One day, I was moody and being a brat, as one does, and Emmett asked if I needed the attitude fucked out of me. I asked if he knew anyone who could do the job, and two minutes later he had me on the kitchen counter, my wrists tied to the cabinet handles behind my head, knees bent and feet propped up so I couldn’t move, spread wide right there in our kitchen, and he edged me for nearly two hours before I was allowed to come. I sobbed like a baby. It was life-altering.
