Emersyn

Before long, Cruz slows down, and we pull up to a building that looks like a garage. He turns off the engine, and we both dismount. The place is dark, but the outline of cars under tarps is just visible. I look at Cruz, curious.

"This is my mechanic garage," he says, as if sensing my confusion.

I'm surprised once again. "You have a garage? I thought you only worked with your construction business."

Cruz nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I opened this place up when I was still building up money for the construction business. I love working with my hands, and this place... it grew to be one of my favorite spots."

This goes to only show how much I still have to learn about these men.

I follow him inside, the smell of oil and metal greeting us. There's a sense of passion here, a personal touch.

Cruz tells me that sometimes he still comes in and works on cars with the guys he has running the place. I watch him as he speaks, seeing this new side of him.

"Why are we here?" I ask, glancing around the dimly lit space.

"Just needed to check on some paperwork before heading home," he answers, gesturing for me to follow him into a small office.

The office is simple: a desk with a computer, a few chairs, and a couch against the wall. I sit on the couch, draping the leather jacket across the arm rest, as I watch l Cruz walk to the desk. There's something about seeing him in this space, a place that's clearly his, that adds another layer to my understanding of him.

He starts going through some papers, and I find myself lost in thought. I watch him work, the way his hands move confidently over the papers, the focused look in his eyes. It's attractive, seeing him so in his element, so passionate about something he built from the ground up.

As he works, I can't help but think about the dynamics back at the house. Marx, Locke, Fowler, and now Cruz in this new light. Each of them is so different, yet they all come together to form this unconventional family we're a part of.

I get up from the couch, feeling the need to stretch my legs. As I walk around the small office, I take in every little detail. The walls are adorned with framed photos of classic cars and various automotive certificates. A shelf holds an array of model cars, each meticulously detailed. There's a personal touch to everything.

I notice a small plaque on the wall, an award for excellent service. It's dated back a few years, but it still shines, well-cared-for. This place isn't just a business for Cruz; it's a part of him.

On the desk, among the scattered papers, lies a greasy wrench and a set of keys. It's a stark contrast to the otherwise neat and organized space.

I continue to wander, my fingers tracing the smooth edges of the desk, the cool metal of the wrench.

Eventually, I make my way to the side of the desk where Cruz sits. He seems to have finished with his paperwork and is now just watching me.

Our eyes lock. There's a depth to his gaze, a warmth that seems to pull me in. Neither of us speaks, the silence between us comfortable, yet charged with unspoken words.

I am hopelessly falling in love with each of these men and I'm scared.

Without a word, Cruz gently takes my hand in his, pulling me down to sit in his lap. I don't fight it. I sit, feeling the strength of his body beneath me. Cruz wraps his arms around me. His breath is hot against my back as he buries his face in my shirt.

His touch is gentle yet confident, his hands running up and down my sides, over the curve of my hips, up my back. I can almost feel every line of his palms, the calluses of his fingers, the warmth of his skin through my shirt. It's a slow, deliberate exploration, each movement sending waves of warmth through my body.

Cruz's warm breath is now against my ear as he begins to speak, his voice low and seductive. "Emersyn, the connection I feel with you, it's something special, something rare," he murmurs, his words sending shivers down my spine. "And to find this connection with not only Locke, but you as well, makes me the luckiest man in the world. I don't know what I done in a past life to deserve this, but I'll take it nonetheless."

My heart squeezes at his proclamation. I don't know what I done to deserve Cruz. Or any of these men for that matter.

I squirm in Cruz's lap and feel the slight press of hardness underneath me.

His hands gently trace the outline of my body, each touch deliberate and full of meaning. "We're so grateful to have found you, you know," he continues. "You've brought something into our lives that we didn't even realize was missing."

I feel my face flush with his words, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure swirling inside me. His compliments resonate deeply, making me feel seen in a way I've never experienced before.

My nipples pebble at his touch as his hand finds the curve of my breast. I squirm more against him. There's no denying how hard he is now.

"You're beautiful, Em, in so many ways," he says softly, his fingertips gliding over my skin. "Not just on the outside, but here," he pauses, placing a hand over my heart, "where it truly matters."

His touch is tender yet filled with a raw emotion that contrasts starkly with the gentleness of his words. I lean back against him, feeling a warmth spreading through me, a response to his touch, to his words.

"And you're smart, so incredibly smart," he adds, his voice a whisper against my skin. "Your intelligence, your wit – it's captivating."

Cruz's breath is warm against my ear, his words weaving a spell that leaves me feeling cherished, wanted. The physical closeness, his hands exploring my body, and the emotional connection we share blend into an intoxicating mix of comfort and desire.

His fingers mess with the button on my jeans. My body is screaming for his touch.

"It's not just me," he continues. "Locke, Fowler, Marx – we all see it, feel it. You're a part of us now, Emersyn. A beautiful, integral part of this family we've formed."

His confession is so raw and honest. I don't know what to say back. Cruz doesn't give me time to think about my response. His lips find mine. The kiss is soft, gentle, and tastes of peppermint.

The waistband of my jeans are now looser as Cruz unbuttons and unzips them. His fingers play with the edge of my panties for only a moment before he slides his hand into them, cupping me.

"You're already so wet," he says before slowly sliding a finger through my folds. My body moves in response. I need him to touch me, to be inside of me.

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. It's all desire and amusement. A cry escapes my lips when he sides a finger into me.

I need more. I rock my hips, but his other arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place.

"Be patient. I'll give you what you want, what you need." His words cause me to shiver.

The slowness in which he works is both agonizing and the sweetest pleasure. He's building my orgasm, but keeping me right on the edge.

"I love the sounds you make," he whispers, his voice huskier than I've ever heard it. He grinds against me, his hardness almost bruising me.

I cry out when he starts to remove his hand from my underwear. What is he doing? I was so, so close. His lips find mine, momentarily muting me.

His hand glides up, gripping and bunching the hem of my shirt in his fist. Cruz breaks our kiss just long enough to lift the shirt over my head.

The cool air against my skin is a sharp contrast to the heat building between us. His hands caress my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Then they are once again at my waist, moving me to stand. My breathing hitches as he slides my jeans down, exposing my legs to the cool air. He takes his time, savoring each inch of exposed skin.

In one swift movement, Cruz sets me on his desk. There's a burning fire in his eyes, one that matches the burning fire igniting in my core.

His lips are on mine again, hungry and urgent. His tongue is forceful against mine, taking the lead, taking control. He tastes of peppermint and chocolate.

I lose myself in the moment, in the feeling of Cruz's lips on mine, his cold hands on my heated skin. He kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach, before playfulling tugging at my panties with his teeth. He looks up at me, his heated gaze asking for permission. And I give it to him.

He pulls my panties off, revealing my most intimate parts to him. And then his lips are on me, his tongue exploring me, tasting me. I throw my head back, a moan escaping my lips.

This is exactly what I needed.

Something falls from his desk, hitting the floor in a loud bang, but neither of us pay it any mind. Cruz's hands grip my thighs, holding me in place.

The heat, the intensity, the pleasure – it's overwhelming. I tangle my fingers in his thick hair, holding him against me. I'm losing myself in him, in the moment.

"Oh god," I gasp as Cruz moans against me.

"You taste so good, Em," he groans, his voice vibrating against my clit.

I can feel the pressure building inside me, a tightening sensation coiling in my stomach. Cruz's tongue explores every inch of me, teasing me, torturing me.

"Please, Cruz," I beg.

I'm a mess, a puddle on his desk. I'm soft dough in his skilled hands.

He pushes a finger inside me, and then a second, stroking me from the inside. His tongue dances over my clit, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

My breathing is ragged, my heart hammering against my chest. My hips roll as I grind against his face. The pressure is building, my body aching for release. Cruz moans again, the sound vibrating through me. It's too much. I can't hold back any longer.

I cry out, the waves of pleasure washing over me, consuming me. Cruz's tongue and fingers keep moving, drawing out the orgasm. My legs tremble, my body shuddering. More pressure builds until I feel a second, larger release, liquid dripping down my thighs.

Crus sits back, a satisfied smile on his face. His face and shirt are soaked.

"Oh my god, did I do that? I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened." The words tumble from my mouth.

"Don't apologize," Cruz says, wiping at the wetness coating his face. "Never apologize." He places two fingers in his mouth, sucking the liquid off.

Oh. My. God.

Then he's standing, stroking his erection before moving to place it at my entrance.

When had he undone his pants? How had I missed that?

Cruz enters me slowly, his eyes locked on mine. The pleasure, the intimacy, it's almost too much. It's raw, and real, and full of so much more than just physical pleasure.

My hips roll to meet his, wanting him as deep as I can get him.

My arm strains as I reach behind me to unhook my bra. I slide the straps down my arms and let it fall to the floor.

Cruz's movements slow as he presses his body into mine. My muscles convulse around his cock when he takes a nipple into his mouth. It's hot, and warm, and wet. My whole body is on fire, my senses are overwhelming.

He grips the edge of the desk, thrusting deeper into me, hitting that spot inside me that makes me cry out. Little whimpers punctuate Cruz's panting, his expression filled with pleasure. His hand slides up my body until his fingers are around my neck.

Our bodies move together, finding a rhythm. He leans forward, his lips grazing my ear.

"You're perfect, Em. Absolutely perfect," he whispers, his voice rough, before tightening his fingers around my neck.

I don't fight it, I want it. It's slightly harder to breathe, but my senses are heightened. The pleasure, the pain, the pressure, it's all too much. I lose control, letting go and giving myself completely to Cruz, to the moment.

"You feel so amazing," he whispers against my skin. The whimpering noises he's making in between pants and moans are music to my ears.

My body is trembling, my muscles tightening. I'm teetering on the edge of ecstasy, barely able to breathe.

And then, with one final hard thrust, Cruz pushes me over the edge. The pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave, threatening to drown me. I'm shaking, crying out his name.

And then, I'm weightless, floating, lost in a sea of pleasure.

Cruz holds me close, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. He's still thrusting in and out of me, not yet done. His hand tightens even more around my throat, and all I can feel is him and the pleasure.

Dying like this wouldn't be the worst way to go.

"Fuck, Em, you're so tight," he grunts, his voice strained.

I cling to him, wanting to feel everything, needing more.

He groans, his body tensing. "I'm so, so close," he says, his breathing ragged.

And then, with one last thrust, he empties himself inside me. His release mixes with mine, joining it in the mess leaking onto my thighs and his desk.

Cruz still for a moment, our breaths the only sound in the room. His forehead is pressed against mine, his hair making a curtain around our faces. His eyes are so dark, so full of want and need, and something else.

"I need more. I need more of you, Em. Please." His voice is husky, and it sends a chill through me. "Please," he repeated, his voice needy.

I don't know if I can take anymore, but I don't want this to end. My body feels weightless and heavy at the same time. I don't think I could move it myself. It takes everything in me to nod my head. As soon as I do, Cruz is turning me over on his desk, my feet hitting the floor, but they're not holding me up. He is the only thing keeping me from hitting the ground.

Cruz covers the back of me with his body, his face pressed into my neck. We're both sweaty, both hot and cold at the same time.

"You can tell me to stop at any point," he tells me. But I don't think I would even if I wanted to. I want him as much as he wants me.

"I would never."

I can feel his growing erection pressing against my ass as he kisses my shoulders. He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips brushing against my skin. The feeling is almost electric.

He slides his hands up my arms, wrapping his fingers around my wrists and pinning them to the desk.

"Don't move," he says, his voice commanding.

I stay perfectly still, anticipation coursing through me.

"Good girl," he says.

His hands still hold mine, his thumbs lightly brushing against my palms.

"I love how soft your skin is," he whispers, his breath hot against my neck.

I can't help but blush at his compliment.

Slowly, Cruz moves one hand down, tracing his fingers over the curve of my hip.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his touch leaving a trail of fire along my skin.

He continues to explore my body, his hands traveling across my ass, down my thighs, and back up. It's sensual, erotic, and so damn intimate. I can't help but press back against him, wanting more, needing more.

His lips ghost over the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Good," he replies.

And then he's sliding into me, filling me completely.

We moan in unison. The feeling is exquisite.

He starts to move, slowly at first, but quickly building speed. His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my skin.

The room is filled with the sounds of our bodies coming together, the slick wetness of him pumping in and out of me. It's erotic and dirty and so, so hot.

"You feel incredible," he groans.

My muscles tighten around him, drawing him in deeper. He hisses, his nails scratching my skin.

"That's right, baby, squeeze me. Let me feel you," he says.

I do as he asks, clenching around him.

His movements become more frantic, more erratic.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his grip tightening.

The desk creaks beneath us.

"Harder," I plead, needing more.

Cruz complies, thrusting deeper, harder, his pace punishing.

It's pure bliss.

My hands curl around the edges of the desk, trying to find purchase. The pleasure is overwhelming, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Cruz grunts.

His words send me over the edge, and I'm falling, falling into an abyss of pleasure. I cry out, my body tensing, my muscles spasming around him.

Cruz isn't far behind, his movements becoming more and more erratic, his breathing ragged. With one last thrust, he empties himself inside me, his body shuddering, a guttural moan escaping his lips.

We stay like that for a moment, panting, trying to catch our breath.

There are no words to describe how I'm feeling right now. It's more than just physical pleasure; it's an emotional connection, a bond.

"We should probably clean up and head home," Cruz says, breaking the silence.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He pulls out of me, and I already miss the feeling of him inside me.