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“I suppose I spared you a thought or two today.”
In reality, my every minute felt like it was hijacked by thoughts of him—the words he’s spoken to me, the feel of his strong body on mine, the taste of his tongue, the way he listens to me when I speak, not interrupting or offering stale solutions.
When anxiety would overtake me, it was to him that my thoughts wandered and to how safe I feel with him despite that fact scaring me.
A breath of amusement huffs against my temple. “Just one or two? Because I’ve been driven to the point of distraction by thoughts of you, Indigo.”
“Mmm… Well, maybe more like three or four,” I concede.
“I’ll have to make myself more memorable, then.”
I inhale a breath of pleasure at his unholy insinuation. “I'm sure you’re up to the task.”
His fingers reach for mine as he stands back up straight. “Do you still want to do this? We don’t have to. I don’t give a fuck about their approval.”
He says the words boldly but I know they’re not entirely true. I can tell part of him is still caught in the loop that I was in for so long—thinking that if I just tried to explain my hurt to my mother, if I just acted a certain way, if I just accomplished something, that she could finally be proud of me, or at least, see me as being my own self and not this walking talking representative of her.
I know one day he’ll break free of this prison made of fool’s gold, but I can still feel his hope that one day his father will see him as human, as his own man, and it’s not up to me to tell him that that hope is futile. That’s something we can only discover and come to terms with on our own.
“Let’s do it,” I respond, flashing him a smile which he doesn’t reciprocate.
“In case I hadn’t hammered the point home enough, they’re snide pricks. Both of them. They’ll make this as uncomfortable and unpleasant as possible.”
“I know.”
He takes a step towards me, pulling me into him from behind. “They’re going to say things to get under your skin, and by extension, my skin. They’re going to make unpalatable insinuations. Say degrading things—things I’m going to want to rip their throats out for. They both enjoy seeing the reactions they cause. It’s like a drug to them. And what they particularly get off on is the gaslighting afterwards. They’ll spark a reaction and call you oversensitive if you react, in order to deflect from their shitty behavior and make you question whether you’re losing your sanity.”
He lifts his hand to my face, stroking the wind-chilled skin before tensing and releasing it, putting his hand down.
“If I remain silent, it’s not because I don't want to throw them into the ocean. I just don’t want to give them what they want. I don’t want them to see quite how… much you… mean… to me.”
I swallow thickly as he says it, the words emerging haltingly as if against his will.
“Not yet anyway,” he continues. “They’ll understand that with time. For now, they want to see you hurt and me exploding with rage as a result. They want us to storm out. They want me hiding you away from the rest of my family, from the circles we move in. That’s unacceptable to me.”
“Then, let’s not give them the satisfaction. Honestly, screw them. We’ll just breathe through their devolved crap and…” I raise my brows hopefully. “Haveveryvery veryhot sex afterwards as therapy.”
My non-sequitur makes his stern expression dissolve a little, his piercing eyes dropping to my lips as he pulls my hair back, breathing his minty breath onto my face.
“Don’t worry,” he says with the utmost conviction. “Tonight I’ll be fucking the memory of these two assholes right out of your tight little body. Is that understood?”
“I think I’m gonna try to focus on your dick while your mom’s disapproving of me. Sort of… dick therapy.”
His thumbs roll across my temples. “I’m gonna make you suck my cock tonight until all the tension is gone from your body.”
God, I so need that right now. Looking into those luminous silver-flecked eyes of his and withholding what happened when I was dropped back off from Marilla’s is taking all my self-restraint.
“You’d better not be teasing me because that would just be cruel,” I whisper, trying not to wilt at the forthright way he utters these deviant promises. “I’ve experienced enough dickpravation in that department.”
“You’ll have forgotten they exist by the time I’m through with you. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” I reply, fighting the urge to reach for his cock.
“Yes,what?”
“Yes, Greyson,” I respond, refusing to saySir. “I've decided I’m withholding all other terms of reverence until my mouth gets to milk your cock.”
I feel my blood warming in my cheeks, barely able to believe I feel safe and bold enough to speak so sexually to a man. Each time I dare say these sexual words, it feels like taking back little pieces of power.
