Kaleidoscope
Page 52

 Kristen Ashley

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
She held his gaze steady, nodded and asked, “Do you like what you do?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Does it challenge you? Mentally, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know, back then with Elsbeth, that you’d eventually be this successful?”
His chin jerked back but he held her stare.
He never took an uncalculated risk.
He knew.
Elsbeth dumped him because his carefully crafted plan was not reaping the rewards she wanted by the time she expected.
He, on the other hand, did expect it to take time and he’d told her it would.
She’d lost patience with their two-bedroom apartment and not trading up their cars every year like her father had been doing since she was sixteen. Something, even though she also had a job, she expected him to bear the brunt of, like her father had been doing since she was sixteen.
She’d also held off accepting the engagement ring Deck had given her three years in, not wearing it, not making it official, not planning a wedding, waiting.
Then giving up.
And he’d let her. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had words when she told him it was over.
It was just that he didn’t do too much to change her mind.
Fuck.
“I knew. I also told her,” Deck shared.
“She just didn’t wait,” Emme guessed.
“No, she didn’t,” Deck told her something she knew.
“More fool her,” she murmured then the dimple appeared, “but lucky me.”
His hands started roaming and he grinned back. “Thinkin’ that too,” he replied. “Just about me.”
At his words, her eyes warmed, she pressed closer and whispered, “Mom likes you.”
Maeve had shown that day. Maeve had also cooked dinner for them that night and done it the entire time complaining about the stove, the flooring, the state of the countertops and how she’d probably wake screaming from her nightmares about Emme’s kitchen.
In other words, Maeve Holmes was funny, like her daughter.
But she did not make Shake ’n Bake.
“I like your mom,” Deck whispered back, hands still roaming.
“Can I ask one question about your work?”
Sneak attack.
“Emmanuelle—”
She lifted a hand to his jaw, gliding her thumb along his lower lip and interrupting, “Just one, Jacob.”
“You can ask it, baby, but in askin’, I’m askin’ you, please do not be pissed I can’t answer it.”
She again held his gaze steady and nodded.
“I don’t know what you do, not really. And I may not want to know what you do, considering it might be scary.”
Again, pure Emme. Not f**king stupid.
She went on, “I probably should have issues with that but I really don’t, if you like it and it challenges you. Except one. You’re not going to talk about it, you’ve made that clear. So that means you’re never going to be able to share about it, and by that I mean the stresses, the frustrations, things people usually can let go of during a mind dump with someone they care about. Which means you’ll likely hide those things from me as well. Therefore, what I’m going to ask is, will you pay attention to how it’s going, how it’s affecting you and stop doing it if it makes you unhappy?”
Staring in her eyes, hearing her words, Deck’s blood heated, his chest got tight and his gut clenched.
But his mouth said, “We haven’t had the conversation, but I seriously hope you’re okay I f**k you without a condom.”
Her head jerked even as she blinked and asked, “Pardon?”
He slid his ass down in the chair, his hands down her back to her ass, pulling her over his lap and saying, “Need to f**k you right now, don’t have one, so I hope you’re good with that.”
Her h*ps jerked in his hands, her lips parted and he took one hand and moved it between them, finding her wet. At his touch, her eyes lowered slowly, her teeth sunk into her lip, and when her eyes opened again, she didn’t open them all the way.
Fucking gorgeous.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, his fingers toying between her legs.
She let her lip go, her h*ps undulating with his fingers and her eyes attempting to focus. “I’m…” her eyes slowly closed and again opened halfway, “on the Pill.”
“Saw your pills, Emme, baby, is that your yes?”
Another slow blink.
Fuck.
Gorgeous.
“Have you always used protection?” she asked.
“Always,” he answered.
“Positive?” she pressed.
She was getting wetter and her face was getting hotter.
He needed in there.
“Positive.”
“I have too,” she replied. Her h*ps moved, her eyes tried and failed to focus on him, and she whispered, “You didn’t answer my question, honey.”
He knew exactly what she was talking about and answered immediately so he could move this shit on.
“I’ll stop doing it if it makes me unhappy. Now, you good with no protection?”
“Yes,” she breathed, more than likely because he slid two fingers inside as she said that one word.
He slid his fingers out, freed himself, positioned and slammed her down on his cock, filling her.
Her head flew back, hair flying with it, then it fell forward. She pressed her face in his neck, and she started riding him.
“What if Mom or Dad comes in?” she asked his neck.
“They won’t,” he grunted, helping her move, his fingers digging deep, pulling her up and driving her down.
“What if they do?” she pressed.
“They won’t.”
“Ja—”
“Baby, favor, you’re takin’ my cock, we don’t talk about your folks.”
She lifted her head, still moving on him and showed him the uncertainty.
He grinned, took one hand, slid it in her hair, pulled her to him and stopped grinning when he took her mouth.
Five minutes later, he lifted her, still connected, walked her to the couch and finished taking them both there.
Five minutes after he brought them home, hands trailing, lips drifting, hers found his ear.
“What brought that on?” she asked.
“Need a reason to f**k you?” he asked in return.
“No, but—”
He turned his head, caught her languid, beautiful eyes and she stopped talking.
“Means a lot you give me my head to do my job, something I enjoy doing, something that challenges me, something I can’t discuss with you and something I know I can now do without you eventually bitching, nagging, wheedling or manipulating.”