by JB Heller
He walks us to the massive four-poster bed, laying me on the soft comforter but never breaking the kiss. I claw at his back, desperate for him, for this, for us.
Dragging his mouth down my throat, he groans. “Christ, Em, I want you so fucking bad.”
I moan and rock my hips up into him, encouraging him to keep going. He lifts his head from my flesh only long enough to tear my shirt off, then his mouth is back on me, nibbling, licking, sucking.
“Take off your clothes,” I demand, yanking at the hem of his tee.
“Not yet,” he says, his amber eyes burning into me as he kisses between my breasts, down my stomach to the edge of my yoga pants. “It’s my turn to drive you mad with my mouth,” he states, sliding my pants and underwear over my hips then dragging them down my legs.
I shiver at not just his words, but the intense and determined look in his eyes.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, staring between my legs, then his tongue darts out, and he takes one long, slow lick of me, and I cry out. “Stay still, Miss Moss,” he instructs. “I’m going to eat this pretty pussy like it’s my last meal.”
And he does. Holy freaking shit he does. He brings me to climax embarrassingly quickly with just his tongue, and I’m panting and trying to catch my breath when he slides a finger inside me and it starts again.
I’m a quivering mass of bliss and ecstasy by the time he rids himself of his own clothing, retrieves a condom from God knows where, and climbs over me. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as he hovers above me, satisfaction, desire, and so much more shining in his eyes.
“You ready for me?” he asks in a guttural tone that has my insides clenching all over again.
I nod furiously, wrap my legs around his hips, and dig my heels into his tight ass. “Please,” I beg. “Fuck me, Sebastian. I need to fee—”
He impales me with his thick dick, and my eyes close, my head tipping back as he thrusts in and out of me.
“Yes, oh God, yes,” I babble as pleasure sweeps through my entire body. He feels so good. So fucking good I could cry.
His lips brush over the edge of my jaw, then his strong hand is gripping it, tipping it down so he can take my mouth in a punishing kiss. He pumps into me with a savage ferocity. “So fucking wet for me, Miss Moss,” he says into my mouth.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me how much you like my cock.”
“Yes, oh God,” I cry. “So good, uh, so fucking good.”
He releases my jaw, planting his hand beside my head and propping himself up and changing the angle as he continues to drive into me. My legs slide from his hips, and he shifts again. He takes one and rests it against his chest, then his fingers dig into my thighs so hard I know it’s going to bruise, but that just excites me more.
My body clenches, tightens, and shudders as pleasure builds inside me. “I’m going to...” I whimper.
“Yes, baby, come on my cock. Come for me, baby,” Sebastian says, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breathing stilted.
I throw my head back as wave after wave of pure ecstasy crash over me. My mind goes blank, and I’m nothing more than a puddle of bliss as I come down from the most intense orgasm I’ve had in a long-ass time.
Sebastian grits his teeth, twists his head to the side, and releases a deep groan as he comes, then he collapses over me, his sweaty forehead pressed against my neck. I sigh in absolute contentment and run my fingers through his damp hair.
I want to stay in this blissed-out bubble with him forever. If only that was an option…
We enter the rehearsal dinner a few minutes late and receive a knowing look from my twin as she approaches with her soon-to-be husband. I arch a brow and shake my head, unable to stop smiling. When they stop in front of us, Storm smirks. “My, my, my, Mr. Perpetually Early is...”—she gasps, looking at an invisible watch—“late,” she says, her smile so big it lights her entire face.
“It was all her fault,” I grumble, wasting no time throwing Emory under the bus. “She seduced me in the shower.”
Emory’s eyes widen, and she punches me in the shoulder, surprisingly hard. But I don’t even care because this woman makes me happier than I thought I ever could be.
“What?” I say, smiling. “It’s true.”
Storm chuckles, and Jake grins, offering me a fist to bump. I, of course, oblige him then curl my arm around Emory’s waist, tugging her flush against my side, needing her close to me.
She peers up at me with those crystal-blue eyes that made my heart beat faster the very first day I saw her and grins. I can’t help myself. I bend my neck to brush a kiss to her full, pouty lips, and she sighs contentedly.
This woman has cemented herself in my heart in just a few short weeks, and I already know, without a doubt, that I will be telling her exactly that before this weekend is over.
Sebastian and I sit at a large, round table with Storm, Jake, the girls, and Jake’s family for the meal portion of the evening. And it’s all too easy to picture myself as a part of this big, beautiful, and boisterous group. They all talk over one another, laughing, teasing, and joking together. It’s everything family should be.
“So, Emory, how did our man Bash here land a beauty like you?” Spencer, Jake’s younger brother, asks, waggling his brows.
I blush and shrug. “It just kinda happened,” I tell him. It’s the truth; this was supposed to be fake, a ruse. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore. It hasn’t for a while. My feelings for him just kinda happened.
Sebastian throws an arm around the back of my chair then drops a kiss on my temple. “Eyes off, Spence,” he says, glaring playfully at the other man who chuckles.
“Ain’t no harm in lookin’.” He winks at me.
If my cheeks weren’t already on fire, they would be now from the salacious look in Spencer’s eyes, even though I know he’s just doing it to rile Sebastian.
A hand appears out of nowhere and smacks Spencer upside the head. “You cut that out right now,” Jolene chastises her son on her way past him as she heads to the ladies’ room.
I laugh. “I really like your mom.”
Spencer rubs the back of his head and grumbles, “You would.”
The night progresses, and when it’s time for dancing, Sebastian stands and offers me his hand. I balk at it. “I don’t dance anywhere except my bedroom and the kitchen unless I’m drunk off my ass,” I tell him.
He opens his mouth to respond but slams it shut when Jayla appears at his side. She locks her hand around his bicep and croons, “I’ll dance with you.”
My jaw locks, and Sebastian’s body goes rigid. He stares at her hand in silence, and I don’t know what to do.
“Come on, Seb. Think of it as practice,” she purrs, smirking down at me still seated in my chair.
“Practice for what?” I say, finally finding my voice and getting to my feet. Her gaze rakes over me, and I swear I see pity in her eyes. Screw that. “Practice for what?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her.
She smiles serenely at me, cocks her head, and says, “For the wedding, of course.”
The way she’s deliberately choosing her words to make it sound like she’s referring to their wedding makes my blood boil. I have never been jealous or possessive in my life, but this bitch is getting under my skin, and the satisfied expression on her face says she damn well knows it.
Sebastian seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in—freaking finally—and yanks his arm out of her grip then steps toward me, completely ignoring Jayla. “Come on, baby. Let’s dance,” he says to me, and I let him guide me to the dance floor.
He takes my arms and loops them around his neck then curves his around my waist, and we sway to the music. I swallow hard and stare at my feet. “Why would you have to dance with her at the wedding?” I ask softly.
Sebastian tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him as he says, “She’s the maid of honor, and I’m the best man. We’ll share one dance, and that’s it. She was
making it sound like more than it is.”
I nod, understanding, and smile sadly. “She wants you back,” I murmur.
He scoffs. “She can want all she likes, but she can’t have me. I’m done with her. You know that, Em.”
Do I know that? They were together for seven years; that’s a lot to walk away from. And they haven’t even been broken up for a whole year yet. He practically went out of his way to remind me this was all fake at the picnic, and here I am, thinking maybe we could have been heading toward something real. I was a convenient date and easy lay. What an idiot.
Tears prick my eyes, and I drop my head, laying it on his shoulder before he can see them.
We don’t talk for the next three songs. We simply hold each other, our bodies swaying along to the music as I build a wall around my heart, needing to protect myself from the inevitable loss of him.
When I’m sure I can look at him without my devastation showing, I lift my head and tell him I need to use the ladies’ room. He eyes me warily but leads me to the edge of the dance floor where I tell him I’ll find him when I’m done.
I lock myself in a stall, holding my head in my hands as I take deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside me. I feel seasick, like I’m on a boat in the midst of a storm as waves crash over the bow, and my insides roil from the choppy motion.
This time, when the tears sting my eyes, I let them fall, giving myself this moment to grieve the loss of what could have been if things were different.
“Emory,” a familiar voice says from the other side of the door.
Shit, it’s Storm. I take a deep breath and hope like hell she can’t hear the quiver in my voice when I say, “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” she asks. “I saw you come in here, and you looked off...”
That’s one way to put it. I bite down on my bottom lip as a sob tries to wrench free from my chest. I’m being ridiculous; we aren’t even a real couple, and I’m reacting like I’ve just lost my soulmate.
“Em?” she says again.
I can see her pretty white heels beneath the door and berate myself for making the bride-to-be worry about me. I swallow and once again take a deep breath then clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out shortly. Go back out to your guests,” I say, crossing my fingers, praying that she listens to me.
She hesitates then stomps her foot before finally saying, “Okay.”
If I wasn’t so upset, I’d laugh at her little foot-stomping action. Instead, I wait until her feet disappear from view, and I hear the door open then close as she leaves.
I heave a sigh of relief. I pull myself back together, flush the unused toilet, then clean up my face in the mirror.
I’m just about to step through the door to rejoin the festivities when Jayla steps in front of me, blocking my exit. “Excuse me,” I say, wanting nothing more than to shove her out of my way, but I refrain.
“You know this thing with you and Seb is only temporary, right?” she says, fake-ass concern blanketing her features. “He and I—we’re inevitable. After seven years together, do you really think he could have moved on already? I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Emily. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Ignoring her deliberate dig at my name, I scoff, indignation rising to the surface. “Right, you’re simply looking out for me. How nice of you.”
She nods, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm in my tone. “That’s right. Us girls have to stick together.”
I close my eyes. I’ve had enough of her and this stupid conversation. I shove past her, making her wobble on her sky-high heels. “Thanks,” I mutter and head straight for the main exit.
A large hand wraps around my upper arm as I push through the doors into the cool of the night. I swivel and glare at the person who has the gall to put their hands on me, frowning when I look up at Spencer.
“Hey, pretty lady. Where you off to in such a rush?” he drawls.
I arch a brow as I dip my chin to where he’s still holding me.
He drops his hand immediately. “Sorry,” he says, cringing, no doubt from the scowl on my face.
“I needed some air,” I say, turning away from him and continuing to march away from the restaurant.
His footsteps crunch on the gravel as he follows me into the dark night. “It’s cold as balls out here,” he mutters.
Huh, I didn’t even feel it until he mentioned it. The cool air nips at my bare arms, and I shiver but press on.
“Jesus, woman, you could at least let me go back and get my jacket,” he says, keeping pace with me.
“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” I grumble, glaring at him again.
He shrugs. “I know, but I had a mission this weekend, and I failed already. First day on the job, and I fucked it up.”
I pause, turning to face him. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his dress pants, and he looks almost bashful. “A mission?” I inquire.
“I was supposed to keep the she-devil away from you and Bash. Woman’s got it in her head that he’s going to go crawling back to her, and she can be mean as a snake when she wants to be. I swear, I took my eyes off her for two minutes to hang a leak, and when I came back, everything had gone to shit,” he says.
I arch a brow. “You don’t say,” I mutter, turning on my heel to continue on my way.
“Let me at least come with you,” Spencer calls.
Peering over my shoulder, I shrug at him. “Fiiine.” Spence offers me his arm, and I take it. “Think you could give me a ride back into the city in the morning?” I ask. I’m tired of wanting a man I can’t have, and the last thing I want is another run-in with Jayla.
“Have you seen Em?” I ask my sister after I’ve thoroughly searched the crowd but keep coming up empty.
The look in Storm’s eyes is not reassuring. “What happened, Bash?”
“Nothing. She went to the bathroom, like, twenty minutes ago, and now I can’t find her,” I say, not wanting to bring up Jayla acting like a conniving bitch.
“Yeah, I spoke to her in the ladies’; she sounded upset, but she clearly didn’t want to talk to me about it. Does this have anything to do with Jayla? I saw her approach you two earlier. It didn’t look like a pleasant conversation,” she says, her gaze assessing me.
I swallow and run a hand through my hair. “It might. I don’t know. Em kinda shut down on me after that.”
The look in my twin’s eyes is reminiscent of her namesake. Anger and concern swirl in her amber orbs, and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her close. “Don’t worry about it. I got this. You just enjoy your night. Everyone’s here for you, Stormy,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Jake steps up beside us, worry written all over his face. “What’s going on? I just saw Spence chasing Emory out the door.”
Fuck.
I hand my sister off to him and run my hand through my hair again. “Shit, fuck,” I mumble. “I’ll sort it. You two don’t need to worry about it, okay? Go mingle with your guests.”
“Bash,” Jake says, stopping my retreat. His arm is secured protectively around Storm’s shoulders, and I’m so fucking grateful she has him. “We can tell her to leave, you know,” he says.
My brows furrow. “What? Why? She hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry we’re causing drama and this is supposed to be abo—”
“Not Emory,” Storm says. “Jayla. She’s obviously the source of this. She’s supposed to be my friend, but she’s creating problems when she’s supposed to be here to support me. If this is how she’s going to behave, I’d rather she wasn’t here.”
I swallow hard. I never wanted to put my sister in this position, and now I’m screwing with what is meant to be the best weekend of her life. “I...” I lick my lips. “This weekend is meant to be about you guys, and I’m so fucking sorry I’ve put a dampener on it.”
Jake scoffs. “You haven’t done anything. I’ll deal with Jayla; you go get your girl.”
Storm smiles sadly at me
then mouths, “Go.”
And I do. I spin on my heel, and I dash outside, my head turning this way and that as I search the night for my girl. “Em,” I call into the darkness, but when there’s no response, I pick a direction and take off running, calling out for her as I go.
After what feels like forever, I conclude that I’m not going to find her. Why did I leave my cell in the cabin? I could have called her or Spence. I growl in frustration, running my hands through my hair, then head back to our cabin in the hope that she goes there.
I’m sitting on the front steps, elbows on my knees, staring at my hands, when the gravel crunches from my left and I dart my gaze toward it. Emory approaches, her shoes dangling from her fingers and Spencer’s arm draped around her shoulders.
Wait, what? Why the fuck is Spence touching my girl?
My gaze locks on Spencer’s arm, and my fists flex with the need to punch him right in his pretty-boy head. I’m a lover, not a fighter, but right now, all I can think about is getting him off her.
“Hey,” Em says as they stop at the bottom of the stairs.
I arch an incredulous brow. Anger—as irrational as it may be—floods me. “Hey? Seriously, that’s all you have to say to me after you disappear without a word then rock back up to our cabin with another guy?”
Hurt fills Emory’s eyes, and she blinks at me like she has no idea who I am in this moment. And honestly, I don’t blame her. I’m being a dick. I know it, but I can’t stop it.
The hurt in her gaze is replaced with an anger of her own as she takes a small step closer, causing Spence’s arms to fall from her shoulders—thank God. She glares up at me, and I get the distinct impression that I’m about to have my ass handed to me by a fiery little redhead.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Sebastian?” she says coldly.
I, wisely, shake my head. “I think I’ve already said enough,” I mutter, all my fight and anger draining from me. It’s not really her I’m angry with—or Spencer, for that matter. It’s Jayla.
