by S. E. Hall
“Of course,” the nurse stands, “here’s a towel to clean up with, Miss Young.”
Emmett thanks her, wiping the lube from her tummy blindly, because she’s staring at me. “You are insane, and blunt, and embarrassing,” she hisses.
“Em, I—”
“Ah, let me finish. And I love it all. There is no one I’d rather have here with me today. Come here.” She opens her arms and kisses my cheek, hugging me fiercely. “Love you.”
It’s not the same as “I love you,” but I’ll take it.
AS GREAT AS IT GETS
“DID HE ROB DISNEYLAND?” I ask Sawyer where only he can hear. The K looks like… well, Disneyland.
“Laney wants, Laney gets.” He laughs like it’s no big deal. Apparently Dane making Laney’s fantasies come to life is the norm.
“Hi!” Laney floats across the room in a white gown, rivaling Cinderella. “Emmett, you make an even hotter Belle than the real one!”
I open my mouth to point out that there is no real Belle, but Sawyer quickly shakes his head at me and squeezes my hand in his.
“Sawyer Landon Beckett, what the hell are you wearing?”
“I’m the Beast.”
“Those are you BKE jeans,” Laney points, “and a ball cap? Really? And a—a t-shirt?”
“Shorty, tell her. I’m a beast in any outfit, right? Happy Birthday, Gidge.” He picks her up and twirls her around.
“Oh, here,” I cut in, extending out her gift bag. “Sawyer and I got you something, together. We hope you like it.”
“Thank you!” She takes the bag and gives me a big hug. “So basically, Sawyer put in some money and sent you shopping?” she jokes, jabbing him with her elbow.
“Actually, no. We went shopping together and he helped pick it out.”
“Birthday girl burn!” Sawyer goads, pinching her nose. “Enough about how awesome I am though, where’s Prince Pansy? Shouldn’t he be carrying the back of your dress or something? Is he wearing tights? Please tell me he’s wearing tights.”
“No, he’s no fun either. Go find him, you’ll see,” she pouts.
“Am I really not fun, baby?” Dane sneaks up behind her, slinking his arms around her waist. “Emmett, tell the truth, can you not tell who I’m dressed up as?”
He steps around her, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that reads “Prince Charming” across it. I can’t help but snicker, giving Laney “I’m sorry for breaking girl code” eyes. “Prince Charming?”
“Prince fucking Charming.” He points and me and winks. “See, baby, they all know who I am.”
Laney huffs and grabs my hand, dragging me over to the cake table. “We are officially playing hard to get. Don’t look back at them.”
“Okay.” I fight to hold a straight face, helping myself to a glass of punch.
As the rest of the guests arrive, the night peps up with Dane refusing the birthday girl’s attempt at playing hard to get, and Laney almost pulling off “miffed.” It didn’t hurt his case any that all the other guys showed up…not dressed up. Evan’s in regular clothes with a hook on one hand, the Captain Hook to Whitley’s adorable Tinkerbell. Tate’s wearing an eye patch…cause Bennett’s Ariel? We all took a turn explaining that yes, Ariel is a mermaid, but that doesn’t make Eric a pirate, but he argued and told us all to fuck off, repeatedly. And Zach? Zach looks like John Smith anyway, and the girl he brought with him as Pocahontas? Yeah, she’s a head-turner for sure.
All the princesses in the land hate her.
“Looks like you got a Pocahontas after all,” I grumble as Sawyer and I dance. I’m standing on top of his boots to even make it look reasonable and suddenly feel short, and fat, and pregnant…
I should have come as Winnie the Pooh.
“Who are you talking about?”
“The hot, half-naked, Amazonian girl with Zach? What do you mean who am I talking about?”
“Not you?”
“Are you on crack? No, not me.”
“Then I have no idea who you mean. Eyes on Emmett, always. Belle of the ball.” He kisses the end of my nose.
I rest my head against his chest, pretending for only a moment this is real, he is mine and I am his, that I’ll always be the only girl he sees. “When can we go home?” I yawn into his chest, the rhythm of our bodies swaying and him holding me up suddenly making me very sleepy.
“Now, if you want. You want?”
“Uh huh.” I nod, kinda hoping he’ll carry me and rescue me from this ridiculous dress.
“Let’s go say goodbye and get you home.”
“Are you sure?” I protest. “I can go alone. I don’t want you to leave your friends because of me. Stay.”
“Do you ever hear me, Emmett? When I tell you how I feel, do you ever really hear me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Let’s go home.”
“You awake?”
He doesn’t answer my whisper and there’s no flinch of his body, entwined with mine, to indicate that he heard me.
I’m not sure what’s changed, but there’s something in the air that hasn’t been there the weeks of other nights we’ve slept in my bed together. Tonight I can’t find sleep and each breath is a struggle. Tonight my clothes feel like a barrier rather than armor and my nipples are hard, aching for his hand to come up and caress them.
“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” His sleepy rumble makes my body respond even more.
“I thought you were asleep?”
“Don’t change the subject.” He manipulates my body like his favorite toy, gently but determinedly guiding me to my side so I now look into curious midnight blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m trying to understand what you’re getting out of this. You have great friends, so you don’t need me. And don’t you need to uh…”
His sultry laugh draws my eyes back up to his, the mischievousness in them confirming I have indeed been caught staring down at his dick. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Em?”
“Nothing.” I feel my cheeks flame, darting my eyes to the far wall behind us.
“Nothing huh? I don’t think it was nothing, I think you were checking out my—”
“Stop!” I slap his chest and he doesn’t miss a beat, placing his hand over my own, securing it there on his taut, heated skin.
“No, you stop. Stop denying this, us.” He touches our foreheads, teasing my lips with his. “You know I want you, Emmett, and I think you want me too, but you’re scared. Tell me why. What exactly are you scared of?”
Is he serious? Why am I scared? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m pregnant, about to be a mother, and sleeping with him will only make what I already know a too harsh reality. I don’t want to know for sure what I can’t keep. What I’ve conjured up in my sweetest dreams, ached for in the depths of my unknown, is bad enough.
I’m afraid of what would happen after, when he leaves. I’m terrified I’d never recover, and I’d spend the rest of my life comparing any chance of reasonable happiness with each and every minute of sheer perfection I had with him. But then another voice in my head speaks louder, the voice that says even if I find a very nice man one day who will love me and my baby, they won’t ever be able to make me feel the way Sawyer Beckett with only his voice, his looks, his care. So more, allowing my body to take from him what my heart’s already latched onto, it’s just not smart. If you had to choose between one night of ecstasy or a lifetime of comfortable…which would you pick?
It’s inevitable that one day all too soon, I won’t have him anymore, that I’ll be left with only my dreams and memories to keep me warm at night while he’s warming another woman’s sheets. I’ve told him my secret, so he’d be going in eyes wide open; would it really be so bad to allow myself to give in? If only this once, I want to know how it feels to make love with a man, fully aware and wanting. I want to see the passion in his eyes as he takes me and accepts all that I so desperately want t
o give him.
And being real with myself, it’s gonna happen; you don’t sleep ever night in the same bed as a man as virile as Sawyer, madly attracted to him, and never give in. So I might as well quit kidding myself and free fall.
“I’m not scared if you’re not,” I finally answer.
“Liar.” He smiles sweetly, kissing my nose, each of my cheeks, then lastly my chin. “But I am too. You scare the shit out of me, beautiful Emmett, with how fast and how hard you completely mesmerized me. One day you might figure out I’m an ass and run screaming, but I’ll chance it. I’ll risk anything to keep myself by your side as long as possible.”
As long as possible. He means on or about March tenth, and I get it, I do.
But right now? Right now it’s September.
I take a long, deep breath, turning off the battling voices in my head, letting only my heart and body guide me now. Slowly, I run both hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. “Kiss me like we have forever,” I whisper, moistening my trembling lips with my tongue.
Tentatively, his eyes flick back and forth between mine, making absolutely sure, and then his arms tighten around my waist. I close my eyes, feeling his breath so close it mingles with my own as he finally delves into my mouth. I moan at the contact, relishing his tender but dominating lips, their large coarseness moving lazily, then fast, open and tasting, teasing with small sucks and bites.
“Emmett,” he groans, sliding a hand up my back and into my hair. “So damn sweet.” His tongue claims entry, curling around my own. His fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head, and he eats at my mouth, the ravenous hunter inside him making me feel so alive.
Sawyer kisses are a whole body experience—consuming, like one ember quickly turns to wildfire. Somehow, with only our mouths connected, he makes my whole body feel like part of the act. Not one muscle in me hasn’t gone lax, every inch of me his all at once. “More,” I beg into his mouth. “Sawyer, more, anything, please.”
“Oh no,” he tilts my head back further, making me listen, “there is no way you’re rushing me. I will take my time on every single inch of you.”
If that’s not the best argument I’ve ever heard in my life, I don’t know what is. “Show me,” I grunt as he pulls on my hair, “show me everything.”
“Lie back and let me love you. For every sweet smile you’ve given me, every sexy outfit you’ve tortured me with, every night I’ve held you in my arms, never knowing if you’d be mine… I’m,” he licks straight up the middle of my throat, “going,” he nibbles down the left side, “to savor you.” He finishes with open-mouthed sucking side to side across my collarbone, hitting a sweet spot that makes me positively shiver.
One of his hands leaves my hair, gliding downward, and my girls know he’s on his way, my nipples hard and waiting. He stops, asking in a husky pant, “Can I touch you here, Emmett?”
My heart soars at his thoughtfulness, trying to overly ensure my comfort since he knows my past, but my past has no place here now. I grab his hand and crash it on my chest, arching further into his now kneading grasp. “You can touch me anywhere you want, however you want.”
He growls, attacking my mouth with a rough, aggressive kiss. The tug on my nipple makes me gasp, even my lower half trying to come off the bed now.
“Are they sore? Too rough?”
“God, no! It feels great.”
“Then can we lose the shirt babe?”
“You ask too many questions.” I grab his cheeks with both hands. “I want you. I’m not scared or breakable. Take me any way you want, Sawyer.”
“Fuck me,” he snarls, grabbing the bottom of my shirt.
“I’m trying to!” I giggle, rising so he can lift it over my head.
His eyes take in my bare chest and I force myself to keep my hands at bay despite the urge to cover myself. I’ve talked a big game and it’s time to back it up.
Leisurely, he moves his gaze back up to mine. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Emmett. Better than anything I’ve pictured in my head a million times.”
I don’t know if it’s me or my hormone-induced inner minx talking, but somebody says, “Suck them, Sawyer.” I grab myself, offering up both achy peaks to him. “Suck my tits, babe.”
“Oh, goddamn, I love that mouth, you nasty little girl.” He goes for the right one first, his mouth open wide around it, his tongue flicking my nipple. Every time the hot metal of his tongue ring hits the very tip of my sensitive nipples, I jump a bit, sucking in a deeper breath. Sensory overload— yes, please!
My hands are firm on the back of his head, daring him to try and stop. I rub my hands back and forth over his close- cropped black hair. I love it. I mewl, or whimper, or make some other sound I’m sure I’ve never made before, and feel around for his hand. Finding it, I place it back on my left breast, wanting stimulus on every part of me at once.
“That feels so good,” I moan.
He tries to pull away but I push his head back down, grunting my protest. “Just wanna suck the other one, baby; not stopping.”
Oh, okay then. Carry on.
I see the smirk on his face as he moves his mouth over, latching on to my left nipple with vigor. “Mhm, Em,” he murmurs through licks and nibbles, “you have the best tits I’ve ever seen. Real and big and in love with my mouth. They’re perfect.” He leans back on his haunches. “You do crazy things to me, woman.” He watches his own finger trail from between my breasts down my stomach, hinting at the top of my shorts. “Crazy fucking things.”
The touch of one fingertip exudes the sizzle of a thousand hands, the eyes of one man have me entranced, my toes curling under and my breathing staggering. Without a word, I elevate my hips, bidding him to bare the rest of me. Both hands now find my hips, his fingers curving beneath the edge of my shorts. Eyes never leaving mine, he slips them down my legs, carefully maneuvering first one ankle, then the other, out of them.
“I’ll never be the same, will I?” he asks no one, his stare now trained on my wholly revealed body.
I crook my finger at him, wanting to feel him cover me. He shakes his head, giving me a sexy air kiss and wink, then lifts my left leg. Running both hands up and down my over-sensitized skin, he croons, “I love your short ass legs, baby.” That full, sexy mouth of his begins kissing every spot those hands just rubbed, a low hum emanating from him. When he’s worked his way up to the spot that has me writhing in anticipation, his mouth is suddenly gone.
“What the—” I rise up onto my elbows, precariously close to devastation.
His low chuckle only lasts a moment before he starts treating my right leg to the same torturously delightful ministrations. God. This man. This patient, willful fucking man. “Relax, Emmett, I’ll get there. When I do, I’ll be staying awhile.”
I can’t stand it, the swelling, the tingles, so I literally take matters into my own hand. For three glorious seconds the pressure subsides…then my hand is hijacked by a much stronger one cinched around my wrist. “Don’t even think about it, woman,” he rumbles. “You’ll come soon; in my mouth, on my fingers, then a few times all the fuck over my dick. Those are your only options.”
“Please, Sawyer, fuck me.”
Now he hovers over me, conscious to shift his weight to one forearm. “One day I’ll fuck you real good, Em, but not tonight. Tonight I want to give you what I’ve never given anyone.”
“I don’t want your piercing. Nothing but you, ever. Only you inside me.”
He buries his face in my neck, laughing faintly. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, but I didn’t mean the happydavra, babe.” Kissing my neck, my chin, finally backing his face away some to commandeer my half-lidded eyes, he whispers, “I meant making love to you, Emmett. Loving your whole body with my whole body as slowly and gently as I can possibly go.”
Don’t you have to love someone to make love to someone? It’s just semantics, really, because I do…I love his gentle, his crazy, his bossy, his tender, his coy, his playful�
�I love everything about him.
As far as what he meant, now is certainly not the time to ask for clarification. Not only am I clueless as to what I’d do with whatever his answer may be, but I can feel my need easing down the inside of my thigh.
“Show me, Sawyer, show me what that means.”
That one magic finger of his again starts its taunting descent, finding its home in the shameful, embarrassing pool between my legs. “Aw, fuck, babe.” He bends his head to my ear, pulling the lobe in his mouth. “That’s all for me,” he guides said finger up and down, “and I love it. Can I go down there and taste you, sweet girl?”
My holy…who knew sex held so many extracurricular activities? Leg licking, finger sliding, boob sucking…it’s a smorgasbord of tantalization and it feels too damn good to be worshipped. I can’t wait to have my turn on him; I have no idea what I’m doing, but as he’s said before, I’ll feel my way.
“Okay.” I grab the back of his head, putting his mouth to mine. “But kiss me first, lots and lots.”
“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “Am I grounded from your mouth after I go downtown?”
“Would you kiss me after coming in my mouth?”
“Shorty, if I could figure out how, I’d kiss you while I was coming in your mouth.”
“Ew.” I grimace. “We’ll see, okay? Put it on our sexual bucket list.”
His face goes stone-cold serious. “Do I get to make one of those? Like for real make one?”
I laugh, something extra special about how comfortable we are together—me naked, several things explored…throw in some banter while I’m naked and being explored, yep, that sounds like us all right.
“Shut up and kiss me,” I demand. “You’ve got a trip downtown to get to.”
“Yes fucking ma’am.” He salutes me playfully, our mouths joining ravenously while his right hand sets off on the trip without him.
“Uh, please,” I grovel into his mouth, gnawing his lower lip. “Do that again.”
I don’t know how many digits he slips inside me, it’s hard to tell, but I know it’s my new favorite number. The pad of his thumb pressing down and rubbing circles on my swollen clit has me on the edge of detonation. But his words, that seductive mouth of his, is what finally does it. “Ah, Emmett babe, you’re so sweet and fucking tight for me. If I survive, I’m gonna make you feel so damn good.”