Page 75 of The Emerson Effect
He keeps pumping into me, hitting that sensitive spot again and again, drawing my orgasm out into a never-ending storm of decadence. A stream of nonsensical words flow from my lips until his erection pulses inside me, and he plunges deep, freezing while he grunts through his own release.
Holy shit.
I never knew sex could be like that. I never knew it could be so…
Fuck, I can’t even think of a word to express it. It’s indescribable.
“Fan-fucking-tabulous,” Emerson whispers when his body finally relaxes atop mine.
I can’t stop my smile as he burrows his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder, kissing the sensitive skin there.
“My thoughts, exactly,” I whisper back, and I feel his answering grin against my skin.
Fan-fucking-tabulous.
FORTY-TWO
Emerson
These last five days have been amazing. I’ve integrated into Twila’s life flawlessly, and we get along so well, you’d think we’ve known each other for most of our lives. We’ve spent our days having fun and making videos for our followers. And our nights?
We’ve spent those giving each other dozens of mind-blowing orgasms.
It’s strange that this situation hasn’t felt, well,stranger. It feels natural, being here with her, but I have to continuously remind myself to keep my guard up. This status quo has an expiration date. It’s not a date set in stone, but each day brings us closer to it, nonetheless. I can’t get too comfortable here.
Twila’s friends have stayed away to give us both time to acclimate to living together, but that time has come to an end. They’re coming over this afternoon for a pool party-slash-barbecue to officially meet me.
And I’m so fucking nervous. I want to impress them despite the fact that they know that this thing between Twila and me was never supposed to be real. I just…want them tolikeme.
Twila seems as cool as a cucumber as she places a few snacks and side dishes on the kitchen island. She’s humming to herself as she dances around the kitchen, not a worry in the world. When she looks over and catches me watching her, she smiles.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, running a hand down my white t-shirt.
I’m also wearing a pair of sky blue swim trunks with flip-flops. Twila rolls her eyes as she smirks.
“It’s a pool party. You’re wearing swim trunks. You look perfect.” Then she rounds the bar and walks into me, hugging me tightly. “Don’t worry. Everyone is nice, and they’re going to love you. Just don’t get offended it Raven gives you the snark. That just means she likes you.”
I nod and push my nose into her hair, breathing deeply. This feels real. Like I’m Twila’s actual boyfriend, meeting her friends for the first time. But I’m not her boyfriend. I’m her husband, and while the marriage is valid and real, it’ll be over soon. And then we’ll go our separate ways as friends.
When we pull out of the hug, I smile at her with a confidence I don’t necessarily feel. It’s stupid, really. I’m a nice guy who is generally well-liked––as far as I know. And hell, if I can make Twila like me, I can do anything.
I chuckle at the thought just before the doorbell rings. My nerves return in full force, and Twila reaches out to squeeze my hand as she passes by me to go answer the door. I stand there, motionless for a moment, before I snap into action. I catch up to her just as she’s reaching for the knob, and she shoots me a look with a single raised eyebrow.
I shrug and whisper, “I’m your husband. I thought we should greet our guests together.”
She stares at me for a second, her eyes sparkling, then pulls the door open with a flourish.
“Hey, come on in,” she says to the couple on the front porch. As they enter, she introduces us. “Emerson, this is my best friend Joey and her boyfriend, Dallas. Guys, this is Emerson.”
“The husband,” Dallas says with no small amount of humor as he stretches out a hand for me to shake.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand firmly.
When I extend the hand to Joey, she just stares at it for a moment. Like she’s trying to decide if she wants to touch me, or not. Just as I start to drop my hand, she must come to a decision, because she slaps it away and moves in to hug me, instead. My gaze shoots to Dallas, whose eyes are on his girlfriend and filled with pride.
A conversation I had with Twila about these two earlier this week replays through my mind in an instant. Joey has social anxiety and has a hard time dealing with new people, sometimes. Dallas saw it in her almost immediately and uncomplainingly let her work through it before they became romantically involved. She’s much more confident now because of his love and patience.
The hug is brief and light, but I’ll take it. It means Joey doesn’t blame me, entirely, for the predicament her bestie and I are in right now.
