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I press a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Let’s go back out there and finish up the night. Then you can have me all to yourself.”
Emery peeks up at me. “Any way I want?”
My dick twitches in my pants and I nod. “Yeah.”
When we both make our way to the kitchen, Thomas is swiping at his eyes and my mom is sniffling. Emery takes a seat, and I watch as he grasps onto his fork and blurts, “I made it weird by blurting that out, but I don’t regret it. I regretnothing. Dr. K said to let you in, so I’m trying. It’s been seven years. It’s about time, right?”
Thomas blinks once, their gazes meeting, and then nods. “Yeah, son. It is.”
Oh fuck, well now I’m feeling the sting in my eyes. I turn away and grab onto the freezer handle, pulling it open. Trying to get a hold of myself.
“Apparently, we’re eating dessert with dinner,” Emery says, and I peek over at him, and he smiles at me. “We have popsicles. There are these Sour Patch ones that are like fucking delicious and they’re low in sugar. August bought them for me, and I can’t get enough. Went through four packs last week. My glucose monitor was going crazy.”
I huff a laugh and his gaze softens and fuck, I need to tell my mom, just blurt it out. But I don’t. I turn to face her and she’s looking so damn happy that I can’t get the words out. What if it ruins her night for her? What if it upsets her?
All the practice in the world can’t help me now. I’ve lost the ability to speak.
“What color do you want, Lisa?” Emery says, not noticing my internal dilemma. Maybe if he did, I’d have the courage to say it. To admit it. But he doesn’t, so I go on hiding it.
Just for one more day.
I’ll tell her tomorrow.
* * *
“God, you looked so good all through dinner and the things you were doing to that popsicle were obscene,” Emery says, locking the front door and grabbing onto my hand. He has a popsicle stick hanging out of his mouth and he eyes me.
“I want to fuck so bad,” he says, and I feel so damn guilty.
“I didn’t tell her,” I cry, and Emery slowly pulls that stick from his mouth. “I don’t deserve you. I didn’t tell her.”
“Wait, what? You were going to tell her? About us? Tonight? I didn’t get that memo.”
“It was something that I wanted to do, but I opened my mouth to say it and didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry, Em. I feel like such a failure.”
Emery sighs and then leads us to the bedroom. “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s fine. I’m so far into this thing with you, I think being a secret doesn’t even factor into it anymore. I know it’s not because you’re ashamed of me, which is what I thought initially. I think you’re just scared to tell her, and if anyone knows what it’s like to be afraid, it’s me. You’ll tell her when you’re ready. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you.”
Those words––fuck, but he has a way with words.
I push into him, and we fall onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and a mess of moans.
“Oh fuck, yes,” Emery says, ripping my clothes off and then flipping me onto my stomach. “You liked that, huh? Me saying I’ll wait for you. You love that I’m so far in over my head, huh?”
He tugs my pants down and I can see the two of us in the closet mirrors and I can’t look away as Emery presses on my back, lowering me further, and hoists my bare ass up in the air.
“Damn, this never gets old,” he mutters, his tattooed hands running over my ass cheeks, spreading them. Then he reaches for the lube, dribbles it into my crack and works a finger into me.
“I bought like ten lubes. The lady at the pharmacy thought I was insane, but she hasn’t met you, has she? If she did, she’d understand why I need so much.”
“It’s because you end up squirting it everywhere but where it needs to go,” I huff, and Emery meets my gaze in the mirror.
“Rude,” he says, pulling his fingers from my ass and then pressing the tip of his cock right at my hole. He presses inside and I gasp.
“I’ll have you know that I get overly excited, and I can’t feel my fingertips sometimes. It’s a diabetic thing.”
“Liar,” I groan as he bottoms out inside of me.
