Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
My brother was a baker, my other brother was an artist, and my sister was in law school.
Somehow, all the talent had skipped me and gone straight to them.
I had nothing interesting to show, and it was glaringly obvious.
Emerson had decided we needed to cook dinner together, though I wasn’t sure why.
He’d been at my house all day, on day two of his off days.
We could’ve just ordered in, but he decided it would be easier and cheaper to cook together.
He’d also called it a “romantic adventure,” which I cringed at because I was me, and I was allergic to romance.
But the idea of being romantic with Emerson didn’t scare me as much as I thought it should.
Emerson was moving a pan, but stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on me. “How did you get flour all over yourself? I’m confused.”
I looked down, swiping some of it away from my shirt. “Maybe because flour just gets everywhere?”
“I’m not covered in it.”
“You made me do most of the work, though.”
“I used it plenty. I made my own dough. This is only further confusing me.”
He’d made it completely unscathed, somehow.
I was clumsy, but I was still me, so there was no way in hell I was going to admit that.
Rolling my eyes, I huffed and turned my attention back to transferring my pizza dough into a separate pan.
“You’re just confused because of your old age. Don’t take it out on me.”
There was a clatter beside me. I didn’t dare turn toward him. “Excuse me, brat? Is there something you want to say to my face instead of mumbling it?”
A shiver ran down my back, starting at the base of my neck. I fought against the goosebumps, closing my eyes as my breath hitched in my throat. That tone of voice would get me every fucking time, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Wasn’t a damn thing I wanted to do about it, either.
But I had to keep up with my reputation, refusing to crumble under pressure or Emerson’s mesmerizing, deep, domineering voice or how I knew the glare in his eyes would’ve made me fold if I looked at him.
To the floor. On my knees, specifically.
“No. Nothing at all.” I sprinkled some shredded cheese on top of the dough, already covered in sauce.
Pesto sauce, because I wasn’t sure how easily I could handle eating something red and liquid.
He hummed, but didn’t say anything, leaving a long stretch of silence between us as we finished putting toppings on our pizzas. It started to make me anxious, honestly. Had I bratted too much, and now he didn’t like it? Had I crossed some sort of line I didn’t know existed?
It’d been a very long time since I’d dated, and I didn’t know how to navigate any aspect of it anymore. And it’d been even longer since I’d been able to be as sassy as I wanted to be without the guy I was seeing getting mad about it.
I watched Emerson set his pizza in the oven and then hold his hand out for mine. I looked all over his face, trying to find some sort of answer on whether I’d really pissed him off or not. I couldn’t tell anything different from his expression, though.
He groaned as he stood up, closing the oven door and setting a twenty-minute timer on the stove.
But then he turned. And when he turned, facing me, his eyes were narrowed, and I could see something new in his gaze.
Along the oceanic depths I knew was a blazing fire trailing the waves.
It burned tall and bright, lighting up every inch of the water.
I was lost in them. Captivated. Completely and utterly stuck in the world within his soul—the world I desperately wanted to live in, but didn’t know how to ask for.
“Don’t want to get confused about how long it’ll take them to cook.
You know, since I’m getting up there in age.
” I held back a laugh of relief, a weight rising off my chest. But the moment was short-lived as Emerson grabbed my shoulders and gave me the gentlest push, forcing my lower back against the counter behind me.
My heart rate sped up, and I was suddenly breathing far faster than before, tingles trailing down my abdomen as he boxed me in with his arms.
Emerson leaned in, whispering in my ear.
“We need to have that talk, brat. The things I want to do to you…” He inhaled, the sound much louder right next to my ear, echoing down into the cavern that was building in my core.
“None of them are sweet. The things I want to say to you.” I shivered, gasping as his tongue licked along the shell of my ear.
“None of them are kind. So, tell me, Moon Miller, what do I need to know before I utterly disgrace you?”
My eyes slid shut, my chest rising and falling in time with his, just so I could brush my skin against him.
My cock was pulsing beneath my sweats, begging for some sort of release.
Some kind of pressure. Anything. Everything.
Emerson. I bit my lip, tilting my head to the side.
“I won’t get below you. I’ll always be on top, but that doesn’t mean that I am a top.
Light degradation is fine, but I’m not into extreme humiliation.
My appearance, my life, my struggles are a no-go unless you’re calling me filthy.
Restraints, scratching, biting, light spanking, wrapping your hand around my neck without squeezing are all green lights.
Don’t push on my head if I’m sucking you off.
Anything else, ask first.” I went down the list in my mind.
Emerson had backed off a bit, just listening for the moment so I could concentrate.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a few years, and last I checked, I’m clear.
Haven’t had a reason to get re-tested, though.
And I have a stash of condoms and lube in my bedroom. ”
“Sounds perfect to me. I’ve never tried restraints before, but I wouldn’t mind trying it out.
I also don’t hit, which to me includes spanking.
That’s a hard no for me. Everything else sounds amazing, and I’ll make sure to check in with you on anything you didn’t mention.
I can pull up my latest results on my doctor’s portal, if you’d like, but I’m also clear. ”
I shook my head. “No, I trust you.” Could that possibly bite me in the ass later? Maybe. But I did.
“Good. You’ll have to be patient with me. I’ve never been with a guy, but I can promise I’m absolutely enthusiastic about everything we could possibly do together, however that looks.”
Catching his gaze, I let my lips pull into a smirk. “Can I call you Daddy?”
He groaned softly, leaning closer to me. “Please do. I’d love nothing more.”
“Then we’re good. I don’t mind being patient, as long as you’re patient with me, too.”
“Perfect.” I watched as his eyes narrowed again, showing me that hot, sexy side of him I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of.
He leaned his face in, so close our noses were almost touching, and slid his hand up from my shoulder, curling around the side of my neck—the side without the scars.
He pushed the underside of my chin up with his thumb, forcing me to look him right in the eyes.
“Do you want to tell me why you think you can get away with talking to me like you did earlier, brat?”
I melted. Literally fucking melted in his hold and his gaze.
I had to fight to keep my eyes open, to keep staring at him as if I didn’t have a single fuck in the world to give.
His breath was so warm against my skin, wafting over my cheeks, heating them.
“You’re just so fun to mess with, Daddy. What can I say?”
His thumb came up, his palm cradling the side of my face as he placed the pad of it against my lips.
“Fuck, I love hearing you say that. So nice and sweet, despite being so goddamn filthy.” My lips parted as he dragged his thumb down, bringing my jaw with it.
Slowly, he fed me the tip, but didn’t allow me to close my lips around it.
“I’m fun to mess with, you say? I think you’re the one who’s fun to mess with, my little slut.
” My mouth was pooling with spit, my tongue begging to lick him.
Taste him. “I’ve got you here, don’t I? Such a mess for me.
Just begging me with your eyes. What could you possibly be begging for, hm? ”
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I whimpered. The sound came out of nowhere and with enough force, I couldn’t stop it if I’d wanted to. He was right. God, he was so fucking right. I was begging him. I was begging for more.
Spit started to drip from my mouth, falling past my lips and onto his hand. “That’s it, brat. You’re salivating for me, aren’t you?”
I nodded. Fuck me, I nodded. And I moaned as he pushed my jaw up, letting me take his thumb into my mouth, allowing me what I’d been waiting for. I rolled my tongue over every inch of it, hollowing my cheeks like I would’ve with his cock.
He looked over his shoulder briefly, slowly pulling his thumb from my mouth.
“We have five minutes left.” I gasped as his hand trailed down my neck, down my chest, and around to one of my nipples.
He paused there, rubbing over it. Even clothed, the feeling sent tiny shocks through my body, causing my nervous system to go into overdrive.
“Do you think you can come for me by then?”
I was sure I could shoot within two, honestly. I was so fucking worked up, I didn’t mind begging for it. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”
“Are you sure? The clock is ticking.”
“Please. Please, I want to.”
He pinched my nipple between his fingers, gaining a grunt out of me. “Not so bratty now, are you?”
As long as he kept going lower, I didn’t give much of a fuck about my brat status. I had limits. Needing to come so hard, I was damn near about to pass out was one of them.
I watched with bated breath as he pulled his hand away, spitting into his palm.
I was panting, waiting for the first touch from him, holding myself against the counter in anticipation.
When he pulled the band of my sweatpants away, sliding his hand beneath them, and took my cock into his palm, I yelped.
Fully. Fucking. Yelped. I couldn’t believe myself.
“That excited?” He taunted, slowly jerking me. “God, you’re so fucking hard. If I knew this was all I needed to do to shut you up, I would’ve done it forever ago.”
Each upstroke and downstroke kept me frozen in place, despite how badly I wanted to thrust into his hold. I tilted my head up, my mouth open as I moaned. “Daddy, fuck, please. Faster.” He felt so warm, and his grip was so comforting, so tight, I was sure I’d come with at least two minutes to spare.
Our lips came together, though it was more him breathing in my pants and moans than kissing.
He nipped at my top lip just as I groaned into his mouth.
I licked his bottom lip just as he swirled his hand around the tip of my cock.
It was a battle. A fight for who could claim who the most intimately.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, damn near bending backward over the counter.
My hips took a mind of their own, finally thrusting in time with his strokes, my back arching to get the most friction possible.
He pulled away, whispering to me. “That’s it, brat. So fucking needy. So fucking beautiful. Look at you. So fucking filthy and feral for me.”
I nodded, letting my eyes close and my head tilt back. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, fuck.” I was so close. So fucking close. Just a little more.
“You gonna come for Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna come all over my hand and make a big, huge mess for me?”
“Yes!”
“Let go, Moon. Come for me.”
My grip around his neck tightened dangerously, pulling him as close as possible. I took in a deep breath, holding it as I thrusted desperately, over and over, riding every tiny little shockwave.
When I could finally breathe, my vision was a bit blurry, and Emerson was staring at me, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Good boy. Such a good boy.”
After everything we’d just done, that was what did it.
A hot, deep blush spread across my cheeks, setting my face aflame.
The oven timer went off, interrupting us.
Emerson’s shoulders shook as he laughed, shaking his head.
I looked to the side, not ready to meet his eyes out of embarrassment. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re very welcome, brat. Go put some new pants on. I’ll get the pizzas out for us.”
I shimmied to the side, running off to my bedroom. My cum was slowly turning cold in my pants, making this the second time I’d creamed my pants since knowing Emerson. I hadn’t done that this often since I was a teenager, freshly aware of what horny felt like.
Thank god he hadn’t pulled my pants down, though. That wasn’t a conversation I was ready for yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be.
When I came back out, he’d cut our pizzas up and put them on plates, setting them down on the dinner table. He smiled, his lips still red from me kissing and biting them. I liked it. I liked it a lot, actually. In fact, I liked him a lot.
Yeah, maybe romance didn’t seem so scary when it came to him.
Not just the sex, but the easy conversation.
The soft smiles and the belly laughs. All the times he’d shown up for me, ready to catch me if I fell.
Everything felt so easy with him that it was borderline terrifying.
Though the idea of getting close enough to him that he’d see even more of the inside of my brain wasn’t just borderline terrifying—it was paralyzingly horrifying.
But maybe, just maybe, he could handle it, and I could survive it. Maybe.