EMERSON.
She groans in her sleep and I gently slide my hand from under her head, leaving her to fall against the pillow before leaning my head on my hand and supporting it with my elbow as I watch her in her sleep.
My eyes move across her body which is filtered with barely noticeable red marks– marks that are my doing and a smile creep into my face at the sight of them. Eva turns in her sleep, lying on her side so her face is to me and I reach out to it, stroking her cheek with my thumb before letting it fall to her shoulder. I don't know what urges me to do it, but I reach forward to press my lips to her shoulder before I pull back.
With another glance at her face, I climb off the bed and pull the duvet up to her chest before I grab my boxers, pull it up my legs and make my way out of the room.
I walk down the path that leads to the kitchen and as I bring out my mug to make my morning coffee; a frown pulls to my face at the thoughts of last night. At the image of his hand on her and hers on him. At the way she held intimately onto him, and how close they seemed. I can still remember the anger that streamed through me at that sight, and right now– it doesn't make any difference as I grip my mug tighter.
How dare she go out with a man? And with the same one that's been on her tail for a fucking while? She was supposed to be here; waiting for me to fucking come back, not go out with some fucking guy.
'You don't own her. And she can go out with whoever she sees needs to. '
My inner self reminds me, but I'm quick to disagree with him.
She fucking can't. She can't just keep going back to some guy because she can. No, I don't fucking want that. I don't want there to be a situation where she would be so addicted to seeing another guy repeatedly and feel it's time to end the agreement between us.
And why don't I want that? God, I don't fucking know. I just don't want her to stop coming back to me. In whatever way it is: For her comfort or a fuck. I don't want her to fucking stop seeking for me. I'm not supposed to feel like this, but I can't help it.
It's insane how much she affects me.
Eva Carson is a ruin. A goddamn infuriating one, and one that I should stay far away from, yet everything I see her, and bury myself in her warmth– I can't help but let her be my ruin. Even when it's starting to get out of hand and I don't know what the fuck to do about it.
With a heave of a sigh, I prepare my coffee and grab a spoon, throwing it in the mug and using it to stir the coffee before I twist my body to the other side with my back pressed to the counter.
It's only a few seconds of me standing in the room with the silence surrounding me and blowing on my coffee before I make my way in the direction of my room.
Closing the door behind me, Carson is still on the bed and I can't blame her for that. I might have gone a bit extreme last night, and it didn't help that the fucker had to call her when I was in the middle of having my tongue on her cunt.
Carson stirs in her sleep as I slowly settle on the edge of the bed, not far away from her and a beat of a heart passes before she opens her eyes, and the charming blue ones meet mine; the object of all my insanity.
EVA.
My eyelids flutter and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils as I turn to the side before I open my eyes to the sight of Emerson Ford sitting on the bed with a mug in hand and his eyes on me.
We stay silent, just staring into each other's eyes and the gaze he holds doesn't seem to have much difference to the one from last night before I break the silence and say, "Hey. "
"Hey, " he responds, scooting closer to me. "Good morning. "
I start to sit up on the bed, and a wince falls from my mouth at the pain that shoots straight from my core as I try to press my thighs together.
When I lift my head to glare at Emerson, a satisfied smirk covers his lips and I want to smack it off his face.
"I don't see what's funny, Ford. " I snap as I pull my body against the pillow and Emerson snickers before he says, "I definitely see something that is. "
Fucking bástard. Proud of his performance, and not that he doesn't have a reason to be. I'm worn out, and I mean each of those two words. My body is aching all over, and the reason for it is sitting right by my side. I lost count of the many times I came last night; every single time I thought he was done with me, he switches the position and thrusts inside my pussy again, and I can almost swear that I saw the stars to the point where I was almost at the point of dropping before Emerson finally lets me take a breath.
"What's the time?" I ask Emerson as I take my eyes to him again. "I have to get to class. "
"I don't think that'd be possible today, Carson. It's almost noon. " He tells me and my brows shoot up as I exclaim. "Noon?"
"Yeah, " he responds as he turns to drop the mug before he turns back to me. "I promised to fuck you hard, didn't I?"
At those words from Emerson, the words he uttered last night stream through my mind. How he promised to fuck me hard enough to keep me from going on any more dates with any other mam. Those words still have me disturbed because they're far from what Emerson Ford would normally say to me. What the hell got into his head when he said them? And with the remembrance of Emerson's confusing words, comes what I was previously annoyed about.
"Why did you do that?" The words slip through my parted lips in the form of a question as I turn my head to Emerson and he furrows his brows, "Why did I do what?"
"The call. I told you I didn't want to pick it, so why the fuck did you do it?"
"Why do I feel like you already have the answer to that question?" He responds, and I shake my head. "You had no right, Ford. "
"I did, " he says, differing from my words. "And I still have every right, Carson. He needed to know. "
"That I was fucking you?" I scoff and Emerson's lips twitch; he takes a second to think back on his words, before he let them out and they are the complete opposite of what I expected as he says, "He needed to know that you aren't available. "
"And what makes you think that? That's my decision to make, not yours. " I remind him and he gives a shake of his head, "No, Carson. You're fucking me, and you don't get to fuck another guy. You're mine. I'm the only one who gets to sleep with you. No other man. " His words are tight, and they make my stomach turn in an odd reaction. The rawness of those words as they slip through his lips, the finality they hold and the way his gaze hardens at them. It was almost sexy, if Emerson Ford did not lay a claim on me.
"I'm not yours, " I correct him with a frown. "You're the only one I can sleep with, yes but I'm not yours. You don't have a claim on me outside of this, Emerson. I can do whatever the fuck I want with another man as long as it doesn't go as far as fúcking him, and I'm not fucking Dan. "
"Yet. " He points out with a hiss. "I saw you last night. He had his fucking hand on your ass. "
I swallow down my throat at the revelation that Emerson saw that much.
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