by Gabi Moore
“Fuck me like the dirty slut that I am,” she said, and teased the tip of her cock against her clit. I was shocked. “Do it. I want it,” she said, daring me with her eyes.
“Emily, this isn‘t like you, you’re not a slut,” before I could finish my thought, though, she had pulled me forward and eased herself onto the tip, and instantly the dripping heat of her body engulfed me, and I was speechless.
“Emily…”
“I’m done with you telling me what’s good for me and what isn’t…” she said, and clasped her hands round my hips, inching me in deeper and deeper. The sensation of sinking into her sent violent goosebumps all through me. “I want you to fuck me, hard, and I want you to call me a dirty, filthy whore while you do it…” she whispered. My ears burned. I wanted to pull out. To tell her that she was crazy. That I would never treat her like that. That I wasn’t like them… but as she gently guided my hips close and closer to hers, I couldn’t resist. I was stuck. The air left the room, we both went silent and after a few moments my full length was buried in her to the hilt, the faint blondish fuzz at the top of her pussy pressing hot into the skin at the base of my cock. I think I stopped breathing.
I could feel her body internally twitch and undulate against mine. I could feel her breath, feel her heartbeat. I was deep, way, way up inside her, and fuck it if it sounds cheesy as hell but for the first time in many years, I felt like I was home. Her pussy was the sweetest fucking thing. Holy hell did I love it. Did I love her. I wanted her to have all of me, and if I had even a single millimeter of dick more I would have gladly given her that too. I thrust my hips hard into her, pressing in as deeply as I could go, and her mouth opened for one long, silent moan.
“Are you going to leave me again, Felix?”
I felt her little feet clasp one another behind me, pulling me in snugly to her.
“No. Not ever.”
“Even though I’m a slut?”
I felt like I was suddenly in very dangerous waters. I didn’t know what had really happened to Emily all the time I was away. I didn’t know what she wanted form me now. But I knew that at least some of it was my fault.
“Emily, whatever you are, I love you. Nothing can ever change that,” I breathed. I leant forward and kissed her brow, and I felt her pussy kick against me as she moaned, then began grinding against me, sliding herself off my cock and then slowly back on again. I eased into the rhythm with her, our bodies moving slowly but deliberately with one another, each delicious thrust slightly quicker than the one before.
I could still see wet tear tracks falling from the corners of her eyes down into her hair.
“Then call me a slut. Fuck me and tell me what a dirty girl I am. I want you to.”
I couldn’t help my body responding to how desperate and sexy her voice sounded. I growled and kept fucking her, much harder this time. I didn’t want to hurt her. But it felt so, so good to have my hips coming down hard against hers.
“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 voi
ce 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.”
