Emersyn
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he shifts his hips, his body aligning with mine. He's hard, the evidence of his desire pressed firmly against my inner thigh. A breathy sigh escapes me, a reaction beyond my control.
He stills, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
"Don't stop," I murmur, my own body begging for more.
As if on cue, Fowler's lips find the sensitive spot below my ear, planting feather-light kisses along my jaw. Every touch sets my nerve endings on fire, my body arching into his touch.
His hand moves down my hip, trailing across my lower stomach. My breath catches in my throat as he moves lower, his fingers teasing the waistband of my underwear.
"Is this okay?" He asks, his breath hot against my ear.
"Yes," I breathe, desperate for him to continue.
He doesn't hesitate, his hand dipping beneath the fabric. He finds my center, his fingers circling my clit with agonizing precision. A low moan escapes my lips as I buck against his hand, seeking more friction.
"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, his own voice thick with arousal.
He slides a finger inside me. My body responds instantly, a wave of pleasure washing over me.
"More," I pant, my mind clouded with lust.
He obliges, adding another finger. He sets a slow pace, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside me. A moan tears from my throat as he pumps his finger in and out, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
I grind against him, desperate for release. He picks up the pace, his thumb working my clit in time with his fingers. My breath comes in ragged gasps as the tension builds, my entire body taut like a bowstring.
Suddenly, I come undone, a strangled cry escaping my lips as I ride out the waves of my orgasm. His lips are on mine, muffling my moans.
He kisses me deeply, passionately, like a man starved. Our tongues collide in a heated battle, each of us desperate for more. His fingers continue, drawing out my orgasm.
Finally, the tension eases, and my body relaxes. We break apart, our foreheads pressed together. Our breaths are heavy, mingling in the charged air.
"Are you okay?" Fowler asks, his voice raspy and filled with desire.
"Yeah," I reply, a satisfied smile spreading across my face.
He pulls his hand from my underwear, only to hook his thumbs into the waistband, sliding them down my legs. He gives me a heated look before kissing down my thigh, his face getting closer and closer to the slick mess he's made of me.
He doesn't take his eyes off me, and my gaze is glued to his as he takes his first taste. I feel the tip of his tongue dip into my folds, and I shudder. His eyes flutter closed as he devours me, his tongue exploring every inch.
The sight of him between my legs, his mouth buried in my most intimate parts, is the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer.
He lets out a growl, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. He sucks on my clit, and a gasp leaves my lips. The sensation is overwhelming, and I can feel another orgasm building.
I tug on his hair, desperate for more. He doubles his efforts, his tongue swirling around my clit in a relentless rhythm. It's too much, and I can't hold on any longer.
My climax hits me like a freight train, and I arch off the bed, my entire body shuddering with the force of it. But he doesn't stop. He continues, drawing out my pleasure.
I'm a trembling mess by the time he pulls away, his lips glistening with my juices. He looks completely undone, his eyes filled with hunger and something else, something softer, deeper.
"God, you're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes roaming my flushed body.
I can't help but smile at the compliment, my heart swelling in my chest. He crawls back up, hovering over me. He kisses me again, this time gently, almost reverently.
He rests his forehead against mine, our noses touching. "We don't have to go any further if you don't want to," he says, and I know that he means it. But I can't stop now. I want more. I want all of him.
"I want to," I reply, and he responds with a kiss, his tongue seeking entry.
I part my lips, allowing him in. The kiss is languid, filled with a tenderness that makes my heart skip a beat. I can taste myself on his lips, and it's intoxicating.
My hands trail down his toned chest, over his abs, until they reach the waistband of his boxers. I hook my fingers in, tugging them down. He obliges, helping me slide them off.
My hand wraps around his length, eliciting a groan from him. He's hard and thick, his cock twitching in my palm. I pump my fist, earning another moan from him.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "Fuck, Emersyn, that feels so good."
I continue my movements, feeling him throb in my hand.
He pulls away, his eyes locking with mine. "I want to feel you," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.
He guides himself to my entrance, the tip of his cock teasing me. I let out a shaky breath, anticipation coursing through my veins.
He pushes into me slowly, and I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips. He's big, stretching me in the most delicious way.
He pauses, giving me time to adjust to his size. He watches me carefully, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort.
"Don't stop," I breathe, aching for him to fill me completely.
He obliges, sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt. He stills, giving me a moment to savor the fullness.
Then, he starts to move. His thrusts are slow and deep, sending ripples of pleasure through me. We find a rhythm, our bodies moving in sync.
The sounds of our panting and the soft slapping of skin on skin fill the room, the atmosphere heavy with desire. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he picks up the pace.
The pleasure is intense, building with each thrust. I can feel myself getting close, the pressure building. I can tell he's close too, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
Suddenly, I'm falling, the orgasm ripping through me. I cry out, my body spasming around him. He follows shortly after, his own release filling me. He doesn't pull out of me immediately.
Instead, he holds me close, his forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling.
We stay like that for a moment, the weight of what we've just done hanging between us. Neither of us speaks, the silence stretching on.
Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice barely a whisper. "You're incredible, Em."
I'm at a loss for words. I have no idea what this means, but right now, in this moment, I don't care. All I can focus on is the feeling of him inside me, the closeness between us.
And that's enough.
He slowly pulls out, rolling onto his side. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close. I nuzzle into his chest, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.
We lie there, our bodies entwined, neither of us willing to break the spell. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes us, and we drift off to sleep, content in each other's arms.
**
My eyes flutter open at the sound of my phone buzzing. My hand reaches out clumsily to silence the noise. But when I see it's my mom calling, I sit up with a jolt, knocking Fowler's arm off me in the process.
"Shit," I mumble, remembering she was supposed to come over today. "Hey, mom."
"Emersyn, I've been knocking at the door and no one has answered. I think I might be at the wrong house. There's a weird van outside. It looks like someone spray-painted it."
"No, mom. You're at the right house. Give me a second."
Stirred awake, Fowler looks at me, his eyes still hazy with sleep. "What's goin' on?"
"It's my mom. She's outside. Get dressed, like, now!"
Scrambling out of bed, I grab the first pair of jeans and a shirt I see in my closet and rush into the bathroom. I run my fingers through my messy hair, trying to make it look less like 'bed head' and more like a 'casual messy bun'. Good enough.
By the time I'm out, Fowler is gone. Hopefully, he went back to his room to put on some actual clothes.
Taking a deep breath, I rush over to the door and open it. There stands my mom, poised and polished as always. She eyes me up and down, probably noticing that I don't look entirely put together.
"Good morning, Emersyn. Am I early? I thought this was the time we had agreed upon."
"No, Mom, you're not early. I just slept through my alarm. Come on in." I step back, making room for her to walk in.
"Of course you did. I thought I raised you to be more responsible than that."
As she steps inside, her eyes drift past me, landing on Fowler who's walking out of his room as he puts on a shirt. The tension in the room is palpable, and for a split second, I regret every life decision I've ever made.
Smiling that painfully polite smile of hers, she extends her hand. "I'm Emersyn's mother. And who might you be?"
He takes her hand, shaking it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm Fowler."
"Please, call me Linda. Ma'am makes me feel old."
She releases Fowler's hand as if she just touched something dirty, and waves dismissively towards his room. "Do you live here too?"
"Yeah, I'm Emersyn's roommate."
My mom raises an eyebrow, her lips tightening. "Roommate? Emersyn, how many people are you living with?"
"Oh, there's four of us. Well, five including Emmie." Fowler answers, seemingly oblivious to my mother's attitude.
Feeling a lump in my throat, I manage a weak smile. "Mom, a lot of people have roommates. It's not a big deal."
Her eyes narrow, zeroing in on me. "Oh, but Emersyn, it is. This is exactly why you should move back in with Lyle."
A pang of annoyance shoots through me. "Lyle and I are done. And I'm fine living like this."
Uncomfortable but trying to keep the peace, Fowler jumps in. "Would you like some coffee, Linda?"
She waves him off. "No, thank you. I had a latte on the way here." She turns her attention back to me. "Emersyn, can we talk? Privately?"
I glance at Fowler. He gives me an understanding nod before slipping back into his room, shutting the door behind him.
Once he's gone, my mom leans in closer, her voice taking on that icy tone she reserves for her most critical moments. "Emersyn, what are you doing? You're wasting your time, and you're certainly wasting mine. This isn't the life you should be living."
My mom takes a seat on the couch, her posture perfect as always. I hesitantly sit across from her, bracing myself for the lecture that's undoubtedly coming.
"Emersyn, you know I only want what's best for you, right?" she starts, locking eyes with me.
"Of course, Mom," I reply, already feeling my defenses go up.
"Then why can't you see that this—this cohabitation with strangers—isn't what's best for you?"
"They're not strangers, Mom. They're my friends. And they've been there for me in ways you can't imagine."
She sighs deeply, as if the weight of my decisions has somehow been transferred onto her shoulders. "If you stayed with Lyle, you wouldn't have to subject yourself to this lifestyle. He was willing to take care of you."
"Lyle cheated on me, Mom. Why would I want to go back to someone who doesn't respect me?"
She rubs her temples, a clear sign that she's getting frustrated. "Emersyn, sometimes in life, we have to make sacrifices. Maybe Lyle made a mistake, but he's willing to make it right."
My blood boils at her words. "A mistake? Cheating isn't a 'mistake,' Mom. It's a choice he made. And now I'm making mine."
"Is this the life you want to lead?" she gestures vaguely around my house, "Living in a cramped place, filled with people, like you're still in college? When are you going to grow up?"
"I am grown up, Mom," I snap. "I make my own money, pay my own bills, and make my own choices."
For a moment, she looks taken aback, as if she's seeing a side of me she hasn't seen before. "So, what's your plan, Emersyn? Live like this forever?"
"I don't have all the answers, Mom. But I know I'd rather be here, figuring things out on my own terms, than be trapped in a life that doesn't make me happy."
Feeling the tension thicken, I lock eyes with her. "That may be hard for you to understand, but it's the truth."
She sighs, a sigh filled with disappointment and something else, something like resignation. "I've always wanted the best for you, Emersyn. I thought I knew what that was. But looking at you now, I don't know anymore."
"And maybe that's the problem. Maybe you've been so caught up in what you think is best for me that you've never really asked what I want."
A painful silence fills the room. I can tell she's processing, her eyes flicking with emotion, though I can't decipher what she's feeling.
Finally, she stands up, clutching her purse like a shield. "I can see I've overstayed my welcome. I'll go."
I stand as well, hesitating for a moment. Part of me wants to reach out, to bridge the gap between us. But now isn't the time, and we both know it.
"Maybe that's for the best," I say softly.
Her eyes meet mine, searching for something, but she doesn't speak. With a quiet nod, she turns and heads towards the door, her heels clicking with each step. When she's gone, the room feels larger, emptier, and yet a weight has been lifted.
It's a painful sort of freedom, but it's freedom nonetheless.