Page 24 of Wedded to a Wayne

Emerson is so strong, he could probably do whatever he wanted to me. He could put me wherever he wants me, could lift me in his arms and pin me against the wall, and there’d be nothing I could do about it.

When he set me in his lap in the middle of a Queer Eye life makeover and started nuzzling my neck, that truth crystalized in my mind.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this show?” he murmurs in my ear, his hand caressing my back. My side. “You’ve already redecorated the house. You want to go through my closet?”

“N-no. I like your sweaters.”

His lips open on my neck, his tongue tasting my skin. “Are you sure? I’m willing to make a few changes for you.”

He lifts his head long enough to tug off his t-shirt, and then he’s placing my hand on his bare chest. “Now you can do whatever you want. Make me over.”

His kiss is so carnal it overwhelms me. His hands are everywhere over my nightshirt, then lower, cupping my bottom.

I’m lost to it, loving it, but when he touches my thigh—that thigh—I go stiff in his arms.

He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. “You can trust me, Tanisha. Trust that when you’re ready, I want all of you.”

I feel his fingers skim the sock that covers the proof of my imperfection and I shake my head, burying my face in his neck. “Not yet. Please.”

He stops immediately, holding me tight and kissing my temple. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t try to touch me again.

I go to sleep wishing I’d let him.

I wonder what could have happened as I let my fingers trace over my collarbone and along the tops of my breasts. I squeeze my thighs together to ease the building ache.

What would it be like to be with him? To let him touch me everywhere, with nothing between us? Would he be rough? Gentle? Would he be afraid of hurting me or too aroused to be careful?

I want to be brave enough to have all of it. I want things I can’t clearly define because I’ve never experienced them before. The weight of him on top of me. His hands on me. His mouth…

I gasp as my fingers brush over my sex. My clit is sensitive because of him. I need him to rub it for me. I wonder if he’d let me show him how I like to be touched.

I squeeze my breast and pinch my pointed nipple as I press down with the heel of my other hand and rub harder. I can almost feel his eyes on me.

Not almost.

I know before my lashes lift that he’ll be there, but it’s still startling to see him standing in the doorway. His nostrils flare and his lips part as he watches me, and I freeze for an instant before instinctively covering myself with my hands.

His mouth forms the silent denial, and then he closes his eyes and swallows visibly before turning to leave.

I’m the one calling him back. “Don’t go. I… I want you to see me.”

Before I can take it back, he’s kneeling by the tub. “I’m here, baby. I won’t touch you, I promise, but I want to see you, too. I need to see you.”

I move my hands out of the way, and suddenly there he is. The volcano. His eyes are dark as midnight as he looks down at my body, bared to him for the first time with only the water to conceal me.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful, Tanisha. Please. Don’t stop what you were doing.”

“Wh-what?”

“Touch yourself while I watch. Let me see you come.”

It has to be real. None of my previous fantasies have been this vivid. This brazen. And for him, I want to try.

His teeth bite down on his lower lip when I start to rub myself again. His gaze skims my body over and over but he keeps coming back to my core. To the tight circles I’m making over my swollen clit.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

The rough quality of his voice feels like a physical caress, making me shiver. I nod.

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