Working Girl (28 page)

Almost as though it’s a reflex, my eyes shift towards the wall. He sighs before speaking again. “Look at me, Presley.”

My eyes go back to his and they sting as they start to well up. This shouldn’t be so hard, but it is. More than anything I want to believe him, but the voice in the back of my head won’t let me. It’s the same voice that’s told me, from the day I grew breasts, I was destined to be a whore.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Keep your eyes on me.”

I nod again, unsure of whether I can or not.

He kisses my cheek. “You.” Then the other. “Are.” Then his lips press against mine. His eyes jump back to watch me before he breathes the last word. “Beautiful.”

It takes every ounce of strength I have, but somehow I manage to keep my eyes from shying away, instead gazing into his beautiful brown eyes and allowing myself to feel. It’s uncomfortable but as if Emerson knows, he says it again.

“You. Are. Beautiful.”

Hearing it again, it sinks deeper into my core. My eyes don’t budge, but they do close as I lift up and take his mouth with mine, our tongues quickly finding a familiar rhythm. The hunger and need between us is palpable as we pick up the pace and a shiver runs through me when his fingers skim the edge of my shirt before ducking under and moving upward. Cupping my breast, his thumb gently caresses the tight bud of my nipple and I writhe against him as every inch of my skin sets on fire, the heaviness deep in my belly increasing with every passing moment. Emerson wraps his arms tightly around me before rolling to his back, placing me on top of him. Taking his lead, I straddle him without having my mouth ever leave his, and we continue to reacquaint our mouths before I lean back and allow my shirt to be pulled over my head. Tossing it to the floor I sit atop of him, allowing him to watch as I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting it slide down my arms, freeing my breasts. Having done this so many times since the last time I was with Emerson, I have more confidence. Yet, something about knowing
his
eyes are on me is nerve wracking.

Will I ever be enough?

He smiles, running his hands down the sides of my body, grabbing my hips and, with his hands on the small of my back, he leans up and gently runs his tongue along my neck before taking my mouth again. Overtaken by arousal I grind myself against his hardness, whimpering as I continue to work myself in a circular motion, feeling myself approaching the release I have desperately been seeking since we reunited. I moan against Emerson’s mouth. With a growl, he grabs me and throws me to my back before he removes the few remaining items of clothing that separate us.

His eyes are hooded as he rakes them over my naked body before leaning down and placing a trail of kisses along my collarbone. Moving downward at a painfully slow pace, he kisses between my breasts as my chest heaves with need and my back arches off the mattress, all in hopes that I can rub myself against him and get relief. But Emerson moves his body away, and I’m left writhing underneath him while he continues to use his mouth to taunt me. Closing my eyes, I pant and pray that he gives me what I need before I explode. His lips kiss my stomach before his mouth moves further down and soft kisses pepper the insides of my thighs.

I think know what’s coming next but when it doesn’t come, I open my eyes to see Emerson looking up at me from between my legs, a breathtaking smile on his face. “You. Are. Beautiful. Remember that, always.”

Before I can respond his mouth is at my core. I cry out in ecstasy, my head falling back onto the pillow as his mouth devours me and it’s not long before my muscles tense and I begin to tremble, shockwaves brought on by his relentless tongue tearing through me.

Lifting his head, he quickly moves up the length of my body and positions himself to rest at my entrance before kissing my lips again. I taste the salty wetness still on his lips just before he pushes himself into me. The stretching sensation is a mixture of both pain and pleasure, and I hiss between my teeth. He groans and stills himself inside before kissing my neck, his mouth stopping next to my ear and he whispers, “I’ve missed you so much, Presley.”

Overcome with emotion and pleasure my hands run down his back, feeling his muscles contract as he rocks against me. His pace quickens as we both become more feverish, seeking our release together. The rhythm is hypnotic and I lose myself in the waves of ecstasy before I clench around him. He groans one final time before shuddering between my legs and falling down next to me, satisfied. He lets out a deep sigh that I would echo if I had the energy. Missing his touch, I pull him close and kiss his chest. “There isn’t a minute I’m with you that I don’t feel cherished.”

He grins before leaning over and kissing my cheek. “Good, because you are.”

I laugh, totally relaxing in his arms as exhaustion sets in. Finally feeling satiated, my eyes grow very heavy and I’m just about to fall asleep when I feel Emerson poke me in the side with his finger. I groan and look up at him curiously.

“Have you ever been to the Mojave Desert at night?” he asks, excitement thick in his voice.

My sleepy body hums with possibility. I’ve always wanted the chance to see the moon without being blinded by the artificial lights of the strip. But it’s always been a dream. It seems unrealistic. “Isn’t that far away?” I ask. “And isn’t it dangerous to be out there at night?”

He laughs. “I don’t know how, but somehow you’ve managed to live a sheltered life, Presley.”

Embarrassment warms my cheeks. “I guess in some ways I have.”

“Well, get dressed and figure out how you can skip work because I’m taking you.” He jumps from the bed and pulls his boxers and jeans up over his hips in one movement.

“Right now?” I ask, slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed, taking care to cover myself with a sheet.

He turns over his shoulder and smiles. “Yes. Now.”

I do as I’m told and gather my clothes, hurrying to throw them over my body. Without thinking I grab my new cell phone that Emerson bought me and call the club. I do my best to sound sick, promising to pull a double next week ‘once I feel better’ to make it up. That means spending all day and night there, but I’ll worry about that once the time comes. Emerson watches me move around his room. Once I’m finished readying myself, I blow out and smile. “There. Now tell me, what’s the big rush?”

He snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me in close. “Because, remember that I don’t just want all your firsts . . . I want to be all your lasts too.”

FOR ONE HOUR I SIT IN
the car with Emerson. For one hour I have the most fun I’ve ever had in a car. In just sixty minutes Emerson has somehow managed to bring my inner teenager to life. Well, perhaps it’s taken him longer than that, but to me it seems to have happened in an instant. One moment I was a lost girl; the next I was found.

Me First
and
the Gimme Gimme’s
blast over the radio. Emerson and I sing along like fools as the sun spreads her last rays of light over the desolate, flat highway. Watching the sun vanish behind the horizon is a feeling like no other. I can’t explain it, but something deep within tells me that things are about to be different. That I’m no longer ruled by circumstance. That my future is not as bleak as I once thought it might be. Stopping singing, I smile and look to my left. Emerson is oblivious to my gaze as he drums the steering wheel with his thumbs and signing off-key. Watching him, I know.

Emerson is my light.

He turns down a dirt road and a cloud of dust kicks up around us. He drives a bit farther as the sun vanishes and darkness surrounds us. Looking around at the lack of light, it strikes me that this is the darkest place I’ve ever been. Not locked in a closet as I watched helplessly as Big Earl knocked the snot out of Momma; here and now. It is actually dark. But I’m not scared. Because Emerson is with me.

The car rolls to a stop and Emerson turns the key in the ignition. The car goes silent. We sit for a minute before he reaches into the back and grabs a quilt that he brought. Stuffing it under his arm, he jumps out and runs around to open the car door for me. I giggle, watching him excited is infectious, and I can’t help but find joy in it. He grabs my hand and guides me out of the car. “Don’t look up yet,” he commands while we walk. We’re a few feet from the car when he rolls out the quilt and immediately sits down on it, patting the spot next to him. I comply. We sit next to each other, looking out over the darkness before us.

“Here’s what I love about the desert,” he says quietly. “Looking straight ahead, it seems daunting—scary even. It’s dark. There is a fear of the unknown. Dangers can be lurking in the shadows.” I shiver; partly from the chill in the air, partly from thinking about what sort of creatures could be ahead of us. He grabs my hand and leans back, forcing me to do the same. “But when you relax and take it all in, you’re greeted with splendid beauty.”

My eyes shift upward and I gasp at the sight. The moon is white and its brightness flows into my eyes, creating light all around me. “Wow,” I manage to say.

“Life is meant to be scary, Presley. But you’ve gotta take the chance every now and then. Lie down and accept its splendor.”

I consider his words and his message finally sinks in. He brought me here for a reason: to show me that it’s okay to be scared. That I can’t let fear ruin the good things that could be waiting for me.

We lie there in silence, hand in hand, for what seems like hours. Moments pass by and I appreciate the brilliance of the moon before leaning over and kissing Emerson.

“Thank you.”

He nods knowingly and I nestle into his side, continuing to look toward the night sky. “We might just be two punk kids up against this crazy world, but together I have the feeling that we can be king and queen.”

I laugh at the cheesiness of his comment and he moves away from me, sitting back on his heels.

“So what do you say? Want to be my queen?”

My eyebrows pinch together. “I’m not sure I’m with you on this one. Say it in plain English, please.”

Shaking his head, he laughs. “Be my girl, Presley. Start fighting
with
me, not against me.”

For the first time in my life I’m actually beginning to feel like I belong, and there is no hesitation when I answer him. “Whether or not I ever admitted it, I’ve always been your girl, Emerson.”

He scoops me into his arms, hugging me so tightly that I fight to take a deep breath. “It’s about time you gave in.” Leaning back, he gazes into my eyes and uses the palm of his hand to clear the hair out of my face. “So now you’ve got to meet my parents.”

I swallow hard. “I’m not exactly the type of girl you should be taking home to Mom and Dad, Emerson.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit about that, and neither will they. Besides, it’s not like they’ll know that your mom was a prostitute and that you have to take your clothes off so that you have a place to live.”

I’ll never get used to his bluntness.

“So what do you say? Meet my folks?” he asks again.

Defeated, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Of course I will. I’m done trying to say no to you.”

MY DAMN NERVES ARE GETTING
the best of me. I rub my sweaty palms along the jeans clinging to my thighs while I nerve my bottom lip.

“Would you relax,” Emerson demands just before grabbing my left hand and subsequently stilling it into place.

“I’m way outta my comfort zone here, Emerson. Meeting your parents? Seriously.” I want to be mad at him for tricking me into the car with promises of awesome food and a good time. I’d thought it was a date, so when he sprang the news that we were going to his parents’ house, I immediately started panicking. I thought I had weeks before I would be faced with this situation. Overcome with emotion I dip my head forward, allowing my free hand to run down my face. “I’m gonna puke.”