Another chance!?

The phone buzzes against the wooden nightstand, the vibration rattling the half-empty glass of whiskey beside it. Emma’s fingers twitch toward it, her nails scraping against the polished surface before she snatches it up. The screen glows in the dim light of her apartment—Lena Calling—and for a second, she considers letting it ring out. But the name flashes again, insistent, and with a sharp exhale, she swipes her thumb across the screen.

“This better be good,” Emma mutters, her voice rough from disuse, the words laced with the kind of irritation that only family can provoke.

Lena doesn’t hesitate. “Emma, please—just hear me out.” Her sister’s voice is tight, the kind of controlled urgency that means she’s been stewing on this for hours. “Jake called me. He’s a mess. He knows he fucked up, but he’s trying. And I think—no, I know—you two need to talk. Really talk.”

Emma scoffs, shifting on the bed, the sheets cool against her bare thighs. Her free hand drifts downward, fingers brushing over the thick, insistent bulge straining against the fabric of her sleep shorts. The contact sends a jolt through her, a reminder of what—who—she’s been trying to forget. “You’re kidding, right? After everything?”

“No,” Lena says firmly. “He’s not the same guy who left, Em. And you’re not the same either. You’re both stubborn as hell, but you want this. I can hear it in your voice every time I bring him up.”

Emma’s teeth sink into her lower lip, hard enough to taste copper. The memory of Jake’s hands on her, his mouth hot and ****, his body yielding beneath hers—it’s been weeks, and she still wakes up aching for it. For him. “Fine,” she growls, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “But this is his last chance. And if he so much as looks at me wrong, I’m gone.”

Lena exhales, relief audible. “Just… go easy on him, okay? He’s already half broken.”

Emma doesn’t answer. She ends the call and tosses the phone aside, her fingers already working at the waistband of her shorts. The fabric slides down her hips, freeing her cock, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. She wraps her hand around the shaft, stroking slowly, her thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over the sensitive head. The thought of seeing Jake again, of having him on his knees, his mouth wrapped around her—it’s enough to make her hips jerk, her breath hitching.

Fuck it.

She’s already decided.

The walk to Jake’s apartment is a blur of pent-up frustration and simmering desire. By the time she knocks on his door, her cock is a heavy, insistent ache between her legs, her nipples tight beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. The door swings open before she can knock again, and there he is—Jake, his broad frame filling the doorway, his dark eyes flickering with something raw and hungry.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t have to.

Emma steps inside, her shoulder brushing against his chest as she passes, the contact electric. The apartment is dim, the only light coming from the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the bed. She turns to face him, her back to the mattress, and crosses her arms over her chest. Her fingers find the buttons of her shirt, popping them open one by one, the fabric parting to reveal the swell of her breasts, the dark pink of her nipples already pebbled and tight.

Jake’s breath catches. His gaze rakes over her, lingering on the thick outline of her cock pressing against the fly of her jeans. “Fuck,” he breathes, the word barely more than a whisper.

Emma smirks, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants. “You said you wanted to talk.” She drags the zipper down, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. “But I don’t really feel like talking.”

Jake swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His hands clench at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her. “You’re in control tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough, submission bleeding into every syllable.

A shiver runs down Emma’s spine. She pushes her jeans down her hips, letting them pool at her ankles before stepping out of them. Her cock springs free, thick and veiny, already flushed dark with arousal, the heavy weight of her balls drawing tight against her body. She wraps her hand around the shaft, stroking slowly, her thumb circling the slick head. Pre-cum wells at the tip, glistening in the low light.

Jake’s eyes are glued to the movement, his chest rising and falling faster. “On your knees,” Emma commands, her voice low, dominant.

He obeys without hesitation, sinking to the floor in front of her, his hands resting on his thighs. Emma steps closer, the tip of her cock brushing against his lips. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. His tongue darts out, tracing the sensitive underside, and Emma’s breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Open,” she orders, her voice tight with need.