by Winters, KB
He didn’t look convinced, and I took a step closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, so strong and muscular. And tempting.
Emmett looked up with heat in his eyes and my lips started to tingle. He stood and stared deep into my eyes, and my whole body lit up with a feeling I thought I’d lost forever. Desire. Big strong hands were on my hips in an instant, sliding down my back and up to the curve of my breast, gentle and intense and hungry at all once.
A sharp gasp escaped, surprising us both, but Emmett just smiled and then his mouth was on mine, devouring every inch as if he just couldn’t get enough of me. It was intoxicating considering I hadn’t had a proper orgasm since learning about Lance. The kiss started out like a soft flickering flame, igniting heat all over my body, but soon enough Emmett took control, grasping my jaws and tilting my head so he could taste the depths of my mouth, making sure no spot was neglected.
The intensity of the kiss shocked me as much as my own response to the kiss. It was so at odds with the gentle man I knew him to be, but I wanted the intensity. Hell, I liked the intensity. It made me feel wanted and desired. Lusted after.
Before my brain could take over, I flung my arms around his wide shoulders and pressed my body up against his, squealing in surprise when Emmett dropped back down into the chair and brought me with him. I nestled on his lap, so I had no doubt he was turned on, too. He growled as the heat of my thighs cradled his denim-clad cock, and my body suddenly had a mind of its own, grinding back and forth over the impressive length. The impressive and hard length.
Emmett gripped my ass and helped, dragging me back and forth across his cock as my breathing sped up and my hips moved faster and faster. My body was close to that feeling I hadn’t felt in too damn long and it would be at the hands, well the cock, of the wrong man.
That thought brought me up short, and I pulled back immediately, fingertips brushing over my kiss-swollen lips as I looked down at Emmett, feeling guilty. And aroused. And yeah, a bit angry too.
“Shit,” I muttered.
His dark brows rose in surprise as his big hands slowed their movements to gentle caresses. “Should I apologize?”
“No,” I sighed breathlessly. I felt guilty, but it was my own shit. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
He nodded, his eyes focused completely on mine, in search of any doubt. “Should I leave?”
“No,” I told him, finally finding the strength in my voice. “But I think maybe we should just get back to dinner?”
Emmett nodded and flashed a sincere smile. “Sounds good. Smells too good to go to waste. Need some help?”
He was such a good man on top of being strong and hot as fuck. How unfair was it that I met him when I was clearly not ready to move on from Lance? How unfair was it that the closest I’d come to physical release, physical satisfaction since becoming a widow was at the hands of another?
“Vanessa?”
I blinked and finally removed myself from his lap with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Everything is just about done but maybe you can distract me with a story?”
“How about I tell you the story of how I accidentally ordered a snake sandwich on leave in Indonesia?”
“Eww. Bet that was a surprise.”
Emmett flashed a smile and told me all about ordering what he thought was a regular burger only to find a coiled up piece of meat on his bun. It was a funny story and the perfect distraction that allowed us to get back on track and enjoy a nice meal.
“It wasn’t half bad actually,” he said, laughing, “but I wouldn’t order it again.”
He told me a few more stories about his time in service, but unlike Lance’s stories, these were all tales of men being men, fooling around, and giving each other a hard time about the small stuff. He enjoyed his buddies, it seemed, more than the action. Another stark contrast to Lance. And that thought made me feel guilty. I couldn’t compare the two men; they were different people with different personalities. The only similarity was that they had both served.
“I think I’m gonna head out.” Emmett’s words broke through my endless loop of thoughts, and he wore an apologetic look on his face.
“You don’t have to—” I insisted but he shook his head.
“I think I should.” He stood and reached for the last wonton, chewing with a satisfied smile.
“Thanks for dinner. It was the best homecooked meal I’ve had in a long time. Just don’t tell Sadie,” he said with a playful wink.
I relaxed a little, relieved he didn’t seem to be angry about the abbreviated evening. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I never had a doubt. Nessa.” His lips pulled into a grin as he stacked our plates and helped me clear the table. “It suits you, the name.”
“You think? It’s my alter ego. Makes me more badass. A woman more confident and fun than I normally am.” I turned to him and scrunched up my face. “How humiliating is that to admit?
“Not humiliating at all. I think she’s as incredible as Vanessa.”
“Emmett.” His name came out on a sigh, and I took a hesitant step forward, knowing I should put more distance between us, but I couldn’t.
“Vanessa.” My name was playful on his lips but the heat in his eyes wasn’t playful at all; it was gravely serious. And when Emmett took a step forward, I knew he wouldn’t back away. And when he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, I gasped a moment before his mouth crashed over mine. The kiss was long and slow, so damn sexy I actually felt my body vibrating with need. He deepened the kiss as his hands slid from my hair, down my back until his hands gripped my ass and squeezed with a growl.
My heart raced in my chest and my clit hummed with want as I kissed Emmett back, blocking everything but the need for pleasure from my mind, determined to enjoy the moment. To savor it as much as I could.
Too soon, Emmett pulled back.
“Dessert was my favorite,” he said and took a step back so I was finally able to suck in a breath. “Thanks for an interesting evening, Vanessa.”
“You’re welcome. Next time I’ll see if I can rustle us up some snake sandwiches.”
His loud bark of laughter was the perfect way to end the evening.
* * *
The morning after my dinner with Emmett, I awoke with a start. My chest heaved deeply and my breaths came out in short, sharp pants. A fine coating of sweat covered my skin, and I looked around the empty room, wide-eyed and terrified.
What had woken me up? I scanned the room and noticed that nothing was out of place. My silk robe was still draped over the armoire and last night’s clothes sat in a heap at the foot of the bed. The window was closed tight, the curtains still. No sign of an intruder. I closed my eyes and listened for any signs of movement inside the house. Nothing.
But with my eyes closed it became perfectly clear why I woke so abruptly. Thick chestnut brown hair that had grown out just a little, deep blue eyes and a smiling jaw covered with stubble that had grown a few hours past five o’clock shadow status. Thick pink lips moistened by an even pinker tongue.
“Emmett.” It was his smiling face that had woken me up for the first time in months, not the familiar blond waves and emerald-green eyes that belonged to Lance. The dream came back to me instantly. Emmett and me in the kitchen surrounded by dirty dishes from dinner. He stripped me down and laid me across the table and feasted on me like I was the main course.
And once again I’d woken up before I reached my climax. All the thunder but not an ounce of fucking rain.
Annoyed and frustrated, I jumped out of bed and stripped it down, determined to push my whacked out sexual frustrations out of my mind. After a quick round of yoga and a hot shower, I opened the refrigerator and packed up the leftover food from the night before along with other items women and children needed when they were poised to start a new life and took them over to the local women’s shelter.
It was something I did at least once a week and usually it made me feel better, to do something to help
improve the lives of complete strangers. This week though, I simply went through the motions, offering words of strength and wisdom that I didn’t feel. Smiling at the sad faces of the children who only wanted life to go back to normal, because I shared their sadness. Wishing life could go back to the way it was.
But it couldn’t.
That wasn’t how life worked. It wasn’t how time worked. You could either become like a bug, stuck in amber with no way to move forward or you could plow forward until you finally reached the other side.
I wanted to get to the elusive other side, but last night with Emmett proved that I couldn’t. Or that I wasn’t ready. Yet.
But I wanted to be ready, dammit.
It was time.
With a renewed sense of determination, I put off the trip to the grocery store and went straight home from the shelter. I locked the doors and went upstairs to the bedroom I’d shared with my husband and slipped into a black negligee that made me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. It was a pointless gesture, of course, since it was just me, but the confidence it gave me helped.
Soft R&B streamed from the speakers where my phone was docked, and I tip-toed across the room and pulled open the drawer where I kept all the sex toys Lance had bought for us. Instantly, tears slipped down my cheeks at the evidence of one more thing we would never get to do together. He’d gone on a little shopping spree shortly before he died, buying up a few different toys he thought might be fun to try out. When he displayed them on the bed, I clapped my hands and laughed. I couldn’t wait.
And then we’d been robbed of that time to experiment and play. Robbed of the feelings people have when they do intimate things together.
I reached for the hot pink vibrator; it was curved at the end for g-spot stimulation. It was also the only one we’d gotten around to using. The first time we’d used it, I’d squirted so hard, Lance almost came just by watching me orgasm with it.
Memories of Lance danced through my head and I sprawled out on our bed thinking about that night with Lance, imagining us using the toys he’d picked out for us. He was showing me a new side of him, a devilish side.
I loved our sex life together, but he was telling me he wanted more. And I wanted to give him everything he wanted. Thinking of making him happy with his new playthings made me hot. Made my clit tingle, and slowly, I spread my legs.
This is for Lance, I told myself. I’ll pretend he’s here with me, enjoying me, enjoying myself. My heart beat faster remembering him in bed with me, his hands gliding over my skin as he got harder and whispered in my ear how much he wanted me, what he wanted to do to me.
I could almost feel Lance with me as I slid the silicone tip across my clit, turning it on ever so slightly to warm me up. Lance, oh, yes, my beloved Lance. Do you see what I feel?
The vibration felt good, really good. I was getting wet. A good sign. Maybe I could break through the guilt and have a proper orgasm. It had been too long. Lance would want that for me, wouldn’t he?
I turned up the speed of the vibrations and slid it inside my vagina. I tried to tell myself it was Lance who was moving inside me, rubbing against my clit and making me hot.
I turned up the vibrations to another level and gripped the toy with my fist, my other hand caressing my breasts. Ooh, that felt good. Was that the way Lance did it? I couldn’t remember now. It had been too long.
My legs trembled; I was almost there. But who was I kidding? It wasn’t Lance. I missed Lance. My body coiled up. Forget Lance, I told myself. Give yourself over to the sensations, your clit crying for release. The tension building and building. Yes, yes! I was going to finally have an orgasm and leave all the guilt behind.
I stabbed at my pussy, my hips moving faster and faster on the goddamn dildo, but why wasn’t I enjoying this? Why wasn’t I getting there, getting to the edge of pleasure where I could let go, where every nerve in my body would explode. Come on, I told myself. You can do it.
But I wasn’t turned on so much as I was angry now. Angry that life, guilt, my dead husband was denying me the simple fucking pleasure of an orgasm.
I stabbed the vibrator inside of me, I twisted it to find the right spot, plunging the vibrator deep. In and out, finding the teasing sensations. Yes, my clit swelled and pulsed with need. But the telltale clenching never came. The tingling in my toes that had always signaled an orgasm never happened. I was hanging over the edge, swinging in the breeze.
“Fuck!”
This wasn’t what I wanted. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t manufacture the times I had with Lance. Why did I even try this? It just made it worse. I took the pink vibrator, the one that was such a turn-on for Lance and threw it across the room. The tears came faster, this time accompanied by angry sobs. It wasn’t fair. I lost Lance and the future we were supposed to have together. The children and the anniversaries, the family holidays, the road trips and vacations. It was gone. Just like Lance.
I sobbed and sobbed. What was I thinking? This was fucking useless. Yes, Lance was dead. Taken from me too soon. I had to move on, but this wasn’t the way. Was there a way? I had to find one if I was to keep my sanity. But would my heart and mind would ever let me.
I sat up to take a hot shower and noticed the new toy Lance had purchased about a week before he was murdered. I smirked at it, thinking of how excited Lance had been when he showed it to me. He called it a “badass clit sucking g-spot monster.”
He’d gotten a massive hard on just describing how hot it would be to watch me use it on myself. He’d said it would be like having his own porn star in bed. And also teased me about the toy sucking my clit better than he did. We never got to try it out. It arrived in discreet packaging the day he was killed. I clung to the memory of his excitement and removed the toy from its box. I inspected it, found the switch, and turned it on. Good, it had a charge. Interesting.
I stripped out of the negligee because I was tired of the fucking pretense. This wasn’t about love or romance; it was about the physical release I needed. Badly. Propped up by two pillows, the ones that had been Lance’s, I sat back on my bent legs, and turned the clit sucking part on. Weird, but intriguing. I slid it between my lips, finding them slick with arousal and positioned the vibrator on my clit.
Damn. The clit sucking felt nice and then it felt really fucking nice. It wasn’t as nice as Lance, but my nipples beaded all the same. I hit the button to get the part that vibrated my g-spot and slowly increased the pulsing vibe. Which felt amazing, until my whole body was slick with sweat and another image of Lance flashed, him smiling at me from between my legs.
“You taste like strawberries.” That’s what he’d told me the first time he went down on me, when I’d been too nervous to enjoy it.
Every memory of us, every flash of his face, seemed to set my orgasm back a little.
“Come the fuck on!” I pushed the button again, turning the setting to its highest and ground my hips against the vibrator as I shoved it deeper and harder into my body while I squirmed, and moaned, pretending it was Lance making me feel good.
Tears rolled down my cheeks and my muscles ached with the strain of reaching toward the orgasm that remained just out of reach. No matter how hard I panted, how much I relaxed and let the pleasure wash over me, I just couldn’t get there.
“Okay, goddammit, I can do this.” I sat up on the bed and bounced and ground my pussy onto the vibrator, my mind on Lance, thinking of how good it felt to be on top. With one hand gripping the toy, my hips moved up and down and in an ‘s’ formation just the way Lance loved it.
Nothing.
I increased the suction on my clit and a scream of pleasure escaped.
“That’s it,” I growled and moved in an up and down motion that was meant to please only me and slowly, pleasure began to take over completely. Gone were the images of Lance and they got further and further away as my body accepted the physical satisfaction the machine gave me.
The machine, not Lance.
I
bounced up and down on the purple cock while the suction pulled at my clit over and over, like there were two people down there working to bring my orgasm to the surface. Two people, one sucking my clit while the other fucked my pussy and neither of them were Lance. Not even the image of him, smiling or grunting, could get me there which forced more tears to the surface.
And then it happened. Ugly crying, butt-ass naked with my eyes slammed shut while I fucked a vibrator, my orgasm came.
It was stronger than any I’d ever felt, throwing me down on the bed in a fetal position. My body twitching as pleasure drowned my pussy and coated the toy along with my fingers. My body pulsed and jerked as tears streamed from my eyes, and grief swamped me. The orgasm was long and drawn out, like months and months of physical release had finally broken free.
I felt limp.
And sad.
Guilty.
Lonely.
More than anything though, I felt angry. Angry that I couldn’t even have one last fucking moment of pleasure with my husband. That not even his face could help me come.
By the time the last aftershock rocked my body, a small smile crossed my lips. I felt different somehow, more than relieved. More than satisfied.
I felt almost ready to live again.
Ready to move on.
Ready to kick this guilt and sorrow in the ass.
Maybe.
I sat up on the bed, flicked that damn clit-sucking monster on again and brought myself to another well-deserved orgasm.
Only it didn’t take as long this time.
Chapter Fifteen
Emmett
Even when I could finally work out, I couldn’t focus on anything other than Vanessa. This sucked because I had finally gotten the all clear from my doctor. My ribs were fully healed from the attack and full range of motion had returned to my neck and my shoulder. But I couldn’t do a damn thing about it because my mind was full of Vanessa and the way her mouth tasted against mine, the way she melted against my body.
The way she ground against my cock, panting and moaning like she’d been seconds away from an orgasm. She was incredible. Just fucking incredible.
