His eyes glint with something that looks like longing. Lust. Can this seriously be happening right now? Is someone about to leap out from behind a houseplant and tell me I’ve been Punk’d or what?
“It would probably be better for me to show you than tell you,” he growls. “Is that OK?”
Unable to formulate a single word, I simply nod my assent. With a fiery intensity I’ve never seen in him before, Emerson catches my face in his broad hands. I can feel my heart barreling against my ribcage as he takes one long, steady look at me. Before I can take another breath, he’s brought his lips to mine in a searing, earnest kiss. The entire world shrinks down to our two bodies as I feel myself subsumed by the sensation. His lips are unbelievably soft, his mouth so strong as it works against mine. I open myself to him, closing my eyes in rapturous bliss as his tongue glances against my own. The taste of him electrifies my senses. In this moment, there is nothing but him.
I gasp softly as Emerson pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his tongue probes deeper and deeper. Pressing myself flush against him, I let a low groan escape from between my lips. I can feel through his signature blue jeans that he’s hard for me. The full, stiffening length of him presses against my sex, exactly where I’ve been dreaming of feeling him for the better part of four years.
My body has never been this alive with want. Not with anybody. Moving with him feels intuitive in a way it never has with any other guy. I grind my hips slowly, feeling him grow even harder beneath me. His hands slide down over my ass, running along the firm rise in my jeans. He pulls me tighter, letting me feel just how much he wants me. In a moment of daring, I close my teeth around his bottom lip, tugging gently. He looks up at me in wonder.
“Where the hell did you come from, Abby?” he breathes.
“I’ve been here all along,” I smile, running my hands through his chestnut hair. “You just haven’t noticed until now.”
“Please,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around the small of my back, “You honestly think I never noticed you before?”
“Well...you never said a word to me before our parents met,” I point out, bringing my lips to his scruffy throat and kissing deeply.
“Why would I? You were way out of my league,” he replies, running his down my sides. “I didn’t want to risk making an ass of myself.”
I start laughing so hard that I nearly topple off of him. “Now that is hilarious,” I crow, steadying myself. “Me? Out of your league?”
“Of course,” he says, “Can you seriously not see that?”
“All I can see right now is you, Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous Lacrosse Star,” I smile, feeling emboldened by his words. “And since we’re being honest, here...I’ve been carrying quite the torch for you these past four years. I’ve sort of been crushing on you from afar since...oh...the minute I saw you in school for the first time.”
“No shit?” he grins.
“No shit,” I assure him.
“How messed up is it that we only figured this out because our parents started boning?” he laughs.
“Ughh,” I groan, rolling off of him onto the couch, “Please don’t talk about our parents having sex right now. Or ever, for that matter.”
“Fine by me,” he says, shifting his body my way. Without another word, he lays me out on the sofa, lowering his muscled body onto mine. He runs his index finger along my jaw, tipping my chin up toward his face. “I don’t want to talk right now anyway.”
He kisses me again, his hands roving all over my body. My back arches as he cups my breasts through my thin cotton tee shirt, letting his thumbs brush over my hard nipples. As he kneads and caresses me, a low, pulsing pressure starts to build in my core. I can’t remember the last time I got off without my handy dandy vibrator. It’s been ages since I’ve hooked up with anyone, and the intensity of the pleasure Emerson is bestowing on me is almost too much to bear.
Almost.
“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” I sigh, letting my head fall back against the couch cushions. “You have no idea, Emerson...”
“Oh, I think I do,” he chuckles, pressing his hips against me, letting me feel that staggering length. “Is that the secret you were going to trade me for?”
“W-what?” I stammer, my eyes springing open.
“You know. A secret for a secret. Like we said,” Emerson clarifies, propping himself up on his forearms.
“Oh,” I say softly, feeling the wonderful peace this evening has brought slipping away as the moment of my big reveal approaches. “Um. No, I—”
“Shit,” he mutters, brushing a lock of hair away from my face, “I’m sorry. I’m totally killing the mood, here. I can’t be trusted not to fuck up something as awesome as this.”
“You haven’t fucked anything up,” I insist, but it’s too late. I can already see his expression darkening. I need to backpedal, right things before it’s too late. Deep Dark Secrets can wait for a spell. I need to show him that we’re on the same page. And like Emerson says, better to show than tell. Without a word, I reach for his belt buckle, whipping it open with a metallic clank. Emerson’s eyes go wide as I slowly ease down the zipper of his jeans. I guide him onto his back, climbing on top of him as I work to release his member from his jeans. His hardness strains against the thick denim, ready to burst through—
We both sit bolt upright as the sound of keys in the front door lock ring through the empty house. Giddy giggles sound from beyond the door as Emerson and I look at each other in abject horror. No more playing house for us. Deb and Dad are home.
“Shit,” Emerson fumes, buckling in his staggering erection and covering his lap with a throw pillow. “Fucking shit.”
“It’s OK. They’ll never know,” I assure him, smoothing down my hair. “How would they ever even guess, right? I’ll still be right down the hall, you know. This isn’t over.”
We trade wary smiles as the front door bursts open. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that our parents are absolutely trashed. My dad all but carries Deb over the threshold, humming some sort of ridiculous—vaguely familiar—marching tune. But taking a closer look, it’s plain to see that they’re just excited, not drunk at all. Thank god for that. A two-for-one relapse is not what we need right now.