Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  My heart feels so fucking heavy. My body’s tense. I immediately regret handling it that way. Fuck. There’s no protocol for this shit.

  “Emma!” her sister shouts after her. Sandra… That’s right. I remember Sandra.

  Everything starts clicking into place as I start to take off my boots and leave them on the front mat.

  Sandra’s my age. Same as Tony. And she’s from our high school.

  Fuck, I shoulda known that’s who Tony was seeing. I remember her now. She didn’t really run in our circles back then. She was in our grade though, and Emma’s a year younger. I run my hand over my face. Damn, I wish I’d been prepared for this.

  “You good, bro?” Tony asks me like this is fucking funny.

  I hold in the heavy sigh of agitation and nod once. “Yeah,” I answer him simply. My heart pounds faster in my chest as I say, “Let me take my boots off.” He looks back at me and nods with a smirk as he follows Sandra into the room that Emma took off into.

  I can barely hear them talking. The blood rushing in my ears is too fucking loud to hear clearly. But a moment later there’s laughter, and I feel like I can breathe.

  Between the three of them, I can make out Emma’s voice the easiest. So sweet and soft, the best sound in the world, but she’s nervous. I take a look back behind me at the simple white colonial door and think about just leaving.

  Some part of me is screaming inwardly to get the fuck out of here. This isn’t good. Not because of her, but because of me. I’m no good for her. I’m not good for anyone.

  But I fucking want her. And she’s never been able to tell me no.

  I ignore the part of me that’s desperate to keep the promise I made to myself the day she walked away. I remember it like it was yesterday.

  I take in a slow and steady breath as the vision of her looking back at me over her shoulder, walking away and not saying a damn word, silently ending it with me, pops into my head. On that day I just lowered my gaze to the cafeteria table and let her walk off.

  I had to grip the table to keep from getting up and chasing her down, demanding she tell me why, even though I already knew.

  I promised myself that day that she deserved better, and I’d let her save herself.

  But right here, right now? Fuck that.

  I crack my neck and decide right then that she’s mine. My feet walk of their own accord, taking steady strides into the room. I let her walk away once. But that’s not gonna happen again.

  I stop short when I get into the room.

  Tony’s already got a blunt going and is passing it to Sandra. The two of them are cuddled up on the white leather sofa on the right side of the room. My girl is across from them on the far end of the loveseat, closest to the fireplace, pretending like she’s watching TV as she bites her thumbnail.

  I guess she never quit that nervous habit. She looks so damn tired, like she used to look late at night when she’d beg me not to take her home. “Just a few more minutes,” she’d plead with me. The thought brings a soft smile to my lips. She’s still fucking beautiful. Just more of a woman now.

  I take a seat on the other end of the loveseat, getting as comfortable as possible and glance at the television. My brow furrows when I see it’s some chick show on Bravo.

  What’s this shit? Is this what Tony does on his time off?

  I look over at him, trying to keep the judgment off my face. I thought he was pussy whipped before, but now I know it for a fact.

  I clear my throat, but I don’t say anything even though I can feel Tony’s eyes on me as he laughs a little. Sandra leans into him, wrapping her hands around his forearm and whispering in his ear.

  I lean forward and tap Emma to get her attention, but Tony speaks up before I can say anything. “So how long are you in town?” Tony asks Emma. She looks back at me for just a split second and then at Tony and answers him, “Five weeks.”

  “What are you in town for?” I ask her. I can see her breath hitch, and she slowly turns to answer me.

  “Just winter break... from school.” Her gorgeous hazel eyes reach mine for a moment before she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Just hearing her voice takes me back.

  I nod my head and shift in my seat a little as Sandra speaks up, her eyes already a little red from the joint she’s passing between her and Tony. “Emma’s in school for child psychology at Johns Hopkins.”

  “That’s cool,” I answer easily, although in my head I’m trying to think how far away that is. Fuck, that’s hours away.

  “I just have one semester left,” Emma says softly, her voice trailing off before she clears her throat and looks away again. Is she embarrassed? I open my mouth to ask her what she’s thinking, but her sister butts in.

  I’m trying not to get irritated, but I just want a moment alone with Emma.

  “Oh! And she has this really cool job working with kids at a local middle and high school,” Sandra says with pride, but it only makes Emma blush more furiously.

  “You’re working with high school kids?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, the bad ones,” she says a little playfully, and it makes Tony laugh from across the room.

  That’s my sweetheart. Loosen up for me, baby.

  I nod my head slowly as I ask, “Did you always wanna do that?” I don’t know why I ask her. The question just slips out.

  “She’s always been super smart,” Sandra says before accepting the blunt from Tony and leaning in for a kiss.

  I know she has. I know my girl. It makes me proud that she's going to school for something like psychology and working with kids.

  The room’s quiet for a minute as I stare at her, waiting for more, but she’s not giving me anything.

  Emma tenses somewhat, but she doesn’t move. She’s waiting on me. I guess that’s fair. She made the first move all those years ago.

  She’s gonna have to wait though. I just wanna soak her in and watch her. She needs to relax.

  Tony passes me a blunt, leaning forward but not getting his ass off the sofa. I light up, sucking in a deep breath and lean back. The flow of the smoke feels good as it fills my lungs.

  Just taking that first puff, not even that, just feeling the blunt on my lips and smelling the Lemon OG Kush is already easing some of the tension. Only a bit though. I won’t feel better until I can figure out what’s on Emma’s mind.

  Sandra nudges Tony and not-so-subtly gestures at the loveseat Emma and I are seated on. The two of them are smiling, and I know right then this was definitely a setup.

  I just don’t know which of the two of them initiated it, and whether or not they have any idea of our past. I never told anyone. If Emma told Sandra, and she’s setting us up… that’s gotta be a good sign.

  “We’re gonna go upstairs,” Sandra says a little louder than she needs to, standing up and stretching.

  Tony leaves the bag of weed on the end table.

  “What?” Emma asks with a hint of desperation in her voice. I chuckle at the disbelief in her voice. They’re leaving you with me, sweetheart.

  “See ya!” Sandra calls out as she practically jogs out of the room. Tony gives me a nod on his way out, looking at me for my reaction. The car keys are in his hand, but I don’t reach for them. We always take my car when we meet clients, but Tony likes to drive. I don't mind it. I settle back in my seat and return his nod.

  He gives me an amused look and shakes his head somewhat as he catches up to Sandra. I’ll let them think whatever they want right now. I just wanna be alone with Emma. I watch as he sets the keys on the coffee table and keeps moving.

  Emma perks up real fucking quick, looking at her sister with wide eyes, but she’s staring at her back, 'cause Sandra’s already on the move and ignoring the obvious murderous look Emma’s giving her behind her back.

  I take another puff and let the smoke settle in my lungs. It should be hitting me soon.

  I can’t take my eyes off Emma as she watches the two of them walk out, leaving her alone with me.
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br />   Chapter 3

  Emma

  I bite down on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I've always had. I can't believe Sandra left me here with him. My heart is racing, and I feel like I can barely breathe.

  I can't look at Derek without all of the memories I have with him flooding into my mind. All of those afternoons spent talking and making out in that beat up car.

  His Honda was our safe place. I’d go wherever he took me. We just wanted to get away.

  Me from my parents' fighting, and him from something, although I don't know what. He never wanted to go home. He wouldn’t tell me why.

  I can feel his piercing gaze on me as I turn back toward the TV, barely breathing. A shiver runs through my body as I swallow thickly.

  All of those study periods sitting next to each other, all of those late nights spent talking on the phone. It’s all coming back to me. I close my eyes slowly, concentrating on breathing.

  “You wanna hit?” he asks as the sounds of Tony and Sandra running up the stairs fade into the background.

  I force myself to look at him as he takes another puff of his blunt. My mouth parts to say something, but nothing comes out. This is so fucking awkward.

  “No.” I breathe the word, playing with the edge of the chenille throw on the sofa. I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

  “I don’t smoke. Thanks though,” I say shakily. I debate on saying something to break this tension. But I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I left you all those years ago. It sucks. I loved the way I felt with you, but I was scared. Are you still a drug dealer? Jesus, I can’t say any of that. It’s been five years. And he isn’t bringing it up, so I’m sure as fuck not going to.

  He takes another short hit and readjusts on the sofa so he's facing me.

  He’s so intimidating. It’s not just his dark, sharp looks, it’s the way he carries himself.

  I can hardly stand being this close to him without making a fucking fool of myself. He makes me feel weak.

  Damnit! Why did I sit on the loveseat? We’re way too close. I take a deep breath to say something else. I can’t stand this tension any longer, but before I can say a single word, I get a hint of his cologne.

  I read somewhere that smell carries the most memory. Polo Black by Ralph Lauren, his signature scent. Just like he used to wear in high school. It’s my favorite. I always think of him whenever I smell it.

  I close my eyes and take another deep breath. God, he smells so fucking good. I can't believe just the smell of him is making me want him so much. I can practically feel his hands on my body. He held me like he owned me; he kissed me like he needed the air in my lungs to breathe. No one else has ever made me feel like that.

  I open my eyes and take a glance at him.

  “So how do you like school?” he asks. My heart’s beating so fucking fast, and yet he’s unaffected.

  His hand rests on his jeans, and I can clearly see the outline of his hard cock. I draw in a sharp breath, looking away.

  I stare down at the floor as my cheeks flame. Jesus! I'm blushing like a fucking thirteen-year-old girl. We never took it that far, but I sure as fuck wish we had. I remember grinding on top of him in the driver’s seat as he kissed my neck. The sexiest sound I've ever heard was him moaning because of my touch.

  “Um, school’s good.” I clear my throat and turn to face him a little more. “It's a lot of work, but,” I force myself to look up at him and into his eyes and not back down to his dick as I continue, “I like it. And it’ll be worth it in the end.”

  “You always did put all of your effort into school,” he says, smirking. He takes another drag. “That's great, though,” he adds as he exhales and blows the sweet-smelling smoke away from me. He never smoked around me back in high school. He hid a lot from me back then.

  He looks sexy as fuck doing it.

  I can't stop staring at his lips, remembering how soft, yet demanding they felt against mine.

  “How’s, uh,” I pause as I have no idea what he’s doing now. “What do you do?” I ask him, my forehead pinching.

  He takes a long drag, and exhales slowly. I waiting, watching him as he quickly licks between his thumb and pointer finger and pinches the blunt out. Oh, the things he used to do to me with that tongue, even if we only ever made out. When he’d lick and kiss my neck, it was the most intense feeling. The subtlety and gentleness were so unexpected.

  The thought makes my nipples pebble, and my breath come in short pants. It's been way too long since I've gotten laid. I've been focused on school. I can't believe I'm getting turned on watching him put a joint out.

  “I’m in business now,” he answers and glances up at the TV. His eyes stay focused on it even though we both know he’s not watching it.

  Awkward. Did I ask the wrong question?

  This time he takes a deep breath, rolling the blunt between his fingers absent-mindedly as I wonder what's going on in his head.

  After a minute he huffs a short chuckle and asks, “Do you remember all of those notes we used to pass back and forth?”

  A small laugh sneaks out from my lips and a blush warms my cheeks. I bite my bottom lip, stifling my smile and remembering free period. “I do. And all of those doodles you’d draw.” I can feel the grin grow on my face. I can’t help it. “I especially liked the ones of Mr. Clinko. Remember how mad he’d get when everyone would continue to talk after he told us to quiet down?”

  “And that vein in his neck would start popping out. Good times,” he says, leaning back and tapping his fingers against the armrest. Him bringing that up soothes so much of the anxiety running through me. Or maybe it’s just the memory.

  “We did have fun.” I give him a shy smile as I add, “You always distracted me from whatever I was supposed to be studying.”

  He nods his head slightly, the trace of a smile still on his lips, and the conversation ends there. I sit silently beside him, not wanting to bring up what happened between us, or how things ended.

  I pull my legs up and sit cross-legged. I should apologize. I know I should.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see him run his hands through his thick dark hair. He used to do that when he was nervous or stressed.

  He takes a deep breath and asks, “So what do you do for fun now?”

  I laugh nervously. “Take a nap, or just veg out with Netflix. I'm pretty boring.” But you already know that.

  He laughs with me. “You always were a good girl. Never wanting to go out and party.” Slowly, a grin spreads across his lips as he says, “Except for those couple of times at Lookout Hill.”

  “Well, if I remember correctly, I was coerced,” I flirt back. Lookout Hill is where we first made out. Where I first felt him. It was the only place we had complete privacy. Where we could do whatever we wanted.

  “Oh really? You seemed pretty willing,” he retaliates.

  “Me? No! I never did anything that would get me into trouble.” I can’t look him in the eyes as I say that. I know I let him get farther than anyone else did. More than a few times, I was the one pushing. He never took advantage of me though. He never pushed me to do more than I wanted. The memory makes my heart clench.

  “Well, why don't we change that?” he asks with his voice low and full of lust.

  Fuck, this is bad. I know this is going to end with my regretting whatever happens. I hesitate to answer.

  A deep, low chuckle fills the room and pulls me out of my inner panic.

  “Relax, Emma,” he says as he holds out the half-smoked blunt. “I was thinking along the lines of taking a hit. Just try it. It’ll help you relax.”

  I've never smoked before. I'll probably choke and make a fool of myself. I know all the reasons I shouldn’t smoke. I have a fucking speech memorized to tell the kids who get caught with it.

  I'm chewing on my bottom lip again while he stares at me with those pale blue eyes.

  “Hey,” he says as he leans over and tugs my bottom lip free from my teeth with his thumb. “Tr
ust me, it’ll be okay.” He’s so close, too fucking close. The leather sofa groans as he runs the rough pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. He’s telling me it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t realize what this means to me.

  I can’t move. I can’t breathe. He’s staring at my lips, and I want him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. Instead he moves away from me, and I instantly miss his touch.

  I’d do anything to get it back.

  I’m going to do bad things tonight. I can feel it. But it'll be with him.

  And I really fucking want to. All those reasons I shouldn’t smoke go right out the window.

  My eyes meet his. “I've never smoked before. I don't know how to,” I confess nervously.

  He shrugs casually, lighting the blunt and suggests, “Just shotgun it?”

  “I don't even know what that means.” I pull my knees into my chest and watch as he lights the end and breathes in the blunt; the tip burns to life. “God, I'm so sheltered,” I moan and bury my face in my knees. I'm so embarrassed. I sound like such a loser. I tuck my hair behind my ears and look back at him. I want him. No one can blame me for that.

  Derek’s always had a piece of my heart, and I’m not willing to tell him no.

  “That's not a bad thing. Shot gunning’s easy.” He scoots closer to me, so close the smell of his cologne is stronger than the pot. “I promise. I'll take a hit and then blow it into your mouth.”

  My heart quickens thinking about his lips on mine again. I find myself staring at his lips. I nod my head slightly. The vision of him leaning over me with his hand on my hips makes me eager to accept.

  “Okay, I'll try it,” I answer quickly.

  He takes a quick hit, then blows it out. I feel myself pout slightly and he laughs at me, a deep sexy sound that makes me scoot a little closer to him, so my side brushes up against his. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow at me.

  This is stupid and not going to end well. But I want to do it so badly. I want to be bad for him.

  I nod my head, not trusting my voice. I'm so nervous.

  He takes a long inhale of the blunt and leans in toward me. Our lips touch ever so softly. I spear my hand through his hair and wrap the other around his neck, taking advantage, but I don’t give a fuck. God, he feels so strong and warm. He feels so right. He leans into me, just like I imagined. I wish he’d push further and lay me back on the sofa. The same feelings from all those years ago flow through me as I tilt my head back, breathing in deep and holding the smoke in.