by J. A. Little
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Colin asks. I shift uncomfortably, unsure how to answer his question. He smiles at me. “I don’t need an answer, but I want you to think about it.”
We go over my paperwork and confidentiality. He tells me he doesn’t take notes, but he does record, which is okay with me. It’s hard enough for me to talk about myself and my feelings without competing with the scratching of a pen. Once he’s gone over his procedure, he leans forward.
“What I’d like to do with the rest of our time today is get a basic overview of why you’re here and what you are looking for out of our sessions.”
“I just want to be normal.” I frown.
“Normal can mean so many different things, Dean. What does normal look like to you?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, let’s start with something else. Why don’t you give me a little history of you?”
“My wh—?” I cough, embarrassed when my voice cracks, and try again, lower and deeper. “My whole life?”
“Whatever you feel is significant.”
I’m a little agitated. I just want to get to the fucking point, but I’m not sure what he wants to hear. After a few minutes of complete silence, I give up hoping he’ll elaborate.
“All right,” I start. “My life was fucking perfect until I killed a man, his wife, and their little boy while drag racing when I was sixteen. I got sent to juvie, met a girl who turned out to be a crackhead hooker, married her because I thought I could save my soul by saving her, and then got screwed over when she planted meth on me. I took the blame because she told me she was having my baby. I found out it was actually her pimp’s kid when I got out of prison three years later. I’ve spent the last seven years of my life feeling guilty, worthless, and jaded. There you go. Those are the significant moments in my life.” I do what I always do when I tell the story—disconnect myself from the emotions.
He nods, a reserved look on his face. “So what changed?”
I stare at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You said you’ve spent the last seven years feeling guilty, worthless, and jaded. People who feel that way rarely seek help on their own. And yet…you did. So what changed?”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “I met someone who doesn’t see me that way.”
“How does this person see you?” I notice he avoids using a gender. For some reason, I find that amusing and chuckle before answering.
“She loves me for who I am, regardless of how fucked up I may be. She’s patient and understanding.”
“That tells me how you see her. How does she see you? If she were sitting next to you and I asked her to describe you, what would she say?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s something I want you to think about before our next session.”
“That’s it?” I ask. I look at my phone and see that it’s already been an hour.
“For today, yes. From what we’ve discussed, there are a lot of different layers to why you’re here. You said you’re here to heal. That’s not something that can happen overnight.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“That’s up to you.”
“That’s a bullshit answer,” I grumble.
Colin smiles. “Maybe, but it’s true. We can keep having sessions as long as you want, but the ball is in your court as to whether or not you get anything out of it.”
I understand what he meant, but it’s frustrating. I want to be fixed. I don’t know how Kayla sees me, and, short of asking her, I have no idea how to figure it out.
Once I’m done taking my shower, I pull on some pants and make my way to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. I watch the sun rise while checking my email and answering a few that I’ve been putting off. When I can’t distract myself with that anymore, I turn on the television and numb my brain with financial news.
After checking the time on my phone for the four-hundredth time, I finally get up, pour a mug of coffee, and head into the bedroom. Kayla’s barely moved. I sit down on the edge of the bed, and her eyes flicker open.
“Good morning, baby.”
She sits up and stretches her arms above her head. The comforter falls to her waist and the black tank top she’s wearing rides up. “What time is it?” she moans.
“Seven thirty.”
“You really let me sleep?”
I chuckle and hand her a cup of coffee. “Yes.”
She frowns. “You didn’t try anything?”
“I tried, but every time I attempted to slip it in, you started giggling and telling me it tickled.” Kayla stares at me, trying to figure out if I’m serious or not. I smirk and shake my head. “No, sweetheart. I kept my hands pretty much to myself all night. I might have cupped a boob.”
“Oh, I know you cupped a boob. I woke up at three to go to the bathroom and you had a death grip on my right side. Look!” She pulls her tank top down, exposing her breast. I let out a very slow and controlled breath. Her skin is pink and perfect. She’s baiting me. Taking her coffee from her before she’s even had a sip, I set the cup down on the nightstand and place my hands on either side of her hips. I lower my mouth, ghosting my lips over hers and keeping my eyes wide open.
“Your tits are beautiful. I promise I’ll examine them thoroughly later. Right now, I need you to get up and get ready to go. It’s a long-ass drive and I really want to get there before the sun sets.”
She sticks out her lower lip, and I bite it gently before backing away and leaving the room.
About twenty minutes later, she joins me in the kitchen, her hair wet. I lean against the counter and watch her hands as she twists it up and wraps a hair thing around it.
“How long have you been up?” she asks, walking toward me.
“Awhile.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Her fingers rake over my abs as she lifts up on her toes to kiss me. “That’s because you didn’t take advantage of me.” She sighs dramatically. “I could have worn you out.”
“I know you could have, but then we would have gotten a very late start. How long will it take you to pack?”
“Depends on where we’re going. Am I going to be wearing clothes?”
“At some point, yes.”
She looks at me with sad, puppy-dog eyes, jutting out her lower lip again before smiling. “Ten minutes.”
“Good. My shit’s already packed. Let me put on a shirt, and we can get outta here.”
* * *
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we—”
“Kayla?”
She turns to face me with an innocent look on her face. “Huh?”
“If you ask me that again, I’m going to duct-tape your mouth shut.”
“That sounds kinda kinky,” she muses seductively. I raise an eyebrow and glance sideways at her. She grins. “Seriously, though, I gotta pee really bad.”
“I told you a thirty-two-ounce slushy was a bad idea.”
“I was dehydrated. I needed the electrolytes.”
“We’ll be there in about forty-five minutes. Can you hold it?”
She adjusts herself so that she’s sitting on one of her feet. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”
A few minutes of silence pass before she starts talking again. “Did you see that YouTube video of the couple having sex while driving?”
“What?”
“That video where the girl is in the driver’s lap, and they’re going at it while driving down the freeway?”
“No, I must have missed that one.” She shifts again. “You okay over there?”
“I’m trying to distract myself. I have to pee, and I’m kinda horny, and the two things together are going to make me spontaneously combust.” She wiggles and frowns. I laugh and rest my hand on her thigh. “That’s not he
lping with the horny part,” she complains, lifting my hand and threading her fingers through mine.
“Do you want me to pull over? To go pee?” I add when I see the mischievous look on her face.
“No, I’m fine. Just drive.”
Over the next hour, I consider pulling over for more elicit activities. I think about it more than once. But I have to force myself to hold back. I really want to get to where we’re going.
I smile widely when we pull up to the little blue house. It’s unassuming from the front, but it’s obvious that it’s on the beach.
“What is this place?” Kayla asks, getting out of the car quickly.
“It’s my Aunt Charlotte’s.”
“Does she live here?”
“Off and on. Mostly in the summer.” I grab our bags out of the trunk and walk toward the front door.
“Oh. Is that who you called the other night?”
“No. Charlotte’s in Italy for the next few weeks. I called Mita to see if she was planning on coming down here this weekend. She wasn’t, so I asked if I could pick up the key.” I set the bags down and reach into my pocket, pulling out a Michigan keychain with a silver key dangling from it.
“Oh. Cool. Hurry please,” she begs, dancing up and down. I snicker and pretend to have trouble finding the key, regardless of the fact that there’s only one. “Dean!” I can hear the warning in her voice.
“All right. Here, bathroom’s immediately to your right.” I get the door open, and Kayla bolts in.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I don’t bother moving while she’s in there. I want to see her face when she sees where I’ve brought her.
“Oh my God. I feel so much be—holy shit!” Kayla gasps. I smirk. Standing here, we can see through the house to the back wall of the living room, which is made up entirely of windows looking over the beach and Lake Michigan. Kayla wanders toward the windows and gazes out at the water. “Wow.”
Walking up behind her, I slide my arm over her shoulders. “Nice view, huh?”
“It’s incredible.”
It’s Memorial Day weekend, so the beach is busy, but it’s not overly crowded. I pull Kayla toward the sliding glass doors that open onto the deck. The sky is clear, and the sun is directly above us. The heat feels good. Kayla pulls her sunglasses down from the top of her head and leans over the railing.
“I love the smell out here,” she says, inhaling.
“I know.” After a few minutes I look down at her. “You want to see the rest of the house?”
She turns and nods, a content smile on her face. “I’d love to.”
We walk back inside, and I show her the kitchen, the loft, and the spare bedroom. I leave the master bedroom for last because I want her, and I fully intend on taking her when we get there. She knows it, too. She unzips her hoodie and pulls it off, dropping it to the floor in the hallway. Walking behind her, I slide the straps of her tank top out of the way and kiss her shoulder. Her breathing gets heavier when I wrap my arm around her waist and flatten my hand on her stomach. I move my lips up her neck and behind her ear.
“Wanna make a little noise?” I whisper.
“No,” Kayla pants. I pull back, surprised.
“You don’t?”
She turns in my arms, putting her hands on my chest. “I wanna make a lot of noise.”
Jumping up into my arms, she wraps her legs around my waist and crashes her mouth against mine. I carry her the rest of the way to the bedroom. Luckily, the blinds that cover the windows overlooking the beach are closed, because I wouldn’t be able to pull myself away from her even if they were open. With her still attached to me, I yank the comforter and sheets to the bottom of the bed and lay her down. She lets go long enough to pull her tank top off and unclip her bra. I whip my shirt off over my head and fall back over her.
She’s so beautiful right now, her cheeks all pink and her eyes bright. She’s not wearing any makeup; she doesn’t need it. I feel her hand drifting up my side and over my back. It’s always a weird sensation when she traces my scars. Not bad, just weird. I can feel the pressure, but I can’t feel her actual touch where the nerve endings are damaged.
I kiss her again, trying to pour how I feel about her into the kiss. I think she knows, but I want to make sure. Reaching down, I flick open the button on her shorts and slip my hand underneath her panties. She’s so fucking wet that my fingers slide inside her with ease. She moans and pushes her hips upward.
“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, you know that?” I groan.
“Why?” she whimpers.
“Feel my heart.” She puts her hand over my chest. It’s beating like a fucking jackhammer, and I’m barely moving. “You do that to me all the time.”
She grins. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Oh, God,” she breathes, closing her eyes.
I remove my hand from her pants and kneel down on the floor to take them off. I’m in the perfect position to taste her. Normally I would take my time kissing and licking up her thigh, but I’m too impatient. I push her legs apart and drag my tongue right up her center. Her hips lift off the bed. I spend five minutes playing with her, strategically keeping her from coming. Every time I think she’s close, I slow down. I can tell she’s getting frustrated by the little huffs and puffs, so I give in and begin flicking my tongue rapidly. I have to hold her hips down as they buck wildly.
“Dean!” she screeches as I pull away one last time. I cover her with my body again and look down.
“I want to be inside you,” I murmur. Standing up, I take off my pants and free my solid cock. It juts straight out in front of me, ready for her. Within seconds, I enter her and let out a groan of satisfaction and anticipation. “Fuck, you feel good.” I pull out and push back in slowly a few times. Watching my dick disappear inside her is so fucking erotic. I’m completely mesmerized.
“Go. Please,” she pleads softly. I oblige her, and the instant I speed up, she comes, her mouth opening just enough to let her cries echo off the walls. I keep pounding, not giving her a chance to relax. I can feel the blood pulsing through my cock, but I’m trying to hold off. One more—I want to give her one more before I get there. I withdraw and flip her over. She scrambles onto her hands and knees as I plunge into her from behind. She thrusts her ass back into me, hard. I grunt. I’m not going to last long.
My senses are on overload. The feeling of her around my cock is only enhanced by the sound of wet, slapping skin and the smell of sex. I push gently on Kayla’s back so she lowers herself down on her forearms. This position changes the angle, and I go even deeper. Kayla yelps, and I feel her tightening. I move faster, my hips and thighs aching, but it’s all worth it when I push her over the edge and then follow, pulsing and throbbing, emptying into her as she trembles beneath me.
I wince as I pull out. I’m still twitching and everything’s so fucking sensitive. Kayla rolls over onto her back and sighs happily.
“Thank you.”
I collapse and throw my arm over her. “Always my pleasure.”
Chapter 62
Dean
After a short nap, I wake to voices and laughter coming from somewhere outside. Climbing out of bed, I take a look through the shades to see the sun is much lower in the sky. The people staying next door are out on their deck grilling and drinking. I walk back across the room and start to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” Kayla asks sleepily.
“I’m gonna make a run to the grocery store and stock up. Go back to sleep.”
“Will you get some strawberry Pop-Tarts?”
I chuckle and lean down to give her a kiss. “Absolutely, baby.”
South Haven is a picturesque little town in southwest Michigan. It’s a mecca for tourists. It’s not overwhelming, though. I’ve been here a handful of times with my parents, but it’s been awhile. I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is. Or maybe I just have a new appreciation for it. I end up having to go to both the Farm Market and the gener
al store to pick up everything I need, but I’m able to get enough to last us through the weekend.
Kayla’s sitting outside in a lounge chair when I get back to the house. Her eyes are closed, but she opens them when I walk through the sliding door.
“Hey.” I say.
“Hi. You get everything?”
“Yep.” I pull the cover off the grill and check to make sure there’s propane in the tank. I turn it on and light the grill. “I got steak, potatoes, and corn on the cob for dinner.”
“That sounds really good. I’m starving. I’ve been smelling the neighbors’ barbecue for the last forty-five minutes, and you had all the snacks with you in the car.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She gets up and wraps her arms around my waist. “This really is a beautiful place. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, kissing her head. “I’m glad you agreed to let me steal you away. I know it’s not fancy, but…”
She puts her finger against my lips. “This is perfect. I love it.”
We grill and eat, drink and talk. I sit down on the lounger to get comfortable. Kayla disappears inside and comes back out with a blanket. She sits down between my legs and pulls the blanket over us before leaning back against my chest.
On the beach in front of us are a woman and a little girl who looks like she’s about five. She lets the waves hit her toes and squeals with laughter, running back to the woman I assume is her mother. They hold hands and walk away. Kayla takes a deep breath.
“I wonder how Claire’s doing,” she says quietly.
“I’m sure she’s doing fine. The retreat will be good for her.”
“I know, but I still worry. You think Logan’s okay?”
“No, but it’s good for him, too,” I chuckle.
“I’m going to have to tell Matty I’m not his worker soon.”
“Kayla,” I sigh. “Let’s not talk about it this weekend, okay? You think about everyone else all the time. Take a couple of days to just relax. Please?”
“I’m very relaxed,” she assures.
“Good.”
“Are you?” she asks after a minute. I smirk—she knows me too well.
