Page 98 of Emmett
His breath heaves as I pound into him. “Yes.”
“I’m not finished.” My hand moves to grip his jaw, forcing him to look over his shoulder as I meet him in a kiss. “Everypart. The good parts,” I kiss him. “The parts that make you avoid looking in the mirror.” My tongue slips into his mouth as I kiss him again. “Every piece of your darkness andall of your light. It’s allmine.” I press my lips to the shell of his ear, growling as I order him, “Now say it.”
“Iamyours,” he breathes. “But you’re mine, too.”
I press the head of my cock against the sweet spot inside of him as he whimpers. “How many other men did you fuck?”
“One.” A smirk crosses his features, mischief lighting up behind his eyes before his lips meet mine. “And it was good. Took my cock like a champ.”
He wants to make me jealous. He wants me to think about another man touching him, taking what’s mine; making those desperate moans claw their way from his throat while he tries so hard not to come.
And I give him exactly what he wants.
I press his cheek into the shower wall as I pull out and push back in, pounding into him and forcing him to shudder and cry out against my movements.
“Don’t even think about coming,” I order as his body tenses and strained whimpers force their way from his mouth. His mouth drops open as I drive into him hard to emphasize my every word. “I’m—”thrust.“Not—”thrust.“Finished with—”thrust. “You—”thrust. “Yet.”
I just got you back. Let me stay here a while longer. Let me cherish this.
He’s barely able to speak as he forces out, “Prick.”
“Do I need to shut you up again?” I growl against his ear.
I don’t offer him the chance to answer me before hooking an arm under his knee and forcing his leg up to let me push deeper inside of him. A strain of garbled syllables leave his lips as his fingers press against the tiled wall, clawing at it until the pads of them turn white.
“Shit,” he whines, “I’mgonna—”
“No you’re not. Not yet.” I press a kiss to his temple as I slam my hips into him. “I haven’t fucked you in three months, and you owe me.”
“Iowe—”
The attitude behind his voice quickly dissolves into incoherent whimpers as I reach for his swollen cock with my free hand, the occasional desperate ‘yes’ slipping past his lips.
“You like it when I fuck you like a whore, don’t you, pretty boy?” I ask him with a gentle kiss to his temple. “Were you this loud when you fucked another man?”
“No,” he admits, his voice tight and strained. As his body tenses and shudders, he pleads with me. “Nash,pleasepleasepleaseplease, oh my—fuck.”
The gasping breaths that signify the battle between him and his orgasm make my own scratch at the surface of my nerves, making my balls tighten and my spine tense. I pump my hand harder as he begs for mercy and I can feel his entire body struggling to hold on. It isn’t until he dissolves into a series of unintelligible moans and his body shakes against mine that I feel my own orgasm cresting and I finally tell him the words he’s been desperate to hear:
“Come for me, Emmett.”
The strangled sound that he makes while his cock twitches, spilling cum onto my hand, is like music to my fucking ears. I grunt my own release into his ear as I fill him up, offering him gentle strokes through both of our comedowns. Still inside of him, I rest my chin on his shoulder and press my lips to the sensitive spot on his neck that makes him let out that giggle that I love so much.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in the bathroom doorway, watching as Emmett shaves the five o’clock shadow from his face. I’ll miss it; it suits him. Though, to be fair, the mancould shave hearts and stripes into his facial hair or dye his skin turquoise and I would still feel that it suited him.
“Are you really gonna stay here all week?” He asks, glancing at me in the mirror.
“Yes.” I pull a drink from the glass of water in my hand. “My staff will handle my house.”
A coy smile crosses his features as he reaches forward to rinse his razor under the stream of the faucet. I watch as he taps off the excess water against the edge of the sink and brings the razor to his skin again, angling his jaw as he pulls the blades through the foam coating his skin. Could he do this without my company? Sure, of course he could, he’s a grown man. However, I have no intention of letting him out of my sight until I’m certain that he’s not going anywhere.
I don’t think that I’ve ever felt fear quite like I did when I left my house that night. I’ve never felt grief like I did when I saw Emmett lying in the street, knocking on Death’s door and begging to be let in. I’ve also never felt relief like I did when God answered my prayer; and I won’t take that for granted. He kept my pretty boy like I asked Him to when I couldn’t, and I’m grateful for that, but I’ve got it from here.
“My dad wants to talk to you,” Emmett tells me.
“I’m sure that he does.” I step forward, placing my hands on his hips and my chin on his shoulder. “Tell him to meet me at Envy tomorrow night at ten o’clock.”
I wait while he finishes shaving, and I watch as he pulls a bottle of antidepressants from his medicine cabinet. He drops one of the pills into his mouth and uses my water to wash it down. I didn’t realize that I could feel proud of someone for doing something as simple as swallowing a pill, but I suppose that it isn’t that simple for him, is it?