Love Sex & Other Games: Part 3 Read online

  His dick twitches as I reach for him. He’s hard steel under smooth velvet. This isn’t a skill I’m advanced in, but I have enough friends and I’ve watched enough tumblr porn gifs to pick up the basic idea. With one hand kneading his thigh and the other wrapped around his cock, I duck my head and swirl my tongue around the tip.

  Cooper drops his head back to the pillow with a hiss. “I want to clone you a hundred times,” he husks. “Mostly for dirty and nefarious purposes.”

  ~*~

  Cooper

  Emerson and I are seated at my mom and dad’s dining room table after I was summoned for dinner. Mom said she was worried about me, which after the reception incident and ignoring her bi-weekly phone calls, I understand. So I very grudgingly left my bed and dragged Em along with me to offer the only other woman in my life some reassurance.

  I assumed it would be my parents and us, but as I examine the two extra place settings, a terrible feeling takes root in the pit of my stomach. Em notices too, shooting me a panicked look, followed by a scowl when all I can do is shrug. I didn’t know. I should have—Mom likes to pull crap like this—but I really didn’t.

  Now it occurs to me that she wasn’t just worried about me. She was worried about my relationship with Miles and his new bride.

  Oh, Mom, if you had any idea…

  “Who else is joining us?” I question, not bothering to conceal my annoyance. “You made it sound like it would just be us.”

  Mom sets a large, covered roasting pan in the middle of the table, shifting the salt and pepper shakers to the other side of the table, farthest from Dad’s seat. The doctor said he needs to cut back, but Dad insists he’d rather die sooner and happy, then live longer and miserable. Mom prefers the latter.

  “It is just us,” she says, lifting the lid to reveal her famous pot roast, my all-time favorite meal—after Em. I’m momentarily distracted because the aroma hits me and it smells amazing. Which is probably the reason she did it.

  “What are those plates for?” I ask, pointing directly across from where Em and I sit.

  “For your brother and Roselyn.”

  Yeah. That’s what I thought. “You said it was just us.”

  “Yes, us. The family. Your dad, me, Miles, Roselyn, you, and Emerson.” She beams at Em when she says her name. It’s been a while since I’ve brought a woman home. The fact that Mom’s known this one all her life—and she’s her daughter-in-law’s sister—is a bonus.

  “You should have told me,” I complain.

  Mom fixes me with her mom-stare. “You wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Cooper, I can see that you’re happier and I’m glad,” she states, her voice firm, but mom-soft at the same time. “And now that you are, you and your brother can start to heal your relationship. The best way to do that is to spend some time together. Let’s start with dinner, all right?”

  Right on cue, the doorbell rings.

  Mom leaves to answer it, yelling for Dad to get his ass to the table on her way.

  “Well, this should be interesting,” Em breathes. “Want to make it fun?”

  “How?” I honestly cannot imagine how that’s possible—unless we leave.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  Okay, maybe I was wrong. I raise a brow, my lips forming a lecherous smirk. “What kind of game?”

  “No, not that. Not at your parents’ house, you perv. I was thinking more like we have to do something every time Miles or Rosie look like they feel awkward.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugs.

  “Okay, how about every time Miles looks like he’d rather be at the dentist having his teeth drilled, I have to feed you. And every time Rosie looks like she wants to run out the door, you have to break out in song.”

  A burst of laughter puffs from her lips. “What? No way. Mine is way more embarrassing. Trade.”

  “Fine, on one condition,” I yield as everyone files into the room. I put my lips against her ear, so only she can hear me. “When we leave, I get to finger you in the car—all the way back my house.”

  She swallows forcefully. “Agreed.”

  “Game on,” I whisper. And then to everyone else, “Who’s ready to eat?”

  ~*~

  Emerson

  I did not foresee how weird it would be to feed Cooper in front of his family. I wanted to back out as soon as I took one look at Miles and Rosie and realized the entire damn night was going to be one long, awkward nightmare.

  Not only that, but it never occurred to Coop or I that we would be fueling our own game. Each time I fork a piece of roasted potato into his mouth, Rosie winces a little, causing Cooper to start singing, which in turn makes both Miles and Rosie look thoroughly confused, definitely uncomfortable, and a little like they want to disappear. It’s become an endless cycle. Oh, and also, I’m fairly certain Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick think we’re on drugs.

  Regardless of all the collective discomfort in the room, I’m still having fun. The fact that I shouldn’t be makes it even funnier somehow.

  “You are aware he can feed himself, right?” Miles asks, rolling his eyes. Cooper chuckles, shamelessly amused, opening his mouth for another bite, which I feed him because I have to. The more annoyed Miles gets, the more I have to annoy him. It’s the most ridiculous—yet hilarious—situation I’ve ever been in.

  Who would have ever thought I’d be having a good time aggravating Miles after crushing on him all these years. For the first time in my life, I’m enjoying playing the part of irritating little sister.

  “I think it’s cute,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick says. “I wish you were sweet to me like that,” she tells her husband. He grunts, shoveling a bite of pot roast into his mouth.

  “So,” my sister starts, then stops to clear her throat. “When did you two, um, start seeing each other?” She’s addressing me, but Cooper answers her—in song.

  “Just in time,” he sings, turning in his seat to look at me. “I found you just in time. Before you came, my time was running low.”

  Oh, my god.

  He’s serenading me. With an old love song. And he sounds thoroughly perfect. I know I’m staring at him, slack-jawed and stunned, and most likely a little dreamy, but oh. My. God. The man can croon.

  “I was lost. The losing dice were tossed. My bridges were all crossed. Nowhere to go.” He grins at my expression, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, miraculously turning this voyeuristic moment intimate. “Now you’re here. And now I know just where I’m going. No more doubt or fear. I’ve found my way.”

  “Awe,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick sighs, clapping her hands. “I love Nina Simone.”

  “That’s Tony Bennett,” Mr. Fitzpatrick argues.

  “Frank Sinatra,” Cooper corrects, eyes still on me. He inches closer, brushing a feather-light kiss on my cheek before sliding up to my ear. “Don’t forget to take your panties off before we leave.”

  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 listen
ed 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.”