Grinning wickedly, I got an idea. “Say it.”
His head tilted to the side. “Say what?”
“It. Your line. I want you to say it to me. Make my fangirl dreams come true.”
Grunting, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, feigning annoyance.
“Come on, Emery,” I goaded, letting the hanger dangle from my finger. “If you want me to put this on, those are my terms.”
He advanced on me. When his face was just inches away from mine, he begrudgingly gritted out, “I’ll tame your pussy.”
“Nope. Try again.” Spinning away from him, I put a rack of clothing between us and made my voice deeper. “I need you to make me believe it.” It was a poor imitation of the whiny producer, but Emery laughed anyway.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I should show you instead.” His voice dropped. “Here, kitty kitty.”
I squealed, partly with delight over the fact that he’d said not one, but two of his lines to me, but also because he was coming after me in earnest.
Stalking toward me with wide strides, he made a swipe for me, but I skirted to the side, knocking into the mummy statue by the wall.
Giggling, I ran into the used-to-be bedroom that was now the ‘mask room’, and hid in the small closet. Emery’s heavy footfalls weren’t far behind.
“Here, kitty kitty…” he said again, gruff and seductive as he walked by.
I peeked through the crack in the door to watch him approach the window.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Really, Estelle? Hiding behind the curtain? I can see your feet.”
He whipped the yellow and white chevron drapes to the side, and disappointment was evident in the slump of his shoulders when he didn’t find me there. He’d been tricked. Those shoes were tacked to the floor—a permanent fixture in the décor just to freak people out.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter, but a snort escaped.
Emery turned, a smile on his face as he scanned the wooden door separating us. He had that predatory glint in his eye—the one that got my blood pumping.
When the door swung open, I threw myself at him. Laughing, he caught me around the waist as I linked my legs behind his back.
I didn’t hesitate to deepen our connection, bringing my mouth to his. Pushing my tongue past his lips. Tasting him. Running my fingers over his scruffy jaw. Sucking on his bottom lip.
Panting, I rested my forehead on his. When I opened my eyes, I realized Emery had backed up against the wall, his body embedded in all the rubber and hair of the masks on display.
“We can’t do this in here,” he said, his gaze darting around. Wall to wall faces started back at us. “It’s fucking creepy.”
I laughed. “I have a better idea.”
CHAPTER 17
EMERY
“Well, do you like it?” Estelle struck a pose in the doorway of the dressing room.
It took me a second to realize I was just staring, slack-jawed. Hell, I was almost drooling.
“It’s great,” I croaked.
The slutty nurse costume was everything I’d hoped for and then some. On the hanger, it was just a piece of flimsy white fabric with red trim and a cute little heart over the left breast pocket.
On Estelle, it was pure seduction. It hugged the curve of her hips, accentuated her narrow waist, and pushed her breasts up, showcasing inches of cleavage.
She turned around.
I groaned out loud.
The short skirt barely made it past her rounded, supple ass cheeks. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on her. With my hands on her hips, I moved us both inside the tiny room and shut the door.
Three of the walls were plated with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, giving an endless view of my front pressed to her back.
Hugging her from behind, I met Estelle’s hooded gaze in the reflection in front of us as my hands glided over the silky material on her belly.
Her hand came up to the back of my head, and I lowered my mouth to her neck, sucking at her sweet skin. There was a tremble in her fingers as they gripped my hair.
“Did you know I fantasized about fucking you in a dressing room?” I asked huskily, pushing her shoulders down until she was bent over in front of me.
“When?” she asked, breathless.
“After we went shopping that first day.” Flipping the bottom of her outfit up, I groaned when I saw she wasn’t wearing panties. “I jacked off thinking about you just like this.”
“That’s really hot.” Bracing her hands on a small stool, she confessed, “I think about you all the time. I get so wet when I think about having your cock inside me.”
Dirty girl. My erection throbbed behind my zipper.
Estelle impatiently wiggled her ass, and I undid my pants before rolling the condom on. Lining myself up at her entrance, I could feel how ready she was.
She wasn’t kidding—always so wet for me.
I pushed forward, using her shoulders for leverage until I was fully seated. Then I moved my hands around to her front and pulled the stretchy fabric down, letting her tits spill out of the lowcut neckline. I thumbed both nipples and she whimpered.
My palms slid to her hips. Guiding her body back and forth, I slowly pumped her over my dick. The old wooden planks beneath my feet creaked rhythmically with my movements.
“Fuuuuck, baby,” I moaned.
Turning my head to the side, I watched us in the mirrors. It was awesome, seeing the infinite reflection of our connected bodies at every possible angle. With each thrust, Estelle’s tits swayed and her ass cheeks jiggled.
My eyes zeroed in on the tight ring of her ass. Stroking my hand down her backside, I gently circled it with my thumb.
With a grunt, she jerked forward and her questioning eyes flew to mine in the mirror.
“Shh.” I gave her a reassuring nod as I continued to rub her there, conveying all the things I wanted to say with just one look.
That she could trust me. That she was safe with me.
Her stiff body relaxed, and she pushed back on me. I circled her puckered hole again.
I’d never been into anal play before, but her moan encouraged me to keep going. I didn’t push inside—just massaged it, stimulating the nerve endings there.
With my other hand, I reached around her front and did the same to her clit while delivering deep strokes with my cock.
Watching her face in the mirror was one of the hottest moments of my life. Cheeks flushed with arousal. Eyes screwed shut. Mouth open.
“How do you do this to me?” Pressing her palm on the glass, she began pushing back harder. “How do you make me feel so good?”
I didn’t think she expected me to answer her, but I did it anyway. “I just want to touch you in as many places as possible.”
She responded with an unintelligible moan.
I kept pumping my hips, matching her stroke for stroke as I sped up the action of my fingers.
Estelle’s body trembled and her fingernails scratched over the surface of the mirror. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. Sounds tumbled out of her mouth as her pussy squeezed my dick in a vice-like grip.
I could tell she was so close but she was fighting it.
“Come on, baby. You’re almost there.” I drove my cock deeper.
“I can’t,” she whimpered, her legs shaking. “I can’t. I can’t. If I come, I’m gonna fall over.”
“I’ve got my arm around you. I won’t let you fall,” I promised, tightening my hold around her stomach.
“Shit. Emery. Fuck,” she squeaked, her voice getting higher with every word.
And then it happened. Her legs gave out as her inner muscles clamped around me with an impossibly powerful orgasm, and I held on tight, my own release right behind hers.
Her scream echoed off the walls, and a roar left me as my balls drew up tight, blinding pleasure slamming through my body. It was so intense that I almost fell over with her.
I braced an arm
on the mirror in front of us while Estelle’s pussy milked my cock.
With my dick still inside her, I folded my body over hers, wrapping my arms around her trembling form.
I kissed her hair, her shoulder, her neck. The side of her face was pressed against the cool glass, every ragged breath fogging up the mirror.
We stayed like that for a minute, basking in the moment. Finally, my softening erection slipped out and I turned Estelle around.
Her eyes were dazed. Her body languid in my arms. Both of us were still shaking and out of breath. I tenderly kissed her forehead before my mouth claimed hers, our lips lazy and uncoordinated.
“Thank you,” Estelle said, pulling back.
“Baby, you never have to thank me for great sex,” I responded, amused.
Tucking her breasts back into the outfit, she laughed. “I meant for wanting to see my shop. It means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome. You have a lot to be proud of,” I told her honestly. And now it was my turn to be excited because I had plans for us. “Get yourself together.” I gave her a light swat on the butt. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
It was a bad day for Pops. Estelle and I had just arrived to find Dad cranky and agitated with the nurses.
“I don’t want that pureed potato crap.” He pushed the plate away for the tenth time, refusing to eat his dinner.
“Mr. Matheson, you need to have something in your stomach so you can take your medicine.” Gretchen’s tone was soothing, but he wasn’t having it.
“You’re trying to poison me!”
“It’s medicine to make you feel better.”
“I feel fine,” he argued. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I want to go home. I want my wife. Where’s Mary? She won’t let you poison me. Mary!”
“Dad. Dad, calm down.” My plea only seemed to make it worse. He knocked his juice from the table and the orange liquid splattered all over the floor. Sending an apologetic look to the nurse, I said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a problem,” she replied patiently. “I’ll go get a towel.”
Today was the Windsor Lakes annual trick-or-treat event for the residents and family members, but all the new people could be confusing for some of the patients.
The decorations were minimal. All the round dining tables had the usual plain cream tablecloths, but each had a small festive centerpiece: a wicker basket with a variety of multicolored squash. Pumpkin pie was being served, and the heavenly aroma filled the air as the guests devoured their desserts.
Disheartened, I turned to Estelle.
I should’ve prepared her better, but I’d been so excited for her to meet my dad that I had glossed over his condition, simply telling her not to be surprised if he didn’t know who I was.
“I’m sorry. Maybe today was a bad time to come with everything going on. Sometimes he doesn’t want to eat his dinner, so that’s normal,” I explained. “And he gets confused in the lounge because there’s a TV, and every now and then he’ll think he’s actually inside whatever show is on—”
“Emery.” She put a hand on my forearm. “You don’t have to apologize or explain.”
“We should go,” I told her, my shoulders sagging.
But Estelle wouldn’t accept defeat. She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping forward. “Hi, Mr. Matheson. It’s nice to meet you.”
Dad’s eyes landed on her, and I waited for more of his paranoid outbursts. Instead, the hard lines on his face went soft and he stilled.
“Call me Robert.”
“Okay, Robert. I’m Estelle.”
“My wife has hair just like yours. Do you know Mary?”
Shaking her head, Estelle smiled and leaned her hip against the table. “No. Will you tell me about her?”
“She’s the most beautiful woman in the world—not that you’re not pretty, but my wife…” Dad let out a whistle.
“Does she like animals?” Estelle sat down in the chair next to him, tentative, yet confident.
He let out a laugh, going from the mess he was a minute ago to a cheerful, boisterous man. “Does she ever. If I let her have twenty pets, she’d do it.”
She smiled. “Your wife and I have that in common too. What about you? What’s your favorite animal?”
“I’d have to say cats. We have a cat named Fuzzy. Spoiled rotten, that one.”
They laughed together. Estelle didn’t skip a beat, even though she knew my dad was talking about his late wife and a deceased pet.
As I watched them fall into an easy conversation, I felt my eyes sting, filling with happy tears. I hadn’t seen this side of my dad in a long time—years even. He was never like this with my sister and me. The closest he ever got was when he recounted the stories from his childhood.
Seeing him come to life made me blindingly happy. I blinked, desperately trying not to cry like a baby in the middle of the cafeteria.
Dumping her huge-as-hell purse onto the tabletop, Estelle said, “Halloween is coming up soon. I couldn’t help noticing you’re not wearing a costume.”
“Bah.” Dad waved a dismissive hand. “It’s been years since I dressed up. My kids love it, though. I take them trick-or-treating every year. We hit all the best houses—the ones with the king-size candy bars.”
Estelle sifted through all the contents of her bag and started gathering small, circular compacts—red, blue, yellow, white. Face paints. I wasn’t even surprised that she carried them around with her.
Dad laughed at something else she said, but I was too busy trying not to fall apart to hear what they were talking about.
“I’ll be right back,” I announced, my voice gruff, before moving quickly down the hall.
Stopping outside the restrooms, I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. I counted to ten, every second helping me to get my reeling emotions in check.
I’d just gotten myself under control when a scratchy voice spoke next to me.
“Your girlfriend is really good with him.”
I looked down to see Agatha, one of the housekeepers. She smiled behind her rolling cart of cleaning supplies.
Possessiveness flared through me at the title of girlfriend. I hadn’t referred to Estelle that way yet, but it felt strangely satisfying to hear someone else say it.
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed.
Although, ‘good with him’ didn’t quite describe the interaction I’d just witnessed. Estelle was amazing with him. I wanted to tell myself it was because she reminded him of Mom, but I knew that wasn’t true. It was just her. Her openness made people feel at ease. There was no one else in the world like Estelle.
Fidgeting on her feet, Agatha stepped closer to me. “You know we’re all a fan of the show around here.”
I smiled. “Thank you. The project I’m working on now is a tough one, but it’s been fun.”
“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she started, seeming nervous. “See, my cat died from kidney failure last year. I’d had her for twenty years and I loved her like she was my own child. The other day, Nikki mentioned you might be looking for homes for some cats and I feel like I’m ready now… I don’t suppose you might have one for me?”
“Agatha.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Did you think I’d say no?”
She shrugged, looking hopeful. “What requirements are there? I’m old and I don’t make a ton of money, but I’ve got a lot of love to give.”
There were shelters filled with animals that only wanted exactly what she was offering—a home. Hell, sometimes you couldn’t even pay people to take them in. Listening to a lonely woman try to convince me she was worthy of a companion was one of the most touching moments I’d had in my career.
“A good home is the only requirement.”
Face brightening, she lunged at me with a quick hug. She pulled away, appearing a bit embarrassed about her uncontrollable display of affection. Righting herself, she smoothed down her gray uniform.
&nb
sp; “Mitzy was one of the most irritating cats I’d ever met,” she reminisced fondly. “She used to tear up my toilet paper and stash it in places around the house. Sometimes I’d find big wads of the stuff in my underwear drawer.”
“Irritating, you say?” I asked, already thinking of Carol.
She nodded emphatically. “Oh gosh, there were times when I wanted to strangle her—not for real, of course. But at the end of the day, she’d curl up in my lap and I just couldn’t stay mad at her.”
“I think I have the perfect cat for you,” I told her, taking out a business card. I scribbled my number and Estelle’s address on the back. I was about to put the ‘pussy emergency’ code, then thought better of it. The last thing I needed was a booty call from Agatha. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll set up a time for you to come meet Carol this week.”
“Thank you so much!” she exclaimed before practically skipping down the hall with her cart.
As I made my way back to the cafeteria, a realization hit me—if Agatha adopted Carol, there would only be two cats left to go. And that meant my time in Remington was quickly dwindling. I couldn’t imagine going back to my solitary existence, continuing my life without Estelle in it.
My unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by booming laughter combined with feminine giggles. When I turned the corner, my footsteps halted at the entertaining sight in front of me.
Estelle had painted Dad’s face to look like a pirate, with a realistic-looking eye patch and a scar on his left cheek.
I barked out a laugh, gaining her attention. She whipped her head around and smiled.
Her face was painted too, only she was a rabbit. Pink nose, white cheeks with whiskers, and big bunny teeth were painted below her bottom lip.
“Did I ever tell you I have a thing for buckteeth?” I joked, pulling out a chair and sitting across from them. It was then that I noticed several other residents were lined up to have their faces done too.
“I request buckteeth,” an elderly woman called from the end of the line, prompting laughter from several onlookers.
“I feel like the only thing I’m missing is a parrot on my shoulder,” Dad said, smiling like a kid on Christmas.
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