Page 119 of As the Years Pass
“Fuck, Emmet.” I throw my arms around his neck, unable to deny him now. Not when he feels like this. He keeps grinding against me to the beat, and I move with him, not having a single clue what I’m doing but this feels so fucking good that I don’t care. I’m hard in seconds, and grinding on him just the same.
His hands roam up and down my back, over my ass and down my arms. I dig my nails into his neck, bury my face there and inhale his musky scent. He’s sweaty, but he smells so fucking good.
The music is loud, the bass vibrating the floor beneath us, but it’s hardly taking my attention—not with Emmet in front of me. It’s so easy to forget about everything else when I’m with him, which is scary in itself. What if I get so lost in him I forget myself? Forget how to be a good dad, forget—
“You’re perfect,” Emmet whispers against my ear, his hot cheek pressed to mine.
All worries disappear.
I tighten my grip around his neck while his tighten around my waist. Our bodies press together, fitting like they’re meant to be.
My fingers brush against the damp hair at the nape of his neck while I allow myself to just be… to just enjoy this and have fun. The feel of his body against mine, how right it feels—all of it.
This is all that should matter. The way I feel with him. The way he makes me feel.
There’s never been anything bad with Emmet, other than my own insecurities.
But I’m better when I’m with him.
I like this. No, I love this.
I dig my nails into his skin while I grind against him. He groans, breath hitching.
“I love the way you react to me,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear.
“I love what you to do me.”
The beat changes to something a little slower, but the bass still just as heavy. We go along with it, dancing together in a way that’s more likely to get us off than anything else. I wouldn’t be mad about it, but I would much rather be back in my room so I can take my time with him.
Still, this is important for us. Being here, out in the open, around all these people…thisis important to me. It’s one step in the right direction, one step toward being less scared and allowing myself to be who I truly am.
I’m tired of hiding. I just want to be happy.
So we stay together, dancing to every song that comes on, with not even an inch between us. Our bodies are pressed so tightly together you’d think we were glued—it’s perfect.
“I missed you,” Emmet growls in my ear.
“Me too, baby,” I say, holding him tighter.
“Can we go back to the room?” he asks.
“Yes, please,” I say, grabbing his hand and tugging him after me without a moment of hesitation. We nearly run to the hotel, hand in hand, laughing like idiots. We’ve drank a lot and we probably shouldn’t be running. Thankfully, we get to our floor with neither of us falling or breaking something.
I tug Emmet after me, pulling my key card from my pocket and letting us into the room, turning the lights on.
He tugs his shirt off and goes right to the bed, dropping onto it and crawling to the opposite side. I drop my stuff on the counter by the fridge, and take my shirt off too, tossing it away.
“Is this a cum stain?” he asks, looking at the pillow.
The pillow I came on, but cleaned up.
Fuck. I mustn’t have wiped it good enough.
He gives me a smug look.
“Adam?” he coaxes.
“Actually, yes,” I admit confidently, toeing off my shoes. “I jerked off thinking about you.”
