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Welcome to Blissville

Page 132

by Walker, Aimee Nicole


  The boneless way he rested against the foyer table while I licked and sucked his cock back to full mast told me I was well on my way to completing my mission. I might’ve been a screwup in many areas in my life, but I always finished what I started. I stared into Emory’s eyes through his reflection in the mirror. I saw how badly he wanted to look away, but I wouldn’t let him. There was no way I would let Emory deny what was happening between us for another second. I knew he’d run home once I was through with him, but I was also just as certain that he would return to me—where I knew he belonged.

  “Can I trust you to stay here while I go get the lube or should I take you with me?” I asked, not recognizing the gravelly voice as my own.

  “I don’t need lube; use spit.”

  “I won’t hurt you, Em.”

  “Don’t coddle me, Jon. Fuck me like you mean it. Right now.” He sounded both desperate and sure.

  Then, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me any longer, Emory closed his eyes. Was he embarrassed by his need or his crass words? He had nothing to be ashamed of, and I refused to let him withdraw from me. There would be no pretending that it was his dead husband fucking him.

  “Eyes on me, Emory, or go home.”

  I gently squeezed his neck, but not enough to hurt him or cut off his air. Emory’s eyes flew open in shock. I eased the pressure and caressed his racing pulse on the right side of his neck with my thumb. I held up two fingers on my left hand to his mouth. Emory’s eyes widened when he realized what I wanted from him. If he wanted it rough, then he was going to own it. I expected him to back off and ask for lube, but instead he sucked my fingers into his mouth and worked them like he would a cock, coating them with saliva. I removed my fingers from Emory’s mouth, reached between his round ass cheeks, and fingered his ass again until he began grinding himself against me. I pulled out and slickened my cock with more spit before pressing it against his eager hole. Then I broke eye contact so I could watch the moment he became mine, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

  I pushed in slowly and watched as his pucker greedily sucked the head of my cock into his vise-like grip. Emory cried out my name, and I jerked my gaze back up to his to be sure I wasn’t hurting him. All I saw was raw desire and need. I inched inside him ever-so-slowly, allowing Emory time to adjust to my size. My eyes darted back up to the mirror a few times to make sure he was still with me. Oh, he was with me all right and none too patient as I took my time penetrating him until my pelvis pressed flush against his round cheeks. I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his ear.

  “This is just the beginning, Emory. I’m going to imprint myself on every sexy inch of your body.”

  I glanced at his reflection again and saw how badly he fought his emotions. Panic is the word I would use to describe his wide-eyed expression. He even shook his head to argue at the same time he pushed back against my pelvis, urging me to fuck him. It was like denying you wanted chocolate as you devoured a huge piece of triple chocolate fudge cake. I ate my baby’s cake and icing and was already craving more.

  My need to fuck was too strong to debate what was happening between the two of us. I stayed lowered over Emory’s back and pulled my hips until only the tip remained inside his tight ring. I snapped my hips forward hard and fast, driving him up on his tiptoes.

  “Jon!”

  “That’s right, baby. Yell my name.”

  I pulled back and slammed forward again to hear my name roll off his beautiful lips once more. Out, in; out, in. I rocked back and forth until I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind from the pleasure. Emory’s ass hugged my cock tight, and nothing had ever felt as good. I couldn’t wait until there was nothing between us and I could fill his ass and truly mark him as mine. The thought caused my rhythm to falter because I had never wanted to have bare sex with anyone. Once the thought came, I couldn’t push it out of my mind. I immediately imagined sliding my finger in and out of his cum-slickened hole after I filled him, or jacking off on his tight pucker then pushing it inside him with my cock. I wanted to paint every part of him with my cum and rub it into his skin.

  “Fuck you if you think I’m done with you after tonight, Emory,” I suddenly snarled as I gripped his hair.

  In and out; in and out. I felt my balls draw tight against my body as that familiar tingle started in my spine then spread to my balls. I rose up behind Emory and grabbed his waist with both hands and began hammering his tight ass like I might never get another chance. His hot chute had a strangle hold on my cock, sensually massaging me until I thought I’d lose my fucking mind.

  “Jon… oh p-p-lease, make me come. Please.” As if I could deny him.

  “Stroke your cock, baby.”

  Emory braced his weight with his left arm while he reached beneath him with his right. I pegged his prostate hard until his eyes rolled up in his head and he shot his load for the second time. His ass spasmed tightly during his climax, pulling me over the edge with him.

  I grunted as I rutted inside Emory. “Mine,” I roared when I filled the condom. I lay over him as he rested and panted for breath against the table.

  “Jesus,” Emory said.

  I lifted his right hand and licked the remnants of cum left behind on his fingers and palm, loving the salty, tangy taste of him. Emory whimpered as he turned his head and watched me. “I’m not through with you yet.”

  “Okay,” he drowsily conceded.

  I eased up and out of him then helped him stand straight. Emory stumbled a bit, and I caught him before he could fall. “You want me to carry you to my bed?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head, but he smiled like he thought the notion was charming.

  I entwined my fingers with his, tugging gently for Emory to follow me toward the stairs. “It’s a good thing because my legs probably aren’t up to the task. Can you carry me?” I teased.

  “Not even on a good day.”

  “Those two orgasms don’t equal a good day? Wow, you’re a tough one to please.”

  “Fishing for compliments, Jon?”

  “Baby, I tasted how good it was for you.”

  Emory blushed profusely over my gritty words, and I loved it. I planned to do a lot more dirty talking every chance I got. We stopped at the base of the steps, and Emory looked up at them in a panic. “You expect me to walk up two flights of steps after that?”

  “I can ravish your ass on the steps if you prefer or we can fall into my comfortable bed.”

  Emory took a fortifying breath and placed a foot on the bottom step. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  “Which one?” I had given him two choices.

  “A soft bed would be my first pick,” Emory replied. “But if we can’t make it to the top, it’s going to be your ass sitting on the hardwood steps, not mine.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath at an image of me sitting on the polished staircase while Emory rode me. I promised myself that I would make that vision a reality someday. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “That bed looks like heaven,” Emory said when we finally reached my room. “Oh, I bet that view is amazing,” he said, gesturing to the wall of windows opposite the bed.

  “Stick around and find out.”

  Emory swallowed hard but didn’t respond. I saw the confliction in his eyes. He wanted to stay but was afraid. I reminded myself to be patient and take what he could give me. For now.

  I released Emory’s hand when we reached the bed and pulled back the covers for him to climb in while I discarded the condom in the trash can and wiped my spent cock with tissues. I would’ve preferred to take a shower, but I could tell every ounce of energy Emory had was depleted by the two orgasms I gave him. I didn’t want to risk the chance that he’d sneak out if I showered alone either.

  I climbed into the bed beside Emory and was surprised when he turned to me and lay his head on my shoulder after I turned off the lamp on the bedside table. I ran my fingers through his short hair and wished for the hundredth time that he hadn’t cut it.
One day, I would work up the nerve to ask him to grow it long again for me, but we weren’t at that phase yet.

  Emory was so quiet that I thought he’d fallen asleep. I closed my eyes and let my fatigue move in so I could get some shut-eye. Just before I fell asleep, Emory moved his hand and placed it over my beating heart.

  “Maybe someday,” Emory whispered sleepily.

  My eyes popped open in the darkness, and my mind immediately began processing the possibilities of his words. Did Emory think he could love me someday? Damn, I was desperate to cling to that hope but too scared to chance it. For all I knew, he could’ve been talking in his sleep. My eyes grew heavy, and I gave up trying to sort out what he meant.

  Just ask him in the morning.

  I knew I was alone in the house when I opened my eyes the next morning. Years of training made it possible for me to analyze my surroundings immediately, even seconds after waking up out of dead sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so hard. “Or so long,” I said looking at the angle of the sunbeams shining through the window. “Fuck, it must be ten o’clock or later.”

  I threw back the covers and headed into the shower to wash the dried cum off my cock and balls. I had wanted to start my day showering with Emory, but it looked like he returned to Blissville without waking me. The hopefulness I had felt the previous night washed down the drain with the soap I rinsed off my body.

  How long had he stayed? An hour? Five? Or did he bolt as soon as I fell asleep? I swallowed hard and ignored the pity party for one I wanted to throw in the marble and glass shower. I knew what the hell I got myself into and had no one to blame but myself. I stood beneath the spray, hoping the hot water would soothe the tension in my body, but it didn’t.

  A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye got my attention. I used my hand to wipe a circle of condensation off the inside glass door and saw Emory sitting on the vanity buck-ass naked sipping a cup of coffee. Maybe my skills are a little rusty. Emory set the coffee cup down then raised his legs and propped his heels on the edge of the vanity. He slowly spread his legs then reached between them to tease his hole with the middle finger from his left hand while he lazily stroked his cock with the right.

  I opened the door and said, “Get in here.”

  Emory smiled and shook his head before he pushed his finger inside his pucker. Damn it, that was my job. I exited the shower with it still running and dropped to my knees in front of the vanity, not caring about the water I dripped all over the floor. Emory smiled wickedly as if that was what he wanted all along.

  Am I still dreaming? Did I die and go to heaven?

  It didn’t matter because everything I wanted was right in front of me. I pushed Emory’s hands out of the way and took over by sliding my middle finger deep inside him and swallowed his cock to the back of my throat. Emory braced his hands on top of the black marble vanity and pushed up on his heels so that his ass lifted a few inches in the air.

  I could tell that he wanted to take control so he could fuck my mouth, and I wanted to let him. I tightened my lips, relaxed my throat, and let Emory have his way with me. He gripped my hair at the front of my head and thrust his hips forward fast and hard, grunting as he chased his orgasm. My mouth and throat ached from the pounding they took, but tears of pure pleasure burned my eyes.

  Emory’s cock drooled profusely, his pre-cum telling me how much he liked taking control of me. My dick begged and ached for relief, so I reached down and stroked myself in rhythm with the pace Emory set.

  “Fuck yes,” Emory moaned. “So fucking good, Jon. Are you going to swallow me down? I saw the greedy way you licked your fingers last night. You want more?”

  I nodded the best I could with a mouthful of cock. Emory pumped his hips harder, gripped my hair tighter, as he gave into his body’s release. He pulled out at the last minute, and his salty essence splashed on my tongue, nose, lips, and chin. Emory lowered his legs back down and watched me jack myself. The triumphant look on his face had the same effect on me as if he’d squeezed my ball sac. I blew my load all over the marble floor then collapsed my head against Emory’s thigh while I tried to catch my breath.

  The room felt like it was spinning; I wondered once again if I was dreaming. If so, I didn’t want to wake up.

  “Can you stand?” Was that arrogant pride I detected? “I could use a shower and some more sleep before I head home.”

  I didn’t want Emory to leave but decided to accept the little victory I’d won when he not only stayed the night with me but initiated oral sex. “Where were you when I woke up? I couldn’t sense you.”

  “Sense me?” he asked.

  I rose from the floor, and Emory slid off the vanity. “I usually have stellar senses and can tell when I’m alone in a building or detect the presence of someone else.” It came in handy when engaging in battle, including the battle of wills waging between us.

  “Maybe your skills are getting rusty from misuse,” Emory teased.

  “Maybe you weren’t inside the house,” I countered.

  “I went onto the back porch to watch the sunrise then just sat there thinking for a few hours. I decided to wake you up, but you were already in here pouting because you thought I’d left.”

  “I wasn’t pouting.” I totally was.

  Emory’s smug smile called me a liar. I just rolled my eyes and finished washing before I passed the soap and washcloth to Emory. At the last moment, I jerked them back and washed his body myself. It was the most intimate moment I had ever shared with another person. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that kind of tenderness existed inside me until I met Emory.

  Emory closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm the panic that wanted to rise inside him. I recognized the signs from that time in the kitchen, and it killed me I brought out that reaction in him. Emory placed his hand over his heart where the infinity tattoo containing his husband’s name in the upper left curve was permanently inked in his flesh. I’d seen him do that before too and understood why he did it. He was comforting himself because the tenderness and intimacy of the shower had pushed him too far.

  Emory may never love me. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I accepted it even if I was disoriented and confused how things could go from so good to so bad in a heartbeat. I could accept what Emory offered or try to move on with my life. I wasn’t ready to make the decision, so I shut off the water like nothing was wrong and handed Emory a towel before grabbing one for myself.

  We got back in my bed once we were dry, but Emory didn’t curl into me like he had the night before. He lay stiffly with his back to me. In my heart, I knew it could be the last time I ever had a chance to hold him. I spooned myself around him and slid my arm under his to cross it over his chest. I placed my hand over his heart, not caring that it bared the name of another man. I knew Emory had enough love for both of us, but Emory needed to believe it too.

  I kissed the back of his neck then rubbed my nose through his hair. This was it, maybe my only chance to tell Emory how I felt in a way that I could be proud of. “I love you, Em.”

  He stiffened in my embrace but didn’t pull away. I regretted not kissing him in the shower before everything went wrong because I worried I might never get a chance to taste his lips again. It took a long time for either one of us to fall asleep. When I woke again, it was mid-afternoon, and Emory was gone.

  My existence was bleak on more occasions than I could count, but none were as dark as the days that followed Emory’s departure from my life. He refused to answer my calls, return my messages, reply to my texts, or even answer the door the one time I worked up the nerve to drive to his home. I accepted that the one, magical night was all I was going to have with him.

  I found it ironic that I was so certain Emory would accept he was destined to belong to me, but I was the one who had to accept that he wouldn’t. I put up a good fight for a few weeks before I decided to let him go and hope that he’d come back to me when he was rea
dy. If, not when. The only bright side, if you could call it that, was setting the trap to catch Alexander in the act of stealing from me.

  I’d had plenty of experience with subterfuge while doing Uncle Sam’s dirty undercover work, but Michelle was new to lying through her teeth to people who trusted her. She performed remarkably well under the circumstances, and I made sure I expressed my pride in her abilities.

  “You’re proud that I’m an effective liar?” she had asked in confusion.

  “I’m proud that you can put aside your justified anger at Alexander for the time being to focus on our plan to bust his manipulative ass,” I clarified. “You are grace under fire, and that’s not easy.”

  “Thanks, Jon.” She released a long sigh. “I will be glad when it’s over, but I have a feeling that it won’t be for quite some time.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Alexander’s attitude has changed a lot since you’ve put him back in the hands-off zone. He’s not going to like getting fired or arrested, whichever you decide, and I worry that he’s going to make a lot of noise.”

  “Let him.”

  I didn’t know if it was my anger and frustration over Emory’s absence or having to wait so long to address Alexander’s theft, but I grew angrier as timed passed. I decided I wasn’t giving him a chance to pay me back. I set up the hidden camera and had an undercover cop posing as a new bartender. I’d gotten to know a few detectives on the CPD during the investigation into my brother’s death. I wanted to think they agreed to help because they liked me and not as an attempt to keep me from suing the police department. One of the undercover cops who frequented my club as a patron had a pending trial for his role in Broadman’s string of crimes, but I didn’t paint them all with the same broad stroke. I did want five minutes alone with Broadman to meet out my brand of justice, but Nate’s memory deserved better from me.

 

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