by S. R. Grey
Softly, I say, “I really want to support anything you choose to do, but I have to be honest. I don’t want you to go. It’s not just you I’d be losing; it’s your daughter, too. And I love Lily a lot, Will.”
“I know, babe, I know.” He releases my chin and presses his lips to my forehead. “We both love you, too.”
“I’d never stop you from doing what you need to do,” I continue, “for yourself, and for Lily.”
Peering down at me, he says, “It was still shitty of me to take off and not let you know what was happening.”
I tap his chest, the cotton of his light green tee so soft over his hard pecs. “What happens next, then?”
He shrugs. “Well, I spoke with the recruiter on the way over. The company knows I had a family emergency. And it looks like they’ll be rescheduling my meeting for this week sometime.”
“So, if you get this job, does that mean you’d have to leave before Lily even starts school?”
Closing his eyes, he whispers, “I’m sorry, Emma, but yeah, probably.”
“What about us?” I squeak out.
Will opens his eyes and watches his own hand as he skims it down my cheek. “I love you. I don’t want this to end. I can tell you that much.”
I wait for more. It seems he wants to ask more, too. I want nothing more than for Will to ask me to move to New York with him. But, in the end, he doesn’t say anything else.
Swallowing my disappointment, I say, “So, we’d try the long-distance thing?”
“If you think you’re up for it, yeah.”
It’s not what I want, but at this point, I’ll take whatever Will is willing to give. If that makes me desperate, so be it. Love makes all of us desperate in one way or another. It’s an unavoidable consequence of placing your fragile heart in another’s hands.
“I’m up for trying,” I say to Will as I put on a happy face.
And then, for this one long, drawn-out minute I consider whether I should tell him about the agent who asked to see his work. But then, if I fess up to my act, I’ll also have to confess that I sent his work without his consent. What if he gets mad? Or, worse yet, what if he doesn’t mind at all? What if Will is actually glad I took the initiative?
That all sounds wonderful, until you factor in that the agent’s response could very well be a firm rejection letter. Talk about pumping up someone’s hopes, just to crush them all to hell.
So, no. In the end, I decide to keep my mouth shut and my secret safe.
Will tilts back my head, and asks, “What’s going on in there, Emma?”
His hands in my hair feel possessive, in a way I like. His eyes search mine, searing my soul. I let out a gasp that probably gives me away. But I don’t care. Truth is I am putty in Will’s hands. I like that he makes me feel this way, so vulnerable. There’s something about him that makes me yearn to submit to him. Problem is I know I’ll crack and tell him what I’m hiding if I don’t submit to him right now in some way.
Giving in to a feeling of lust that’s bubbling to the surface, I lick my lips and say, “Will, I want you so much right now. I need you.”
He knows what I’m intimating, and his hold on me tightens. His gaze scans down my body, like he’s just realizing how little I have on. I guess, in some ways, Will is putty in my hands, as well.
His eyes find mine, silently requesting permission as he takes hold of the sash that’s keeping my robe closed.
“Yes,” I tell him.
With one smooth move, he tugs at the sash and it falls away, making my robe gape open. Will takes in my naked body. And then, showing vulnerability of his own, he drops to his knees and rests his cheek against my bare tummy, his warm breaths a teasing caress. His fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, until he reaches where I want him so badly. When I whimper, he gives me more, tracing the building moisture along my slit.
“I need to taste you right now,” he rasps.
Knees trembling, I have no adequate reply. And Will doesn’t need one. Urging me to widen my stance, he kisses down my abdomen till his tongue touches my swollen clit. It’s just a brush at first, but more than enough to make me grow wetter and crave more.
I place my hands on his shoulders to keep from falling, and he licks me again and again, sucking my nub into his mouth with each enthusiastic pass.
“I could fucking lick your pussy all day,” he tells me at one point, his voice gruff and raw against my sex.
My knees grow weaker and weaker. “I have to sit down,” I reply as my nails dig into his shoulders.
Will helps me to the floor and lays me back gently. I then watch as he whips off his tee, revealing all those hard muscles and ripples I adore.
He keeps stroking me, watching my reactions, and I like it. My pulse races as I shift and impale myself on his fingers. Will pumps in and out of me, and then, when he does the little curling thing I love with his index finger, I fall apart.
Between orgasmic shudders, I breathe out, “Maybe we should take a break?”
“No break,” Will says with a chuckle. He nudges my pliant legs open farther and informs me, “I’m not anywhere near done with you.”
I think I’m ready for what he has planned next, but shit, I am so not. Will buries his head between my still-quivering legs and does more sinful things with his tongue. I am licked, sucked, and probed until my whole body is on fire, and all I see when I squeeze my eyes shut is blinding white as I come and come and come.
When I finally drift down from euphoria, I am lying wet and open for Will. Standing over me, he undoes his jeans, and I watch as he takes out and handles his cock.
With lust-hooded eyes and aching for more, I ask, “Is that for me?”
His hand glides up his shaft and crests over the purplish head, spreading a clear drop of liquid. “You want it?” he asks, raising a brow as he peers down at me.
“Uh-huh. And I want to taste you, too,” I say, because I really, really do.
Will kneels by my head and nudges my mouth open. He guides his cock in, allowing me to do what I want—taste him, all salty and soapy and so male.
He toys with my nipples while I suck and lick, and when his breathing picks up he skims his hand down to part my lips so he can fuck me with his fingers some more. He then leaves my mouth, and the next thing I know he is pushing at my entrance.
I shift to accommodate him, but Will makes me wait. He toys with me with the head of his cock, a hot drop of cum coating my clit, mixing with my own juices. And, finally, he fills me, stretching me, loving me.
He moves like a piston when he really gets going, his thrusts so wild and frenzied we become like wild beasts. Will fucks me, hard, but I fuck him back just as roughly. I meet his rapid pumps, circling my hips, grabbing his ass.
“Fuck me harder,” I grind out in his ear as I dig my nails into his back. “As hard as you can. You won’t hurt me.”
Will growls and pushes my legs back as far as he can. He pulls out almost all the way, and we both peer down at our joined bodies. “Fuck, that is hot,” he says.
He then slams back into me, again and again, harder each time. He’s so deep inside of me that I feel as if he could keep going and tear me in two. And I want that; I need him like this, raw and unrelenting. I need to be taken, as much as Will needs to take me. This is the culmination and release of all my mistakes and his. This is me still holding a secret, and this is him trying to come to terms with his decision to leave.
We are changing, and I can feel it.
And then, I know what this is.
This is the after of us from before, who we were, and who we are becoming.
Will
I can’t wait to pick Lily up from the hospital the next morning.
I stay over at Emma’s the night before. There’s no way I am leaving her alone after all that hot sex. But, really, it’s more than that. Holding Emma throughout the night—and her holding me—is what we both need.
I guess I’m starting to understand what it means
to really be in love. I once thought I loved Cassie, but I know now my feelings for her were immature and greedy. This is vastly different. My love for Emma is deep. It’s something undeniable in my soul.
Unfortunately, though I don’t want to leave her, I may have to. The wheels are back in motion with the job. No more trips to Chicago. The new plan is to fly up to New York City to meet an even higher-level exec this Friday.
Shit, they must really want me.
Do I want them, though?
Does it matter?
If I could go back in time, I’d send out query letters and samples of my work to all those agents. I’d try for my dream. But after what happened with Lily, I’m realizing I can’t keep pissing around. I need to make a decision and stick with it.
But what will that decision be?
Something is different, but I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly. I just know I feel more like myself than I have in a long time, and I don’t want to lose that.
Smiling over at a sleeping Emma, I lean over and deposit a soft kiss on her shoulder. She’s part of why I feel so good today. She sometimes brings out the worst in me, but she mostly brings out the best. Maybe she can move to New York with me? Last night, I thought about asking her to come with me. But something made me hold back.
I’ll ask her for sure…if I really end up going.
I try not to wake Emma, but when I kiss her shoulder again she rouses.
“Oh, crap.” She sits up abruptly, the sheet slipping away and exposing her delicious and so-damn-sexy pink, pert nipples. “What time is it? I have to go to work, and you have to pick up Lily.”
“Shh, shh. Don’t worry, it’s really early.” I pull her down to my chest, her breasts so warm pressed to me. “In fact, we probably have time to—”
“Say no more.” Emma silences me with a deep kiss.
And then she straddles me. She is more than ready for me. Seems we’re always so ready for one another.
Damn, I love this girl.
Lily is happy to get out of the hospital. “It smells funny in there,” she tells me, complete with a nose scrunch as we drive out of the parking lot.
I can’t help but laugh. “It does smell weird, Lil, I know.”
When we stop at a red light, I glance back at her in the rearview mirror. She looks great, all things considered. There’s a big bump on the back of her head, not visible from my vantage point, but really, Lily is lucky. She took a nasty fall, but came out essentially unscathed.
She smiles at me when she notices me watching her. “Whatcha’ thinking about, Daddy?”
“Just how much I love you, honey,” I reply.
“Love you, too.” She spreads her arms as far as she can. “This much.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot.”
The light turns green and I return to concentrating on the road. But my ears are free, and I’m happy to listen to Lily chattering in the back.
At one point, she asks, “Are we going to stay home now?”
Home. The word hits me hard. This has become our home. There’s love and family in Harmony Creek. And there’s Emma.
I think I knew it last night, and even this morning, but Lily solidifies it for me with those seven little words. No more back-and-forth waffling, no more changing my mind on a whim, no more allowing turmoil that arises in my life—which is inevitable—to misdirect me. I’m taking charge, I’m growing up. I am finally becoming the man I need to be—for Lily, for Emma, and for me.
I pull into a strip mall parking lot, choosing a space far away from the other cars. I’m about to have a discussion too important to allow distractions.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and slip from the driver’s seat. When I hop into the back with Lily, I say, “Do you want to stay here in Ohio, Lil?”
She nods. “Yes.” Her response is uttered in a level voice, calm, like a little adult.
“Oh, Lil.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been all over the place. I guess I thought I had this crap all figured out. I’ve always just wanted what’s best for you. I want so much to give you a good life…and a father who’s successful.”
“What’s sah-ses-ful?” she asks.
I sigh. “Good question, Lil.”
I think about what I’ve been taught to measure success by these past few years—money and material things. When I was little and my family had money, love always remained the focus. The money was an afterthought, something nice, but not wholly necessary. But after my dad died—and Chase, my mom, and I were destitute—my mom became driven to get us back to the life we once had.
But she never recognized that money can’t buy happiness. Sadly, she still can’t figure that out. Even after she met Greg—and he’s a good dude, don’t get me wrong—she could never recapture what we once had. Too much had occurred. We were all changed. Nonetheless, my mom has since tried to make up for what’s missing by showering me—and Chase, to a lesser extent—with money and material things.
I look around at the luxurious interior of the car Lily and I are in, this fancy BMW my mother bought me as a graduation gift. I appreciate it, I do, but I don’t ever want to become like my mom. I never want to be stuck resorting to showering Lily with material things to make up for not being there for her.
Lily, seeing me shaking my head, reaches over and touches my hand. “Daddy, don’t be sad.”
I lean over and give her a hug, albeit an awkward one with the car seat straps in the way. “Aw, sweetie, I’m not sad. I’m just thinking about things.”
When I settle back next to her, she asks, “What kinda things you think ‘bout now?”
I need not explain how I’m reviewing in my mind what to say to the recruiter I’ll be calling when I get home, like how I plan to tell him to cancel the interview, permanently.
I have a new goal—fulfilling my dream. I’ll freelance in the meantime, build up my name, and work for Chase on the side. It’ll have to be enough.
Lily doesn’t need all those details, though, so I simply smile over at her and say, “I’m thinking you’re right. We should stay right where we are.”
Her emerald eyes—my eyes—fill with hope. “We stay here with Uncle Chase and Auntie Kay?”
She’s making sure, and I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, Lily, we’re staying right here with Uncle Chase and Aunt Kay.”
“With Sarah and Jack, too?”
“Yes, we’ll be here with them, too.”
“Good.”
Since I’m striving to be completely honest, I’m careful to add, “We may not live over in the garage apartment forever, Lil. We’ll probably get our own place someday.”
Lily’s eyes widen. “Wow, Daddy. You mean, like, our very own house?”
I can’t help but smile, as she’s so serious. “Yes, Lil, our very own house.”
She then blurts out, “Can Mommy Emma come live with us, too?”
She shoots me a wide-eyed, uh-oh expression, probably recalling how I, like the ass I can be, told her not to call Emma her mommy.
Quickly, Lily amends, “I mean Miss Emma.”
I place my hand on her little shoulder and squeeze. “Hey, Lily, I don’t mind if you want to call Emma ‘Mommy Emma.’”
Quietly, she asks, “You think maybe someday she want to be my mommy, like, o-fiss-olly?”
For the first time, I feel no panic, no uncertainty, at that prospect. Truth is I want Emma to remain in our lives, as much as, if not more so than, Lily does.
Leaning over to kiss Lily’s cheek, I murmur, “Maybe, sweetheart, maybe.”
Emma
At daycare on Monday, I check my email—from my phone—every chance I get. I’m hoping to hear back from the agent I sent Will’s complete comic book manuscript to.
There’s no reply at eleven. And still nothing through lunchtime.
Nothing, as well, during afternoon naptime for the kids.
And still nothing at three thirty.
Dammit!
A few of the earl
y parents arrive to pick up their kids. And then the rest come.
My email remains empty.
And then I am at home, strolling through the door of my apartment.
My phone dings as I kick off my heels, indicating that I have a voicemail. I check it hastily and find it’s from Will.
As I listen to his voicemail, I sense excitement in his tone.
Hey, babe. Hope your day’s been as good as mine. Lily’s doing great, by the way. After I picked her up at the hospital, we spent the whole day together. We hung out at home, like the doctor recommended, just taking it easy. Of course, Lily wanted to color and draw, since running around outside was out. He pauses, and then chuckles. I think my hand might fall off from all the drawing she had me do. Anyway, can I see you tonight? I have something I want to share with you. I’ll be over at seven, if that’s okay? If that’s not good, just shoot me a text. Shit, I can’t wait to see you, babe.
There’s no hint or indication of what this “something” Will wants to share with me could be. I’m excited to find out, but disappointed I have no good news for him.
Before getting ready for Will’s impending visit, I nuke a microwave meal and devour it in all of about ten minutes. I then take a quick shower, slip on a cute pair of white shorts and a royal blue V-neck tee, and settle in to wait for Will.
Hunkering down on the sofa, I check my email for what has to be the fiftieth time.
And this time… “Holy crap, the agent replied!”
I read the email carefully. And then I re-read it two more times to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. But, no, I read it correctly the first time, and here’s the gist—the agent loves Will’s work. In fact, she’s so impressed she wants to speak with him on the phone about turning his comic book into a graphic novel—like he’s dreamed of—as soon as possible.
That’s it—I have to tell him tonight. Maybe he’ll even decide to stay after hearing this good news.
A girl can dream, right?
Will arrives at seven, and I let him in.
When I can’t quit smiling, he asks, “What has you so happy?”
I give him a hug. “You,” I reply.