by Lynn Burke
My stomach churned, and I clenched my eyes, willing the memories away.
Micah. Delicious lips and sweet breath. Gentle touch…
My racing heart slowed a bit, but the thoughts of Micah kept it at a steady pace, erasing the unease over my nightmare.
What next? I planned on touching him whenever possible throughout the day and not just in sexual ways. I needed to know if the arousal he brought to life in my body trumped my touching issue, or if non-sexual touch with him would be just as comfortable.
The zap of energy I felt every time our skin brushed acted as though it blasted all insecurity issues right out the door.
I needed to test myself outside of Micah, I realized, rolling over and weaseling an arm under my pillow. The thought of touching another man, however, tightened the vise around my chest I was all-too familiar with.
I’ll start with the easiest person available, I thought, closing my eyes. Small steps forward are better than none.
****
The next morning, I went downstairs to find Mom and Dad drinking their coffee and watching NECN like they did every Saturday morning.
I ambled toward the kitchen and coffeepot, intent on grabbing a mug. My hand shook while pouring.
Mere nerves, I told myself. Pull up your big girl panties and just do it.
I returned to the living room and paused by Dad’s chair. His thinning gray hair stood up, and I reached out a hand to smooth it down. The man I should trust the most, and hadn’t touched in twelve years.
His body tensed.
“Morning, Daddy,” I whispered.
A sob caught in Mom’s throat, and I glanced over at her, my hand still resting on top of Dad’s head. My throat tightened. She stared at me wide-eyed, hand over her mouth.
Dad stirred beneath my touch, and I dropped my hand, turning back toward him.
The pale-green eyes I’d inherited peered up at me. Tears stung my eyes at the wetness welling in his. “One step at a time.” I swallowed. “I’m going to beat this.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You are, Pumpkin. I’m so damn proud of you.”
A dozen or so tears fell between the three of us, and I ended up sitting by Daddy, his warm, calloused hand wrapped around mine, my head on his shoulder, my senses swarmed with the lingering scent of his aftershave I hadn’t sniffed in far too long.
****
An hour or so later, I went back upstairs, my heart light. I couldn’t stop smiling, and on a whim, grabbed my phone to text Micah.
I held my Daddy’s hand today for the first time in twelve years.
I chewed on the inside of my lip while waiting. The ding made me squeak.
Micah: I’m so proud of you!
Heart speeding and giggling, I texted as fast as my fingers could move. I wouldn’t have ever come this far without you. Thank you!!
Micah: Like I said, I’m always available.
I wanted to ask if he was available right then, but chickened out. While contemplating what to text, another ding came through.
Micah: What are you up to today? Perfect beach day, and I would love some company.
More giggles from my lips reminded me of when I’d been a young tween, twittering and whispering about boys with my friends. Friends I’d lost after the shit happened because I couldn’t bear being around people.
I love the beach, I texted back.
Micah: I’ll come pick you up around eleven?
I wanted to send heart emojis and kissy faces, but settled for a simple thumbs up.
Figured, I would cut myself shaving, but that was what I got for rushing. I had an hour to get ready, but the nervousness kept tremors shuddering through my body, making preciseness a joke. I opted for a few swipes of waterproof mascara, and that was it. Had I attempted more, I probably would have ended up in the ER with an eyeliner pencil jammed in my eye.
I stood by the window, chewing on a fingernail, my heart jumping—no vise squeezing. “He’s here!” I squealed, turning around.
Both of my parents had gotten up and ready for the day, but had returned to their favorite spots in the living room for a day of relaxing and doing nothing—their usual Saturday routine.
“Do we get to meet him?” Daddy asked, standing and putting down the paper he’d been reading.
“I’d love you to,” I said, hurrying to the door.
Micah’s gaze flitted down over my see-through cover-up thrown over the green bikini I wore. His brows rose as his gaze met mine, but he straightened and smiled, holding out his hand.
Daddy, I noted, suddenly realizing he’d come up behind me. “Micah,” I said and cleared my throat, “this is my dad, Frank.”
“Mr. Swift.” Micah stepped up onto the stoop’s top step and shook Daddy’s hand.
“Mr. Fox, come on in.”
I moved back out of the way, and shut the door behind Micah. Daddy wasn’t a small man at six foot, but Micah towered over him by a good three inches, making the entryway seem very small. I found myself leaning toward him, wanting to touch.
“My wife, Marsha,” Daddy said as Mom made her way toward us.
Appreciation lit in Mom’s eyes. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Fox.”
“Same to you,” Micah replied, shaking her hand.
“Dina always spoke so highly of you,” Mom said.
“Past tense?” Micah asked, glancing down at me with a smirk.
Mom’s light laughter tinkled in the tiny area. “She claims you’re an honorable man, which is why she encouraged Jasmine to work for you.”
Micah turned back toward my parents, and my feet itched to get going. “You have hard-working, lovely daughters. I’ve been blessed to have them both in the office. I hope I never have to hire anyone else, because I’ll never be able to fill Jasmine’s shoes.”
Warmth flooded through me, settling in my chest.
Daddy beamed. Mom’s eyes gleamed.
“So!” I grabbed my beach bag. “Ready to go?”
I couldn’t get out to the car fast enough—I knew that glint in my mom’s eyes, and wasn’t about to give her the opportunity to invite Micah for dinner. I wanted him all to myself.
I settled back in the air-conditioned car and clicked my seatbelt as Micah shut my door and made his way around the car. Movement in my periphery pulled my attention to the neighbor’s house. An overweight man hurried around the corner and out of sight. He wasn’t Mr. Donovan, our neighbor.
I rubbed goosebumps from my arm and turned back around as Micah slid into the car.
“Ready for some sun and sand?” he asked, turning the key.
Ready for much more than that. I bit my tongue, capturing my runaway mouth just in time from embarrassing me. “Absolutely,” I said instead. “Then pizza and ice cream, and a long walk on the beach as the sun sets.”
Micah chuckled and pulled away from the curb. “No room for spontaneity?”
“I’m game for pretty much anything.”
“Anything?” His smirk and sideways glance warmed my face and settled heat between my thighs.
“Anything.” Breathless like a needy whore, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted Micah Fox and his thick, long cock. I squeezed my thighs together, praying to God I didn’t leave a wet spot on his seat.
“Mmm,” his voice rumbled, worsening my aroused state. “I like the way you’re thinking, but I refuse to rush.”
My smile faded as disappointment swept over me like a cold wave of salty ocean water.
“We’ve been heading on a fast track to what we both want,” Micah continued, glancing over at me, “but I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“If it’s what we both want, how could fucking fuck it up?”
He groaned. “That mouth.”
“Well?”
“Honestly, I’m afraid.”
I stared at his profile and clenched my hands on my lap to keep from running my fingers over his pulled-back hair and scruffy jaw. “Of all the men in the world, I’d think you’re t
he last one who would be afraid of fucking.”
“I’m afraid of dredging up memories. I’m afraid of pushing you back to where you were three months ago, talking yourself out of a panic attack because of shaking a man’s hand.”
“When I think of being with you, Micah,” I said, my voice a whisper, “I don’t experience any signs of anxiety. The vise that used to clamp my chest whenever someone got too close isn’t anywhere to be found. My heart races and I fight for breath because I’m so turned on I can’t think of anything else.” I hurried on, “But it’s not just the thought of sex. I touched my father today for the first time in twelve years, Micah. No anxiety. No vise. The steps I’ve made in the past couple of months isn’t just about the sex.”
His chest lifted and shuddered back into place. “I’m glad to hear that.” He glanced over at me and smiled. “So maybe after that long walk on the beach, we can head back to my place for a late dinner?”
Arousal tingled between my thighs again. “And dessert.”
He chuckled. “Definitely dessert.”
Chapter Thirteen
Micah
Laying on the beach beside Jasmine in that damn bikini … fuck, did I fight my cock. Jerking off a few minutes before leaving my house to pick her up didn’t help one fucking bit. The thought of what the night might hold—if everything progressed smoothly—had my entire body aching.
I asked about her childhood with having two sisters to keep my mind occupied. She in turn asked about mine with my one sister. Both of us had grown up in meager households with decent parents and somewhat decent siblings. While both of our parents had stayed together when most of our friends’ parents hadn’t, Jasmine’s memories were a bit more pleasant about home life.
My parents had bickered a lot, and it had only gotten worse as they’d grown older. Dad had worked in a machine shop for years, so his hearing wasn’t the greatest. I shared a story of what the typical night at their dinner table entailed … one misunderstanding after another that heated until they both raised their voices.
Jasmine giggled, jiggling her breasts. “I’m sorry. It probably isn’t funny.”
I grumbled and rolled onto my stomach since my cock enjoyed the way her breasts swayed a bit too much. “That’s why I don’t go home very often. The bickering is worse than nails on a chalkboard.”
“I’m hot.”
I propped up on my elbows and ran my gaze slowly down over her oiled-up body. “You are.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled her sunglasses off. “Let’s go cool off.”
“I’d rather get even more hot and sweaty.”
She narrowed her gaze while sitting up. “Thought you didn’t want to rush?”
“Wanting and wishing are two totally separate things.”
“Are they?” She stood and held out her hand.
My cock twitched, but stayed non-threatening beneath my shorts. I pushed up and laced my fingers through hers, keeping an eye on her face.
She beamed up at me. “See? Non-sexual touch, and I’m fine.”
“Oh, it could be sexual,” I murmured, skimming my thumb along the back of her hand, letting her see what I wished for in my eyes.
Her breath caught and eyes widened.
“Come on,” I said, tugging her down the beach between the other people lounging and laying beneath the hot sun. “I need to cool off.”
We stood side by side in the ocean, waist-high in the water as waves swelled, breaking behind us on the beach.
The fucking sun beat down on my head, and I dove through the next wave to wash off the sheen of sweat on my forehead. I came up to find Jasmine had done the same. She looked like a drowned rat, and I’d never seen anything so damn fine in my life.
“What?” she asked, pushing her wet hair back from her face.
“You’re beautiful.”
She smiled, and I reached for her, sliding my hand down her arm to her hand and tugging her toward me.
“Okay?” I asked, drawing her nearer.
“Yes.” She closed the distance between us, the heat of her lush body and the cool of the ocean doing a number on my senses.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” I murmured, lightly wrapping my arms around her as my cock swelled.
She wiggled her hips. “So do you.”
I growled, but kept my touch light. “You do that, and I’m not going to be able to walk out of this water without giving everyone a show.”
“Mmm.” She rubbed her pubic bone against my cock and lifted her legs around me.
A wave rolled by, lifting her breasts as we stared at each other.
“We could do it right here and no one would know,” she whispered.
“Your first time isn’t going to be a rushed, bikini-pulled-to-the-side fuck in the ocean.”
Jasmine shuddered in my arms. “God, that sounds divine.”
The muscle in my jaw jumped as I fought for control. “And you’re so fucking tempting I’m having a hard time saying no to myself.”
Her light laughter sounded nervous, and I pulled myself mentally back to solid ground, releasing my hold on her ass I hadn’t remembered palming. “How about that ice cream?” I asked, settling her back on her feet beneath the water.
She sighed. “Fine.”
I let go of her hand and dove into a couple more waves to shrivel my balls from the cold rather than need to explode.
****
Fucking torture. No other words to describe being with Jasmine in her flimsy, see-through cover-up and knowing I might actually get a real taste of what lay beneath before night’s end. And the way she licked her ice cream cone… I didn’t know what need was before Jasmine had crashed into my life.
She would eventually be mine, and I couldn’t fucking wait, but I wondered about the future of our relationship. A Dominant through and through, I enjoyed having a submissive under my hand. I enjoyed dishing out pain to bring pleasure.
I highly doubted Jasmine would ever be up for that. With her past, I doubted I would ever be able to mark her with my hand, let alone a flogger or cane.
If compatibility proved to be an issue in that area, could a relationship work? The thought hung heavy on my shoulders, but I told myself one step at a time—just as she’d been doing to distance herself from her past and touch issues.
We ambled back down to the beach, and I’d had just about enough of the heat, but Jasmine wanted that sunset walk. I could handle another couple of hours.
I started to sit in the beach chair I’d brought, but she stood, hands on hips, scowling at her sand-covered towel. “I think I’ve had about enough of the sun and sand for today.” She glanced at me, her scowl relaxing. “Want to take off?”
I hopped back up. “Let’s go.”
A few minutes later, we climbed into my car, and I rolled the windows down to let the heat escape a bit before turning on the AC. “Where to?” I asked, pulling out into traffic.
She smiled and shrugged, but I caught the nervousness in her eyes.
“We can grab some food and head to my place if you want. Watch a movie. Hang out.”
Her laughter also betrayed her nervousness. “Don’t feel like cooking anymore?”
“Too fucking hot,” I said, cranking on the AC and putting the windows up.
“Hanging out sounds good.”
Jasmine’s phone rang, and she fished it out of her bag. “Hey, Mom.” She listened as her mother’s murmuring reached my ears. I couldn’t make out the words—and wasn’t the type to try.
“Oh.”
The word sounded forced, drawing my gaze off the road for a second. Face pale, Jasmine stared out the windshield.
“W-when?” she asked.
A few seconds passed, and I clutched the steering wheel. Obviously, bad news.
“I think I saw him this morning.” Her swallow sounded loud over the blasting AC. “In Mr. Donovan’s back yard.”
I frowned at the tremor in her voice.
She blew a deep breath out between
her lips. “Okay, I will.”
I glanced over at her again to find her peering at me.
“I’m sure it’ll be all right, Mom, but I’ll ask him.”
“What’s going on?” I asked the second she lowered the phone.
“The asshole moved back into town.”
“Thought he couldn’t be anywhere near you,” I said, my brow furrowed into a scowl.
“I guess the other side of town is far enough away he isn’t breaking the restraining order, but knowing he’s in town… I think I saw the back of him when you picked me up.” Nerves had gotten the best of her voice, and she all but whispered, her hands clenched around the phone on her lap.
“Fucker,” I growled, clutching the steering wheel. “You should call the cops.”
“They can’t do anything about my thinking I saw him. A restraining order doesn’t do much except get him thrown in jail if he attacks me.”
“Fuck.”
I felt the need to beat the shit out of something, and wondered if my buddy Cooney had felt the same when Becky’s ex had beaten her to the point she landed in the ER.
Zero fucking tolerance. My blood boiled. “Men like him ought to be shot.”
She nodded, and I reached out my hand, hoping like hell a road block hadn’t just been thrown in our way. “You okay?” I asked. Without hesitation, she slid her hand into mine, and I squeezed. “If that fucker comes anywhere near you, I’ll feed his balls to him for breakfast.”
She laughed, unforced, but shaky. “For some strange reason, I believe you.”
“What? You don’t think I can be a violent person?”
“I … I know you are.”
Another glance over the console. She peered at me, but without fear in her gaze.
“You’re referring to the fact I’m a Dominant.”
“Yes.”
Not sure what she knew about the BDSM lifestyle, I didn’t know what to say. How to explain. “If you know I’m a sadist, why are you with me?” I found myself asking as my anger began to fade.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be,” I said, my voice deadpan, my chest heavy.