36. Nobody’s Gonna Know #2
!” Connor races toward me with his skate aid, Emmett’s hands on either side of him. “Dada!
“Buddy! Look at you!”
“He’s fast as fuck,” Emmett says, stopping Connor before he crashes into us. “I mean, fast as…fuck.” He cringes. “I’ll try better next time, I swear.” Crouching down, he holds his hand up, grinning when Connor slaps it. “Thanks for skating with me, dude!”
“Bye, dude!”
“Oh my gosh.” Lily wriggles free from our grasp, putting her hands on her knees as she crouches down to Connor’s level. “Hi, Connor. You’re so cute. I’m Lily. Can you say Lily?”
“Woooah-ho-ho. Lily! Hug? Conn’a hug Lily?” He spreads his arms wide and steps into her, and the two of them go tumbling to the ice, a giggling mess.
“I think he likes me! I can be your best friend, okay, Connor?”
I pick the two of them up, setting them on their feet, and Lily takes his hand in hers.
“C’mon, Connor. I’ll keep you safe, okay? Your mom gave me butterfly kisses, so I’m super brave right now.”
“Yeah! Bwave!”
“Be careful, you two,” Rosie says, sliding her hand into mine as we glide slowly behind them, watching their quick, teensy steps in their skates. “Not too fast, okay?”
Warm, mossy eyes come to mine, and she grins that goofy, magnificent grin. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh? Uh-oh what?”
“Uh-oh, I think I just fell in love.”
* * *
One of the things I love about Rosie is that she doesn’t just fall.
She’s a head-over-heels, all-in, whole-world type of lover.
If I hadn’t already been sure of it, I certainly would be now.
Because in the week following the family skate, Rosie hasn’t stopped talking about a certain brown-haired girl who stole her heart.
“Are the kids allowed to go out with families?” she asks as we stroll through the mall, on the hunt for a gown for her to wear to my Christmas gala next week.
It’s the first of its kind, an extension of sorts to the tree lighting ceremony my charity, The Family Project, holds every year.
Except this one is a fancy dinner and dance, involves alcohol, and costs a fuckton more money.
But it’s a night out for us, and I can’t wait to see Rosie in her dress, and then peel it off her later.
“You’re thinking of Lily again.”
“Maybe she’d like to go for a hike with us and the dogs. Something casual, a change of scenery.”
That’s the first suggestion. The next five hundred roll in, in quick succession, and I don’t think she even pauses to breathe.
“Oh! I know! We can go to the suspension bridge again and see all the Christmas lights! She’ll love that!”
“We could take her out for a pancake breakfast and hot chocolate.”
“Or dessert. Everyone loves dessert!”
“Oh, hey, there’s that new Disney movie coming out. Maybe we can take her in the new year.”
“What about the train at Stanley Park?”
“Do you think she likes buses as much as Connor?”
“I know she loves doing her loom bracelets. What else does she like? Does she like to paint or color?”
I follow her through a store, watching as she gushes over gorgeous dresses and then talks herself out of them, telling herself it won’t work on her body. Each one she puts back, I hang over my arm, and she just keeps keeping on with ideas for Lily.
“Can I ask you something?” She spins around, frowning when she sees my armful of gowns. “Adam, what are you doing with all those?”
“Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
“No, I—Those won’t suit me. I’m too…I have too much…”
“There’s nothing about you that’s too much, Rosie. Everything about you is just right. You love these dresses, so you’re going to try them on, and if you hate them, that’s that. But give them a chance.”
“Bossy,” she mumbles, sorting through another rack. She pulls out a satin crimson dress with thin straps and a thigh-high slit, her eyes lighting. “Excuse me, could I bother you to check if you have this in a twelve?” she asks one of the sales attendants.
“Absolutely.” She takes the dresses from me. “And I’ll get a fitting room started for you.”
Rosie brushes her bangs aside. I helped her touch up her hair yesterday, and the normal coppery pink is more vibrant, a stunning shade against the golden freckles on her nose and cheekbones.
“What would you think about having Lily join us for Christmas? She could come over in the morning and we could put some presents under the tree for her. I know they do that stuff at the home, but…I don’t know.
” She drops her gaze, mindlessly runs her fingers along a shimmery dress.
“I want her to feel special. I hated Christmas without a family. It felt so lonely, even though I was surrounded by so many people.”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Yes, you’ll think about it, or—”
“Yes, let’s have her over for Christmas. I’ll check with her social worker to make sure it’s allowed and if it’s something she’d be up for.”
Her gaze rises to mine, thoughtful, curious. Slowly, she slides her arms around my waist, pressing up on her toes to touch her lips to mine. “Thank you.”
I’m about to coax her mouth wide open, see if she’ll let me slide my tongue in there for just a quick taste, but a throat clears beside us.
“I’m sorry,” the sales associate apologizes. “We don’t have any twelves left, but I do have some tens. Would you like to try one?”
“Oh shoot. That was my favorite. Um…” Rosie drums her fingertips against her chin, then waves a hand through the air. “That’s okay. It probably won’t fit.”
The sales attendant holds the dress up next to Rosie and glances at me. We both nod.
Rosie looks up at us with hopeful eyes. “Yeah? You think?” She waves off my reply before I can give it. “No.” She frowns. “Okay, maybe. What the hell, right?”
The sales attendant leads us back to the fitting rooms, and I collapse into a plush, oversized chair as Rosie disappears into her little room.
There are at least twenty women roaming this store, and the only other man is sitting on the opposite side of the changeroom, buried under a pile of dresses, watching sports updates on his phone from what I can hear.
He looks at me, and I give him a half wave that he returns with a nod and the bump of his fist twice against his chest.
Solidarity, brother,
he mouths.
I scroll aimlessly through my phone while I wait for Rosie, checking in with Carter to see how Connor’s doing over at their place. When five minutes turn to ten, and Rosie’s silence turns to grunts, I make my way to her door and knock gently.
“Everything okay in there?”
“Um…yeah. No. I think…I think this dress is…not for me.”
“Let’s see.”
“Um…no. No thanks. I think I need to go up a size.”
“Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
“Or something less revealing, maybe.”
Less revealing?
I’m totally not proud of the way my dick rises to attention, like his presence has just been requested. I press a little closer to the door, mostly because I want in but also because I don’t want my buddy over there to see the hard-on I’m suddenly sporting.
I knock again, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Lemme see, baby. I bet you look perfect.”
The door cracks open, and Rosie steps aside, eyes trained on the floor as she lets me in. I close the door behind me, my gaze falling down her body in that tight little dress.
She tucks her hair behind her ear and gestures at the body I can’t take my eyes off, the one filling every inch of satin so flawlessly, sending a rush of blood to my throbbing cock.
“Curse of the mom bod, am I right?” She forces a chuckle, and when I don’t say anything, her eyes come to mine, delicate voice cracking.
“Adam? Why aren’t you saying anything?” She reaches for the zipper on her back.
“This was silly. I can’t pull something like this off. I don’t have the body—”
She gasps as I push her against the wall, jaw grasped between my fingers. Wide green eyes stare up at me, her cheeks flushed with the same heat that pulses through me.
“I mean this in the politest way possible, Rosie, I swear, but for the love of God, shut up. And if you don’t, if you say one more thing about this body that isn’t praising how fucking exquisite
it is, I’m going to do us both a favor and shut you up with my cock in your mouth.”
My hand slips to her throat, squeezing it gently, holding her in place as I dip my head and drink her in once more.
Crimson satin squeezes her waist, stretching across her full hips.
The slit up her thigh is sky-high, begging my hand to slip below and find out how warm she is, how wet.
My eyes climb up, zeroing in on the deep plunge in her cleavage, the heave of her full, plush tits.
The tip of my finger skims her side, runs up the center of her chest, traces the swell of her breasts, along her collarbone and to that dainty strap that hangs off her shoulder.
I slip my finger below it, toying with it, before I grip it and haul her forward.
“Feel like making some noise for me, trouble?”
Her eyes dart to the door. “Here? But— oooh
.”
“Good start, angel,” I hum, stroking her pussy through her panties. “I’m gonna take these off, okay?”
She nods frantically and lifts her foot, like she thinks I’m gonna slip them off. Instead, I ball the flimsy lace in my fist and rip.
“Oops.”
“Asshole,” she breathes, hiking her leg around my hip as I drag my hands up her thighs, gripping two fistfuls of her ass.
“Aw, see, I was gonna be nice and fuck you slow and gentle so you could keep quiet.” I shove the dress up over her hips, and a shiver races down my spine at the sound it makes when it rips. “Now I think I’ll make sure everyone in here knows my name.”
“Adam—”
“Louder, baby.” I plunge two fingers inside her wet pussy. “Let them know who your pussy is soaked for.”
“Oh God
.” She tears at my coat, yanking it off my body, pulling at the buttons of my shirt, and rolling her pelvis against my hand when I return it between her legs.
“Adam, baby. Not God. How many times do I have to tell you?” I steal her mouth, drowning her moans with my tongue, nipping along the edge of her jaw until I find her ear. “Or do you need me to fuck it into you?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, pulling at my belt buckle, yanking down my zipper. “Please.”
“Tell me how perfect this body is,” I demand, teasing her clit with the head of my cock. “Tell me and you can have my cock.”
“Fuck,” she rasps, watching my cock slip through her slit.
“ Tell me
.”
“Perfect,” she cries. “My body is perfect.”
“And who does it belong to?”
“You,” she whimpers, breathless as I push inside her.
“And this pussy? Who’s fucking it? Who owns it?”
“You, Adam. God, you
.”
“That’s my good fucking girl, Rosie.”
My fingers slide up the back of her neck, grabbing the hair at her nape as I hold her against the wall and fuck her.
Her nails rake down my shoulders as she lifts her hips, urging me deeper, harder.
My hand glides along her shoulder, grabbing hold of that delicate strap.
I pull, ripping it, and her incredible tits spring free, bouncing in my face as she rides me.
“You’re a fucking masterpiece, sweetheart. Made just for me, I swear to God.” I pull her head taut, bringing those eyes to mine. “I’m gonna worship this body for the rest of my life.”
“Please,” she begs. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“Couldn’t if I tried.” I drop my forehead to hers as I drive myself forward, over and over, the door shaking on its hinges. “Christ, Rosie. You’re so tight, so fucking wet, squeezing me so good.”
Palming her breast, I suck her nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue, pulling it gently between my teeth as she writhes and cries, pleading for more.
“I’m gonna come. Adam, I’m gonna… oooh fuck.
Please, Adam.”
“You’re asking so nicely.” I drag my mouth up her throat as pressure settles in the base of my spine, my balls tightening.
Grabbing the backs of her knees, I hike her legs up against her sides, pushing them wider, plunging as deep as I can, until my name leaves her mouth on a loud gasp. “Fucking Christ
, I never thought I’d love hearing my name so much.”
Her head lolls over her shoulder, hooded and dazed eyes hooked on mine as I pummel into her, savoring the way she squeezes around me as she fights for air.
“Hold on,” I demand, as my orgasm barrels down my spine.
She shakes her head, squeezing me tighter.
“Hold the fuck on, Rosie.”
“I-I…I can’t. Oh fuck
, Adam. Oh God
. Please
.” She lifts her hips, and when I pound into her, she explodes around me, crying out my name, dragging hers from my throat as I empty myself inside her, my palm slamming against the wall.
“ Fuck
, Rosie.”
Her heaving body goes limp in my arms, and I struggle for air as I grin down at her damp face, kissing her swollen lips.
Five minutes later, when we’re dressed and the changeroom is…well, it’s as clean as one would reasonably expect, we exit the changeroom.
All five sales associates, a handful of women, and my buddy, who’s still sitting in the chair under a mountain of clothes, stare at us, speechless and slack jawed.
I hold up the hanger with the shredded dress. “We’ll take two, please.”