28. Emily
I’m surrounded by strong, handsome, protective men who adore me. I had a stressful evening, managed to get an energetic toddler to bed, and was just thoroughly fucked. Why can”t I sleep?
Unfortunately, I have no one to blame but myself. Every time I try to relax, I’m haunted by my own failures.
I had so many opportunities to tell them this evening.
This is a bed of your own making. You’ve had plenty of time to tell them, and not just this evening, either. Coward.
I resolve to tell them tomorrow, or at least make an attempt to do so. Then I try to clear my mind.
I try deep breathing, finding every color of the rainbow around the room, and when that fails, I run though every other technique I know to try and relax. It doesn’t work. Then I try naming every muscle in the body in an attempt to bore myself to sleep, but there’s no luck there, either.
Nothing is helping. I’m too bogged down in the muck of my own guilt and cowardice. It’s like I can feel it actively staining my soul. Showers don”t work on metaphorical filth, but maybe one will help, anyway.
I wriggle out from between Ian and Oliver, then peek at the baby monitor just in case. There”s Audrey in black and white, sprawled out like a starfish in bed. Princess Fettuccini peeks out from under her back, and one of her socks is off. She won”t be waking up any time soon. I breathe a sigh of relief and tiptoe into the attached bathroom.
The hot water soothes my body even though it does nothing for my mind. I squirt some soap onto the bath brush and scrub my skin, convinced that if I just scrub hard enough, the guilt will go away too.
Unlikely, but at least I”ll be properly exfoliated.
I”m too lost in my own self-loathing to notice that someone else came into the bathroom until the glass shower door slides open.
I whirl around wielding the bath brush as a weapon.
“Easy there, Em, I just wanted to check on you,” Oliver says, holding his hands up in surrender.
I laugh and lower the brush. “I’m not sure what good this would have done me, anyway.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You looked pretty formidable to me. I was a little afraid of you, honestly.”
I snort. “You’re lying.”
“Through my teeth.” He grins. “But jokes aside, are you all right?”
Look at that, another opportunity. Stop being a coward and do it.
I take a deep breath and start, “I never told any of you who Audrey’s father is, and it’s been driving me insane with guilt. I have to tell you who he is, but every time I try, something comes up or I get scared and anxious then back out. It’s so important for you to know, and I just…”
My lip trembles, and I think I’m crying, but I can’t tell if it’s tears or just the water from the shower.
He steps into the shower with me and holds me close.
“It doesn’t matter who her father is.” Oliver strokes my hair. “Clearly, he’s an idiot if he let you and that sweet little girl get away. We’re here for both of you now. Emily, I know Alexei told you how he feels, and I heard what Ian whispered to you right before he fell asleep.”
“Oliver, don’t,” I plead.
“I know you haven’t said anything to us about how you feel. This has been a bit of a whirlwind of a relationship, and it’s okay that you haven’t and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way yet. Emily, I would wait forever for you.” Oliver pulls away and tips my chin up to look at him. “Even if you only ever see me as an easy lay or just a fun relationship to pass the time, I won’t care as long as I get to be next to you. I don’t know how Audrey’s father hurt you, and I hope one day you’ll tell me, but even if you don’t, I will spend every day showing you that better men exist in this world because I love you. I love you more than I love the feel of my skates on fresh ice, more than a sunrise, more than the first bite of a cookie straight out of the oven, more than, I don’t know, anything. This is probably the most ridiculous declaration anyone has ever made, but I needed you to know.”
“I—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Please, just let me…” He gestures vaguely at my body.
My resolve crumbles at the vulnerability in his face. The only thing keeping me from being ashamed of backing out again is the fact that he asked me to wait, but it does nothing to ease my guilt.
“Well…” I shrug. “I hadn’t planned on washing my hair tonight since it’s kind of a pain, but if you’re willing to help?”
“I can do that.” He smiles. “Turn around.”
I spin away from him and step back under the showerhead. Oliver’s hands skillfully work the shampoo through my hair. I sigh, leaning into his touch.
“You know, if this hockey thing doesn’t work out, you could have a very lucrative career as a masseuse,” I say.
“So you’d be completely fine with me rubbing down mostly nude women on a daily basis?” he muses. “Interesting.”
I scowl at the shower wall as jealousy overtakes me. “Male clients only. Hideous, grumpy men who reek of garlic and toe cheese.”
He laughs. “I don’t think I’d get much business, then. Guess I should stick to hockey.”
“I think that’s the right choice,” I tease. “The only naked woman you get to rub down is me.”
“And am I going to get to?” Oliver asks. “Rub you down, I mean?”
“Hmm…” I pretend to mull it over. “I might let you once you get all the shampoo out of my hair.”
He snorts. “How generous of you.”
“It is, isn’t it,” I say haughtily.
“Brat,” he says, tugging my hair.
My back arches, and I press my ass against him.
“I was going to ask if you could handle that again so soon after this evening, but I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” I say huskily.
“I’m always ready for you, Kitten,” he says, nipping my shoulder.
I yelp at the feel of his teeth on my skin.
“You’ve left countless marks on our shoulders over the past few months. It’s only fair that I return the favor,” Oliver teases.
I smile. “If you’re going to go mark for mark, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I do love a challenge.”
His hands slip from my hair and cup my breasts as his cock presses against my ass. I press hard into him and roll my hips as he brushes his thumbs over my hard nipples.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“That’s right,” He murmurs in my ear. “Grind that ass into my dick like a good pet.”
I moan as he strokes and pinches my nipples.
“You’re so fucking responsive,” he breathes. “It’s one of my favorite things about you. I bet if I brushed my hands across your pussy, you’d be soaking wet for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Please, Oliver,” I beg. “Please touch me.”
My head drops back against his shoulder as his hand slides down my body.
“Perfect tits, soft stomach, and wonderfully round hips. You, Kitten, are stunning.”
Almost involuntarily, my hand drapes across my stomach, covering it.
“Most men haven’t liked it,” I say timidly.
“Most men are idiots if they pass up these perfect curves.” Oliver traces his fingers over my opening. “The next time I get the chance, I’m going to fuck you in front of a mirror so I can show you exactly how sexy you are.”
I moan as he thrusts two fingers into me.
“I almost feel bad for you. You don’t get to see yourself with your eyes half closed and dark with desire, the perfect shapes your mouth makes when you say our names, or the tantalizing way you rock your hips against us as we please you,” he murmurs in my ear.
“I need to—” My breath comes in short bursts. “Please, let me come.”
“How could I refuse when you asked so prettily, Kitten? But I need you all to myself right now, so as much as I want to hear you scream my name, I’m going to have to keep you quiet,” Oliver says, clamping his hand over my mouth.
I grind my hips against his fingers hard, needing more.
“So impatient,” he teases. “Don’t worry, I know what you like.”
He fucks me hard and fast with his fingers, the heel of his hand hitting my clit with every thrust. My orgasm rips through me, and I scream into his hand.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises.
Oliver slows his pace, rocking his fingers in and out of me. I reach back and wrap my fingers around his hard length and match his pace with my strokes. My stomach muscles clench as the orgasm slowly builds in my body. As my breath catches in my throat and my legs start to shake, he drops his hand from my mouth to my breast and pinches my nipple hard. That brief flash of pain has me coming on his fingers.
He slides his fingers out of me, and as I turn my body to kiss him, I see him lick them clean of my juices. Just like that, I”m ready to go again.
I grab the back of his neck and jerk him toward me. Our lips meet with a frenzied passion, and I moan at the taste of myself on his tongue. He grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor. My legs wrap around him as he notches himself at my entrance.
“Ready?” he asks.
I look deep into his ocean eyes. “For you? Always.”
He grips my hips and jerks me up and down his dick at a punishing pace. Every stroke has him hitting my G-spot. My fingernails dig into his back as he thrusts into me. I cry out his name as waves of pleasure wash over me. Oliver bends his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
“Fuck,” I sigh, “just like that. Don’t stop.”
I bite his shoulder as another orgasm rips through my body. He slows his pace as my body shudders around him.
“I’m close, Kitten,” he groans.
“So, how do you want me?” I ask, dropping a brief kiss on his lips.
“I want you bent over with your hands pressed to the shower glass. I want to see the water from the shower dance across your back as I take you from behind. I want to play with your clit and feel you shudder against me. Will you do that for me, Kitten?”
“I would do anything for you.”
As soon as my feet hit the shower tile, I’m turning away from him. My breath catches in my throat when Oliver shoves me forward. Automatically, my hands come up to catch myself and they hit the glass with an audible slap. The contrast between the cold glass on my palms and the hot water hitting my back sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
He slides into me slowly and buries himself completely in me before withdrawing almost completely. These slow, teasing strokes make my back arch and my legs shake. Right as I start to worry about my knees going weak, Oliver grips my hip with one hand, supporting me. His other hand finds my clit. My breaths become shaky as he matches the speed of his teasing fingers with the way he’s fucking me.
Except it’s not fucking, is it?
Yes, he’s playing with me like a cat with a mouse, but there’s an undeniable undercurrent of tenderness to it. He’s taking his time with me because he sees me as someone he’s confident is never going to leave him, sees this as something permanent.
This isn’t fucking anymore. It’s making love.
When we come, it’s together with each other’s name on our lips.
Once we’ve dried off, Oliver pulls me in close.
“Today has been an absolute whirlwind of a day, but I need you to know that I meant what I said earlier.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m yours forever. Marriage or no marriage, more kids or just Audrey, moving you in here someday or finding a brand-new place for our family of five. I don’t care as long as I get to be with you and make you happy.”
“But what if you learn something about me that makes you hate me?” I ask so softly I’m nearly inaudible.
“Emily, there is nothing you could have done or ever can do that would ever make me hate you,” he says earnestly. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”
He scoops me into his arms, and I press myself hard against his chest, hoping it will muffle the sound of my heart shattering as he carries me back to the bedroom.