Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)

Emerson

“I’m a little embarrassed it took me this long,” Garrett says, as he walks into the back office of the club where I’m going over the numbers from last night.

“To do what?” I ask without looking up.

“To look up your new girlfriend online.”

Well, that gets my attention. My head snaps up, looking at my partner holding out his phone, which is open to Charlotte’s Instagram page. You don’t even have to scroll far to find pictures of her and Beau together. There’s not a single picture of me on there, for obvious reasons, but it still grates on my nerves.

I freeze, looking at the photos and waiting for him to say something.

He puts his phone in his pocket as he says, “I’m certainly not one to judge.”

“That’s good,” I reply coldly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” When I notice the hurt look on his face, I feel the guilt I probably should have felt two weeks ago.

“No one was supposed to know.”

He lets out a laugh. “Well, you blew that whistle yourself last night when you got in that bidding war with Kade and carted her off the stage like a caveman.”

“I’m aware,” I grumble. “But I don’t need everyone knowing her connection to Beau, so if we could keep that under wraps…”

“You got it,” he says, holding up his hands. As he comes farther into the office, taking a seat in one of the chairs, I know he’s not about to drop the topic. “So, I assume you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Of course not.” I lean back in my chair. I’ll admit…it feels good to finally have this out, at least to Garrett. I don’t need the rest of them knowing, but not being able to talk to my best friend has been difficult. Especially in these last two weeks when my feelings for my son’s ex-girlfriend have gotten even more complicated.

I let a lot of things slip yesterday. I was in the moment, and when I’m with Charlotte, I feel as if I can say anything, and that is dangerous, because she suddenly has me telling her I want to fuck her forever.

She must think I’m insane. First, I said it would just be temporary. Then I start showing up at her family’s events and begging to see her on the weekends. Even today, I’m forcing myself to work to keep from texting her.

“So, what happened?” Garrett asks.

“She and Beau broke up. She came over one day looking for a security deposit from their apartment I co-signed for him, and I mistook her for one of the girls you send.”

“Oof,” he says with a grimace.

“Yeah.”

I let a moment linger while I think back to that day, the first moment I saw her in my office, the way she dropped to her knees, how I knew in that moment that this one was different. That in just five seconds flat, I knew she was somehow made for me.

“I offered her the job. I made it very clear that it was just a regular secretary job, but then… I crossed every little line one at a time until we started fucking two weeks ago.”

“Jesus.”

“I know…”

“I assume Beau has no idea.”

“He’s still not really talking to me, but I’ll be honest…after things started up with Charlotte, I haven’t been calling him as much.”

He watches me while I keep my eyes averted, letting this whole shitshow run through my mind again. How did I let this happen? I tried to be so careful. I set strict rules for myself, but she has me breaking all of them.

When I finally look up at him, there’s more sympathy on his face than judgment. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“I don’t think anything is wrong with you.”

“But…”

“But…” He shifts in his seat. “I can tell you really like her. Maybe more than like?”

I’m not going to answer that. If I put that thought into words, I’m risking so much. Letting myself believe this thing with Charlotte is more than muddled emotions and hot-as-sin sex makes everything a lot more serious than I intended.

I rub my hand across my forehead. “I do like her. I mean…you’ve seen her.”

He nods, unspoken words clearly on his lips.

“What’s that look for?”

After a moment of deliberation, he lets out a sigh and leans forward. “Emerson, I’ve known you for over a decade. I’ve seen you with a lot of girls. All of them were beautiful. This is different.”

“I know it is, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” I can’t seem to hide the subtle frustration in my voice. He’s pointing out the obvious but failing to see the problem. It’s not as simple as to just admit that I have serious feelings for Charlotte because, no matter what, I can’t have her.

“Why not?”

I have to give my friend a minute of grace because he’s not yet a father, so he has no idea what it feels like. This torment, struggling with the idea of losing my son forever.

“Because no matter what I do, I lose one of them. What kind of father would I be if I choose…”

The rest of the sentence hangs on my lips as I let out a frustrated sound, and my friend doesn’t have a response. We sit in tense silence for another moment before he says, “Just my opinion, so take it or leave it…” He holds his hands up as he continues, “But Beau is an adult, Emerson. He’s not a kid anymore. He might be mad at you, but it’s not something you can’t work out if he was to actually speak to you. I think you’re a great father to want to give him so much, but you seem actually happy with this girl, and I’d hate to see you throw that away.”

He’s right. I know that, but it’s just not that easy.

“And the longer you let this secret go on, the harder it will be to tell him.”

“I know.”

“But don’t take too much advice from me. I have neither a girlfriend nor a child, so I could be the world’s biggest idiot, but I do know you. And I like you a lot more since she’s come around.”

I let out a small laugh. “Thanks,” I mutter as he stands and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Whatever you choose, I’m here.”

I nod at him, the gnawing ball of anxiety in my gut growing even more from this conversation.

“How was the convention?” I ask, as Charlotte curls up on my chest on the couch upstairs. Some true crime show plays quietly in the background.

“It was a blast. Sophie was in heaven.”

“Good,” I reply, kissing her cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. We grabbed something to eat after it closed. What did you do all day?”

“Missed you.” Inwardly, I wince. I really have to keep shit like this to myself.

“I missed you too,” she replies, without looking at me. There’s a growing tension between us. This unspoken argument about Beau and our future keeps expanding, pushing aside all of the elation we felt a week ago when all of this was new and fun. Now, I’m afraid it’s all too real. And I want it all too much.

As soon as she got here, we climbed on the couch together. Usually we’d be coming by now, her screaming my name as I fuck her on various surfaces of my house, but neither of us reached for the other’s clothes. Yet.

“You’re good with your sister,” I mumble, kissing her temple. I love the way she wraps her arms around me and how snugly she fits against my chest. I love that no matter how we’re feeling, she’s comfortable touching me first, instead of waiting for me to make the move.

“She’s a good kid.”

“Do you want kids someday?” I ask because…I don’t know. Self-sabotage, maybe. Because that conversation with Garrett earlier has me feeling like I might as well end it before it even begins. And what better way to do it.

“I don’t know,” she answers casually. “I could see my life with them or without them.”

Not exactly the answer I expected.

“What about you?” she adds. “Would you ever have more?”

I clench my molars. “Had a vasectomy years ago.”

She tenses. “Oh.”

A cloud of disappointment hangs in the air. And for some reason, I just want to hammer this nail in the coffin.

“Considering my only child won’t speak to me, I’d say it’s for the best.”

She lifts her head and stares at me. “Stop that. I see how much you care about him. You’re a good father.”

“Yes, so good I’m fucking his ex-girlfriend.”

She doesn’t respond right away, but she stares at me skeptically. She can tell something is up, and she seems to be working through feelings of her own.

“That was a little harsh,” she murmurs quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Brushing the hair out of her face, I kiss her forehead.

Instead of laying her head back on my chest, she rises to a sitting position and fiddles with the hem of her shirt in her lap. “Do you mind me asking what happened? Why is Beau so mad at you?”

“He’s not mad at me. He’s disgusted by me.”

Her eyes dance in my direction. “Because of the club?”

I nod. “For most of his life, I worked in various fields of entertainment. When I started up Salacious with Garrett and the others, I told him it was a dating service. Then, it became a dance club. Suddenly, he was twenty-one, and he found out that I’d been lying to him his whole life and that my dance club being built was really a kink club. Something he just couldn’t accept.”

She swallows. Talking about my son with her sends a cool tremor down my spine because she knows him so well, probably even better than I do. And right now, I can see the thoughts brewing behind her eyes. I’m both dying to hear what she’s thinking and dreading it.

“What is it?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

“I just… I think Beau is wrong to judge you so harshly. But that’s just who he is. He rejects what he doesn’t understand, and he’s quick to pass judgment on others—”

“Charlotte, stop.”

She quickly closes her lips. Her brows are raised and there’s an apologetic look on her face, one that kills me. But I can’t listen to her talk about him like that. He has his faults—I will bear the burden of those flaws and he can be mad at me for however long he wants.

“I think he just needs his own time to get over things…”

I glance at her again. I think I know what she’s alluding to. Taking her hand in mine, I touch her knuckles to my lips, wanting to kiss away the sadness I feel creeping in. It’s because I’m a coward, and I don’t have the heart to kill the hope I know she’s begging me for. So I choose silence instead.

But this is Charlotte…or rather, Charlie, and I love all of her young stubbornness and inability to let things slide.

“The sooner we tell him, the sooner he’ll get over it.”

“Charlotte.”

“We have to at least try. If he finds out later, it won’t make anything better.”

“I can’t,” I argue, but she doesn’t stop.

“What happens when he finds out before you tell him? It would make everything worse.”

“Charlie, stop.” My voice comes out in a low barking command, and she gapes at me, my words hanging in the air. I can’t stand another minute of her hurt expression, so I jump off the couch and pace the room in frustration.

I called her Charlie. And she’s probably hurt more by that than anything else. Like I’ve just stripped her of her name. Glancing back at her on the couch, I watch her chew on her bottom lip. That’s not the girl I found on the floor of my office two months ago. Have I built her up only to break her down? Why am I fucking this up so badly?

Two months. That’s how long it took this one girl to walk in and fuck my head up so much that I don’t even know myself anymore. It’s hard to remember a time before Charlotte. And it hurts to think of a time after her.

“I wish you’d just tell me what you’re thinking,” I say, looking at her from across the room. “I hate to see you holding back.”

Her eyes well up with tears as she takes a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because…I just want to make you happy.”

It hurts to swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’m not your Sir right now. Don’t try to please me, Charlotte. Just be honest.”

She stands up and walks over to me, stopping only a foot away. After another deep breath, she squares her shoulders, and I can’t help but admire her from this angle. The hard-headed, tough, beautiful girl who refuses to believe she’s absolutely perfect.

“You think letting Beau find out about us would make you a bad father, but, Emerson, you’re already sleeping with me. You’ve already done it, but it doesn’t make you a bad father. It makes you human. Neither of us expected this to happen, but it did. And it’s a lot more serious than either of us expected.

“You think you’re a bad father for wanting me but you’re not. You’re actually good to a fault, because you’re willing to forfeit your own happiness to spare your son’s hurt feelings, but you need to let him deal with the hard stuff on his own. He will get over it, but…I don’t know if I ever will.”

“Don’t say that. Of course you will.” My raw, aching heart claws at some sort of relief to offer her. “You’re only twenty-one, Charlotte.”

“I won’t,” she argues, those threatening tears finally spilling over. This is two nights in a row I’ve seen her cry, and I can’t stand it. My arms find her waist, pulling her close as if my touch alone could fix any of these problems.

“I’m forty, baby,” I murmur gently into her hair. “You have no future with me.”

“I don’t care how old you are. It doesn’t matter to me.” She’s sobbing in earnest against my chest now. That nagging anxiety in my gut from before has turned into a gaping, bleeding wound, but it’s better this way. Get the feelings out. No secrets. And we’ll move past them.

I pull her face up so she can see my eyes. “You understand it’s not because I don’t want you. You know that, right?”

“Then tell me you want me,” she cries.

“I want you. Of course, I want you.”

She reaches up, finding my lips for a desperate kiss, and I know I shouldn’t, but I kiss her back. I think we’ve established that I do not make wise decisions where this girl is involved, and I don’t want to.

She wraps her arms around my neck and I pull her up by the thighs, letting her wrap her legs around me. I’m done talking. All we’ve established is that we both can’t have what we want, but at least we can have this. In this house, with no one else around, there’s only us. Her and me and this unexplainable connection. You’re lucky enough to have something like this once in a lifetime, so if this brief, heated phase of our lives is all I’m going to get, then I’m going to squeeze every last drop out of it.

I carry her over to the couch and drop her onto the cushions.

“I need you,” she cries, clawing at my shirt. Sitting up, I pull it off quickly and work on my pants, tearing them off while she squirms out of hers. Once we’re naked, I drape my body over hers, ravaging her precious, pale skin with my mouth, nibbling and kissing every square inch. When I reach the apex of her thighs, she writhes against me, moaning while she pinches her nipples.

It’s not enough. Pulling my mouth away from her perfect pink folds, I grab her by the waist and flip us, so I’m lying down and she’s on top. Then, I grab her by the back of the neck, pulling her in for a bruising kiss, and whisper, “I want you on my face.”

Her eyes widen, and I see her about to protest, but I don’t give her a chance. Hoisting her up by the hips, I position her over my face and pull her down until I have her pussy in my mouth.

She cries out in delight as my tongue slides deep inside her. And I gaze up at her as she finds her pleasure, grinding herself against my lips.

Staring up at her, consuming her while feeling entirely consumed by her, I wonder briefly if this makes me a monster. Corrupting this perfect, young woman, making her mine and ruining her, so she can never feel this way about another man. But I don’t care. If I’m a monster, I’m a monster. I can live with that.

She grinds harder against me, giving up on the hovering and finally settling her weight down on my mouth. I suck eagerly at her clit, and she screams, her knuckles turning white as she grips the couch.

“Oh my God, Emerson. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Her spine curves inward as she comes, her cunt pulsing against my lips and her thighs clenching around my head. I lap up every beautiful drop like it’s the last time I’ll ever be able to devour her this way. I refuse to believe it is. Even if we aren’t meant for forever, I’m not done with her yet.

Once her muscles relax and she slumps over, I pick her up again. My cock is aching for her. Shifting into a sitting position on the couch, I guide her soaking core to my shaft, watching her face as she slides down over me.

“Fuck, Charlotte,” I groan, grasping her hair at the scalp and dragging her lips to mine. She hums with our kiss, tasting herself on my tongue. “Ride me.”

With her haunting brown eyes focused on mine, she holds me by the back of the neck and bounces herself on my cock in hard, deep thrusts. She’s fucking me the way I fuck her.

Watching her, I realize…I love her. If this isn’t what love feels like, then it must not exist.

It doesn’t mean I can give Charlotte everything she wants—everything I want. It doesn’t make my choice any easier, but I feel freer being able to admit that to myself. After twenty years of waiting, this is the one that has finally shattered the belief that I would never find this. Never find love. But I have…because of her.

And I want to tell her so badly right now, but I can’t. I refuse to make any more promises to this girl that I can’t fulfill. If I tell her I love her, it will only make her hope even more, and I’m crushing her already as it is.

Grabbing her hips tightly, I slam her down even harder, and she hangs her head back, filling the room with those delicious sounding moans of ecstasy.

“I want to come inside you. I want you to take it,” I groan.

“Give it to me.”

It only takes two more bounces on my cock before I’m grunting out my release, my cock pumping into her. She hangs from my arms, spent and beautiful. So I pull her body to my mouth, kissing the spot where her heart pumps in her chest.

She’s panting for air more than usual, her heart pounding from exertion. There’s a sheen of sweat across her back.

“Was I a good girl?” she whispers with her mouth inches from mine.

A smile creeps across my face as I gather her into my arms. “You’re always a good girl.”