Page 11 of Dollhouse

“Tell me your fairy tale,” I suggest. “If you could do anything.”

She pauses, pulling my mouth to hers for a searing kiss.

“Don’t try to distract me, Angel,” I coo, pausing the circles on her clit.

She whimpers into my mouth and my cock grows impossibly hard at the sound. “Books, maybe? I want to read with Bo.”

“Boring,” I tease, picking back up on the movements. “Keep going.”

“I’ll have a little cottage,” she moans, sucking on my bottom lip. “With my flowers. And birds.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I’ll start painting, or go to school. I’d be a teacher.”

A teacher. It fits her, and I don’t know why it’s so hot but it is. “What else?” I curl my fingers again until she tightens with a strangled shout. Fuck yes, I hit it again, then again.

“And we’d be there, all of us.” Her voice is a whisper, and I freeze.

“We could go anywhere. Together. Us and Bo and Jesse.” Her hips roll like they have a mind of their own, but tears trail her face as if she’s barely holding it together. A woman at odds with where she is and where she wants to be.

“We will,” I say, and my voice breaks on the promise.

Maybe it’s that she wants to build something with me, or because she’s brave enough to tell me what she wants, even though it’s scary. Somehow saying the words out loud put a target on their back.

“We will.” I say again, stronger.

“Please, Noah,” Emma begs, and I harshly take her mouth with mine. A burning, devastating kiss that syncs with the way my fingers slide into that magic spot that makes her shake, makes her every muscle tense.

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice barely registering as she crests and breaks on my hand. It’s a sight I’ll remember until the day I fucking die. My beautiful girl. Fractured, but stronger than before. It’s what I needed to see to keep going, to keep fighting. The color in her cheeks, the breath in her lungs. Those fuck-me eyes melting beneath me.

I pull my hand from her soaking center, curling a finger against her thigh to catch some of the arousal dripping down it. “Oh, Angel,” I say softly, and she watches, eyes wide, as I lift it for us both to see. “All this for me?” I ask her, my mouth curling slightly as she flushes again when I suck both fingers into my mouth. She swallows, chest heaving as she watches me.

My head drops to the crook of her shoulder, nuzzling against her neck. Suddenly I can’t get close enough. “Things might be hard soon, Em. But you won’t be alone, okay? We’ll get you ready for whatever comes next.

She nods, brushing her thumb along my cheekbone. The lightest, honey sweet kiss meets my lips. It feels too pure for me, the dark, flawed man invading her bed. Making her come. But I accept it anyway, because I never claimed to be good.

“Thank you.” The corner of her lip curls up. “Thank you for seeing me, Noah.”

Her hand tangles in mine, soft against rough. The only bright spot in the rain patterned darkness of the room.

So I tell her the truth. “Baby,allI see is you.”

SEVEN

Landon’sloud voice cuts through the murmur of voices downstairs, until someone quiets him with a gruffshut the fuck up.

Bo and I decided to hole up in my room with some of the new books Jesse had picked up for us, because the vibe downstairs can get very intense when the men meet to discuss whatever current jobs they have. For now, I prefer not to know when Noah has an assignment. The only time Jesse’d accidentally told me he was out hunting down a child molester instead of running errands as I’d thought, I’d been a train wreck until he got home. Now everyone knows to keep me out of the loop.

We’ve quickly gotten comfortable here, and Bo’s like a cat while I’ve been hiding in my room, curling up on the same bean bag while we devour the new releases and make lists of new ones we want Jesse to retrieve for us.

As far as my injury, Noah’s gone off the deep end, despite me explaining over and over that a sprained ankle isnotthe end of the world. The doctor gave me crutches to get around, and I was fine using them. But they’d suddenly gone missing, and all Noah would say is that he thought he’d seen them outside in thetrash, before shrugging and picking me up to carry me through the house.

“The doctor said non-weight bearing. Please tell me how I’m not following his medical advice,” he sasses, swinging me up from the bed into his arms. “He’s a professional, Emma, and we need to do as he says.” Then the world spins as he shifts, swinging me over his shoulder with a yelp, and smacking my sweater covered ass. “He didn’t say how to carry you though.”

“That must be the doctor,” Bo sighs, rolling to his feet with a loud groan that makes me giggle. “We’re getting so old.”

“Shut up, you're only twenty-seven,” I counter, looking for my bookmark.