Luca pulled off again and pushed himself off the floor of the tub until he stood in front of Emerson again.
“What—”
Luca grabbed Emerson’s body wash, squeezed it into his hands.
“Relax,” he whispered into Emerson’s lips before he kissed him, before his hands traveled around Emerson’s body, over his shoulders, down his back, under his armpits, between his legs and behind his balls. “I got you.”
And then he was on his knees again, his mouth on Emerson working faster and harder than ever.
“Luca.” Emerson placed a hand on Luca’s head. Luca hummed around his dick in approval. “I’m close.”
Luca hummed again, longer, deeper, and Emerson held onto the edge of the windowsill for dear life as he came into Luca’s mouth.
His chest was still heaving when Luca made his slow, careful way up Emerson’s body, kissing the entire way. The kiss he left on Emerson’s lips when he made it there was brief.
“Okay,” he said. “Last rinse and then we dry off.”
“But you—” Emerson made a weak gesture toward Luca’s erection.
“I’ll get my turn,” Luca said with a smile and one last kiss. “Later. I trust you.”
And Luca stepped out of the shower, leaving Emerson alone and winded under the spray.
“Come on, King!” he shouted from the other side of the room, a smile hidden in his voice, and Emerson smiled back at the shower curtain, boneless and happy. The luckiest man alive. “Time to get ready for the cameras.”
twenty-four
“Doyou have hopes of expanding the amount of your acreage that’s harvested?” Dahlia asked toward the end of their tour. They’d started at the wildflower field, trampling farther than the wedding guests had gone so Emerson could show her his bee boxes. From there they’d spent time in the barn and the pastures, where, with the sun shining and a recent orgasm in his system, Emerson felt almost fond of even the goats.
They had hit the main events then, the crop beds and the berry patch and his hopeful orchard, before making their way here, to cold storage and processing.
“Yes,” Emerson answered, “but honestly, I wouldn’t want to develop too much more. The goal is always to use the land you already have ready more efficiently. I hope to build out the main beds a bit more, and get all my greenhouses back in order. With the relatively mild climate of the coast here, you could harvest produce almost all year long with properly managed greenhouses.”
“And all these ready-to-go products you have, aside from your fresh produce”—Dahlia picked up a bottle of blueberrylavender syrup from the shelf—“do you have a website where folks can order these from?”
Emerson grimaced.
“That’s…also been a goal for a while, but when I started researching the best way to do it, I got overwhelmed at the administration of it all, while also having some environmental concerns about all the packaging and the energy used to ship long distance. But…”
Emerson cleared his throat. He’d felt comfortable throughout the tour, remarkably so, even with the knowledge that he was being filmed. But Dahlia really was wonderfully warm and open, so genuinely interested in the farm and everything Emerson had shared.
And having Luca there, trailing quietly behind them just out of the shot—maybe Emerson was showing off a bit for him, again. Maybe that was okay, having someone you wanted to show off for.
But now that Dahlia was asking about the things Jayden would’ve been so much better at, Emerson faltered. How much of a financial boon would it have been for the farm, having mail order products ready to go for free advertisement by Dahlia Woodson? Emerson had looked up her socials, her YouTube channel. She had hundreds of thousands of followers.
But would he have enough supply to meet whatever demand that might’ve created anyway? Sometimes he struggled just to keep up with Liv’s orders for the IGA.
“Hopefully that’s on the horizon,” he managed.
“You mentioned your CSA, and also how you supply local markets and the grocery store in town here. Do you work with any local restaurants, as well?”
Wow. Dahlia was really choosing the end of the interview to go for the kill.
“That’s also always been part of the business plan,” Emerson said with what he hoped was a charmingly self-deprecating laugh, “but I’m already so busy with current customers, and I’ve struggled in knowing where to start with making those connections. Luckily for our region, there are already a lot of local farms for our restaurants to work with, so I’m not sure if there’s a ton of space for a small farm like mine to fit in.”
“I could maybe help with that.”
Emerson turned.
