Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sam
Weekend Three
I knocked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other before Emerson opened the door. He didn’t like to wear a shirt, I’d noticed. His torso was bare, golden skin, muscles, and a patch of fur on his pecs. His jeans fit perfectly on his long legs, the button open and his feet socked. His dark hair was wet, hanging in his face, his eyes full of secrets and pain—something that was only ever on reprieve in that moment when he came.
“You took a shower before I got here, I took a shower before I left home. Maybe we should just arrange to do it together in the future.” I waggled my brows, hoping for a grin I didn’t get. “Man, tough crowd today. What kind of noise does a witch’s car make?” Emerson shook his head and stood aside for me to enter. “Broom, broom.” When I still didn’t get a crack of a smile, I set my bag in the corner. “Did you double up on your cranky pill today? Because I know the cure for that. One blowjob coming up, and then we gotta eat because I’m starvin’. I was so busy, I didn’t have time for lunch, and then I just wanted to hurry up and get here. I was gonna bring something, but I figured you’d be all weird about that, so I didn’t.” I reached for the zipper on his jeans. Emerson’s hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist to stop me.
I frowned. Something was really wrong here. “Are you okay?”
He sighed and cursed, two things I was becoming all too familiar with. “I think we should quit doing this.” Emerson walked into the kitchen, and I followed.
“No you don’t.”
He stopped and crossed his arms. “I don’t?”
“No. You’ve got a wild hair up your ass for whatever reason, but you don’t wanna stop hookin’ up with me. I sure as shit don’t want to stop hookin’ up with you, so can we get over this I’m-gonna-make-myself-miserable-and-not-allow-myself-any-enjoyment-in-life-because-I’m punishing-myself-for-whatever-the-fuck-reason and get each other off now? I really wanna bust a nut and eat some food if you don’t mind.”
I wasn’t sure what came over me, how I got all those words out. Nerves wrestled my gut. I tugged my T-shirt off and tossed it to the table before sitting in the chair and tugging off my boots.
“I’ll still pay you if the money is a big concern for you. I know you planned on having it for a while and…” He waved his hand. “It’s not a big deal to me. Or I can even lend it to you if there’s something you need, but this—spending time together—needs to stop.”
“First of all, fuck you. Second, must be nice. Third, I don’t want your money for nothin’. I’m not a charity case. And how many times do I have to say I wanna fuck you because you make my dick hard? I told ya on Wednesday this is the most I’ve ever had orgasms with one person. I’m not ready to let that go yet. Does this have something to do with Wednesday? You ordering a package and me jokin’ around and saying you wanted to see me? I was just bein’ me and opening my big mouth. I know this is only sex, and I’m okay with that. You got an even bigger ego than I thought if you think I can’t separate sex from something more.”
“Shit,” Emerson cursed, then dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling like maybe he’d left the answers written there. “I don’t know how to do this…how to be more than this.”
“Did I ask you to? Where’s this comin’ from?”
He looked at me then, holding eye contact, and I saw something in his gaze I’d never seen before. Pity. It made all the puzzle pieces start fitting together in my head. “You know, don’t you? Somehow you know about my mama, and now what? You feel sorry for me? You think I wanna fuck you every weekend for money because I’m broken and needy due to my circumstances? That I need you to feel bad for the poor little country boy with that daddy who left and the mama who drinks away her pain?” I walked over to him, anger making my legs move. “Really. Fuck you, Emerson. I told you what this was. I told you I want it. I told you that it’s mine and makes me feel free, and for you to twist that up and turn me into some dumb little kid who doesn’t know his own mind and is so messed up because of life…just fuck you.”
I whipped around, but this time when he grabbed me, something felt different in his touch. Like fire lived inside it, making heat shoot up my arm. The pity was gone from his gaze now, replaced with desire so sharp, it pierced me.