Page 92 of Engulfing Emma

“I don’t want you to kiss me.”

It’s a lie. I’d give anything for him to be kissing me right now, and not just because it would take my mind off what’s happening. I’ve thought about nothing else for the past few weeks. Nothing but his lips on mine. His hands on my body. Him inside me. But I look at the FDNY logo on the breast pocket of his T-shirt and remember why I can’t let him kiss me anymore.

Suddenly, my stomach is in my throat. I glance out the window to see that we’re leaving the ground. I grip the armrests and squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

When I feel like I’m about to throw up, Brett touches my knee. His hand runs up and down my thigh, caressing the skin between my legs in a soft, circular motion. I should push him away, but I can’t get let go of the armrests.

Instead of pushing him away, my body defies me and my legs fall open, giving him easier access. Under my dress, he runs his fingers along a line from my knee to my hip, grazing my panties without touching me there.

Touch me there!I scream silently.

“You want me to touch you?” he asks as the plane shimmies violently back and forth.

I can’t answer. But I’m not sure my silence is because of his question, or the plane.

He teases me relentlessly and my insides shift from fear to desire. I don’t know how long he keeps this up, but him not touching me where I want to be touched is just this side of torture.

I look out the window and see wisps of clouds below us, then realize we’re not rocking anymore. I turn to him, ashamed for letting him touch me when I shouldn’t have.

“I’m good now,” I say, brushing his hand off my leg.

“You’regood now?”he asks, confused.

“Yeah, we’re up. I guess we’ve leveled off. You were right about the roller coaster thing.”

“What ifI’mnot good now?” he asks, glancing at his lap.

An erection tents his shorts. Warm heat floods my insides. I can’t keep leading him on like this.

“I’m sorry,” I say, focusing my attention back out the window.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

I shake my head.

“But I’m … Christ, Emma, I’m all worked up here.”

I clamp my lips together.

He stares at my legs, my thighs still exposed from him moving my dress. I cover my legs as best as I can.

“God, you have no idea how much I want you,” he says.

Me, too.

His hand grazes his erection as he looks at me. “I’m not going to touch you if you say I can’t. But you can’t keep me from touching myself.”

“I …what?”Did I hear him correctly?

His lips form a snarky half-smile. “You heard me.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and then unbuttons his shorts. He pushes his boxer briefs down, exposing his stiff penis. He grips it and gives it a slow stroke up and down.Oh, God.As embarrassed as I am watching him do it, I can’t look away.

“Does this turn you on?” he says, stroking himself faster. “Are your panties getting damp watching me?”

I don’t answer him. Ican’tanswer him.

“You resist me, but you want me, don’t you? You wish you were touching me. I wish it was you, too, because I love it when you touch me. You stroke my cock just the way I like it.”

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