He knew Tomas wasn’t in his office. He’d left earlier to have dinner with his sister and her family. Rooster didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he pushed open the door and ushered Emmettinside. Tomas would understand if he explained it to him… probably.
Not that he planned on telling him what they were about to do.
He locked the door to make sure no one else could come in if they had the same thought as him and flipped on the lights. His little boy turned and stared at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and lips damp like he’d been licking at them.
Or maybe biting them to hold back his sexy little sounds as he’d watched CJ go down on Tank.
“My sweet, little voyeur,” Rooster said, smiling. He advanced on him, slowly, pleased when Emmett backed away, letting himself be herded toward the couch in the corner of the room. “You wanted me to jerk you off right there in front of everyone, didn’t you?”
Emmett’s face turned even more red. His hands started to go up to cover it, but Rooster grabbed his wrists and jerked his arms back down, closing what little space there was between them.
“I won’t ever do that,” he said quietly, his lips brushing against Emmett’s ear. “Do you know why?”
“No, Daddy,” Emmett said, just as softly, the air between them thickening with arousal and anticipation.
Rooster released his wrists and found the button on his jeans, flicking them open and then slowly lowering Emmett’s zipper. “Because nobody gets to see my little boy come except me.”
9
“Harold! I saw that!” Emmett called, rushing across the room to the eighty-eight-year-old diabetic in a wheelchair, stealing a slice of cake. Slipping the small plate from his hands, Emmett set it back down with the others and grabbed the handles of the chair, steering him away from the temptation.
“Dammit, Emmett. You always ruin all my fun,” Harold grouched at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“By preventing a diabetic coma? So sorry about that,” he said lightly, pausing next to the other table covered in cupcakes instead. “You can have one of these.”
“Sugar-free?”
“Yes.”
“Disgusting.”
“Harold…”
“Fine, I’ll take a chocolate one,” he muttered, stooped shoulders somehow slumping even farther.
Emmett stared down at his shiny, bald head and worked hard not to laugh. Once he could move without it breaking free, he handed Harold a chocolate, sugar-free cupcake with chocolate, sugar-free frosting. “There you are. These are actually very good. I tried one.”
That was maybe a slight exaggeration. Hehadtried one, and they weren’t terrible—unlike the ones from the last bakery—but they weren’t the same as their sugary counterparts and never would be.
Harold harrumphed and gestured across the large room. “Push me over to Delilah over there. She’s looking mighty fine today in that dress, don’t you think?”
Emmett maneuvered him through the crowd, nearly the whole facility seeming to have come out for the monthly birthday party. They couldn’t celebrate everyone individually, or they’d be having parties every other day, so when Emmett had come on as assistant activities director, he’d suggested doing one big party for everyone in the month. His boss, Thea, had loved the idea and handed the reins over to him without a second thought.
Which had beenterrifying.
And exhilarating.
No one had ever trusted him like that before. His family had rolled their eyes when he’d gotten the job at Sunny Pines Assisted Living after withdrawing from college at the end of his first year. The classes had been fun, for the most part, but he’d really struggled with managing his own time and assignments, setting his schedule, finding study partners. After a couple of anxiety attacks, he’d finally thrown in the towel and informed his parents he wouldn’t be going back the next fall. Consideringhow successful his siblings were, they couldn’t understand why he was doing it.
It had caused several arguments that had left him shaking and closed in his bedroom. He hated fighting, hated any kind of confrontation. Wouldn’t even send back raw chicken at a restaurant kind of hated it.
He’d gotten a job as an aide at Sunny Pines that summer, thinking he’d work there until he found something more permanent or felt ready to go back to college. But he’d fallen in love with the place and the residents. A few years later, when the assistant activities director position opened up, he’d almost talked himself out of applying, but he thought, if nothing else, it’d let management know he was interested in moving up at the facility. That would show his commitment to the place if nothing else.
No one had been more shocked than him when Thea had chosen him for the job after ten minutes of casual small talk during his interview.
As he and Harold neared the table Delilah and some of the other women were sitting around, delicately eating their desserts and chatting lively, Harold said loudly, “Oh, that’s right. You don’t like the gals. You like other fellas.”
He did his best not to show a reaction as several heads turned to look over at the comment, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was, his face warming against his will. He’d never made a secret of his sexual orientation, but he also didn’t advertise it, necessarily. Some of the residents could be pretty… old-fashioned in their thinking.
