15. Emery

15

EMERY

I’d been surprised when Stevie asked about Tim’s upcoming surgery, but I’d always been honest with her and always tried to use exact language so that she never felt that sex or reproduction was dirty or weird.

I wasn’t that surprised that she was upset by the reality of the surgery; I was shocked, however, when she first turned to Woody for a hug and not me. Even though he’d been uncomfortable, the way he treated her so tenderly was like a cheat code to my heart.

Way ahead of yourself there, Em.

Right then I heard my mom’s massive Grand Marquis pulling into the drive.

“Hey, sweet girl,” I said, pulling her into another hug. “Grandma’s here—why don’t you run to the house, wash your face, and grab your overnight bag?”

She nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

“And we can keep talking about this if you have more questions, alright?”

She sniffled and gave me another hug.

Turning to Woody, I put my finger in his face. “Don’t you go anywhere.”

He gulped, then tipped his trucker hat at me. We were definitely going to have a conversation about the fact that he hadn’t responded to a single one of my texts this week. I mean, obviously all I had to do was look across the fence and see that he was fine, but I needed more than that.

Turning on my heel, I headed outside and greeted my mom with a hug.

“Stevie looks out of sorts about something,” she noted, leaning her hip against the side of her car.

“We just explained that Tim is going to need to get fixed, and what that means.”

Mom grimaced. “How’d you handle that conversation?”

“I walked her through what she already knew about mammalian reproduction, and I explained how surgery is beneficial. I think she gets it, but it definitely upset her.”

Mom tapped her chin. “Sounds like we might need to stop by for some ice cream before we go shopping.”

“An excellent idea.”

I wrapped her up again in my arms, knowing I was luckier than most. The people in my family tended to be long-lived, and she was only in her mid-sixties, so hopefully I had many years left with her. Now that we lived closer together, I was grateful she played an even more active part of our lives.

Moments later, Stevie barreled out of the house and down the front porch steps, her unicorn overnight bag thumping behind her, her T-shirt blotchy where she splashed her face. Thankfully, her pigtails, while crooked, remained intact.

“There’s my beautiful granddaughter!” Mom said, bending with her arms wide open. Stevie nearly toppled her with the force of her hug and then kissed her cheek.

“How about we stop for some ice cream before we go shopping?”

“Yay!”

I smiled fondly, remembering the days when ice cream fixed almost everything.

I helped Stevie pack her things into Mom’s trunk, kissed my sweet girl on the forehead, then stood there and waved as Mom made her way onto the highway, disappearing into the winding hills.

After waiting a solid thirty seconds, I turned on my heel and walked back into the barn. Woody was weighing Tim, and I watched as he led the little colt back into his stall. When Woody still ignored me in favor of poking around Tim’s feed, it was obvious that he was trying to avoid a confrontation.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

Stalking over to him, I grabbed his shoulder and manhandled him out of the stall. Kicking the door closed with my booted heel, I dragged him up against the back wall.

“Wha—”

I cut him off with a searing kiss, and his hands went to my hair as he parted his lips. I slid my tongue into his willing mouth, tangling with his tongue, devouring him whole as I held him in place with my hands on his narrow hips.

Having him under my control again made my cock come alive. I rubbed up against him, loving the way he met every kiss and thrust. Skinny little cuss had been playing hard to get this past week, but I’d love to see him try to deny how much he wanted this. When I got his muscles good and melty, I pulled away from the kiss.

“You gonna walk in here and act like you haven’t been ignoring my texts all week?”

“Huh . . . Wha?”

It pleased me to no end to know I’d obliterated the communication centers in that stubborn brain of his.

“You like the way this feels, Woody? You want me to make you feel good?”

“Uh huh,” he said, nodding loosely.

“Then answer your fucking texts next time,” I said, pushing him to his knees.

He loosened my belt, then unfastened my jeans, pushing them down with my boxers to mid-thigh. I grabbed my aching, leaking cock and gave it a few dry strokes before tapping his nose with it.

“Open up, Lockwood.”

With his chest hitching, he dropped his jaw as if he’d lost the muscles holding it closed. I pressed inside his waiting mouth, all the way until I hit the back of his throat. He gagged a little, then adjusted until he could breathe a little better. Smoothing his hands around my hips, he squeezed my bare, hairy ass as he worked me over in earnest.

“That’s right, Woody. Take a little more. You’re almost there. Just open your throat a little...Fuck, perfect.”

His sharp eyes found mine.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, yes?”

He nodded as best he could and I let loose, working over the back of his throat, knowing he’d be hoarse for a week after I was done with him. At one point, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back ever so slightly, relaxing just that little bit more. Knowing how fully he was giving himself over to me nearly tipped me over the edge.

As much as I wanted to shoot down his throat, I couldn’t finish so quickly. I needed more. After one final thrust, I pulled away and was treated to his resentful glare.

“Why’d you?—”

I yanked him up, stifling his ire with another kiss. He tried to fight it, but within seconds he was all melty again, his hands on my shirt, fisting it as if to keep me in place. It amused me that a simple kiss could unprickle this frustrating, complicated man.

When he was nearly boneless, I shifted, kissing up along his jawline so that I could whisper a command into his ear.

“Undo your jeans.”

He kissed me back, needy as he released my shirt to unbuckle and unfasten his jeans. I was learning to love the sound of his clothes falling to the floor.

“Dock me.”

He startled and shifted back, looking me in the eye. “What?”

“I said, dock me.” Grinning at his lost look, I asked, “Have you never done that before?”

“No. What is it? Some weird sex thing?”

“Depends on what you’d call weird. You have a foreskin and I don’t. Docking is when you make the dicks kiss and then slide your foreskin over the head of my cock.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed violently, and his chest rose quickly. “I have never even imagined that before.”

That was shocking, considering he was on the apps. How hadn’t someone taken advantage of what was, objectively, one of the hottest things to do with another human?

Had he ever been a hookup kind of guy?

The idea that he might not be sent a spike of adrenaline to my heart.

“You willing to give it a try?” I asked, grateful my voice sounded steady.

“But you’re so much thicker than I am.”

“I think that’ll make it feel even better.”

After another deep breath, he nodded sharply, then took on a look of concentration. With our heads bowed like this, I imagined we looked as if we were sharing an intimate prayer, and maybe that’s what this was.

He took his cock in hand, spitting on it before giving it a few strokes, stretching his foreskin up and back over his head. After darting me a quick—uncertain?—look, he grabbed hold of my cock and touched the tips together.

God damn . That alone was enough to do me in.

He stroked his cock again, this time carefully stretching the spit slicked skin over my fat cock head. He whimpered as he retracted, his chest hitching.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing until those fucking eyes of his lazily found mine, then locked in.

“Spit,” he commanded.

Fucking. Hell.

I spit on our still-touching cocks, some of it landing on his thumb, and he smeared it on me, then stretched his foreskin over my head again, his feral noises growing louder and more high-pitched. I added a bit more spit so that his next stroke was even slicker.

My low grunts added to his sweet whimpers, and Tim nickered, reminding me we weren’t exactly alone. The ambient sounds, however, seemed to drop the stress out of Woody’s shoulders, and he sped up the slippery strokes, adding a little thrust of his hips to bump the sensitive heads together.

“ Jesus .” His breathless laugh was a rare treat, and I couldn’t believe I was the one lucky enough to give him this experience. “Fuckin’ best thing I’ve ever done with my cock.”

“You’re so good at this, baby,” I responded, noting how he reacted to my words like they’d been a physical stroke down his lean chest.

We went quiet again as he resumed attending to our cocks. The pleasure intensified, rolling from my groin, down my legs, and up into my belly. I gripped the back of his neck, sweaty and hot, laying kisses across his forehead, then down his nose, gratified when he relaxed even further.

For such a nettlesome thing, he needed affection more than he seemed able to say. Maybe even more than he had ever consciously allowed himself to believe. Something about his thorny vulnerability called to my very nature. Without my permission, then, my brain went to Sunday mornings, out around the fire pit, holding him in my arms as we shared a cup of coffee.

That’s not what this was, of course, but I’d felt crazy possessive of him from the beginning. I’d certainly never demanded exclusivity from a fuck buddy before, nor had I ever hounded them with daily texts. I certainly would’ve walked on anyone else who’d so consistently left me on read.

Something in me knew, however, that he needed this as much as I did.

“ Fuck. Emery,” he gasped, bombed out of his mind.

You’re cock-fucking him in a barn, Em. Stop trying to wife him up.

Wrangling my self-control, I muttered, “Good boy. Good. Now, hold your foreskin in place as we thrust back and forth.”

He did so without question, and within seconds of timing our thrusts, we were filling the barn with guttural sex sounds. I was lightheaded and clenching my jaw so tight I was convinced it would shatter.

It felt like a victory, winning over this angry, perfect man, and his high-pitched “ Fuck, Emery ” made me light up like a supernova.

I gripped his shoulders, pressing my forehead against his as I came into that slick, delicate space, filling it up as he tightened his grip. A chorus of fucks filled the air as our orgasms created a small bulge in his foreskin, a pocket of our combined cum, held only by the tightness of his grip. I painted this divinely filthy visual in my long-term memory, eliciting another shuddering spurt from deep within, drawing out my orgasm until I had nothing left to give.

Woody lost his balance, letting go of his grip as he collapsed against me. The sound of his cum going splat against the straw covered floor was yet another facet of this moment etched on my brain.

I wrapped my arms around him, keeping him upright as I kissed the top of his head and then his ears. I made a moany complaining noise, and he tilted his face up, accepting my kisses like maybe he needed them just as badly.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” I asked between kisses, knowing I was showing my cards.

“Aside from my usual chores?”

I nodded.

“Well...” He looked sheepish as he pulled up his underwear and jeans. “I have a deadline that I’ve been ignoring.”

I perked up as I pulled myself together. “A poetry deadline?”

He focused on redoing his belt buckle with a small grimace. “Guess you could call it that.”

“When’s the new book coming out?”

“In October, if I can ever get my shit together,” he mumbled.

“What’s the theme of this one?”

“That’s what I’m supposed to figure out. I’ve got a Zoom call with my agent Thursday afternoon, so I guess I better have something by then.”

“Rowdy’s gonna be gone for the weekend, and it’ll just be me, so if you need a break, come on down the hill.”

I held my breath, wanting— needing —his company more than I’d realized. He tipped his head side to side, considering my offer. His cheeks went red as his lips hooked up into the barest smile.

“Might just do that,” he said as he brushed past me.

I grabbed his arm, loving the way his chest expanded when I tightened my grip. “And answer your damn texts,” I growled into his ear.

He turned and kissed me, then whispered, “Yes, sir,” before sauntering away, leaving me to watch his fine ass as he disappeared through the barn door.

Fuck, he was dangerous.