14. Emerson
EMERSON
“We’ll leave early tomorrow so you can get back for gymnastics, and then I’m just waiting on Des to confirm one meeting the next day but that should be the only thing I need you for.”
“He’s going to message me about the meeting, but I’ll be here tomorrow at six.”
“Good night, Nico.” I smile as he closes the back door and dips his head.
“Good night and thank you, Miss Andrews.”
“Nico, when we’re here, I’m just Emerson.” Pausing, I add, “Really unless we’re somewhere I’m trying to make a point, I’m always just Emerson.”
“Sure.”His lips twitch like he’s not convinced, and that’s okay because it’s only our first real day together.
Throwing him a wink, I head up the walkway toward the front door and sigh as I turn the knob. Laughter and the smell of takeout hits me as I step over the threshold and into the house, and all I can think is why is my husband so damn social when I need a little bit of relief?
Or a lot.
“Honey, I’m home,” I singsong, my heels clicking across the wood floors as three pairs of male eyes swing my way.
Colt’s are familiar.
Roan’s are slightly less professional than usual.
And Garrett’s flash with blatant interest as they travel up and down my body.
Perfect.
“How was your day?” he asks with a sexy drawl, the words almost sultry as they leave his lips.
I could be polite and draw this out—catch up with Roan and Colt.
Or I could get what I want and then make nice with my husband’s friends.
Second one it is.
“You boys don’t mind if I steal my husband for a minute, do you?” I say sweetly so it sounds less like a question and more like a statement of fact.
I will be stealing Garrett but it better last longer than a minute.
“Of course.” Roan’s lips twitch as he takes a sip of his beer, and Colt shakes with silent laughter. But my husband—bless him—gets up and follows me to the stairs, his closeness already ramping up the anticipation of having him.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, his hand on my hip and his breath hot on the back of my neck as we reach the landing.
“I definitely missed your dick,” I purr, spinning to face him as I let him back me down the hall.
He snorts. “Are you just in this marriage for orgasms?”
“It’s a perk that I plan to enjoy for the entirety of our agreement.”
“You’re sexy when you’re talking business.”
“And you’re sexy when you take your pants off.” Garrett doesn’t respond as my legs hit the edge of the mattress and his mouth crashes over mine.
The relief is bone-deep as his hands grip the bottom of my skirt, pulling it up around my waist. He’s not gentle as his fingers dig into my ass, lifting me and pushing us onto the mattress.
With a competence that is so underrated, Garrett flicks open the buttons on my blouse as he trails kisses down my body.
I’ve had lovers for months longer than Garrett who needed instructions each and every time we fell into bed.
But not this man.
This man makes it his mission to ensure I am completely and totally out of my mind with pleasure for as long as I can stand it.
Dragging my panties down, he throws them off to the side before hooking my legs over his shoulders and burying his face where I need him the most. It feels like I can finally breathe, the stress of the day melting like ice cream in the hot sun.
Threading my fingers through the dark strands of his hair, I relax into the comforter as his tongue teases and swirls around my clit.
It’s incredible.
And I love that he can give this to me—his enthusiasm and desire to learn my body almost as good as the physical release.
“Garrett.”
He hums against me, the sound low and throaty, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, the vibration teasing me from the inside out.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” It should only be a line but it’s not, the conviction in his tone sending a flash fire through me as I roll my hips, encouraging his ministrations.
“Don’t stop.”
It’s a whisper, my back arching as he holds me against his face, his stubble scraping against my thighs as my orgasm crashes over me like a gentle wave, an appetizer for what I really need.
“That wasn’t nearly enough, was it, Em?” he rasps, pushing himself to standing as his hands fall to his belt. “Roll over so I can fuck every thought from your head.”
“Bossy looks good on you, Rockstar,” I vow, dragging my fingertips down between my breasts as I watch him remove the last of his clothing.
“Too bad you’re terrible at taking orders.”
“Maybe I just like it when you’re a little rough…”
His expression is feral as he grips my ankles with the opposite hands and flips me onto my stomach. I laugh, but it’s cut short when his palm lands on my ass cheek, the sting making me gasp as he climbs onto the bed behind me.
“They’re gonna hear us,” he taunts, his breath hot on my skin as he wraps his arm under me, pulling me up onto my hands and knees.
“Let them,” I manage as he pushes into me, the fullness wiping every thought from my mind as he groans and curses under his breath.
“Fuck. I don’t know how I’ll ever get over how good you feel,” he grits out, my body braced for the way he’s pounding into me, the sheer power in his movements enough to steal my breath.
The sound of skin slapping is dulled only by the blood roaring in my ears, my lips parting on a moan that turns into a cry when he fists my hair and yanks my head back.
“Please.” The bite of pain only ratchets up the sensation building in every cell of my being.
“You have no idea how sexy you look like this. God dammit, I need you to come again. Your pussy feels too good; I can’t hold on much longer.”
Releasing my hair, his hand grips my shoulder, the other reaching between my legs to rub my clit. It’s not clumsy or rushed.
It’s intentional.
His touch anchors me to the moment—to him—to the feeling I can’t deny any longer.
On a strangled cry, my orgasm detonates, little fireworks exploding behind my eyelids as Garrett roars my name.
The possession in his voice has me tightening around him, his cock buried inside me while he rides out his own release.
It’s too good, all of it more than expected followed swiftly by the afterglow of multiple orgasms.
“Think they heard us?” I mumble as my forearms land on the bed, my head lowering to rest on them.
“Yeah, baby.” He laughs, gently pulling out and chuckling as his back lands on the mattress next to me. “They definitely heard us.”
“Good.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just trying to keep your rock star reputation intact.”
“You’re a hell of a woman, Miss Andrews,” he states, rolling onto his side to face me, “a hell of a woman.”