Love Sex & Other Games: Part 3 (4 page)

THE CONFESSION

Emerson

On my way out of the bathroom where I did as Cooper instructed—removing my panties for the car ride home—I'm surprised to find my sister waiting. It's clear she's here for me and not the restroom.

Rosie's leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest. To anyone who doesn't know her well, the posture might appear defensive. And in a way it is. Rosie does this when she's trying to protect herself, she has done this her whole life. Whatever she's going to say is difficult for her. Which means it’s probably going to be difficult for me. Because it’s probably about Cooper. My stomach churns, threatening to expel the meal we just ate.

“I tried calling you,” she says, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I left you messages. A lot of them.” She stares down at her shoes for several long seconds Pale-pink flats—a contrast to my faded black Converse. But I don't think she's waiting for me to reply. It looks like she's gathering her thoughts. So I let her, taking the opportunity to collect my own.

I never listened to her messages. I didn’t listen to Cooper’s either. I deleted them—all of them—choosing to leave it in the past and focus on the now. But I should have called her. I’m not really sure why I didn’t.

“The other night...” She lifts her head, meeting my gaze. “When I went to Cooper’s house… Nothing happened.”

I nod. “I know. He told me.”

She nods now. “I figured. But you still didn't call me back.”

She doesn’t state it as a question, but it clearly is.

“I didn't know what to say to you. I still don't.”

She shifts, pushing off the wall. “Say we'll be okay.”

She's my sister. I love her. And she doesn't know it, but we were in the same situation. I was once in love with her husband, she was—is—in love with my boyfriend. I consider telling her, but I'm not sure what good it could do at this point. I no longer feel that way, and Miles is her husband. I doubt she’d want to know that. Things are awkward enough without our families resembling a giant sibling/husband swap. We just need to move on from here.

I decide to tell her the only thing that matters now.

“We'll always be okay.”

Her smile is weak, but genuine. “I had no idea about you and Cooper. I just want you to know that. If I had...”

“I know.” I laugh lightly. “I didn't even know about me and Cooper. It was a surprise. A good one. But unexpected."

“He’s a great guy.”

“I know he is.” I wish I could tell her the same about Miles, but I think he’s in need of a lot of maturing. Ironic, since I’m the youngest. Hell, maybe we all have some growing up to do. I definitely got the better brother though, but I keep that thought to myself.

“And you two are different with each other,” Rosie continues.

I feel my brows pull together. “Different? Different how?”

She shakes her head, shrugging at the same time. “I don't know. I can't really describe it. Lighter, maybe. Definitely happier.”

I grin, feeling the truth of her words. “I am happy.
He makes me happy
.”

“You make him happy too. He seems content.”

“I hope so.”

“You do,” she reiterates. “He loves you.”

Wait.

What?

“Why do you say that?” How could she know that? She didn’t know all these years when he loved
her
. What makes her think she can tell how he feels now? He told me had feelings for me, but love?

“Because he does.”

“But...
How do you know
that?”

“It's obvious from the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person who exists. And the way he ran after you the other night. And the way he freaked when you left upset. Em, if you would have seen him… He was really worried about you. And there was the way he sang to you tonight. Oh,” she adds. “And he told me.”

~*~

Cooper

Over the past week, Emerson and I have spent nearly every evening together. Sometimes she sleeps over or I stay at her place, and the whole no-sex-thing is getting more and more difficult. And it’s not just about being horny for her, which, I mean, I am—like twenty-four/seven—but she keeps me satisfied in that department. It’s about wanting to show her how I feel. Share every part of myself with her. And, okay,
yes
. I’d also like to be inside of her because I can’t imagine anything in the world feeling better than that. But it’s only part of it.

“Why are you sitting here looking all pensive?” Em asks as she places her knees on each side of my hips, straddling me. She rests her hands on my shoulders and I tip my head, kissing her fingers.

“Just waiting on our guests to arrive.” I’m hosting a game night. Since it’s my first time playing host to anything, Em suggested we keep it small. It’s basically a double date, at my house, with board games. Dante wasn’t sold on the idea, but Alisha was excited. I personally prefer when Em and I play games alone, sans clothes. But whatever. I’m doing this for her.

“You sure?” Em questions, her brows furrowing with uncertainty. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

My fingers slide into her hair and I guide her face toward mine. “I’m positive.” And it’s true. The sex will happen when she’s ready, and when it does, I’ll fuck her with everything that I am, making damn sure she feels each and every emotion I hold inside my chest for her.

I kiss her, my tongue doing a languid slide against hers. She makes a sound, something between a happy hum and a moan, and it exactly sums up how I feel. It’s perfect. She’s perfect. Imperfections and all.

There’s a knock on the door signaling the arrival of our guests. I growl in protest as Em slides off my lap to let them in. I adjust my hard-on, trying to make it a little less obvious. I already made a bad impression on Alisha once, I’d like this time to go better, and greeting her with an erection probably isn’t the way to do that.

“Hey man,” Dante calls, lifting a twelve-pack of Heineken above his head. “I brought presents.”

I cringe, recalling the last gift he offered me. Mattie with double T’s. That night started out horrifically, and then turned out to be the start of Em and me. I guess I should actually be grateful to Dante for that. If his blind date hadn’t made me miserable, I wouldn’t have asked Em to stay.

I don’t even want to consider how different my life would be right now had Mattie not been a total bitch.

“You’re getting better at these gifts,” I say, accepting a cold beer. I lift my free hand in a wave to Alisha as she and Em head to the kitchen to retrieve the snacks.

“So how does this work?” Dante inquires. He glances at Em’s game collection, still not feeling game night. “I was hoping for some poker or something, Euchre even, but there are for real board games.” Then he grins like a little kid, pushing past me.

“Ah, shit, you have Yahtzee? That was my shit back in the day. We have to play this first.” He holds it to his chest, hugging it excitedly. “How has this never come up?”

Oh, I really wish it had. I also wish the girls had witnessed his one-eighty.

“Uh, those are all Em’s. I’m not sure I even own a deck of cards.”

“You guys are practically living together,” he states, placing the Yahtzee box on the center of the table and pushing the other games to the side, sending a clear message. “Don’t you have that whole what’s-yours-is-mine kind of thing going on?”

He’s screwing with me—trying to at least. I haven’t had many long-term relationships. Or, you know,
any
long-term relationships. That’s always been more of his thing. But he can’t freak me out—not over this. What he just described is what I want.

I shrug, lowering myself onto the couch. “She can have anything she wants of mine. All I want is her.”

He sits heavily beside me, clinking the neck of his bottle against mine. “I feel you. Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” We sit quietly for a moment, listening to our girls talk in the kitchen before Dante puts his arm around me, heaving my head down to his chest. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.” He pats my cheek—the one not squished against his pec—so I punch him in the nuts and pull away.

Dante rolls off the couch, clutching his boys and groaning. He’s still catching his breath when the girls join us, arms full of junk food.

“What did you do to him?” Em asks, her eyes shifting from Dante’s agonized face to mine. I blink innocently.

“He deserved it.”

Alisha stops beside him and nudges his leg with the toe of her shoe. “You okay?” He gives her a thumbs up and she steps over him. “Good, then get up. I like Em and I don’t want them to kick us out.”

I scoff at her. “You don’t like me?”

She shrugs, handing Em the packages in her arms. “I’m not sure about you yet. You hurt my guy’s testicles, which I happen to adore.”

“There was the dick pic fiasco, too,” Em supplies, not helping.

I shoot her a mock glare. “First,” I begin addressing Em, “you’re the only one who sent a picture. A picture, I might add, that will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. And,” I add, turning to Alisha, “nobody adores testicles.
Nobody
. Guys don’t even adore their testicles.”

“I adore
your
testicles,” Em says, looking up at me through her lashes.

I grin at her. “Well, I man-scape.”

Dante drags himself back onto the couch beside me with a grunt. “You say you don’t like testicles, but you have a fascination with abusing mine.”

“Only when you deserve it,” I point out.

He tilts his head to give me a flat look. “You need to catch up on your afterschool specials. Nobody ever deserves to be abused.” He waves his hand in an arch. “The more you know.”

THE SEX GAMES

Emerson

Cooper locks up after Dante and Alisha leave, and I start cleaning up. He moves behind me, hooking his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. His long, lean frame is flush against mine and I sigh with contentment.

“Leave it,” he whispers, his lips grazing my neck. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

I turn in his embrace, my fingers sinking into the hair at the nape of his neck. “You have something else in mind for me to do with my hands?”

He gives me his infamous wolfish grin, nodding enthusiastically. “I have so many ideas. You have no clue.”

“What if I have some ideas of my own?”

His brows curve as his smile grows. “I would
love
to hear them. All of them. In great detail. And then we should act them out. All of them. In great detail. Probably a couple times, just to be safe. All of them. In great detail.”

I laugh, but the humor fades quickly as his hands begin exploring my body. He sweeps his fingers over my ass, palming each cheek, moving lower on the backs of my thighs, then back up, tracing my spine all the way to my neck. He brushes my hair to the side and lowers his head to trail openmouthed kisses along my shoulder. He tugs at the collar of my shirt, shifting it out of the way and continues to my clavicle.

“Cooper?”

“Hm?” he hums, tongue flicking out to lick the groove just under my throat.

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

I shake my head and try again. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

I grab his head, lifting it so he can see the expression on my face. Read the sincerity in my eyes. “I want to have sex with you. Here. Tonight.
Now
.”

~*~

Cooper

Fireworks explode above our heads.

Light shines down from the Heavens, encasing us in a warm golden illumination.

A choir of cherubs belts out an awe-inspiring rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice a rough rasp.

Dear lord, please, please, please don’t let me be dreaming. This wouldn’t be the first dream I’ve had about Emerson Metz. It just might be the cruelest. And wettest.

She nods slowly, her teeth capturing her lip. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Angel-Cooper pops up on one shoulder, Devil-Cooper on the other. But this time, both nod enthusiastically in mutual agreement.
We should do this
.

Thank god
.

I scoop Em up, my hands gripping her ass. She clutches my shoulders and wraps her legs around my waist as I speed-walk us to the bedroom. Yes, I’m in a hurry. No, I’m not ashamed.

She slides down my body and I’m already painfully hard for her. Then she lifts her arms above her head and looks at me expectantly. Christ. I adore this woman. I can’t fight my smile as I slide my fingers into the hem of her shirt. She sucks in a breath as I graze her stomach, her ribs, her breasts, drawing her shirt up and over her head.

It falls from my fingers. Em runs a hand down my chest, stopping at the edge of my tee. She grips it and I break out into a full-on grin, lifting my arms, mirroring her a moment ago. My shirt joins hers. Her hands move back to my chest, the tips of her nails skating over my abs. My stomach muscles contract, tightening with eagerness. In one fluid motion, her tongue follows the same path as her hands, tasting my skin, and making me release a growl of satisfaction. My eyelids are heavy with lust, drooping as I watch her. A stunning sight—the most gorgeous I’ve ever seen.

She pauses at the waist of my jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper over my erection. I reach for her pants at the same time, working them down her legs. All other thoughts fade. Emerson is the only thing on my mind. I kneel in front of her, helping her step out of one side, then the other, before taking my time, kissing my way back up.

Em looks down at me, brushing the hair away from my face to gaze at me unobstructed. There’s so much in her expression—trust and affection and a hundred other emotions I can’t identify. I don’t have words to describe how it makes me feel. But it makes me want to be the best person I can be for her.

I hook my thumbs into her panties and meet her eyes. I don’t use words to ask her if she’s sure again and she doesn’t need them to answer. She nods, her lip trapped between her teeth once more.

I tug, slipping her panties off. This is one of those surreal moments, where I feel grateful for everything that has ever happened in my life, leading me to this exact place in this exact moment. Good or bad, it’s all brought me to Em. And I am one lucky bastard.

When I stand, she repeats the motions, lowering herself to help me out of the rest of my clothes. My beautiful girl, still on her knees, reaches for my cock, but I catch her hands, pulling her back to her feet. The way I feel right now, I don’t think I’d last more than a second and I really want to prolong this—make it great for both of us.

I slide her bra straps down her arms. She unhooks the clasp and lets it fall to the floor. We’re standing in a pile of clothing, bared to each other in every way possible. My heart is hammering against my ribcage. Her pulse is throbbing in her neck. I touch it because I need to know if we’re in sync. If our hearts are beating in time.

They are.

Amazing.

She’s perfect for me. All this time, and I never knew
she
was just across the street.

I skim my fingers along her cheek, her jaw, her neck. I know what this means, her giving herself to me in this way.

She hasn’t said it. Neither have I.
But I know what it means
.

What it means for her.

What it means for me.

What it means for us.

I pull her tight against me, all points touching, and press my lips to hers. She opens for me immediately, silently asking to deepen the kiss. And I do. I give her exactly what she wants. I will give her
everything
she wants. Now. Tomorrow. For as long as I can.

I pull back and grab her thighs, tipping her back on the bed. She squeaks with surprise, laughing as she lands on the mattress. I watch her for a moment, contemplating every dirty thing I’m going to do to her before we have sex. Taking someone’s virginity is big, and I’m going to make sure it’s one of the best experiences of her life. I know it will definitely be the best of mine.

Em grabs my hand, yanking me down on top of her. Her laughter dies as my cock presses between her legs. I drop my head to hers and just breathe. I’m not even inside of her and it’s already too much.

“Cooper,” she sighs. It’s an urgent plea that I feel everywhere.

Without hesitation, I nip her breast and draw her nipple into my mouth, sweeping my tongue over the rigid peak. She jerks her hips, rubbing against me and I groan loudly. She so wet, sliding against me, slick with arousal.

I can’t take it. I need to taste her.

My hold is firm as I push her hips to the bed and move down her body. I release her to push her legs wider apart to accommodate my shoulders. Then I decide I want as much of her against me as I can get, and drape one leg over my back, lower myself, and wrap the other around me.

I kiss her thighs, her hips, her pelvic bones, before sliding my finger through her folds, followed by my tongue. She moans, thrusting against my mouth and it’s a wonder I don’t come.

She claws at my head, wild with need as I glide my tongue against her clit again and again, softly, slowly. Working her up gently, steadily. She whimpers, fingers locking into my hair. Her legs stiffen and I know she’s on the brink of orgasm, so I double the pressure, the pace, and I don’t stop even as she’s screaming my name. Even as she tries to shove me away, even as she begins clutching me closer. I make her come a second time, hot and sticky in my mouth, and I lap at her until she’s limp with satisfaction.

Emerson’s chest rises and falls with her panted breaths. She watches me with hooded eyes as I climb off the bed and make my way around the bed to the nightstand. I pull the box of condoms out, and then quickly duck, slapping my hand through the drawer.

I drop to my knees, frantically searching through the pens and papers and other useless random shit filling the stand.

“NO. No, no, no, no, no, nooooo.” I slam the drawer shut and bang my head against the arm resting along the side of the bed.

“Why do bad things happen to good people?” I groan.

Em lifts onto her elbow, worry creasing her brows as she watches me.

“I don’t have any condoms.” It comes out in some twisted form of anger, desperation, and sorrow. Why, god, why? Why have you deserted me in my moment of need? I’m going to die. I’m going to internally combust never knowing what if feels like to be inside of my girlfriend.

Life is so unfair.

I grab my jeans and push to my feet. “Do not go anywhere,” I command. “Do not get dressed. And for the love of all that is holy in the world, do
not
fall asleep.”

“Where are you going?”

I tug one pant leg on, the movement almost hostile. “To buy condoms,” I say. “If,” I add, “I make it.” Blue balls are a real thing. A very problematic, terrible thing.

“I’m on the pill.”

I pause, staring at her. I need more than that. I’m not going to assume anything.

“We could…” She shrugs, eyes moving around the room. “We could not worry about it. I mean, you usually use one, right?”

“Always,” I confirm.

“I trust you.”

I almost do it—my cock is one hundred percent for it—but Angel-Cooper makes an appearance, reminding me of the last person I had my dick inside and the fact I haven’t been tested since. Even Devil-Cooper looks skeptical.

My chin hits my chest as I drop my head. “Goddamn it. No, we can’t. I want to do this right. I want to make sure you always trust me. I don’t take that lightly. So, I’m making an appointment Monday morning and getting tested, but until we know for certain I’m safe, we need to use a condom.”

This is the most unromantic conversation to have right now. I’m completely killing the mood. And regardless of knowing it’s the right thing, I feel like an idiot for turning that down. And an asshole. If I didn’t stick my dick in questionable women, I’d be enjoying an incredible one at the moment.

Em crawls across the bed, leaning over to root through my nightstand. “Cooper, sometimes it’s really annoying how gentlemanly you are. It’s like a blessing and a curse. I appreciate your willingness to do the right thing when I’m in a clear state of mind, but when everything’s blurry with lust, I really wish you’d be a little irrespons—” She stops abruptly. My hands freeze on my zipper.

“Oh, my god. I found one.” She holds it up triumphantly and I’m so happy I may cry.

The choir breaks out in song. “
Thank god
.”

I lose the pants and leap onto the bed. She laughs as I position myself above her and roll the miracle condom on. Her legs circle my waist, our eyes meeting. I lean in, kissing her as I push inside, gently, but quickly, breaking through that fragile tissue. She gasps, stealing the breath from my lips. I go still, waiting to make sure she’s okay. It kills me to cause her any pain. There’s nothing I want more—not my own gratification,
nothing
—than to take away her discomfort and make her feel good.

A beat passes, then two. And then she’s moving against me. Flexing her hips to glide up and down my length. We both watch as I slide in and out of her. A flawless rhythm, her body connecting with mine, seeking satisfaction. It’s almost hypnotic.

She pulls me closer, kissing me. I feel like I’m floating, like I’m falling, back and forth, up and down. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. Our fingers interlock and I pin our joined hands to the bed beside her head. I take control, thrusting faster, harder, trying to reach the deepest parts of her until I can’t be sure where I end and she begins.

Em makes a noise, full of pleasure, her body clenching around me. She looks at me in awe as she let’s go and I follow, matching her moans as we come together.

I stay inside of her, caressing strands of hair off of her face, kissing her, absorbing the entire experience. Wondering how quickly I can get condoms so we can do it again. And again and again and again.

“Cooper?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me it would be like that?”

“What was it like?” I ask.

“Amazing.”

I chuckle in full agreement. “I didn’t know. I assumed. But I didn’t know.”

I don’t think most people have any idea how closely men relate sex and emotion. I know I didn’t. That’s supposed to be a chick thing, but I think women are better at disconnecting than men are. Yes, us men can fuck someone we don’t give a shit about and have a wonderful time doing it. But when we care about someone, the sex is completely different. We can still fuck. We can still have a great time. We can still be dirty, lecherous bastards, but we aren’t
just
fucking with our dicks. When a man cares about a woman, he fucks her with his heart. His mind. His soul.