I cannot help myself as I growl with a low foreboding tone, “Does he have a name?”
“Not one you need to know.”
I smirk, acknowledging our past, but still uncertain what to say. I am uncomfortable, and that is an odd feeling as the emotions overcome me. I back away, no longer wanting to pin her anywhere.
She says nothing, but moves my laundry to the dryer. She is distant, and I feel like I am being callous and unkind over here in the living room alone. I pinch the bridge of my nose praying I stop wading through the emotional shit river I somehow landed in.
I went through Sibyl for her.
I stayed away at Juliet for her.
I avoid her at every possible turn. I have missed birthdays, holidays, and god forbid Mother’s Day all to avoid Emily Lee Granger. I hate myself because of her. I hear her in the kitchen as she stirs her cup of tea and the spoon clinks the side. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Her expression lightens as she says, “Pardon?”
With my sorrow all over my face, I swallow the harm. “I didn’t know what to do.
“Lucas Salvatore Raniero, you were a kid,” she excuses, moving closer, but I don’t buy that. “You were my age now, but I grew up fast. Way too fast.”
“Did you graduate from here?”
“No,” she informs, sitting on the sofa. “I went home to Grammy’s house in Georgia. I came back here in June.” She clasps her hands as if in prayer and adds, “I left four months after you.”
In the all too tight sweat pants gone yoga, I sit on the edge of the coffee table and wrap my hands around hers. “I am sorry I left you. It was the last order I ever took from my father.”
“Sal, you don’t have to…”
“Will you hush,” I interrupt and press my finger to her lips before returning it to her hand. “He and I had a huge fight over it. I didn’t want to go. He beat the holy fuck out of me that night. He stuffed a wad of cash in my backpack with an extra pair of clothes and dropped me off at the bus stop. He told me to go anywhere but here.”
“So, you go to the other ocean?” Emily says with a smile. “And were the waters any different there?”
“Not really,” I mumble, gazing down. It was the truth, too. The only difference between Cesario’s world and Juliet’s atmosphere is the air fueled my fire. Cesario only wanted to stifle it, force it into one direction, and use it as a flamethrower. Juliet let me breathe. And my family in Texas actually loves me. The only two remaining in Boston that love me are mama and Maria. “My Nonna died.”
“I heard…I am so sorry,” she comforts with a solemn gaze.
“It was a couple years ago,” I offer, squinting through the pain. “She had cancer.”
“I heard that. Where you with her?”
“Nah,” I mutter as the warm tears sting my cheeks. “She didn’t want me there. She didn’t want that scar on my life.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, tightening up. “I don’t usually feel enough to know how I feel.”
We sit in complete silence as my hands cover hers in quiescent prayer of our past. “My wife died…”
“I heard that, too…I am very sorry,” she consoles, scooting forward and bumping my leg. “And I am so proud of you. Grammy told me she had cancer and you married her—something about being her last wish.”
I look down and cannot breathe as I reflect, “We are knee-to-knee.”
“We always have been, Sal.”
Her hands wiggle out from underneath mine as she strokes over my beard. I haven’t shaved in days. “Look at all this stuff on your face…”
“Do you remember when I used to let you color me with markers?”
“And I turned you into a princess?” Her grin spills over to me as she guides me out of the dark rooms I go to in my mind. “Hell yeah, boy.”
“You were always so special, Em,” I say, laying my hand on top of hers and staring at the space between us. “So fucking precious.”
“You were too,” she says, shifting her face low and peering up at me. “You are amazing, although you seem to be a bit of a hot mess.”
The alarm sounds on the dryer, and she gets up to fetch my clothes. Our time here is over, and I must go. I cannot stay here any longer. She is fine without me. She doesn’t need me anymore to carry her around and push her on swings. She doesn’t need me to teach her how to read or color or anything. Hell, Emily is far more stable than I.
Slowly, I get up and follow her to the small alcove set off the kitchen. “I want to thank you for the ride, the tea, and the chat. It was good to see you, and I am glad you are doing well for yourself. If you need some financial help with school, I left my number on the counter.”
“You are leaving in this weather?” she groans, bent over in the dryer and handing me clothes. “Sorry, I washed my load, too. Did you have underwear?”
“I don’t wear underwear…”
“Oh…” she says as her bright seas flash at me. “Well, here is your hoodie. Be careful, it’s hot.”
So are you, babe. So are you.
Without thinking, I pull her bulky shirt off, revealing inked muscles and scream worthy abs. I pivot around and drop the yoga pants, intentionally giving her another view of my ass. Her fingertips trace the scars on my back as she smooths over my skin and grips my ass good. “I really have to go,” I say as she presses her bare chest to my back. Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.
“I gotta get outta here, Em.”
“But why?”
The walls are down. I am fucking vulnerable. And the next move is to run. “You don’t need me anymore.”
“You’re right, I don’t need you anymore,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my chest. “But you damn sure need me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Adrift in Eternal Seas
SAL
WITH MY BACK TO her, I close my eyes and try and catch my breath. I am standing naked in this poor girl’s kitchen. Her hands cover my heart, and there is something so prophetically surreal in this moment. I think she would like to move them elsewhere if I say it is okay.
“I haven’t been with a man since that night,” she offers up.
“You lived with your boyfriend…”
Grazing her hands over my chest and abs, Emily corrects, “No, I lived with a guy who was my best friend’s boyfriend. I was being nice offering him a place to stay. He liked drugs and beating up women. I didn’t know that at the time; I had just gotten back in town. Needless to say, she isn’t my friend anymore.”
Spinning around, I gaze into those fucking heaven sent eyes and combust. Gone. Her hands are all over my face and guns as I pick her up and set her on the washing machine.
“You know,” she observes, “I have heard about people doing this, but I never imagined my first time would be here.”
Dear fuck, I am in trouble.
“Emily?”
“Yea, babe?”
“Shut up,” I scold as my lips press solid to hers. I don’t push, waiting until she invites me for more.
“Holy crap! Sal Raniero just kissed me!”
Her astonishment rings through the room as I reply, “You are aware I am standing here naked and hard, right?”
Her eyes blossom big as a damn full moon sinking against the sea as she peers down between us and gasps. “It’s f—ucking pierced!”
“Ya, babe…” I realize this could go on for hours with her quirky attitude. I wrap my arms around her, carrying her through the house. “You sound so incredibly southern up here in Boston…”
“I am southern,” she admits with a smile. “Grammy practically raised me. Hell, you know. I get it at the bar all the time. Everyone says—Girl, you from the South!”
“You’re nervous,” I say, snarling at her in my arms. “You always go on when you are. You have two switches—on and reading.”
“Damn, boy, you’d think you know me or something!” Her fingers ruffle through my hair as she gets surpri
singly serious. “You gonna do this?”
“You want me to do this?”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been praying for this moment as long as I can remember,” she confesses as her lips collide into mine—wide, open, and wet. Her kiss transports me past all the crazy shit to a space where I don’t even have to see it.
When she finally breaks through her nerves, kissing me becomes an event all of its own. I could have kissed her in my arms at the foot of the bed for hours. I am so fucking hard. And maybe that is because it’s been a week with nothing—no sweet pussy, no painting mama’s shower walls.
Nothing. Nadda. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
Knowing full well I could come just kissing her divine lips is more than my reckless mind or indulgent body can handle. Floating in nothingness, she is warm like the sun and damp like the ocean-kissed sands. And there is no control, no fight, no give and take. No top. No bottom. Only love. A special love like no other. And as our mouths continued exploring one another, I realize how much I love this girl—and I have her whole life.
Her blonde curls cover my arms as her mouth devours mine, and I cannot imagine walking away now. Carefully, I lay her down on the bed as I light the candles she has on her chest of drawers.
With her sitting on the bed and taking me in, her enormous and eager bright blue eyes sparkle and flicker with the reflection of my flames. I turn on her cd player. “You know they have phones… you can listen to lots of music.”
“Yea yea, I know,” she huffs, “Phones cost money.”
“You don’t have a phone?” I toss a glance over my shoulder to see her shimmying out of her pants.
“Hell yea, I have a phone, but the port doesn’t work and the screen is broke.”
“You do need me between your phone and your igniters,” I advise.
“My w—hat?” she asks as I cannot stop grinning every single time she drops a very southern fried word. “Oh yea, the stove! You are fucking incredible… Can you just stand there for a minute?”
“You know I can be a dancing monkey if you would like.”
“No,” she mumbles, pulling the sheet up. “No, don’t do that! Definitely not!”
Rolling my hips and lifting my arms, I offer the perfect view of my muscular back and chiseled guns. I can hear her making squealing noises on the bed. I turn around slow, running my hands over my body and stroking my cock.
I really didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, but in the dim room, she fucking raged like a wild wind, breathing a firestorm back into me with every moan and gasp. Suddenly, teasing a girl wasn’t a job anymore, but good times.
I dance my way over to the bed and curl up next to her with a disciplined gaze. I am not pushing this. She can do what she wants. And if that’s my dick, I will enjoy it.
“You were never leftovers, Em,” I whisper, caressing her cheek. “I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Do you know what to do now?” she seductively asks as I move to the middle of the bed and she straddles me.
Holy fuck.
Very rarely do I ever have one of these moments where I fear blowing my load before we even start. But this fucking girl is driving me insane.
Her hands drop to my shoulders as she kisses my lips like she means it. Everything is in that kiss—every ounce of laughter, every teardrop stain, every minute of our history. My hands tremble as I run them over her smooth pink skin. Her flesh the color of blush, and I cannot even imagine how it would mark up.
Oh, fuck me. Really.
Drops of pre-cum bubble to the tip, but I am not out. Far from it. But shit, I don’t want this girl’s rebirthed first time to be with a second shot.
Calm it down, Nero.
She works her lips from mine to my neck and chest as she eases carefully over the hard thing poking her in the belly. She avoids my cock like a venomous, aggressive snake. Or maybe she is savoring me. The thought sends another rush of excitement to the nether region, and all I can think is do not do it.
Suddenly, I flash back to Dom. Of all fucking times. I spent all day on my knees with his demon cane on my ass learning how to hold my damn jiz. “Do not blow your fucking load, Raniero! Keep stroking!”
Dom is such a bastard.
She focuses on my belly button, dipping her finger inside first and swiping her lips in a full-on Em-Tongue-Lashing over my entire happy region. It is intense as the burn rages on.
Almost six years I’ve been a manwhore. A slut with a cock for the taking and never has anyone done this meticulous of a job. Like she is bathing me with her mouth, she manages to avoid the D, but has zero fear to working her way between my sack and thigh. She is trying to get my nuts in her mouth. It is rather amusing and incredibly fucking cute. I am so distracted I pay no attention when she drops low and licks my ass.
Oh Jesus. No.
She is doing to me what I want to do to her, and as her tongue navigates swirling against my skin, I think I might be missing something. Hard for me to believe or even admit. But this fucking girl is good enough to make me think I have been wrong more than once in my life choices.
Lifting up, Emily lowers her mouth down slow to what she previously passed by. She sucks just the head which is deviantly glorious and makes me want to squirm out of my own skin. My hands drop to her platinum blonde tresses splayed all over my belly and thighs.
She glances up at me with a deep hushed breath and a bit of come on her lip as she asks, “Am I doing alright?”
“Fuck ya…”
“Do these come out?” she whispers, tugging on the hoop. Never breaking her stare, I get both pieces out and toss them on the nightstand. “Done.”
“Are you that good with your hands in everything you do?”
I smirk mischievously.
The girl doesn’t need to know what these hands can do. I can build a bomb blindfolded and finger fuck a pussy until the owner screams. I hate to say it but the globule is being infused with this girl’s zephyr full of charming energy. It is infectious—much like someone else I once knew. I won’t compare because there isn’t one to make. The differences between Kaci and Em are real, but they both have a spark of hope and promise that everything is right and good and just.
“You should know, I have no gag reflex…”
I cock a brow curiously as she sucks me up, deep throating me like a goddamned porn star. The sacrificial virgin goddess is not always so. Sometimes she is a wicked southern belle.
Arching her arms out, she braces on either side of me as her mouth bobs up and down on my dick. She moves her legs, so her feet are right at my ass. It feels amazing.
My next thought is holy shit she is a damn contortionist. Her hands fly up as she latches her fingers to mine and picks her head up. “Will this work?”
“Maybe. Try it. If it doesn’t, I can get it in, babe.”
Biting her lip, she lowers slow as I brace her. I know what she wants—to slide on. But it doesn’t always work pretty that way…
Oh fuck.
This fucking girl has aim.
“Go slow, baby. Don’t rush. I am not leaving. Don’t hurt yourself on my account. There are things we can do to make it easier,” I growl as the tip of me is tucked inside of her hot wetness.
I understand why she wants to be on top, but I make no mention of it. The control is hers. My body can be her fucking playground until dawn for all I care. It’s never about the explosion at the end; it’s the journey there that makes it all worth it. If it were all about the end, I have a hand for that. He works just fine. But this—this is special—this moment where our bodies connect and coalesce.
And we are one.
SAL
Emily does nothing with my mushroom dipped into her stream which leads me to asking, “Are you okay? Are we good?”
“No,” she says, rolling away frustrated as I fall out. She rages as her fist hits the pillow. “Fucking hell.”
“Hey…hey…hey…no, no no,” I comfort, cradling her in my arms. “Do you wa
nt this?”
“Yes.”
Rolling on top, I kiss her neck and work my way to her breast. Her nipples promise with a pale rose color as I take a taste of one. Arousing it to a peak, I lay my hand upon the other as I feel her breathing increase. “Don’t panic.”
“Tell me no one will know,” she says seriously.
“Our secret. No one. I swear to you,” I vow, kissing her belly as her hands coast into my hair. Laying her legs onto my back, I lick her slit and take her on a ride. She is dripping—sweet like sugar from the warm honeysuckle vine—cascading onto my tongue. God, I need her on my dick. I lift up quick and say, “Are you sure, Em?”
I hover on the edge, licking and kissing her lips as her fingers grip my ass. I groan on the precipice of before and after because there will be no hesitation on my part. My dick will slide right on in, and there will be no stopping me. I am nothing if not tenacious.
Rabid. Fucking. Hellhound.
“Lucas, please,” she murmurs, wrapping her hand around my shaft as if the sound of my name from her lips isn’t enough of a turn on.
“You’re wet…I mean…” she observes. “Damp. M—oist.”
“I know what you mean,” I assure with a grin. “And you are really fucking wet.”
“You’re really turned on by me?” She seems almost shocked that I am.
“Yes, Emily. You got me at attention, doll face.”
She smiles and her entire expression lights up looking simply happy. “I’m not asking for a relationship, you know. I mean you don’t have to call me tomorrow or anything.”
Because of where I come from, I realize I forgot to ask the all-important question. “Do you want a condom? And what if I want to call you every fucking day?”
“No condom. I haven’t since…well, you know.”
I brush the back of my hand against her mound, inciting her to widen her legs even further and revealing her wetness. “Shit… I can’t do this. We need protection.”
“It’s okay. Really,” she encourages, stroking me slow. “I promise. I am fixed.”
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 24
