“That so?” said Emily, her voice a little lower than usual. She managed to open the cream, but knew her hand was too shaky to pour it into the little pitcher.
“Yep,” he said around the carrot. “I wondered if you’d mind giving me a lift home later on.”
She briefly glanced at him over her shoulder and said, “Well, depends what time you want to leave. I’m pretty tired, traveled today, you know.”
“Oh, okay. I was thinking pretty early, but we’ll see how it goes, I guess.” Emily could hear the smile in his voice.
The swinging door opened a bit and Dottie stuck her head in. “What’s the holdup in here? Charlotte’s waiting to start some kind of big production ‘til you’re back.”
“Coming right now,” said Joe.
Dottie disappeared, and after pinching Emily’s ass, Joe followed. Emily, pre-occupied by the idea of going home with Joe, stood staring vacantly into space for a minute, then smiled and went in to sit down.
Once Emily was seated, Charlotte began a dissertation on pastry and French Christmas traditions – Emily heard one word out of ten. At last Charlotte began to disassemble the tower of little cream puff thingies; plates were handed around and she concluded her speech with “…and I hope, if everyone enjoys it, that it will become my annual contribution to the family Christmas traditions.”
Uncle Herb looked up, his fork in mid-air. “I’m sorry, what? What are you talking about?”
There was a brief, awkward pause. Her mother, at the other end of the table, looked around and said, way too brightly, “Well, let’s dig in, shall we?”
Looking very puzzled, Charlotte sat, picked up her fork, put it down again and looked at Morris. “You didn’t tell them?”
Morris, already eating, said, “Sorry, dear, slipped my mind. Meant to have a toast before we ate.” He got to his feet, swallowed and went on. “I want you all to know that I have asked Charlotte to be my wife—”
“And you said yes?” Dottie interrupted, her voice incredulous.
Joe coughed loudly, very obviously covering a laugh, but Debbie laughed outright. “Nice going, Dad,” she said.
Emily looked across the table at Charlotte, trying to decode her expression – was she angry, or just horribly embarrassed? Probably both, Emily decided. She glanced around at the others and saw that everyone else definitely looked embarrassed and slightly desperate, too – as if they couldn’t come up with an answer at a job interview.
She heard Joe clear his throat. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t we give the dessert a try and then have a vote? If it’s up to snuff, fine, it will become a new tradition and I’m sure you’ll all be delighted to welcome Charlotte to your family. Or, if it’s absolutely horrible, someone can tactfully suggest that Morris and Charlotte spend Christmas far, far away. Or just tell him to give her the boot entirely. Agreed?”
Everyone laughed, and Emily felt proud of him. What an excellent way to move past an awkward moment. Aaron was the first to register a vote – he took one bite and said, “Holy shit – oh, excuse the language. I’d like to ask for seconds right now, before they’re all gone.”
Emily’s father excused himself and Emily heard his steps on the basement stairs. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of champagne; Abby found the glasses; a toast to the bride was drunk and the happy Christmas mood was restored.
As the plates were cleared, people began to drift towards the living room to relax or into the kitchen for KP duty. Debbie began an effort to organize a photo op by the tree, but got the same response from everyone – “come get me when everybody else is ready.” Eventually, they were all assembled; Joe took a couple shots, and then they began the endless rounds of “wait, let me get my camera,” “here, take one with my phone,” “no, wait, the flash didn’t go off,” etc. Emily’s smiles were growing a bit forced by the time her mother said, “Charlotte, would you mind taking a few with Joe in the picture?”
After the required “no, no, you don’t need me in the picture,” Joe stepped into the back row directly behind Emily, and Charlotte began to direct. “Okay, everybody squeeze in a little closer, okay, that’s good, smile.”
Emily hoped no one ever looked too closely at her expression in those last few pictures. Almost as soon as he moved behind her, she’d felt the stealthy touch of Joe’s hand on her ass. And though she hadn’t really been surprised, there was something about the way he seemed to have casually taken possession of her that quickly began to drive her crazy. That subtle, steady pressure was intensely arousing and she could feel herself growing wet.
When she checked the two shots on her own phone a few minutes later, she saw they weren’t too bad – she merely had the vaguely distracted look of someone doing mental arithmetic or trying to remember a name. What was annoying was how cheerfully innocent Joe appeared.
As everyone wandered back to whatever they’d been doing, Joe lingered by the tree, examining ornaments. Emily hung back, too. “We don’t want anyone else saying ‘oh, we can drop you off,’” he said quietly. “This has to be a done deal, right?”
Emily nodded and he went on. “In a little while, just get your coat, say you need some air and you’re going to run me home, okay?”
She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Well, Mr. Sneaky, that sounds like a pretty good plan.”
“Hey baby, sneaky is my middle name.”
Rolling her eyes, Emily said, “Oh, Joe, your middle name is Captain America – I’ve known that all along.” He was smiling as she walked away.
Half an hour later, she did just as he’d suggested. Got her coat and the keys in the front hall, then went back to the kitchen and announced to her mom, Abby and Dottie, “Joe rode his bike over, so I thought I’d drive him home, get a little air and look at the decorations, all right?”
No one paid much attention – “Okay, see you later,” “Careful on the road,”— but then her mom hurried down the hall as they were leaving. “Here Joe, take home some of the roast beef, we’ll never eat it all, and a very Merry Christmas to you.” She gave him a hug and added, “It’s wonderful to have you back.”
They were quiet on the drive; a very small part of the awkwardness had returned. Joe drove and Emily looked out the window, realizing she really did love all the decorations. Funny how things change, she thought. She knew the families in so many of the houses and could almost tell how many kids were still at home, how many had moved away by the number of giant inflatables on the lawns.
She was pleasantly surprised that Joe had a few strings of lights up, as though he’d been determined to get into the spirit. He parked in the drive, switched off the ignition and the discomfort level went up another notch. They sat silently for several seconds, then started to speak at the same time, then fell back into silence.
Again Emily was reminded how new and unpredictable their relationship was. Sometimes they communicated so easily, sometimes they both acted like high school kids on a first date. Suddenly she laughed out loud, said, “We don’t have much time,” got out of the car and ran up to the porch.
Joe followed, smiling and shaking his head. “Go ahead, it’s open,” he called, so Emily turned the knob and stepped in.
Slamming the door behind them, Joe wrapped one arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist and pulled her close. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t undress in the yard,” he said.
“I’m not undressing in here, either,” she said, “it’s about fifty de—”
He kissed her, and Emily slid her hands around to grip his ass tightly. The instant their tongues met, she moaned, releasing all the pent-up tension that had been building for weeks. She wanted to kiss him everywhere at once, touch his skin, suck his cock, feel him moving inside her. He broke the kiss abruptly and said, “The coats have got to go,” his voice raspy with desire.
Quickly, he shrugged his jacket off and let it drop to the floor. She’d gotten half her buttons undone when he moved her hands out of the way and yanked the coat ope
n, then pushed it off her shoulders. She heard a button pop loose and roll across the floor. With his lips on hers again, he murmured, “I’ll find that later.”
Now, now she could feel his hands on her body, roaming across her breasts, down her ass, under her skirt, up between her legs. His kiss became more insistent with need; the rock-hard cock that pressed against her seemed to throb with urgency. He broke the embrace again, stepping away from her and flicking a light switch. “Just a second,” he said.
Beyond the entry she saw a freshly painted living room, all the furniture huddled in the middle of the room under dropcloths. Joe went in and flipped back one of the tarps, revealing a sofa with a wide, padded back. He returned to the entry, switched off the light, grabbed her hand, pulled her towards the end of the sofa and kissed her again, but only for a moment.
With his hands on her waist, he turned her and she felt his hand press against her back, urging her downwards. She bent at the waist and stretched her torso along the back of the sofa, bending an elbow and laying her head on her arm. His fingers fumbled briefly at the waistband of her skirt; she felt the zipper glide open and the skirt fell to the floor.
She felt his hands slide up the backs of her legs and under her panties, and out again to move to the elastic at the top. She felt herself begin to quiver as the panties were lowered to the tops of her legs, but he suddenly muttered “Damn,” and then “Don’t move.”
Moving wouldn’t even have occurred to her – she felt comfortably dreamy, waiting for only one thing, the thrill of his cock sliding smoothly inside her. She heard his steps pound up the stairs, fade away for a moment, then thud back down again. Halfway across the room, the footsteps halted, she heard his sharp intake of breath, and a long, slow, growling exhalation. When he started walking again, his steps were quiet, slow, measured.
He stood beside, not behind her, and she felt his hand brush at her hair and gather it to pull it away from her face. His other hand slid lightly down her back, over her ass and between her legs, then out again. “Oh, so wet,” he whispered, “why don’t you tell me, Emily? Is there something you’d like me to do? Tell me, please.”
She didn’t answer, but she opened her eyes, looked up to his face, and her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were glittering with something she hadn’t seen before, something that made her moan and start to tremble all over. She looked away, dropping her eyes, and found herself staring directly at the outline of his erection against the worn fabric of his jeans.
She watched as with one hand, he slowly slid the tongue of his belt through the loop and then pulled back to release the buckle. He left the belt ends dangling and undid the button at his waist; the pants settled slightly lower on his hips.
The hand moved out of sight, then reappeared as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt – when he was finished she was gazing at his flat, muscled torso and the thin line of hair that began below his navel and ran down and under the top of his jeans.
All the while, his other hand was lightly stroking her bottom, his fingers sometimes drifting slightly into the cleft of her buttocks or slipping into the folds of her sex. Emily was panting, moaning, whimpering, but she couldn’t seem to move or think of any words at all. She had never felt so helplessly overcome by simple lust and she found she was absolutely luxuriating in the feeling.
His voice began again, low and silkily intimate. “Emily, I find I’m getting just a touch impatient. Would it be all right if I put my cock in your mouth while you decide what you want me to do?”
Moaning loudly, she watched as his hand slowly unzipped his fly and moved to ease his jeans and shorts over his hips. She gasped again at the sight of the rigid cock inches from her face and without any conscious thought, opened her mouth. He moved even closer, took his cock in his hand and brushed the tip across her lower lip, once, twice, then pushed it inside her mouth.
She closed her lips around the smooth, slick skin; she couldn’t easily move her head, but it didn’t matter – he was gently rocking his hips, doing the work for her, fucking my mouth, Emily realized. An intense, thrilling shudder ran through her entire body and she lapped at him eagerly. If he touches me, I’m going to come, she thought.
One of his hands began to lightly stroke her hair, quieting her, and she felt the other at the small of her back. “Shhh,” he said. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.” He paused, then went on. “Unless that’s what you want, of course.” Another pause. “You know, it’s funny…I don’t remember you as being so…uncommunicative. In fact, I have a very distinct memory of you, moaning fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, over and over again. Do you remember that, Emily?”
She had never heard his voice like this before – it was like steel coated in honey, soothing but authoritative, hypnotically commanding. She realized she was standing on her toes, arching her back into his hand, trying to urge his hand towards her sex. With what seemed like an enormous effort, she moaned around his cock and tried to speak.
But at the same moment, he patted her head and very slowly withdrew his cock from her mouth. “How about I just take over, Emily? I think that might be best.”
Somehow, she managed to whisper, “All right.”
Very calmly, he put a hand on the sofa back, kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his pants and picked them up. Almost idly, he reached into one of the pockets for the condom, then carefully draped the jeans over the back of the sofa.
As he walked away, he trailed his hand from her neck down to the small of her back and she felt his fingers push her sweaters slightly higher. Emily opened her eyes, stared for a moment across empty space to the blank wall ten feet away, and let her eyelids flutter shut again. She felt his warm, soft lips touch the skin at her waist and begin to move downward, kissing her randomly here and there.
Every inch of her skin felt hyper-sensitized and glowing. His lips paused at the base of her spine, just above the cleft of her buttocks; his tongue flickered against the skin there and she gave a long quiet moan and tried to shift her hips.
With one hand, he pushed down on her ass and she settled back as she had been. The hand was briefly removed, then it returned to begin lightly caressing her ass again, each stroke ending closer and closer to her sex, but never reaching it. “Joe,” she murmured, “oh, Joe, lower, please, touch me.”
“Ah, too late,” he said quietly. “Now you’ll have to be patient.”
She heard him take a few steps to move behind her. His fingertips played for a moment with the elastic of her lowered panties. “It was these, I think that did it…no, I take that back…” His tone was casual, softly conversational, but there was something dangerous about it, too.
His hands moved up, under her sweater, down her back and over her ass before he went on. “It was the entire picture, I suppose…” He repeated the long, slow caress.
“You know, Emily, I have been around the block a few times, and…”
Now his hands were on the back of her legs, sliding up, his thumbs on the inside of her thighs. “…and I have never, ever, seen anything that affected me quite the way you did a minute ago.”
At last she felt his fingers slide into the folds on her sex and she made a strange, strangled sound of pleasure. One of the fingers slid inside her and began moving in and out; other fingers danced gently around, teasing her, toying with her. Emily squirmed, trying in vain to slip her clitoris closer to his maddening touch.
As he continued to torture her, he went on, his voice now hoarse. “The sight of you, waiting here so docilely, your panties down, your ass in the air – I will never forget it.” He paused. “In fact, I seem to be getting even harder, just thinking about it…I think it’s time to fuck you.”
Another thrilling quiver shot through her. She heard the rip of the condom wrapper; her panties were yanked down; one foot was lifted free and then set down in a different place, opening her legs. Nothing happened for a moment and Emily realized she was holding her breath, waiting for him to ram himself inside her.
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p; Instead, she felt only the tip and an inch or two of his cock slide in and begin to move, almost gently, back and forth. After a minute, Emily realized this was a kind of stimulation she’d never experienced before, and it was having a profound effect. Heat from somewhere deep inside her body began to radiate outwards, enveloping her, overtaking all her senses. Her focus narrowed until she was conscious of only one small part of her body.
Joe’s control was amazing – she became aware that he was inch by inch increasing the depth of his strokes, awakening a new set of nerve endings with each further probing exploration. At first she had tried in vain to squirm again, thrust her pelvis back, do something to increase the contact, but his hands had gripped her even more firmly, not allowing her to alter his rhythm. “Emily,” he’d said in a warning tone. And that was all.
At some point, she surrendered to his pace and her mind began to drift. She saw a picture of herself and Joe from a different point of view – saw the woman, naked from the waist down, bent passively over the sofa, and the man behind her, controlling her hips, thrusting his cock in and out, using her as he pleased. As that image grew clearer, as the details sharpened, a little hidden door somewhere in Emily’s mind popped open and she felt an odd surge of freedom or release.
The orgasm had been building so gradually, so slyly, that when it happened it was almost a surprise. The pleasure began in some new place deep inside and spread warmly all along her limbs; she felt her muscles clench and spasm around the cock buried inside her; she started to pant.
Joe was thrusting harder now, and speaking, his voice strong and aggressive, but Emily couldn’t understand him; there was a thundering sound in her ears, obliterating his words. Every nerve in her body seemed electrified, pulsating with each of his movements. She opened her mouth even further, moaning with each exhalation.
Hope Falls: Almost Merry (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4
