Page 41 of Fixing Emilee

“Maybe.”

“Tell me, Baby. What was the scene about?” I hear him sit in his chair because it squeaks.

After putting the lasagna in to cook, I shut the oven and head back to our bedroom. “You really want to hear about the scene, or do you want to hear how fucking bad I want you right now?”

“Fuck, both, Baby, tell me both,” he groans out.

“Well, the scene starts with Sean telling Malia to get on her knees in front of him. When she does, he rewards her by saying, ‘Good girl,” I say as my pussy clenches, thinking about Parker’s low, harsh voice saying the same thing. Laying back on the bed, I put him on speaker phone and lay the phone on my chest, which is heaving to match my rapid heartbeat.

“Oh, I bet that made you wet for me, didn’t it?” he asks in the same voice I just imagined in my head.

“Yes, it did.”

“Good girl. What about now? How wet are you? Slide one of those beautiful long fingers down your stomach and tell me how wet my pussy is.” I hear the sound of his zipper being lowered. Knowing that he is about to touch himself turns me on even more.

Doing as he tells me, I run a finger down my slit pushing in, moaning at the feel of my finger working in and out of me. “I’m so fucking wet for you, Baby. Just like Malia was for Sean,” I moan out.

“Tell me what happened next.” His breath is starting to get labored like mine.

“Sean made Malia pull his hard throbbing dick out, and he demanded that she suck him straight to the back of her throat.” I add another finger thrusting into my hand, getting lost in the scene playing behind my eyes, but instead of Sean and Malia, it’s Parker and me.

“God damn, my girl has a dirty mind, and I fucking love it. Tell me, Butterfly, when you wrote this, did you think about you and me? Cause that’s what I’m doing right now. You are kneeling on my dirty floor, underneath my desk, and your pretty, warm mouth is wrapped around my hard dick.”

“Parker. God, I’m so fucking close,” I moan, pulling my drenched fingers out and rubbing my clit just how I like it.

“Fuck yeah, me too, Butterfly. Come for me. Let me hear what just thinking about my dick inside you makes you do,” he says, and I hear the slap of his hand as he jacks himself off.

“Fuck, fuck Parker,” I scream out as I roughly thrust my fingers inside my pussy one last time. My inner walls clench around my fingers as my muscles cramp up and then release as my orgasm takes over me.

“Fuck, Em,” he groans as he finds his release as well. Laying here, we both catch our breaths from our self-love session. “You there, baby?” he asks after a few minutes.

“Yes. That was fun. I should write more scenes if this is the ending I’m going to get.” I laugh because I should be embarrassed that my husband knows I’m writing a filthy Mafia romance, but I’m not.

“Yes, you fucking should, but only when I can come home early. I was calling to let you know that I was going to stay late and let Zak get out of here early but fuck that. While I love having phone sex with you, I need to be deep inside that pussy instead of my fucking hand like a teenager,” he growls out.

“This pussy will be here when you get home, but let Zak go home early. He has covered for you all this week, Parker. Don’t be an ass,” I tell him. “Plus, I have a few more things to do before we can have fun.”

“Okay, my love. I will be home no later than six.” I look at the clock. That gives me enough time to finish dinner and, hopefully, his surprise.

“That will work. Be safe. You have precious cargo with you. I love you.” I pick up my phone, waiting for his typical goodbye.

“Today, tomorrow, and forever you hold all my love, Butterfly,” he says the same thing he has for the past five years. Then my phone goes black. I’ve been so wrapped up in having hot phone sex with him that I didn’t see the text that came through.

Christian: Hey, yeah, I got the email yesterday, but I have been so swamped with schoolwork. Everyone warned me that law school was no fucking joke, but I didn’t listen to them. Garrett is going to print them off for me today. Thank you again for agreeing to give me a letter of recommendation. I really appreciate it. Hope you and Parker are doing great, and congratulations on the book.

Christian contacted me a couple of years ago asking if I would attend a therapy session with him. He started going after getting into an unhealthy relationship, and his therapist thought it would be helpful for him to go back to the beginning. I was hesitant to agree, but it was actually beneficial. I still have monthly checkups with Mr. Gold but haven’t had a reason to go into his office or any therapist’s office since senior year. What kind of person would I be if I refused to help someone get better? Ever since then, we have been messaging every once and a while. Parker and I have even had dinner with him and his husband.

Grabbing what I need to shower, I head into the bathroom to make myself more presentable for my man. Thinking about my “friendship” with Christian makes me miss Tiffani even more. I’m not sure what happened, but she just stopped talking to me four years ago. My calls started going unanswered, messages left on read, then, one day, her number was disconnected. I eventually gave up trying to contact her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss her. Setting my stuff on the counter, I grab the box from underneath the sink where I hid it last night so Parker wouldn’t see it.

The same nerves I got yesterday when I bought it come back, making my heart race and my hands shake. I was told when I was sixteen that the possibility of me ever needing this was slim to none, but I’ve been sick for the past two weeks. The littlest smell will trigger me, and I have to race to the bathroom. I don’t want to get my hopes up because I have in the past, only for it to be nothing. Opening the test, I sit on the toilet and do my business. Setting it face down, I step into the shower trying to forget about the little stick that can change our lives forever.

I stopped telling Parker when I had a feeling I might be pregnant because I couldn’t stand to watch him get so excited just to be let down by my stupid body time after time. Stepping out, I dry off, get dressed and blow dry my hair fully before I even consider looking at the test. Taking a deep breath and holding it in, I pick up the test and flip it over. The air rushes out of me as tears cloud my vision. Pregnant. The digital test says pregnant. Holy fuck. My hands shake so bad I drop the damn test.

Then three things happen simultaneously: the timer goes off in the kitchen, Parker’s voice floats down the hallway saying, “Butterfly, I’m home early. Where are you?” And my phone rings.

Picking up the test, I shove it in my jeans pocket. Excitement is racing through me as I head out to watch the man of my dreams discover he is about to become a daddy. I pick up my phone to see Adam is calling me. I let it go to voicemail, not wanting to talk to him. But he just calls back instantly. All the excitement leaves me as I watch the call go to voicemail, and he calls right back. Something is wrong. A cold chill covers my body, making goosebumps erupt and an ache form in my chest. Something is seriously wrong. I can feel it deep in my bones.

With shaking hands, I bring the phone to my ear but don’t say anything.

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