Page 19 of Crossroads

EIGHTEEN

“No. Not like that,” I hear my little brother say, and I laugh softly, watching him try to instruct Emerson how to milk the goat.

Emerson looks nervous as hell, where my brother looks as calm as can be, directing Emerson patiently.

I can’t believe we were almost busted this morning or that I shoved Emerson so harshly off the bed like that—though he didn’t seem too bothered. I’m not sure what I would have done if Logan had found us in bed together.

It’s not like we’re boyfriends or anything, so how would I explain it to him? I wouldn’t want to explain any random hookup to my little brother—man or woman. Though, is that really what it is with Emerson and me?

I don’t know. The thoughts in my head are making it spin, so I try to shut them off and go back to work while my little brother does his best to teach Emerson how to milk a goat.

Moments later, I hear milk hitting the bucket and hear both their cheers, so I know he finally got it. The show they make of fist-pumping is beyond over-the-top for getting a little bit of milk—but it’s endearing all in the same.

Logan hangs out with us for most of the day before he heads into the house during the hottest part of the afternoon to help Kelly make soap from the meager amount of goat’s milk they managed to grab.

I’m just finishing up filling up one of the troughs with water when I feel Emerson’s hand wrap around my waist and tug me back into his hard body. “You know, I was thinking,” he rasps into my ear.

“Yeah?” I ask, my heart rate picking up as I sink into him.

“You never showed me your scars as I requested.”

A smirk pulls at my lips, thinking about that first day at the pond. “I’ll show you anything you want,” I answer him honestly.

One of his hands smooths down over my chest through the flannel. “I like the sound of that.”

“We can’t do this here,” I say reluctantly. “Especially with Logan at the house. He’ll probably be here any minute.”

As if he heard us talking about him, I hear Kelly’s truck winding through the path just in time to jump away from Emerson. He doesn’t look upset by my action. In fact, he was already putting space between our bodies.

When Kelly parks her truck, Logan hops out and runs over to us. Kelly watches him adoringly, and I grab his hat from her and place it on his little head to block the sun. He’s already busy getting right back into working with us as Kelly waves and drives back up to the house.

When I chance a look over Emerson’s way, I’m met with a hearty, sure grin and him mouthing later at me. A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine at the promise.

The day drags on after that, though I am happy to spend time with my brother. But I can’t deny I’m relieved when he finally allows me to tuck him into bed in Kelly’s house and then head to my own bed out in the barn.

I take a quick shower to wash off the day and then dry off, not bothering with clothes, and flop down on my bed, just waiting for him.

It feels like forever before I hear the barn door open and then someone climbing the ladder, my heart picking up speed. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before or that he hasn’t touched me and kissed me, but I still feel this steady, nervous thrum.

“Jasper?” I hear a soft whisper outside my door.

“Come in,” I say, trying to sound confident, but it sounds more like a desperate croak.

He pushes the door open and walks in, his eyes flashing with heat as his eyes greedily sweep over me. My dick is hard, standing tall and resting against my stomach, and precum dribbles from the tip, responding to the way he’s looking at me.

That confident grin is in place as he shuts and locks the door behind him. His dark strands are wet, I’m guessing from his own shower, and he’s wearing a soft-looking white T-shirt and gray joggers that do nothing to hide the bulge he’s sporting. “Miss me?”

I don’t resist rolling my eyes. “Just come here.”

“Wait a minute,” he says, that slow grin only widening. “Let me take this all in.” His eyes roam over every inch of me, and I shift awkwardly on the bed. I know I look good naked, but no one has taken this much time studying me before.

The way he looks at me . . .

It’s indescribable.

“I never realized how hot a naked guy could be before,” he says and seems almost in awe as he approaches the bed. His eyes are glazed over as he looks down at me, lying on the bed just for him.

“That makes two of us, but you’re still wearing clothes,” I pout, and his smile only gets bigger.

“So greedy,” he says, lifting his shirt off over his head and tossing it behind him before he climbs on the bed between my thighs. He’s a work of art. There’s no other way to describe him. Lean but cut. Every muscle has been worked on and defined carefully.

“Goddamn, you’re pretty,” I say, my voice full of gravel.

He snorts, his hands dragging over my chest and down to my stomach, making me shiver. “If I’m pretty, then you’re just goddamn beautiful.” His eyes meet mine, and it punches me right in the heart. The truth he feels his words have. “Show me your scars, Jasper.”

I swallow hard, the emotions clogging my throat.

Lucy and I would fool around plenty, but it wasn’t ever .

. . intense like this. Like I couldn’t breathe and like my reason for breathing was right there at the same time.

But when he crawls up my body further and steals my lips, kissing me softly, that’s exactly how I feel.

I raise one hand to the back of his head, holding him in place while I kiss him back, my tongue dragging over his, stroking the flame inside us to near unbearable levels.

But before I lose too much control, I pull back and take one of his hands, dragging it to my left side.

“My first day working on the farm.” I drag his fingers over the jagged scar there, and he looks down to examine it, lowering his body back between my legs so he can get a good look.

“What happened?”

“I was helping John clear out some old scrap metal, and it got me. Hurt like a motherfucker.”

“I bet.” His lips twitch, and he fingers the scar himself, using two fingers. Then he leans down and caresses it softly with a sweet kiss. “Where else?”

I move his hand again, guiding it to my right arm, closing my eyes at his featherlight touch. “Burned it. Drunk off my ass at a homecoming bonfire.”

“Did you fall in the fire?” He looks almost horrified.

I laugh. “No. We were grilling hotdogs, and we were fighting with the metal poker thing. Kenny’s was still hot and burned the fuck out of my arm.”

“Wow. And I thought my friends were assholes.”

I smile when he kisses the scar. “We were just having fun.”

“Sure,” he says, lifting his head and looking into my eyes. “Anywhere else?”

I nod because I’ve always been one to play rough and work hard. But the next one I know will get a laugh. I bring his hand to my chin and let his finger run over the small scar I have there.

He examines it closely, leaning in. “How have I never noticed that before?”

“Guess you haven’t spent enough time looking at me.”

He scoffs. “Yeah. That’s definitely not true. I’ve never felt more like a creeper than I do around you.” His voice becomes a little quieter now, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s unsettling.”

“I know the feeling,” I respond honestly.

“What happened?” he asks, kissing my chin softly, then making his way back to my lips, making me forget the question and curling my toes when he kisses me hard.

When he pulls away, I do my best to use my brain, but I’m ready to be done with this game and get to the kissing.

My dick is weeping, pleading for relief, but I answer him anyway.

“Sally Jensen. Third grade. She was mad that Lucy wanted to play with me at recess and threw a rock. I don’t think she meant to hit me, but damn, she had a good arm, even back then. ”

“Holy shit,” he says, looking horrified and far too amused by that. But he doesn’t laugh.

“She get in trouble?”

“Suspended for a whole week. It was the talk of the town that year,” I say with my own laugh.

“Jesus.” His eyes trail down my body, making me tremble with need. “Anywhere else?”

He licks his lips, and I’m tempted to tell him to check out my dick, but instead, I go to the final scar. Dragging his big hand to my left wrist. “Guess what happened here,” I demand.

He looks it over, his brow furrowing as he studies the jagged scar that’s still a little puffy, even two years later. “I don’t know. What happened?”

I grin, my heart kicking up because I know what’s coming, and it’s exciting. Because everything is exciting with Emerson. “Barbed wire,” I say, my eyes flicking up to his just in time to catch the surprise and the feigned anger.

“You fucker,” he says, his hands moving to my shoulders as he looks down at my face. “You’ve cut your hand on barbed wire, and you gave me so much shit?”

I laugh. “I never said I didn’t.”

“You were such an asshole,” he says, but there’s no actual anger there.

His mouth slams down on mine, attacking me with a biting, hard kiss that only serves to make my dick harder.

We both work to get his pants off, and I’m really fucking glad he didn’t bother with underwear because in no time, he’s just as naked as I am.

I kiss him back, fighting for control and rolling his body under mine, my hard cock sliding against his as I roll my hips and bite his bottom lip. “I was pissed because you were hurt.” I kiss down over his jaw and suck hard on his neck, making him moan. “I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

He’s breathless, letting his hips roll with mine, dragging his hard shaft against mine. His piercings catch on the head of my dick and pull, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my balls. “You could have told me.”

I kiss further down his neck, sucking and licking and biting. Wanting to leave my mark on him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He growls and then flips us again, so I’m flat on my back, and he’s back in control.

We’re both leaking like crazy, and it’s leaving us slick as we move together, but it’s not enough.

I reach for the lotion I use to jerk off in my side table and quickly squirt some on my hand, wrapping it around us both.

He lets out the sexiest fucking moan I’ve ever heard, his head tipping back, and I lean up to lick the prominent veins protruding from his neck while I stroke us both. “Fuck, that’s so fucking good,” he says, and I agree, directing his mouth back to mine.

His lips find mine as he leans down, giving me a better grip on our thick shafts. I stroke us, my entire body on fire and racing toward the finish line. I don’t want it to end, but I’m starting to ache with the need to come.

“Come with me,” he says, his hips thrusting against me, sending his cock along mine, making me hiss in pleasure. “I’m so close.”

“Me too,” I grit out, stroking us faster and harder until my back bows off the bed, forcing my body closer to his, and I let go.

My cum sprays between our bodies, and then it’s joined by his.

His body goes rigid on top of mine as he pushes against me, our cocks pressing together, both of us lost in the pleasure until we’re both too sensitive to move, and he collapses on top of my chest.

“Holy fuck. I’ve never come so hard,” he says, and I laugh lightly, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Neither have I.”

“You really think we can get this out of our system?” He seems almost dreamy now, his hand dragging along my arm as our spent, wet cocks remain trapped between our bodies, the sticky mess a little uncomfortable but not unbearable yet.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t know how we can get tired of this.”

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully. “We should shower.”

I know he’s just changing the subject, and I’m grateful for it. I know we don’t make sense. Hell, the thought of telling anyone about us scares the hell out of me. Whether I’m proud of that fact or not, it doesn’t make it any less true.

“Come on,” he says, sliding off me and then the bed, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the bathroom. I follow, looking at the tiny shower stall and then at him. He laughs. “That’s the smallest shower I’ve ever seen. Don’t know if we’ll both fit.”

Honestly, that’s just unacceptable to me. I’ve never felt clingy after sex before, but that’s exactly how I feel right now as I step forward and turn on the spray. “We’ll make it work.”

I don’t want to admit it right now, but I’m kind of glad it’s a small shower. I tug him into the stall with me and relish the way he wraps his arms around me. I lean back into him and barely manage to let him go long enough for us to wash up, stealing kisses as we go.

Our dicks are both hard again in no time, and I’d love to drop to my knees and taste him again, but there’s simply not enough room.

We get off together though, both of us reaching between our bodies and stroking each other until we’re crying out into the other’s mouth, spraying cum between us and getting all dirty once again.

After we’re finally squeaky clean, we dry off and both dress in our sweats before lying back down on my bed. I feel restless and uneasy because I know he’s about to leave and I don’t want him to.

When did I become this needy person?

“Kelly said there’s a street dance next week,” he says as he lays his head on my chest, and I hold onto him. Silently wishing he would stay, but I also have no doubt Logan will be up at dawn and might even go looking for Emerson first. My little brother is definitely a fan.

“Yeah. You want to go?” I ask and realize somewhere in the back of my mind, it kind of sounds like I’m asking him out on a date.

Do I want that?

Everyone from town would be there. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet and hate that I’m starting to panic.

And that Emerson clearly picks up on it, his eyes zeroing in on me. “Why don’t we see if Millie wants to go too.”

He’s giving me an out. It would be just three friends going. And like the coward I am, I take it.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

He studies me closely and then kisses me softly before scooting off the bed. “Good. Never been to a street dance before.”

I scoot to the edge of my bed and smile. “How do you city people even live?”

He grins and then winks at me. “Show me your world, country boy.”

My heart flutters embarrassingly in my chest when I nod and then he kisses me one last time before he sneaks out of my room and back to the house.

I lie there for a long time, trying to go to sleep but feeling like something is missing.

Even though I know exactly what that something—well, someone—is.