27. Emery

27

EMERY

God, my heart. Woody laughed like he was happy and cried like he couldn’t believe we were real. But I needed him to believe it. I needed him to know in the same way I knew.

It didn’t matter how long it would take; I’d prove it to him.

I’d prove that I loved this ornery, wary man, that it was a privilege to give voice to it, to tell him how much he meant to me. We stood under the water for several minutes, not speaking, just clinging to each other, swaying to our own music.

Needing him again, I made quick work of shampooing his hair, soaping him up and rinsing him off, touching him in all the intimate places as though they belonged to me. I flew through my own routine, then cut off the shower and toweled us off with increasing urgency.

“Got somewhere to be?” he asked, dry amusement crackling in his expression, the first eye contact he’d given me since we woke up.

“Inside you,” I answered hoarsely, my skin prickling as we locked gazes.

“Fuck” fell out of his mouth and I laughed, pulling him to me for another kiss as I pushed him into the bedroom.

Stopping by the bedside table, I asked, “You still okay to go without condoms?”

He bit at his lower lip, nodding slowly as his electric eyes dragged down my body.

Fuck, I was so gone for this man.

I reached into the drawer and grabbed the lube, then tumbled him into my bed. I had never enjoyed kissing someone as much as I enjoyed putting my lips on his. He was so responsive, like I was some gay fairy-tale prince, able to revive him with a kiss.

As much as I enjoyed that, though, I needed him. To consume him and make him mine.

“Hands and knees,” I said, adding a little bass to my voice.

He stroked his chest a few times, then rolled into position, sending a knowing smirk over his shoulder at me.

“Your body is fucking insane,” I said, running my hand up and down his spine.

He hung his head between his shoulders, shaking it. “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” he asked, then turned to look at me again.

I popped my brows. “What I’m hearing you say is that we find each other super hot, and I should fuck you into the mattress right now.”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Kneeling between his muscular calves, I spread his cheeks and ran my nose up the sensitive crease of his body.

He shivered, and then I drew my tongue from his taint all the way to the top of his crack, loving the way he cursed and grunted. Shifting forward, only to shift back. Teasing him, I circled his tight pucker with the tip of my tongue, barely with any pressure at all.

“Fuck you,” he said, pushing back against me.

“No, I’m fucking you. But not until you’re begging for it.”

He let out a frustrated rumble, but I noticed he didn’t move a muscle.

Unable to torture him for too much longer, I increased the pressure, his pleasured moans music to my ears. Stiffening the tip of my tongue, I pressed and poked until his body gave me entry, tongue fucking him until his curses became unintelligible.

I finally pulled back, pleased with how soft and relaxed he’d become. Adding some lube to my fingers, I slipped one, then two inside him, gently stretching him. He, in turn, cursed at me to hurry up, to fuck him, to stop treating him like he was some precious bit of china.

“Emery, please,” he begged, and I smiled.

“Good boy,” I said, gently patting his ass.

“Fuck you.”

I slicked myself, then slid into his well-prepared hole with one harsh thrust. “I’m the one fucking you.”

Despite wanting to give him the dominance he enjoyed so much, the slick heat of his body stole my breath. I’d never minded wearing condoms, but this...this was different.

“Good,” he choked out, his breathing ragged as he pushed into my thrust.

He then tightened around me, and I was lost to his body. To have earned the trust of this special man, to have him milking me with everything he had...I’d never recover from it. And I didn’t want to.

God, I was so in love with him.

I kissed his neck and shoulders, the scent on his skin firing up my basest urges as I stroked into his willing body.

“God I wanna bite you.”

“Then fuckin’ bite me,” he said, rolling his hips until I almost collapsed on him.

Groaning, I latched on to the vulnerable bit of skin at the meeting of his shoulder and neck, then sucked hard.

We went on like this for several moments. Me fucking him, him pressing back against me as I marked up his neck, but it wasn’t enough.

I pulled away from him, as careful as I could. “On your back.”

He fussed but did as I said, spread beneath me like some sort of disgruntled angel. Before he could put forth a complaint, I thrust forward, taking him to the hilt again, watching his face go from irritation to surprise to pleasure.

We kissed, and he wrapped his long wiry legs around my waist. I’d read books with epic love scenes, but here with him in the simple embrace, burying myself inside him as I pressed kisses to his unruly mouth, was somehow more epic than any sweeping romance.

“Jesus, you’re gonna make me come,” he gritted through his teeth.

I grinned against his lips and sped up my thrusts, my hands on his hips, angling them to give him as much pleasure as I possibly could. Seconds later, he tossed his head back, clenching tight around me. Propping myself up with one hand, I grabbed his cock and began to stroke him in time with the thrust of my hips.

Moments later, eyes squeezed shut, he gasped as cum shot from the head of his cock onto his belly. The view of him beneath me, spent and satiated, was quickly pushing me over the edge. In that critical moment, he opened his eyes, and I was a goner. Yelling out, I thrust once more, burying myself as deep as I could, shaking as I spilled inside him.

Still connected, I drowned him in kisses. He’d become emotional when I told him of my feelings for him in the shower, so even though I wanted to repeat the sentiment over and over again, I held my tongue.

Despite the lack of words, our kisses said everything. I knew he could feel it, just as I could tell how much he cared for, and yes, even loved me.

After carefully pulling out, I pushed his knees back and watched the evidence of my orgasm slip from his used hole. Leaning in, I kissed a line up the back of his thigh as I used my thumb to press the cum back into his languid body.

We rinsed off in the shower, then fell back into the bed, automatically wrapped up in each other. As we drifted off to sleep, my last functioning thought was gratitude. I was so thankful I’d taken the chance to move out here.

“Dad!”

I shot up, confused.

“Dad, where are you?”

That was Stevie, and those were her stompy footsteps making their way up the staircase. God, what time was it?

Reaching out to the side of me, I found nothing but cold bedsheets. Blinking away the sleep in my eyes, I scrambled for my phone. 12:13 in the afternoon.

I hadn’t had many opportunities for this kind of lavish sleeping in since Stevie was born, and I’d also stopped sleeping in the nude since she was old enough to open a door. Moving out to the country had changed a lot of things for me, it seemed. I sprinted for the bathroom, reaching it seconds before Stevie walked into my bedroom.

“Dad?”

“I’m in the bathroom, sweetheart. Gimme a sec,” I said, hopping into the first pair of jeans I found, followed by whatever T-shirt was on the floor. It was a little tight, but...Shit. My bed looked like fuck central, and I was sure the lube was out in public somewhere. I raced back to the bedroom to find Stevie looking at the bed funny.

“You didn’t make your bed?” she asked, gesturing to it.

This was where being *slightly* militant about making the bed was biting me in the ass.

The fact of the matter was that Woody and I spent most of yesterday naked, but I wasn’t going to say that.

“Uh, well, I actually just got up,” I said, sliding in front of the nightstand, where the lube sat on its side like a traumatizing sign blinking out “Dad had sex.” I groped behind me, opened the drawer, and knocked the lube inside while clearing my throat.

An Academy Award–winning distraction, it was not.

She wrinkled her nose at me. “Why are you wearing Woody’s shirt?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking down.

Ah, fuck. It was the Central Perk T-shirt he’d worn to her birthday party.

“Huh. Guess he must’ve left it behind.” I pulled on my earlobe, noticing her new skirt and matching vest. “Oh, hey. Look at that pretty outfit. You look like a real cowgirl.”

“I do, don’t I?” she said, twirling her skirt, somehow looking older than she did when I saw her two days ago.

“Yeah, baby. You do,” I said, trying to figure out how to get her out of my bedroom without making it look like I was trying to get her out of my bedroom. “So...are you hungry? Did you eat lunch already with Grandma?”

“No, we didn’t,” Mom said, entering the room like a scene out of a nightmare.

She took in the T-shirt and the bed in point three seconds flat, then nailed me with her shrewd gaze. “Looks like someone slept in today.”

“Dad is being a lazy butt,” Stevie sing-songed. “He hasn’t even made his bed yet.”

“Well, then.” Mom took a fortifying breath, then redirected. “Why don’t you help me with the grilled cheese and tomato soup while your dad gathers himself.”

Thank you , I mouthed. She raised her brow in response.

Fucking surrounded by women who were too smart for their own damn good.

“Yeah, Dad,” Stevie said, taking Mom’s hand. “Gather yourself.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I shooed them out of the room. “I’ll be down in a bit. Menaces,” I added, to which Stevie threw her head back and laughed.

Once they were clear, I ripped off the T-shirt and held it to my nose as I inhaled. Fuck, it smelled like Woody and sex and love, and scenes from yesterday filled my head.

We’d woken up from our second nap with a sweet make-out session, then Woody asked if I’d ever been to the attic. I admitted I hadn’t been up there after the initial walkthrough, so we padded up there in our underwear and socks.

Until Woody pointed it out, I’d missed out on the treehouse appeal of what turned out to be a brightly lit open room. The massive windows overlooked both my property and the greater Texas Hill Country. That would have been pretty enough, but the upper glass panes were made of etched and patterned glass—like a stained-glass window without the color—giving the already stunning sunset a kaleidoscope effect.

“This used to be my favorite place in the house,” he’d said, wistful as he looked toward the sun sinking past the horizon.

I’d held him and promised between deep, searching kisses that it would be again. The problem with kissing Woody, of course, was that I never wanted to stop. Kissing led to touching which led to meaningful blow jobs. Woody had found the little blue pills in my side table, and suggested that we make new memories by christening every room in the house, save for Stevie’s and Rowdy’s rooms. By the time we’d made it to bed in the wee hours of the night, my back was aching, Woody was walking funny, and I was certain our balls were going to fall off from overuse.

I also had grand plans for that attic.

Returning to the present moment, I regretted having to change into a more appropriate T-shirt, but my mother and daughter were waiting for me downstairs.

As I approached the kitchen, I heard Stevie ask, “Did you and Dad mix up your T-shirts? He was wearing yours and now you’re wearing his.”

I jogged into the kitchen, and Woody was holding a carton of eggs, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, hey Woody. Look at that,” I said, taking in my plain white T-shirt hanging loose on him. So loose, in fact, that his deliciously distracting collarbones—and fuck me, hickeys—were visible. “Guess we got ourselves a mix-up.”

Stevie darted a look between the two of us, then folded her arms over her chest as she tapped her shimmery purple boots.

“Eww. Grandma, look. They’re all muah-muah-muah ,” Stevie whined as she pretended to kiss the air.

I froze as my mom snorted, then said, “I know, Stevie-girl. A real tragedy, this.”

She shrugged, gesturing at her waist. “At least I got a cool fanny pack out of it.”

I looked over, terrified that there’d be a Woody-shaped hole in the wall. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and laughed. Bellowed, actually. Grinning, I pulled him into my arms, then kissed him as I dipped him low. To his credit, he kept his balance and kissed me back.

“Ewww, actual kissing !” Stevie shouted, then stuck out her tongue. “ Blech !”

Our smiles interrupted our kisses, and when I righted us, he stayed by my side, leaning into me.

“Come here, Stevie. Let me see the new duds your grandma bought for you,” he said, holding out his hand.

She considered him for a moment, then took it and let him spin her ’round, giggling.

“Well, that’s the prettiest skirt I’ve ever seen, and I love how it goes with your fanny pack. I hope it fits your injectors okay.”

She proudly unzipped it. “Already in there.”

“Oh, well,” he said, his voice gone funny. His chest hitched, and he blinked away some tears. “Sorry. I just...I’m glad to see you happy and spinning after everything.”

Stevie’s nose went red, and she threw her arms around his waist. “Thanks for running so fast, Woody. I was so scared, but I knew you’d take care of me.”

A chorus of sniffles went up around the kitchen, the high ceilings making ’em sound almost musical. I caught Mom’s eye, and she sent me a watery wink.

You done good, son.