I want you

8 Episode

After tidying up the room, Emily sat on the living room sofa, staring at the bank card Michael had given her. She pondered for a moment, then put it back in her pocket, turned off the lights, and returned to her room on the first floor.

It was now past eight in the evening. Emily was a bit tired after a busy day. She took her change of clothes and went to the bathroom Michael mentioned taking a quick shower. After returning to her room, she locked the door and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

She was wearing a slightly sheer white camisole, without a bra, and soft cotton shorts. The camisole's high waistline revealed her flat, beautiful stomach, and the white lace edges of her panties peeked out from the shorts.

Emily turned slightly, lying on her side, with her hand under her head, staring thoughtfully ahead. Her eyes were unfocused, her soft white body curved beautifully. After about ten minutes, she slowly closed her eyes, seemingly falling asleep.

While she seemed to sleep, Michael couldn't sleep at all.

For one, he was not used to having another person in the house, and secondly, it was because of the call he received that morning.

Emily had guessed correctly; the call was from Michael's father, Po Ali, the mayor of Ocean City. Po Ali was a well-regarded mayor with an impeccable record. However, Michael's mother had passed away prematurely, and Po Ali had remarried the following year, having another son shortly after. This created a rift between father and son. Michael, being sensitive and strong-willed, had his own opinions on everything, and Po Ali, not wanting to worsen their relationship, did not impose much control over him.

But who would have thought that this leniency led Michael to become a mortician after completing his Ph.D., without consulting the family at all?

Po Ali had repeatedly urged him to quit and join a position he had arranged, but Michael ignored him, leading Po Ali to cut off their relationship in anger.

This was the reason Michael had smashed his phone.

Unable to sleep, Michael turned on the light and glanced at the clock. It was already past midnight, though it felt like he had just gone to bed.

He got up, sat on the bed, rubbed his temples, and sighed deeply before heading downstairs for some water.

He walked lightly and quickly, poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, and checked Emily's work. Seeing everything neatly organized, he felt completely reassured about her.

Just as he felt a bit satisfied with her, a faint, intermittent moan came from her room as if she were in some kind of pain.

Michael frowned, tightening his grip on the glass, then put it down and walked towards the guest room.

She must be in some discomfort; the moaning mixed with hoarseness and restraint was very light, something he wouldn't have heard if he had been sleeping soundly upstairs.

He knocked on the guest room door and asked softly, "Emily, are you alright?"

The room fell silent immediately, with no response.

Michael's eyebrows furrowed sharply, and he knocked three more times with more force. "Emily?"

He suspected she might have a stomachache and could have fainted from the pain. If left unattended, she might not wake up the next day, so he asked again.

Unexpectedly, the door opened from the inside shortly after he finished speaking. When he saw Emily, he realized he had done something extremely foolish.

Emily stood leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she wore shorts and a semi-transparent camisole under a thin robe. A strange smile played on her face, her eyes filled with a lazy and seductive look.

Michael quickly averted his gaze after glancing at her up and down, his brows deeply furrowed. "I heard you in pain earlier. If you need stomach medicine, I can get it from my room."

Emily didn't respond immediately, just looked at him without speaking, her bright eyes piercing through the darkness.

"Are you alright?" Michael, feeling uneasy under her gaze, asked again, intending to leave, but this time Emily answered.

In a soft, somewhat resigned voice, she said, "I'm fine. That wasn't a cry of pain; I was just... masturbating."

"..." Michael closed his eyes, standing there awkwardly, his pale lips moving but unsure what to say.

Was she teasing him? Emily watched him, a faint smile playing on her lips.

He didn't know how attractive he looked, how his neck and Adam's apple were so sexy and alluring at that moment.

Emily cleared her throat lightly, pulling back her gaze from him.

She tried to stand up straight, but her legs had gone numb from leaning too long. She stumbled forward, her light scent and soft, curvy body crashing into Michael, leaving his mind blank for a moment. When he came to, he found Emily had fallen on him, both of them lying on the ground.

She turned her head slightly, her face very close to his. Just as he was about to ask her to get up, she turned towards him, and their lips accidentally met.

Emily felt Michael's muscles tense under her.

Their eyes met, and in the dim light, her seductive eyes seemed to hold a magical power. She breathed softly, her warm breath mingling between them. Michael tried to push her off, but she leaned in and kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth before moving to his neck, lightly biting his Adam's apple, feeling the pulse beneath his pale skin.

Michael let out a soft cough, followed by a low, hoarse groan, like a bat flying through the cold night.

That kiss... was indeed a kiss. Michael stared at the ceiling, feeling empty and agitated. It was his first kiss, at this time, with this person...

His eyes involuntarily shifted to Emily's delicate profile. Her eyes, like a flower blooming in his heart, left him parched and restless, his body heating up with her presence.

Emily seemed to sense his reaction, her hand moving down from his chest, lightly pressing his lower abdomen.

...

Maybe he was wrong. She could not only see through his heart but also through his pants.

Michael suddenly pushed Emily away and helped her up before quickly retreating upstairs. His back still seemed as agile and elegant as ever, but at this moment, it looked like he was fleeing in panic.

Emily stood there, watching him disappear before returning to her room.

She lay back on the bed, closing and opening her eyes repeatedly, feeling a bit regretful.

She didn't know why she had acted that way, just a sudden urge to test him, to see how much he could control himself, if he could resist physical reactions like other men.

He had successfully passed the test, proving himself different from those who were easily ruled by their desires. But she felt no joy.

The whole night, she sighed and tossed and turned, not out of love, but a strange possessiveness and control she couldn't understand.

Maybe it was because, with no family left in the world, facing the people in her shared apartment daily, and working multiple jobs to exhaustion, he had appeared at the right time to help her through these hardships.

He wasn't like Captain Johnson, a married middle-aged man, nor did he have any obligation or responsibility towards her.

She had very little, but what she had, she couldn't afford to lose. Each was precious.

Her thoughts were unscientific, but they seemed to transcend science.

She didn't want to feel this way. She wanted to scream; she wanted him to come back.