13. Emory
13
EMORY
After getting a total of two hours of sleep last night, I am beyond thankful for an easy shift. It’s so dead, I even get in a quick nap in the nurse’s lounge. After signing out the few patients I still have to the nurses on the night shift, I head to the locker room to change into new scrubs. I’m tying my pants when my phone vibrates.
Luke: I have a surprise for you. Two actually. See you soon, Little Wells.
He ends the text with a winky face. Those simple words on my phone are enough to make my knees weak and my heart race. I hurry out of the locker room and rush to my car. I hope the surprise involves his hands on me and ends with another glorious orgasm. I push the thought aside as I pull out of my parking spot. The last thing I need is to get into an accident while daydreaming about all the ways I want Luke to touch me.
What is it about driving that makes you dwell on all the annoying things you've been putting off all day? Like remembering it's my turn to go grocery shopping, which I've been avoiding for two days now. Or the fact that Luke and I haven't clarified what's going on between us or what it means. I know we need to talk about it, but I don't want to ruin the excitement either.
I push all the nagging car thoughts out of my head as I pull into my driveway. As soon as I enter the house, I’m greeted by the delicious aroma of Italian food.
“In the kitchen,” Luke calls out. I walk in to see him mimicking the motion of chopping some already-chopped onions. The stove is cluttered with multiple pots and pans, and something is baking in the oven. The floor shines, the fans are nowhere to be seen, and a small yellow flower in a mason jar sits between two place settings on the kitchen island.
“What’s going on?”
“What does it look like? I’m cooking you dinner, Little Wells.” He flashes a devastating smile, complete with that godforsaken dimple.
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.”
“Why are you pretending to cut onions?”
He looks up sheepishly. “Okay, Allie did most of it before she left for her date. These are prop onions. But I spread the garlic and butter on the bread and put it in the oven,” he says proudly.
I take a seat at the island. “Well, it all smells delicious, especially the garlic bread.”
Now that his chopping charade is over, he sets the knife down and walks around the island. He carefully cups my face, placing a soft kiss on my lips. He may have meant it as a casual greeting, but it feels like the temperature in the room just shot up ten degrees.
Luke takes the plates from the island and starts filling them with what appears to be spaghetti carbonara and Caesar salad. The salad has toasted quinoa on top, which is a dead giveaway that Allie made it. According to Allie, the quinoa adds a nice crunch without being too obvious, unlike croutons. Luke sets my plate in front of me and then opens the oven to get the garlic bread. He slices it up and puts it in a wicker basket lined with a white cloth that Allie must have left out for him.
“This looks amazing,” I say as I lift my fork to dig in.
“Oh, wait. I forgot.” He goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of Chablis, opens it, and pours it into each of our glasses. I laugh to myself. Allie again. I can just picture her saying, “The acidity cuts the richness of the carbonara sauce.”
I take a sip of wine and twirl some pasta on my fork. I moan as the creamy, savory sauce hits my taste buds, and Luke arches an eyebrow. Then he chuckles to himself and digs into the pasta.
“Oh shit. That girl can cook.”
“It’s how she lures you in.”
“Interesting.”
“You’re scared of her, aren’t you?”
“Fucking terrified.” He shakes his head and shudders. “She made me the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life and threatened to cut off my dick in the span of five minutes today.”
I smirk before his words sink in. Why did Allie make him a sandwich? Was he here all day? A pang of jealousy creeps up my spine, and an accusing tone slips out of my mouth.
“She made you a sandwich?”
“Oh, right. That’s the second surprise. There was some damage to the flooring from the leak, so I was here all day replacing a few of the floorboards,” he explains. “Allie took pity on me and made me lunch. Before she threatened bodily harm if I ever hurt you,” he adds.
My shoulders sag in instant relief. He was here to fix the floor, not because of Allie. Then it hits me—he fixed my floors. He spent the whole day here. Did he take the day off work? And on top of that, he even helped make dinner for me.
It feels like it's a million degrees in here. I wonder if Allie left the heat on. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I realize I've been silent for a while.
“Are you okay?” Luke asks. “You look a little pale.”
“Yes—yeah. I’m great,” I reply.
He doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it go. He attempts to make small talk for a few minutes before I unceremoniously blurt out everything that has been running through my mind since I walked through the door.
“What are we doing here? Is this a date? Or are we just hanging out? Because I thought maybe we were just doing things. Like under-the-pants things. Or was that just the one time? Anyway, I come home, and you’re here, and there’s dinner, which seems like a date. And that’s fine, except that I don’t date. I haven’t in a while, that is. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to. But I really liked what happened last night and wouldn’t mind if it happened again.”
Luke eyes me up and down and then exhales a long breath as if he has been holding it the entire time I was speaking.
“Sorry, that was a lot. Can you please say something?”
“Emory.” He looks straight at me.
“Yeah?”
“This can be whatever you want it to be. I don’t usually date, and I wasn’t planning on labeling this, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't meant to be a date. I just wanted to show you how I feel.” He pushes his plate aside and sets his napkin on the table. “God, Emory, you drive me crazy. Believe me, I wish I weren't interested in you. I wish I didn't flinch every time my phone buzzes, thinking Nate found out about us. But I've given up trying to fight the hold you have on me.” He stands up, towering over me, his eyes darkening. He places his palms flat on the table in front of me and bends down, his face inches from mine. “And I liked last night. I want more of it. I want everything—under-the-pants, no-pants, all of it. If I had my way, you'd never wear pants again. Does that clear things up for you?”
“Yes,” I breathe out.
“Yes?”
“Yeah, this was great.” I gesture around me. “Amazing, actually. But—” Just be honest with him, my inner voice shouts. “My last relationship was messy. I’m not ready for anything serious yet.”
There's a fire in his eyes as if I've upset him. This is exactly what I was worried about—getting into another relationship based on fear and manipulation. But his expression softens quickly, and he's back to himself again within seconds.
“I told you,” he says. “It can be whatever we want it to be.”
I sigh. “Also, it's probably best if Nate doesn't know about this. I want to make sure we're on the same page. It's not that he gets to decide what I do with my life, but you know how he can blow things out of proportion. Let's keep it quiet for now, except for Allie.”
He nods in agreement, but then his eyes hood, and he grabs the edge of my chair, shifting it so I’m more accessible. “Just so we're clear,” he says, his hand gliding up my leg. “We're not going to tell him you can't stay quiet when I touch you.”
I shake my head.
“And we’re not going to tell him what a good girl you can be when you want something—real bad.” He pushes my legs apart, and I shake my head again. “And we’re definitely not going to tell him what you sound like when you come apart for me.” He cups my core over my scrub pants, my pussy throbbing almost to the point of pain.
“Luke.”
“I know, baby. I know what you need, and I’m gonna make you come so good.”
Then he scoops me up in one swift move and carries me into the living room.
He drops me down onto the couch with such force that I bounce back up, and he lifts my scrub top off, discarding it on the floor.
“In here?” I question. “But Allie?—”
“Said she’ll be back late.”
“Oka—” I’m cut off as Luke yanks my legs down to the edge of the couch. Before I know it, my scrub pants are pooled around my ankles. I pull them the rest of the way off and toss them aside with my foot. Then I hear a thud and look down to see Luke on his knees in front of me, his eyes fixed on me like a predator. He licks his lips, his gaze locked on mine. “I need to taste you again,” he says, his voice low. “I've been thinking about it since last night."
He’s staring straight at my panties, no doubt seeing the embarrassing wet spot, but I don’t even care. His eyes flick up to mine again, conveying a silent request for permission. I nod slowly, trying not to appear too needy. He doesn’t waste any more time as he moves my panties to the side and thrusts two fingers in at the same time. The gasp that escapes me feels like it’s coming from a different person. I'm having that out-of-body experience again as if I’m watching the scene from afar.
“How do you feel about edging?” he asks as he comes up higher on his knees to look at me. I jump, having been completely lost in the sensation of his fingers, which he now lazily glides in and out of me.
“Edging? Like where I don’t get to come? Doesn’t sound great,” I admit, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the feel of him. I don’t even know how I know that term. I have to imagine it has something to do with Allie.
He laughs. “Oh, you will get to come. It just might take a little while. If you don’t like it at any point, you can say red, and I’ll stop.”
I freeze. “Are you giving me a safe word?”
“I am,” he says as he lowers himself back down so close I can feel his hot breath brushing against my clit. “You got a problem with that?”
“No, but…don’t I get to come up with my own?”
He stills for a second and lifts his head. “Do you want to?”
“Not when you’ve gone to great lengths to come up with such a creative one,” I tease.
A sly smirk spreads across his face, his eyes darkening, as he starts pumping his fingers again, slow—painfully slow. “Careful, Emory. This can end one of two ways for you…”
My eyes flutter closed as I take in the feel of his breath against me. Of course, doubt creeps in as it always does. Maybe he didn’t come up with that safe word out of the blue.
“Have you used that before? Red?”
He shakes his head as he continues his slow, torturous ministrations. “I’ve never used a safe word with anyone.”
Oh. Oh.
“Emory.”
“Yeah?” I mumble, my thoughts drifting as the pleasure builds in my core.
“I need your words. Are you okay with this?”
“Yes,” I say, my lids fluttering closed as his movements become faster, harder.
“ Emory. Look at me when you say it.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, and I feel myself getting wetter from it.
My eyes slide up to meet his. “Yes,” I say again. “Do your worst.”
“With pleasure,” he says, a sly grin plastered across his gorgeous face. “But first, I need your hands.”
He pulls his fingers out, and I let out a mortifying gasp at the sudden loss. His hands fly to his belt, and my eyes widen. What is he doing? My breath catches as he yanks it out of his belt loops in one swift motion.
“Hands, baby,”
I don't think; I just react. I bring my hands together and offer them to him. He wraps the belt around them, securing it so I'm unable to move.
“You'll want to touch yourself to ease the ache,” he explains. “But you don't get to choose when that happens. I'm the one who decides when you're ready for relief. Got it?”
I nod my head, electricity already traveling down to my core at his soft dominance.
“Words, Emory.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
A rush of heat spreads to my cheeks. God, I could come from those two little words alone, but then I’d miss out on whatever is about to happen, and something tells me this is all going to be worth the wait…however long it may be.
A fraction of a second ticks by, and then Luke rips my panties off, and his mouth is on me.
“Shit,” I say, my hips involuntarily lifting off the couch to meet his movements.
He starts with a few gentle licks before increasing his speed, sucking and nibbling my clit with a soft touch. He brings his fingers back to my entrance, pumping in and out. It doesn’t take long before the familiar warmth spreads throughout my body, and I brace myself, waiting for the glorious fall. But as I’m about to tip over the edge, Luke removes his mouth and fingers in one swift motion.
No, no, no.
How did he know I was so close?
Sitting back on his heels, he chuckles, and it’s not lighthearted or even cocky. It’s devious.
“You said do your worst,” he reminds me. “You still with me?”
“Yes,” I pant, narrowing my eyes as he dives back down and sucks my clit into his mouth. I cry out, so close again, only for him to rip his mouth away at the last second. He repeats this maddening process over and over. Working me up, only to stop abruptly as my orgasm is about to crest. He makes sure his movements are almost everything, but not quite. Not deep enough. Not hard enough. Not fast enough. Not enough friction.
He does it until I’m a panting, sweaty mess. Until I’m begging and whining for him to let me come.
I bargain.
I promise him anything and everything.
But he doesn’t let up. He just smirks and starts all over again, waiting just long enough to let the orgasm fade before he’s back on me.
“I know, baby. I know you wanna come,” he soothes as he sits back for the fourth time. Or maybe it’s the fifth. I’ve lost count at this point. “It’s gonna feel so fucking good when you finally do. I promise it will be worth it.”
Then he dives back in.
I contemplate saying red so many times. It becomes a chant in my head. Red. Red. Red. Just say it. Say it, and he’ll make you come…
Or will he stop altogether? I’m not sure how safe words work in this situation. Either way , I don’t want him to stop. I’ve started to enjoy the chase, the thrill of not knowing when he will let me come. My clit is throbbing and swollen, and when he brings me back from the brink again, he looks at it like it’s a masterpiece.
“So pretty,” he muses. “You’re doing so well, Em. You’re almost there, baby.”
“I can’t. Please, Luke.” I whimper. “Please let me come.” I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to fight the urge to cry.
“Emory, look at me.” When I don’t immediately follow his command, he takes his free hand and gently grasps my chin. My eyes fly open.
“I won’t ever give you more than you can handle. I will make you come, but you have to be patient. Can you do that for me?”
His voice is so calm. So sweet. But I want to scream at him to take his patience and shove it up his ass. I want to knock him out, reach down, and take over. I want to run to my room and grab my vibrator. One single pulse from it, and I would be a goner. But I don’t do any of those things. I couldn’t, anyway. He made sure of that.
“I can do it,” I say, and I hate how desperate and raw my voice sounds. Luke smiles. This time it’s reassuring, and I relax a little. But when he continues his slow torture, I start to think he might keep me here forever. In the middle of my living room. Caught in an endless loop of near-orgasms.
Then finally— finally —he takes pity on me. This time when I get close, he spears his tongue straight into my pussy and rubs my clit in fast circles with his thumb.
“Now, Emory. Come for me, baby. Soak my fucking face.”
And I do. I fall straight into oblivion, writhing and screaming and shaking. I fall so fast and so hard that I worry I might pass out. I see stars. Not metaphorical ones—literal stars. They float up and over my head before disappearing into thin air.
“That’s it, baby. You come so sweetly for me.”
That’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.
The next thing I’m aware of is warm, soft hands stroking my hair. My head is lying on top of something sturdy and hard, and I’m covered in a blanket. I look up to see Luke, his crystal eyes gazing down at me as he strokes my hair, partly matted to my head with sweat.
He lets out a sigh of relief when he notices my eyes are open. “You passed out on me there, Little Wells.”
“I’m sorry, but—that was—holy shit.”
“Told you it would be worth it,” he says, flashing that cocky smirk again.
“I’ve never wanted to kiss someone and strangle them at the same time before.”
“Sounds about right,” he chuckles. “How are you feeling? I know that was a lot.”
“I feel…good. Still a little tingly. I’ve never come so hard that I passed out before.”
“So it was good?”
“Uh…yeah, it was good,” I confirm. “Do you do that a lot?” I ask, instantly feeling a pang of jealousy at my own question. “I mean the edging thing.”
“Not really. But I saw the way you reacted when I stopped last night. Panicked, but also a little intrigued. I thought you might be into it.” He pauses for a moment. “Have you done anything like that before?”
I shake my head no. My one and only other sexual partner would have needed the ability to make me come in order to edge me. But I don’t say that.
Luke moves me over and grabs a pillow, setting it behind my head. “I’ll be right back. You need water,” he says, his voice still raspy.
He pads out to the kitchen and is back before I even gather the strength to push myself up into a sitting position.
“Hey, hey. Easy, baby. Not too fast.”
He hands me the water and I gulp it down, just now realizing how dry my throat is. It’s not until I place the almost-empty bottle on the coffee table that I notice his dick straining against his jeans. He sees the moment I see it.
“Em, you don’t?—”
“I want to,” I cut him off. “I want to touch you.”
“Oh yeah?” He straightens up a bit.
“Yeah.” I sit up higher and dance my fingers along his abs, sliding a hand under his shirt. I move it down and flick the button of his jeans open. He sucks in a breath as I take his place on the floor, letting my knees thud to the ground like he did and settling in between his legs. I peek up at him from my place on the floor.
“May I?”