Page 33 of Dollhouse

Jesse’s voice is low, velvet lined. “Look at her, wanting to do the same for you.”

I roll my eyes back up as Noah’s hands grip my shoulders, helping him to bottom out at a quicker pace and I moan all of my giddy happiness across his length. It’s unreal how alive I feel when we are like this. Interconnected with each other, so entwined in each other’s emotions, in each other’s bodies.

“Fuck, Emma,” Noah grits. “Your pussy is choking my cock.” His hands tighten on my shoulders and I feel the familiar tugging low in my belly. The eroticism of the moment has my head buzzing, until there is no room left forthought. All I can process are the raw, physical sensations on my skin, inside my body. “There you go, baby, I feel it coming. Give me one more.”

I cry out as I tighten, pulsing, the sound muffled by Bo’s thrusting as saliva spills from my mouth, Jesse’s hand still gripping the back of my head as his fingers tighten in my hair.

“God, everything you fucking do makes me want to fuck the sass out of you,” Jesse groans, turning Bo’s head and sucking a spot on his neck, making Bo’s dick jump in my mouth. His thrusting against my face quickens, hips snapping as I feel him start to swell on my tongue.

“Fuck, Em,” he groans and I feel him explode, the salty taste flooding my mouth as Jesse yanks back on my head so that I pop off the tip of him.

“Tongue out, Em. Now,” Jesse commands, his voice low and sharp. I do as he asks and Jesse’s hand fists pumps Bo onto it, his hips rolling between the two of us. I keep my eyes on both of their faces as my tongue is coated, watching as Jesse bites his lip and slams into Bo one more time, biting his shoulder as he comes.

A moment later, my head is shoved down to the glass as Noah violently pounds into me, knocking the sense from me once more.

“Look at the fucking mess you made, baby,” he growls, and I open my eyes to see the streaks of come and saliva on the glass. His reflection reveals a sly smile stretching across his face and I’ve never seen anything come close to how insanely attractive he is. Pulling out of me, his hands grasp my sides and flip me onto my back, effectively rolling me into the mess. “My dirty, filthylittle Angel,” he croons, and my eyes roll as he slides back inside me.

Noah’s hands take mine and guide them to the backs of my thighs, and I pull them back for him. I’m his, fully offering every part of myself to the beautiful man above me. He contrasts me in every way, and I know I’ll never tire of the demanding way he handles me.

Rough. Gripping.

His thumb goes to my clit, and my back arches beneath his touch, electricity skittering across every plane of my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I follow Jesse as he guides Bo backward to the couch and presses him to the cushions. Their mouths fight for dominance of the other, hands desperately raking and pawing to get the other as close as possible.

Noah disrupts my voyeurism by folding his chest forward to deliver his own punishing kiss. I try to return it, letting him taste my overwhelm, attempting to express it the only way I know how. The emotion grows so quickly that tears fill my eyes as I feel him invade every part of me—mind, body, and heart.

He sees them and both his hands rise to my face, kissing them away. “You did so well, beautiful girl. So fucking good for us” I nod into his grip, keeping my eyes locked on his as he pumps inside me, trying to ground myself in their steady depth as the feeling threatens to sink me.

“Do you need to safe word, Em?” he whispers against my ear.

I shake my head, fresh tears spilling. “I just—I love you,” I say, voice catching, my grip tightening. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, muscles tightening with restraint to fuck me rougher, slower. “I know, Angel. I feel it. Can you?” he asks, cradling my head to his shoulder as he grinds inside me. I nod, another tear spilling as I feel my stomach tightening once more. Ecstasy lights in my veins.

“Give me this last one,” he says, voice hoarse as he tries to hold off. “Now, Emma.”

I fracture, the air leaving my body as I fold beneath him once more. He slams into me and I feel him explode as we collide and fall apart, every shard of us falling together as if our bodies have decided to never separate.

His breath is heavy above me, thick hair tickling my face. He kisses my nose, then my forehead. “I love you. Too much. Nobody can take this from us, understand?Nobody.” His eyes burn into me, and I see the part of Noah that he strangles out of sight. The part that feels this desperate loveas deeply as I do and isn’t afraid of what it could mean for us. “It’s me and you, baby,” he bites out, latching onto my lip with his teeth and biting down.

It hurts, and I moan into his mouth. Loving it. Loving him.

The pain cuts as much as his love does.

EIGHTEEN

It’s Christmas Eve.

Once upon a time, I would spend this day lost in a torrent of preparations—dusting the guest rooms for the arrival of Eric’s family, starting appetizers for Christmas Dinner. I’m a meticulous present wrapper and each gift I slid under the tree for my husband was alwaysperfect.

Molly nudges her head against my knee and I scratch her ear, laughing when she immediately flops to the ground. Her little paw reaches up to play with the edge of my drawing book, tail flicking lazily as the fireplace cracks next to us.

This morning, Noah’s mom has personally brought me this gift, a beautiful watercolor set in a tin case.

“He told me you wanted to practice,” she’d said simply as my heart squeezed in my chest. I hope the hug I gave her conveyed what I’ve been too choked up to find the words for.

My mom has never really thought much about my interests, and never gifted me anything that wasn’t intended to make me look nicer. I’m not even sure I can remember the last time we hugged. It just wasn’t the kind of relationship that allowed for it.

Noah has heard me when I said the watercolor painting that hung in the hallway was my favorite. His mom must have asked what I’d like as a gift, and heremembered.