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“That Daddy, not Captain.”
I smiled into Lucky’s twinkling eyes. “Your daddy, my captain.”
Several hours later, Lucky crawled over me in his bed, caging me in with his thighs around mine, his elbows braced on either side of my head.
“Hi,” he whispered happily. “I like having you in my bed.”
“Mm,” I hummed throatily. “I like being in your bed.”
I dragged my hands down the length of his back, kneading the muscles along his spine, lining his ribs. I quirked my eyebrows at him. “Let’s talk about blow jobs.”
“Minty, I didn’t mean anything by that.” Wary apology shone from his eyes.
I wondered why. While we hadn’t gotten around to that, I’d given him no indication that I was opposed. Perhaps he still held onto the version of me he believed in when we first met.
Running my hands down to the front of his hips, I closed in around his shaft and gave him a gentle rub through his shorts. “This is not a sexy kind of conversation,” I admitted. “But it’s a necessary one.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” He held himself over me, his thumbs stroking the hair at my temples.
I kept hold of him, then edged my fingers under his waistband, wanting the assurance of my hand wrapped around him, for both of us.
“You know I have OCD and that OCD is defined as intrusive thoughts. But that definition doesn’t really do justice to how disturbing those thoughts can be. A lot of my intrusive thoughts involve things being in my mouth that have no business being in my mouth.” I pressed my lips together and turned my head to the side, taking a long, calming breath to clear my thoughts.
“Minty, you don’t have to do it. I don’t care.”
“Please, Lucky. Please listen hard. This stuff is difficult for me to talk about but it’s important to me that you understand. And I really only want to say this once.” Whenever I told someone about OCD, I usually recited the basic, textbook definition. It removed the emotion. The more I explained, the closer I got to how it really was for me, the stronger the trigger.
His whole body relaxed as he switched gears into listening mode. How I could ever have thought this man was shallow, I’ll never understand.
“Go ahead, baby.”
“It’s really got more to do with food than anything else, but occasionally it might bleed over into other areas. Remember when we went to Baranga’s on the Beach, and I couldn’t eat my Greek fries?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes steady.
“My brain told me I was eating bugs, specifically butterflies.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I know I’m not,” I rushed to reassure him. “But the images are so vibrant, the idea so persistent, it’s difficult for me to get past it. Oftentimes, with food, I simply can’t. Saying this, there are times I am incredibly orally sensitive. So, if I ever stop or pull away, even from a kiss, it’s not a rejection of you, or your beautiful body, any part of it, it’s my OCD symptoms screwing with me.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s why you’re a sometimes vegan.”
“Yes,” I replied with relief. “That’s my super safe food.”
He shrugged. “I get it. No problem.” He shifted his knees between my thighs and moved down my half naked body. “Lucky for you, I have no such oral sensitivity.” His head shot up. “Shit, that was really insensitive.”
I opened my mouth to reassure him that I wasn’t offended, but he was already up, thumbs hooked into the sides of my panties, grinning wickedly. “I’ll just have to make it up to you.”
His talented tongue alongside the tender touch of his calloused fingers made short work of my answering laughter, effectively short-circuiting my brain of any thought other than the pleasure wrought by the man between my legs.
The next night, I planned to return the favor, but he wasn’t having it.
“Lucky, I want to,” I protested when he stopped me.
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment as if pained. “But I felt that, what you said, the horror of it, and I need to get my head around it, trust that you’re not going to do something you don’t want to do.” He opened his eyes. “We have time, we’ll get there.” He grinned. “I’m highly motivated.”
It struck me, in that moment, how well he had listened, how easily he had grasped the horror of it all. It flooded me with gratitude, floated a minuscule vessel of hope that he might be able to handle it.
