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“Good boy.”
CHAPTER19
FIELDS OF JOY
Nino
True to his word, Ash introduced me to a few childhood friends, a couple of acquaintances from work who are also friends with Tom, and their significant others.
I quickly discovered what a party animal Ash could be! His penchant for clubbing and dancing wasn’t a secret by any means. By his own admission, he’s scaled back since I turned up, preferring to spend time enjoying each other’s company since I don’t care for it. Needless to say that I loathed Alex even more for their common interest. If I’d only known that Ash’s sensual moves would torment my mind, body, and soul the entire evening and then some. And here I thought he was reserved! On the dance floor, his beautiful face took a reprieve from carrying the weight of the world, just like when I saw him surfing or coming undone beneath me.
It's been nearly a month already and heading back to Paris hasn’t crossed my mind once.
At first, my reactions to Ash were based on the persistent urge to get him naked. Things evolved at a rapid pace, and I’m reconsidering a lot of what I formerly thought that I enjoyed, sex-wise. The gravitational pull he has on me often steals my breath. I want to try everything with him and am pondering breaking my own rule about intercourse, a step that hasn’t been crossed yet. Whenever I talk to Garcia, she refers to her romance books and classifies our relationship as being in a “honeymoon phase.” I let her analyze my life, but I’m no book character! In reality, Ash and I joke about our “four-poster-bed phase.” We acquired the aforementioned piece of furniture, and my knotting practice on chairs translated well. I’m a stubborn newbie who’s learning the ropes (pun intended!), dedicated to doing the right thing for both of us. At least, he can’t escape or complain about how loose the ties are!
Our bonds couldn’t be tighter, whether physical or emotional. My confidence in what we’re building together has never been stronger. This partnership is definitely going somewhere—somewhere good—and I’m not going anywhere in the near future. Today, we’re visiting Ash’s former home that represented a new beginning for his broken seventeen-year-old self.
The first time I’m experiencing a Thanksgiving celebration. The first official step towards a steady relationship. The first time I meet theparents, or close enough. My heart ached for Ash’s loss when he eventually shared the painful truth, even though he found a welcoming surrogate family…
To say that I was a nervous wreck waiting on the doorstep of their beachfront house is the understatement of the year. His hand splayed in the small of my back managed to soothe my frayed nerves and warm my tense body.
It felt right when Ash, cheeks flushed, introduced me as his boyfriend, a label that I never imagined would enter my life. I’m effortlessly slipping into the role. I can’t be falling for him already, can I? Garcia can’t be right about the honeymoon phase, can she? We can’t be building a lasting future, can we? It’s much too soon and much too crazy. My traitorous dad’s conniving ways convinced me that relationships were only an illusion. I fought so hard against what I’m currently experiencing because of him.
Guess what, fucker? I can’t wait to prove you wrong. As bewildering as it is, the first step didn’t scare the shit out of me.
Admitting our shared desire to be exclusive was all it took. I rearranged my schedule with the agencies I work with to limit my former globetrotting ways. Now, I primarily work for the LA branches of the companies I worked with in Paris. Making Santa Monica my new home was a no-brainer, although completely out of character for me.
Why fight kismet, right?
I’ve always believed that relationships are forged by love, obviously, but also a great deal of work and trust. I was the prime witness to my parents’ epic failure. My father didn’t want his family enough; my mom and I were his victims. I couldn’t blame her for not being able to move on. Once I fathomed that the selfish man was gone for good, I swore I’d never let my guard down again. And yet, I was weak enough to allow my whirlwind feelings for Caleb to betray me. I wasn’t in love with him, but I ignored the red flags and blindly trusted him to be as invested as I was.
Stupid fuck!
Hookups were safer. Then, Ashton Cooper happened. No fake promises. No false hopes. No funny business. I’m lucky that my job permits the freedom to explore our connection. One day at a time.
No part of me is remotely trying to hamper him, us. I’ve come to learn that communication is key, and if you ask me, the D/s dynamics that we’re establishing one step at a time—however unconventional they may be—bolster it. Over and over again, Ash lets me reassemble his broken heart by providing consensual pain that helps him focus and invariably leads to mutual pleasure and peace of mind. Acting as the other's sounding board is soothing and established our new normal.
So far, “normal”—air quote—hasbeen fantastic, although at this very moment, I feel anything but…
Perplexed as to what is expected of me now, I stand, shooting glances at Tom for insight. Sitting across from me at the dinner table, proudly sprawled in the middle of their expansive, urban-looking kitchen that contrasts with the feel of the nearby ocean, his eyes are glued to his phone now that dinner’s over.
I berate myself for my initial apprehension; these strangers welcomed me with open arms, regardless of my sexual orientation, skin color, or cultural differences. Lots of questions asked, none of them judgmental… and yet, I can’t blame Eve, Tom’s girlfriend, for passing on Thanksgiving at the Coopers’!
Hands in the pockets of my khakis, I stay put, steering clear of the kitchen as I’ve been instructed. I watch my boyfriend join the women of the household, who busy themselves with cleaning pots and pans and packing leftovers, all of them aiming to please. From what I’ve witnessed so far, the special treatment isn’t solely reserved for guests, but for men in general. It’s not my place to interfere, at least, not today. “Thank you for welcoming me today, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper.”
I discreetly swallow my unease as Ash’s amiable uncle clears his throat and smiles at me. Still sitting at the head of the table, he wipes his mouth with the dark red napkin that matches the tablecloth and zeroes his gaze on me. “You’re most welcome… and, Nino, enough with the formalities. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Brad?”
I apologize. Brad leaves the table and saunters in the direction of his smiling wife, near the crowded sink, situated at the back of the room.
“Marta, dear, thank you for the fabulous dinner.” Brad pecks her temple. “The food was exquisite.” We all agree. “You’ve outdone yourself. As for you two, Nino and Ashton…”—he alternatively points at us, and my man cranes his head from the fridge door to look at him—“Kudos on your pumpkin pie. I’ll make an exception and treat myself to another piece after the game!” He chuckles at his own remark as he scurries towards the threshold with Tom on his tail.
The delicious smell of our early dinner that lasted too long for my taste lingers in a happy, satisfying way. I inhale deeply. Roast turkey, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, roasted Brussel sprouts, cranberry sauce, stuffing. You name it… It was as traditional as the outdated unspoken rules running the house.
As if reading my mind, Brad rallies his troops. “Now come on,guys, let’s watch some football!” The slight infliction is self-explanatory.
Arm extended, Brad ushers his son to the living room, then tilts his imposing stature in the direction of the kitchen. “You’re bringing beer once you’re done here, right, hon’?” My shoulders tense at his blatant misogyny, although prior to our visit, Ash shared that Marta delights in ruling the roost. His rhetorical question irks me, and not only because it brings back sour memories of my childhood. “Ash, Nino, you coming?” Brad’s authoritative tone doesn’t sit well with me.
“I’ll catch up in a bit. I’m almost done.” I purse my lips to suppress a grin that threatens to betray my amusement. Still, indecision must be written all over my flushed face. Within seconds, my man reaches my side and addresses me in a collected voice. “Tell you what, enjoy the game.I’llbring beer in a moment.” My brave and bold submissive raises his voice yet again; no babbling! No one misses the point, and I don’t miss Tom’s apologetic look and Brad’s reproachful glare before they settle on the eggshell-colored leather couch.
