a daily message.
“Felix that’s so beautiful!” I cried and went to run my fingers over the chalk designs. “But I thought we decided that this wasn’t a priority? I don’t know if I can actually afford something like this.”
I gazed at it, amazed at what people could do with mere chalk. It was a work of art.
“Nevermind about how much it costs. It’s a good idea. Give people something cute to read every time they pass by your shop.”
“But…”
“Come on, Em, this isn’t exactly the most outlandish marketing idea in the world. Seriously. Have a chalkboard outside your shop.”
I sighed. He probably had a point about that too. I had no idea what I was doing when it came to …ugh, branding.
He whipped out a stick of chalk from his pocket and handed it to me.
“Your handwriting is prettier than mine,” he said, and angled the board to me.
“But what am I going to write?” I asked.
“Say, ‘sweet buns inside, get ‘em while they’re hot.”
“Felix! Be serious.”
“Ok, say ‘come in and lick me till ice cream’”
“Oh my god you’re not helping.”
“Think about it this way, you keep telling me how everyone can’t stop talking about you, well, that’s good publicity. Forgot what your shrink says, this right here is how you get over shit.”
“With crappy food puns?”
“Precisely.”
I laughed.
“I need to let them know that we’re not like other bakeries because of our production methods, because we’re even better than ‘sustainable’, we’re actually zero-input…”
“Hey Em?”
“Yeah?”
“No offense, but we’re not trying to put people asleep with this board.”
He ducked as I swung a playful fist at his shoulder, which he then caught and pulled me towards him, my body bumping into him and my lips coming just a few inches away from his. Up close, the little flecks in his eyes looked like cracked amber. I smiled, and pecked him on his cheek.
“I should get on with things,” I said and smoothed down the front of my apron.
“Ok, but I’m leaving this up to you now. You’ll think of a hilarious bakery themed pun, and we’ll put it out tomorrow morning, deal?”
I smiled. “Sure, deal. But no sex jokes or anything,” I said, and slid the chalkboard back under the counter.
“What? Those are the best jokes. Come on, don’t pretend you’re not already thinking of a good one,” he said and gave me a naughty wink.
I blushed, blew him a kiss and went to the back room. I had work to do. But just the sight of the laptop and the books, still open from yesterday, made my heart sink. It would take a miracle to make what little there was left stretch to last us just this month, nevermind next month. I sat down and took a deep breath. It was already Thursday. I was waiting for a call back from the bank. Though I didn’t technically qualify, I had been testing as many alternative angles as I could – because of the bakery’s reputation, because I had never loaned before, because of my father’s sudden death and his history with the bank, they were considering applying for a different category of loan altogether, and maybe pulling some strings to get me a loan through some other channel. I had been on tenterhooks for days waiting for word from them.
I took another deep breath. Stay positive, Emily. Felix was right – I had allowed the place to stagnate. It had so much potential, it was time to start taking advantage of that fact. No sooner had I woken up the laptop and started to have a look at the day’s tasks, the phone rang. I recognized the number.
The bank.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
I exhaled loudly again and tried to gather myself. It was OK. It was all going to be fine. Loan or no loan, I would make this place work. I didn’t know how yet, but I would, dammit. Just relax.
I answered.
“Emily Warren speaking,” I said, as if I hadn’t been waiting for this call so hard I was even dreaming about it.
“Hey bunny.”
My blood froze. Buck.
This was his new thing. His latest attempt at forcing familiarity: calling me “bunny”. He thought it was hilarious. Maybe he also thought that me cringing nearly half to death every time he said the word was also hilarious, but noticing other people’s reactions wasn’t one of Buck’s strong points.
“Please don’t call me that,” I said coldly.
“Relax, bunny! I’m just messing with you. A joke, right? You do know what those are, right?”
“I’m waiting for a response from the bank.”
“Yeah, I know. Hence my call.”
“I was dealing with the other guy.”
“I know. I wanted to be the one to speak to you, though. That’s fine with you, right?” he said. Yes, fine, whatever. I consent.
“Sure.” I just wanted this bank bullshit to come to an end. I hated feeling like this, like the fate of the bakery hung in someone else’s hands.
“Ok, well, you’re not going to like this, but there’s just no way we can pull it off,” he said, then went quiet.
“Not even with taking my father’s credit history out of the equation and reapplying as--”
“Yeah, no. Not gonna work. I hate to say it but it was a long shot to start with.”
Silence.
“Ok, well thank you for the call. I had to explore all my options,” I said on autopilot, wanting to get off the phone as quickly as possible so I could cry.
“Em, wait. You’re not completely out of options though.”
; More silence.
“Let me help you,” he said, slowly like he was just thinking of it for the first time.
I scoffed.
“You? No thanks. Goodbye.”
“Em, wait.”
“What?”
“Think about this very carefully, Em. You’re not in a position to be turning down help right now. This is the last time. I won’t offer again. Some of my own investments are doing really well, and this last month …well, let’s just say I can easily front you the money. No interest, no need to go through the bank, no nothing.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m not interested in loaning money from you, Buck,” I said, barely masking the venom in my voice.
“Then don’t loan it. Just have it.”
I laughed out loud. “What?”
“Think of it as a gift. When the bakery recovers, you can pay me back if you want, but not obligation.”
“Bullshit. What do you want?”
He seemed as taken aback by my frankness as I was. I could hear him take a deep breath on the other side of the line.
“You have to fuck me,” he said simply.
My face burned. And yet I couldn’t hang up.
“How dare you,” I whispered.
“Look, Em, can we just drop all this? You’re in a tight spot, I can help you out, but I want something in return. It’s not like some massive moral dilemma, it’s just …it’s just business.”
I felt too choked up to tell him where to stick it. I didn’t know what I hated more, the fact of what he was asking, or the fact that I was actually considering it.
“Do you enjoy this? Manipulating me?” I could feel my voice wavering. He exhaled loudly on the other side.
“It’s always this way with you, huh? Poor little Emily. You want to know? I don’t enjoy manipulating you, actually. But maybe this is just how it is now, between us. I don’t cry about it, I just try to make the best of it. You broke my heart, I’m doing what I can to get you back.”
“Wait, I broke your heart?”
He laughed sarcastically.
“See what I mean? You have to stop being such a victim, Em. Have you considered that I actually care a lot about you? That I’m also fucked up about the past?”
