Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
EMELIA
I’m still spasming from the force of my orgasm when Roscoe kneels between my legs, his cock thick and heavy, his incredible abs rippling as he positions himself. I just want to eat him with how good he looks, that smattering of hair on his chest, the stubble that’s almost advanced to a beard.
Then, he lifts my thigh over his elbow, using his other hand to guide himself inside me. And god, he feels incredible, so fat and swollen with how tight I am from my climax that I moan the moment he pushes through.
“There we go,” he murmurs, sitting back on his knees.
He goes surprisingly slow, fully encasing himself in me before drawing back, then shoving himself in as far as he can go.
Those bulbs at the base of his cock are already making themselves known, gently applying pressure with every thrust. He slows even further, fisting his cock and swirling it around as if coaxing me open.
Roscoe’s voice is raspy as he says, “Relax for me.”
I try to do as I’m told, steadying my breathing and relaxing my muscles as he tries again, pushing in deep, that bulge applying so much pressure to my pussy I might just break.
But he’s never forceful, simply pumping his hips slowly and deliberately, and it’s so exquisite that shocks of bliss are pulsing through me.
But I’m still not spread enough to let him through. Releasing my thigh, Roscoe drops forward onto his hands, so now our bodies are pressed together and his delectable face is only inches from mine.
“What a wonderful woman you are,” he croons, smoothing one hand down my chest to my belly. “Carrying my baby. Right here.”
I didn’t think he would bring that into his dirty talk, but it utterly electrifies me.
“Right there,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him even closer while my thighs encircle his hips.
Roscoe groans, and his knot applies even more pressure.
Slowly, my body parts for it, as slick and soft as I am.
Only a little at first, but it’s enough to send me skyrocketing as the bulges press through, stretching me as far as I can go.
“Yes, Emelia.” He kisses my forehead, then my cheeks, then my nose and lips. “Let me inside you. All of me.”
I need it so desperately that my body obeys. His fat knot squeezes in, until suddenly it’s inside me, and I’m so completely, utterly full that I cry out his name.
“What a good girl.” Roscoe curls his arm under me, holding me in place as he pulls back out, then shoves that massive thing back in.
Holy hell, I’ve never felt anything like that.
I’m already so close again. His cockhead stimulates my G-spot while his knot stretches me open, and every muscle and tendon in my body is taut as a wire.
“Look at you,” he says in my ear, “taking me so well.”
All I can do is whine helplessly as he fucks me faster, that knot slicking in and out in a torturous, beautiful motion.
I feel like I might just combust, my whole body begging to release this incredible, glorious, overwhelming pressure.
If the world ended right now, I would be happy I had this with Roscoe.
Even if I were dead, I would never forget it.
“I’m—I’m—I’m—” I can’t even form a sentence with how far gone I am. “I’m going to—Roscoe!”
He clutches me tighter, moving faster now, that fat bulge squeezing through and then pulling back, making a wet popping sound with every pump of his powerful hips.
God, his ass, his chest, his abs, his face—I can barely stand it, how much I already adore this man, how wonderful and yet terrifying the idea of raising a child with him is.
That’s it. That’s the thought that makes the world go dark and the pleasure to explode outward like a bomb going off. I scream as it takes me, whirling me into oblivion.
“Oh, fuck,” Roscoe says, his voice almost sounding panicked.
“God, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.
” He lets out the same animalistic howl as the last time, and it echoes around the room as he continues his rapid pace.
Then, suddenly, he jams himself in deep, and my orgasm rears up even greater, even more magnificent.
I think I’m going to die with that knot buried in me.
I clamp down tight around it, and I feel it as he comes, releasing heat deep inside me.
There’s so much that I sense a growing weight there, and Roscoe’s cock is wedged inside me so tight that nothing can escape.
I moan, my pussy desperately trying to eject him as it clamps down, but he’s not going anywhere.
“Yes, Emelia, milk my knot.” Roscoe is panting hard, chest heaving, my breasts squashed by his body weight. I’m so blissed-out, so exhausted from everything, that I can’t utter a word. All I can do is look into his green eyes, which are so soft, so warm, that my heart constricts.
We stay like that for some time, merely looking at each other, his knot still wedged inside me. It’s larger than it was when he first pushed it in, and I can barely stand the stretch.
“How long does it… stay like that?” I ask, hoarse from screaming.
“I don’t know.” Roscoe bites his lip. “I’ve never knotted anyone before.”
Right, I’m his first time.
“Eighteen years you’ve waited?”
He leans down to brush his lips over mine. “Eighteen years. For you.”
Curling his arm underneath me, he holds me even closer as he keeps himself propped up—and not crushing me—with the other arm.
And still, the knot remains seated, and no matter how hard my muscles push, he stays there.
It’s strangely comforting to still be connected, like we don’t have to end this just yet.
“Emelia, I think you should move in.”
I didn’t realize I’d started drifting off when Roscoe speaks. I blink open bleary eyes. I’ve cried too much today.
“To your house?” I ask.
“It doesn’t have to be now. But… if you want to. Of course. Only if you want to. I would just… I would like it if…”
I’ve never heard him so uncertain. Usually Roscoe is confident, if a bit rough.
“Sure.” Maybe I haven’t thought of all the angles of it yet, but I love the idea. Moving into Roscoe’s little home, setting up a room for the baby, sleeping in the same bed? “I have to sort some things out, find a new roommate for Arin. But I would love to live with you.”
He sighs with pleasure and plants his lips on my forehead. “Thank you. It would give me a lot of peace of mind if you were there with me. If I could watch over you.”
I think I understand. His instinct is to protect us now.
“I want to experience it with you.” I run my hand over the stubble on his cheek, luxuriating in the scratchiness. “Having a baby.”
“I want that, too.”
After a few more minutes, I sense his knot releasing, and slowly, he slides out. I gasp at the rush of cum that spills down, and I quickly sit up to look. It’s all over the comforter, so much I’m shocked by it.
“If you weren’t already pregnant, you probably would be soon,” Roscoe says with a snort. “That’s what the knot is for.”
“For… knocking me up?”
He nods. “That’s how the internet explains it. Keeps all my cum inside you.” He tucks me in against his side. “And I’m going to knot you constantly, Emelia.”
I shiver. “I don’t mind that.” It felt absolutely spectacular.
Eventually, though, I notice that it’s nearing ten o’clock.
“Roscoe?”
His eyes slowly open, and he gazes over at me with a smile on his lips. “Yeah?”
“Will you stay over? Tonight?”
That smile widens. “Of course.” He turns so my head is on his arm, and his other hand is slung over my waist. I revel in all the places we touch, everywhere his warm body meets mine. “I would love to.”
So I get up and switch off the light, then write a quick Post-it note to Arin and stick it on my door, telling them that we’ll talk in the morning.
When I climb back in bed, I think Roscoe is already asleep, until his arm darts out and pulls me back down to him. Then he covers us with the blankets, and it’s easy to drift off, tangled up in his embrace.
ROSCOE
This woman. Lovely and accepting, open and warm, genuine and adventurous. She breathes a new life into me that I didn’t know I was missing.
I get up early to get to work on time, still wearing my clothes from yesterday. Emelia rises with me, offering me a bagel with cream cheese before we both head off to work. We agreed to meet tonight at my house to have a deeper discussion and start making plans.
Light as air, I head off to today’s work site. I’m there in my physical body, having conversations, doing my job, but mentally I’m completely in the clouds. Goddamn, I’m almost fifty years old and I’m having a baby with a woman half my age. I must be insane. Completely lost my marbles.
What will Jason say? I don’t even want to think about Julie when she inevitably finds out. And my friends, mostly gruff older men like me, who meet at the bar for pool? They’re going to drag me over the coals. Sleeping with a younger woman—my son’s girlfriend!—and then knocking her up.
It should look like a disaster, but I couldn’t be more fucking thrilled.
It’ll be tough, I know. I’m gonna be an old guy before our kid is off to college. I’m gonna be chasing a toddler around on my fiftieth birthday. But god, it sounds like the best thing to ever happen to me, getting to do that with Emelia.
I get a text message partway through the day from the very subject of my thoughts.
Sick as a dog.
Poor thing. She mentioned that her morning sickness is what set off finding out about the baby, and I imagine it hasn’t gotten better overnight.
Are you staying at work?
Yeah. Quarterly reports and stuff.
It feels so normal, texting with her while I should probably be working, and I wish I could comfort her through the phone.
I’ll cook something good tonight. What can you eat?
What can I eat? Everything, usually. Except pineapple. Makes my mouth break out in hives.
Noted.
I smile down at the little glowing screen. My new girlfriend is allergic to pineapple.
Is that what she is? Already it feels like something much greater than that.
“Roscoe,” prompts one of my coworkers. “Plan on joining us anytime soon?”
I stuff my phone in my pocket, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Coming.”
“You have a dopey look on your face.”
“Met someone,” I say by way of explanation, and that’s all he needs to chuckle and wave for me to follow.
All day I think about what I could cook, then hit the grocery store on the way home to stock up. We’ll go with triple-dipped fried chicken and see how she feels about that. I know it’s her favorite.
Around six-thirty, my heightened hearing picks up a car approaching. A sporty sedan pulls into my driveway, and when it turns off, the subject of all my thoughts steps out.
Mine, says the wolf immediately. He’s been rather uppity lately, despite it being a new moon tonight.
I head to the door and open it for her, and a radiant smile covers Emelia’s face when she sees me. To my surprise, she throws herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest.
“It’s good to see you,” she mumbles into my shirt, and I laugh.
“Good to see you, too. I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well today.”
“All better now.”
I lead her inside, and both the wolf and I are pleased that she’s here with us again.
Right where she belongs.