<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/dmh53LH.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Emma Grey (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=337584.msg16026944#msg16026944)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Patio table<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong><del>Black jacket</del>,<del>Black top</del>, Black bra, Belt, Jeans,<del>Sneakers</del><br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>:<br/><strong>Optional</strong><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Everyone outside<br/><hr/><br/>Emma tried her best to suppress the devil on her shoulder -- that little voice in the back of her mind that was ready to say "Fuck it. Who needs three more hands? This is happening<em>right now</em>." Well, maybe less of a<em>voice</em>and more of a growling, violent urge to wrestle Jonathan to the ground like a desperate cougar, and not the type that was over 40 and addicted to wine. Her hands stayed glued to Jonathan's torso, fingertips running along the hills and valleys of his sculpted muscles as they slid down beneath her touch. Soon, there was nothing left comfortably within her reach except Jonathan's head, and Emma let one hand caress along Jonathan's cheek until it found a light grip with fingers snaked through his hair.<br/><br/>A soft, shuddering exhale doused in desire escaped from between Emma's lips when she felt Jonathan's breath against her skin. Her eyes closed. Her head tilted back. It was only the barrier of her jeans that kept Emma in control and able to fight off the instinct to push Jonathan's face lower with each kiss. This did little to detour Emma's mind from falling into fantasy though. It wasn't exactly much of a stretch to imagine the two of them in this exact position but with Emma's back against a mattress, her legs spread, and fewer articles of clothes standing between them. Her body felt like it was on fire, begging to be touched and offered only light, fleeting grazes of Jonathan's lips in answer. It was torture -- like feeding crumbs to the starving.<br/><br/>Emma leveled her head and let her eyes open to take in her surroundings. Her eyelids drooped lazily as she looked to each person in turn. Each heavy breath passed through parted lips. Her chest rose and fell. A warm red touched her cheeks. It wasn't a secret that Emma was turned on and one small push away from doing something stupid. In fact, that was why she was surveying the crowd. If there was anywhere that dropping her pants, unzipping Jonathan, and then riding him on the couch was socially acceptable, it<em>had</em>to be this party, right? Did them practically being strangers make it worse or better? If she did what she wanted to do, surely it was better that she would likely never see these people again? Outside of a party like this, Donavon felt like the kind of guy that was out of reach for a girl like her -- both literally and figuratively. Jules was so deeply entrenched in celebrity circles that Emma could only dream of being a part of. And Arthur was living the yoga lifestyle that had so little overlap with Emma's social life that it would have formed some kind of anti-Venn diagram.<br/><br/>But then there were the ladies. It would have been Emma's luck to land on a job with Rose right after embarrassing herself at a party by letting Drunk Emma make all the decisions. The next time she ordered delivery, Emma could almost guarantee that Diane would be the one to show up at her door. And then there was Chloe; the one person here that Emma could say she knew and the closest thing Emma had to a friend in the business. Maybe Chloe's star was rising fast enough that they would never see each other again after tonight -- in fact, Emma was almost certain of it -- but something about seeing a familiar face and hearing a familiar voice returned some semblance of reason to eyes that had otherwise seemed lost to lust.<br/><br/>Emma was panting softly when Jonathan rose back to his feet. His silence was mirrored by her own. Her lips twitched once or twice, perhaps trying to find something to say or build the courage for a kiss that would undoubtedly tip things past the point of no return. The seconds that passed felt like minutes until Emma wordlessly placed both of her hands on Jonathan's chest and started guiding him back toward the couch. She didn't stop pushing when his legs met the couch, forcing him to fall back into his seat. Emma was right behind him, saved from gracelessly falling down directly on top of him by one hand that caught and pinned his shoulder.<br/><br/>Her face hovered near his own, a few strands of her hair having fallen in front her face from her largely uncontrolled descent. The lust was back in her eyes and her panting breaths had grown labored enough for a light huff to be audible at the beginning of each of her exhales. So deep was her desire that the temptation to dive into a passionate, unrestrained kiss was nearly overwhelming. Would she even care if it was Jonathan beneath her right now? Hell, would she even care if it was a man? With a light push against Jonathan's shoulder to sit herself more upright in his lap, Emma was able to create enough distance to quiet the urges screaming all throughout her body just enough for her to put a few thoughts together that<em>weren't</em>related to sex.<br/><br/>Emma needed one of two things at the moment: either to get herself and someone else out of their clothes or to get out of Jonathan's lap so she could cool off. "<strong>Speaking of next...</strong>" Emma sounded breathless when she turned her head slightly in the direction of Jules, hopeful that he wasn't so entranced by Rose that he would notice her own distracted sounding voice, "<strong>who's dealing?</strong>"