27. MJ #2
He looks up at me with a devilish grin a nd then finally places his hot mouth on my needy pussy. I’m thankful it’s early and the auto shop is on the edge of Main Street as a loud moan works its way from my throat.
His tongue feels like a branding iron on my skin.
If this is what it feels like to burn, then light me up.
He laps at my pussy, the rumble of his groan vibrating through my body.
His hips are moving as if he’s pumping into the bed beneath us.
He slides his tongue into my entrance and then back up to my clit and then slowly slides a finger into me.
Pumping his hand, he adds a second, and I feel deliciously full.
A guttural moan escapes my throat as he curls his fingers inside of me, hitting that perfect spot. My hips lift into his face, and he pumps his fingers harder, faster, while swirling his tongue to the same tempo. Faster. Harder.
“Mac. Please. Don’t stop.”
Reaching down, I slide my fingers through his hair, holding his head right where I need him, pressing him into me shamelessly. My body flushes with warmth, legs shaking around his head and my hips move to their own accord. Holy fuck !
Mac moans as my body sucks his fingers deeper into me, milking them, and I feel a wetness gush out of me. Did I just fucking pee? I lean up quickly and look down at Mac as he laps up the juices that just came out of me and he slows the pace of his fingers.
“Good fucking girl,” his voice is husky and raw, and his face glistens in the soft morning light.
“What was that?” I ask, concerned I just peed a ll over the bed. Mac shakes his head, laughing.
“That,” Mac says as he crawls up my body, resting on his side next to me and kissing my forehead, “was you squirting. And it was the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
My already heated skin flushes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
I lean back, my arms over my head trying to catch my breath as Mac swirls his fingers across my skin softly.
“Good start to your birthday?” he asks.
I look over at him, a smile spreading across my face. “Absolutely. But you know what would make it better?”
Mac raises an eyebrow in question as I crawl over him, straddling his waist and notching his cock at my still-soaked entrance. “Oh,” he huffs as I slide down his cock, filling me to the hilt.
“Yeah, oh,” I breathe, leaning down and kissing him, tasting myself on him.
The sun has fully risen when Mac and I finally get out of bed to start the day.
He hops into the shower after telling me he’s not planning to work at all today and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
I feel like I’m on cloud nine, but the excitement from last night and this morning diminishes slightly when I think about what I have to do later today.
Mac mentioned that my parents already have an idea that I ’ll be proposing my plan later today, and while I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it on my birthday, I’m too anxious to put it off any longer.
I stretch my arms above my head, trying to clear the nervous thoughts.
It’s my birthday and it’s going to be a great day, damn it!
Tilting my head from side to side to relive some of the tension in my neck, I then reach for my phone on the little nightstand I added to my side of the bed.
My side of Mac’s bed. Man, is that weird to say.
Notifications fill my screen from text messages, Facebook posts, and comments on my Instagram.
I only took a few pictures last night—not wanting to be out of the moment too much—and posted them to my account.
Many of my followers already commented on the post with birthday wishes.
I open my texts, scroll through them, and note, of course, my mom texted me at exactly midnight. But Mac was right after her. We were up late. How in the world did he wake up at midnight to text me? Shaking my head with a soft smile I set my phone down and decide to join him in the shower.
Mac and I spend most of the day lounging around in the loft.
He put on Gilmore Girls for me and then ran across the street to Spoon, picking up my favorite drink and an assortment of pastries, claiming he wasn’t sure what I would be in the mood for.
We’ve been snuggling on the bed for the last hour, just enjoying each other’s company.
Mac heads downstairs to grab some more drinks and I make a note to get him another mini fridge for his birthday coming up.
Heading down in the middle of the night or early morning for a drink during the winter is not going to be fun.
I check my phone for the additional texts and comments I’ve gotten for my birthday.
I open the thread with Shannon who sent me a GIF of Taylor Swift saying “twenty-two” from her music video.
She also sent me a motivational graphic that says “YOYOK” which stands for “you’re on your own kid,” another Taylor Swift reference.
I love that she knows me so well and always has my back.
I hear Mac’s footsteps coming back up to the loft and I set my phone back down, trying to shake the anxiety that just rose up knowing why Shannon sent me that message.
“I got the last Dr. Pepper in the fridge. I’ll have to get some more tomorrow,” he says, handing it to me and then joining me on the bed. I give him what I think is a warm smile, but he knows me too well.
“Hey, what’s wrong, birthday girl?”
I shake my head, already feeling the tears well up. “I don’t even know why I’m emotional right now,” I groan, wiping my eyes.
“MJ, it’s going to be fine. Your parents love and support you. They’re going to understand.” Mac slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
“You think?”
“Yeah, baby.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “Would it help if you go over your presentation with me again? We have about an hour until we should head over there for your dinner.”
I bury my nose into his chest, inhaling his scent and shake my head. Sniffling, I pull away and look into his eyes. “I think I have a better idea.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Between last night and this morning are you sure you aren’t sore?” I am, but in the best way. I shrug my shoulders and then place my hands on his, pulling him on top of me with a giggle.
The Chevelle’s engine rumbles as Mac pulls into the driveway of my parents’ house.
Our impromptu lovemaking helped settle my nerves until we hit the gravel road leading to the house.
Now my stomach is all bubbly, and I can’t stop shaking my leg back and forth across the leather seat.
Mac helps me out of the car, like usual and I wipe my clammy hands off on the black maxi dress I wore.
I take Mac’s hand as we walk up to the front door, adjusting my book bag on the other shoulder.
I’m prepared to show them everything I’ve researched and created to hopefully get them to be okay with my decision.
Talking with Mac gave me a renewed sense of independence and I know that while I would prefer my parents be on my side and supporting me with this decision, I don’t need them.
It would hurt if they didn’t support me, but I’ve made my choice regardless of their opin ions.
Mac rings the doorbell, and my mom greets us with a warm smile.
“Happy birthday, Peanut!” she says, pulling both of us in for a hug. She leads us to the more formal dining room where my dad is already sitting, and he also greets us with a smile.
“Emmalynn, happy birthday.”
He stands and walks toward me, giving me a warm hug. “Mac, thank you for joining us,” Dad says, shaking Mac’s hand before gesturing to the table for us to take our seats. It’s weird hearing my dad call him Mac again after hearing him say Alexander for most of the summer.
I take a seat at the table and Mac sits down next to me. My bag makes a thump on the ground beside me as I drop it down.
“It smells wonderful, Mrs. Lawrence,” Mac says.
He’s right, it smells like mom made one of my favorites that we usually only eat in the winter because it uses the oven and heats the house.
It’s homemade bread filled with cooked cabbage and hamburger and then baked in the oven.
Absolutely delicious and one of my dad’s favorites too.
We’ve always called it cabbage bread, but my grandma calls them by their German name, bierocks.
“Mac, honestly, please call me Laurie.”
He nods but looks at me, shaking his head slightly, and I can’t stop the giggle that bursts from me.
I clear my throat and pull up my book bag.
“Mom, Dad, before we eat, I have something I’d like to share with you if that’s okay?”
My parents smile and nod in unison. Mac slides his hand o nto my thigh under the table and squeezes. I open the PowerPoint presentation on my laptop and turn the screen to face my parents. Mom scoots her chair closer to Dad, and they both lean in to see the screen.
“Sorry it’s so small. I should have thought about that,” I breathe.
“It’s fine, Emmalynn. We’re not that old yet. Go ahead.” My dad sounds almost encouraging, and I’m thrown off balance for a second.
I clear my throat again and then give them the presentation all about social media marketing, graphic design, and the online program at Caracrest. I barrel through the presentation and end with highlighting some of the work I’ve done for the restaurant and for Mac’s shop.
I watch my mom’s face through the presentation, afraid to see Dad’s reaction. She smiles and nods her head like she understands what I’m sharing. When I finally get the courage to look over at my dad, I have to place my hand on top of Mac’s, steadying myself.
His smile is warm and unguarded like it was when I was a kid.
“Emmalynn, this is very impressive, and it’s obvious you’re very passionate but .
. .” I open my mouth to cut him off because he is not about to tell me no right now, right?
He holds up a finger to stop me and then continues to speak.
“But if you felt the need to create something like this to sway us to your side, then that tells me we haven’t been doing a good enough job as your parents. ”
“What?” I say, barely above a whisper.
“Peanut, what your father is trying to say is this presentation, while lovely, was unnecessary,” my mom adds.
I shake my head and look over at Mac, who is smiling and nodding with an I told you so kind of look.
“You don’t want to be a lawyer, and it’s clear your passions lie elsewhere. You could have just told us that and we would have supported you, dear,” Dad says matter-of-factly.
“But I thought you wanted me to take over the firm. Brad’s a lawyer but was very clear he wouldn’t be moving back to Oakridge, so I assumed that meant it fell to me. I—I don’t understand.”
“Emmalynn, as much as it would fill me with pride for you to take over the family firm, I will not force you into something that doesn’t have your heart. It’s clear,” he looks over at Mac and then back to me, “that your heart is elsewhere, and that’s okay.”
My lower lip quivers as I fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill. When Mac slides his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him, I lose it and cry into his shirt.
“Peanut,” my mom’s soft voice fills the dining room. I sniff and look over at her tear-filled eyes. “We love you and we just want you to be happy. Law doesn’t make you happy, but it sounds like this does.”
I nod and sniff again. Mac raises a hand to his eyes in my periphery and I look at my dad, who also has tears shining in his eyes.
“Emmalynn, we love you, and it’s obvious this man here loves you, too.
Your happiness in your career is important to us, but your happiness in life and love i s more important.
It’s obvious Mac loves you just as much as you love him and your mother and I are happy you’ve finally found each other.
The career will come with time, but you’ve already found the most important thing. ”
Dad gives me a warm smile and I turn my head to Mac, who’s not even wiping tears anymore.
The entire table is crying, and I giggle.
I look over at Mom, who is dabbing her eyes with her napkin, and then to my dad, who’s doing the same and my giggle grows into a full-on belly laugh.
Mom looks at me with questions in her eyes but then dad chuckles.
Mac joins in and eventually all four of us are laughing and crying at the dining room table.
Mac groans, wiping his eyes, and I laugh harder. We’re all smiles and Mom excuses herself to the kitchen to bring out dinner. We compose ourselves, filling our plates and ease into steady conversation.