She has to be convinced

Emily lay sprawled across the bench, legs still twitching from the aftershock, her panties askew, one breast almost slipped free of her tank. The lights from the Ferris wheel painted soft, lazy bands across her bare thighs, across Tasha’s stomach, across the ground where Cam stood nearby, cock out, waiting.

But Emily wasn’t moving.

She blinked slowly, lips parted, chest heaving. Her cheeks flushed, the drunk heat under her skin mingling with a deeper kind of overwhelm. Her voice was soft, barely audible above the nighttime hum.

“I… I don’t know…”

Her words caught. Her body was still on fire, wet and open and aching for more—but her mind was stuttering now, caught between impulse and inhibition. The **** wasn’t gone, but the initial rush was. Reality was creeping back in.

“I shouldn’t,” she breathed. “I can’t—Jason—Chloe—”

Tasha leaned in immediately, silencing her before she could spiral. “Hey,” she whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from Emily’s face. “Stop. You don’t have to think right now. Just feel.”

Her fingers skimmed up Emily’s ribs, light as a breeze. Her touch wasn’t pushy—it was reverent, coaxing. Like she was reminding Emily that her body still belonged to her, even if it hadn’t felt like it in months.

“You’re allowed to want this,” Tasha said softly. “You’re allowed to feel good. To be touched. To be adored.”

Emily’s breath trembled.

“You’ve been a mom. A wife. A ghost,” Tasha murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear now. “You’re still a woman. And you are fucking beautiful.”

A small, choked noise slipped from Emily’s throat—almost a sob, almost a moan.

The boys shifted, picking up on the moment. Jake opened his mouth, about to say something. Cam stepped closer.

Tasha immediately raised a hand behind her, not looking. “No.”

They paused.

She turned slightly, still cradling Emily, her voice steel now. “Not a fucking word, boys. You’ll ruin it.”

Jake blinked, surprised—but stayed quiet. Cam took a slow breath and stepped back.

Tasha turned her full attention back to Emily, eyes soft again, voice velvet.

“Let me make this easy, Em.”

She leaned in and kissed her.

This time, it wasn’t rough or greedy. It was slow. Careful. Their lips brushed, then pressed. Tasha’s hand cupped Emily’s cheek, fingers warm and steady. She kissed her like a promise—gentle and open and sure.

Emily made a sound—quiet, questioning—and leaned in without realizing it, her hand gripping Tasha’s wrist.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Tasha whispered against her lips. “But if you want more… if you want to be touched like you deserve, like your body deserves…”

Another kiss. A little deeper. Their mouths parted, tongues sliding together in slow, wet curls that made Emily’s pulse throb again between her legs.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Tasha murmured. “I’ll keep them in line. You just close your eyes and feel.”

Emily swallowed hard. Her thighs shifted slightly. Her hand slid from Tasha’s wrist to her shoulder, fingers curling there.

Her lips parted.

“…Okay.”

Tasha smiled against her mouth. “Good girl.”

Then she turned her head slightly and snapped her fingers once, sharply.

“Cam. Jake. Slowly. Clothes off. Stay behind me. She’s mine until I say otherwise.”

Emily shivered.

Tasha kissed her again—long, deep, delicious—and Emily let herself fall back into it.

Into touch. Into heat. Into forgetting.