Mine

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JT

“H ow was it?” Reggie asks.

“If you get close to my face, you’ll smell his cum,” I joke, and he playfully gags. I collapse next to him on the couch, still feeling high from the day I had. “It was awesome . I crawled for him.”

“Not my thing, but yay for you.”

“He spanked me.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes, but I like that. He only gives me as much as I can take.”

“I’m still not totally convinced.”

“I blew him, and he came all over my face.”

“Well, that’s obviously one of my favorite things ever. Who doesn’t like a load on their face?”

I chuckle because some things are universal, kink or not. “So hot. He spanked me a second time while I humped his legs until I came all over him. He got dressed and made me stay naked while he cooked dinner for me. I knelt on the floor, and he fed me and—”

“Wait. He fed you?” Interest and confusion war on his face.

“Right? Not something I thought about before, but it was almost as good as the sex. God, I can’t wait to meet up with him again.” I set my head on Reggie’s shoulder, and he doesn’t complain despite my basically using Marshall’s cum as a face mask.

“Was it weird? Because of who he is to you?”

“I can’t pretend it’s not a little weird. We talked about my dad, and that is an experience I don’t want to repeat while naked. And for some reason, calling him Marsh doesn’t sit right. We decided if I use his name, it’ll be Marshall. I’ve used Marsh my whole life, so it helps… Like he’s someone different now or…not someone different, but it shows our relationship has evolved.”

Marsh is my dad’s best friend.

Marshall is the man I’m sleeping with.

“He says I’m not allowed to hook up with anyone except maybe you. I have to ask first because my orgasms are his.”

“Okay…my orgasms are mine, and I dare anyone to contradict that. You can’t jerk off?”

“No! And I might die. But knowing I can’t unless he gives me permission is like perma-edging. I think that’ll be hot too.”

Reggie pats my thigh. “Whatever you say, my friend. I’m glad you had fun, and I really hope Marshall’s load is the only thing that blows up in your face.”

We dissolve into laughter, then cuddle on the couch while watching a show. When I go to bed, I text Sir good night, and again, have an incredible night’s sleep.

*

Me: So…Marshall…Sir…Dom of mine…when do you think we’re going to fuck?

I hit Send before I can talk myself out of it. It’s a little bratty but also an honest question. We’ve both been tested and shared our results, agreeing to go raw when the deed finally happens. We’ve met up two more times, both similar to the first. They’re hands down the most fulfilling sexual—

No.

Not just sexual.

Emotional?

Mental?

Well, the best experiences I’ve ever had, but I can tell he’s holding back.

“JT! You have an order ready,” one of the waiters says. I shove my phone into my pocket, where it should have been, and go to get it.

I take the two plates to the table, setting them down in front of a man and a woman. “You’re going to love this.” They’ve let me play around with their order some and have the chef personalize it the way I like it. I always enjoy it when people allow me to do things like that.

“It looks delicious.” She takes a bite of the chicken while I’m watching, and I practically see her melt into the seat. “Holy crap. This is so good. Taste it.”

Her partner does, and he tells me he likes it too, which, ridiculously, makes me beam. I mean, it’s not as if I made it or anything.

“I’m so glad you like it. Do you need anything else?”

When they say no, I check on my other tables, then head toward the back. When I pull out my phone, Marshall hasn’t replied yet. I’ve been distracted since our first scene, hyperfocused on him. We’ve been texting quite a bit, which sometimes is weirder than the fact that I’m a cock warmer for my dad’s best friend. Even outside the sex, this is a new facet to a relationship with someone I’ve known my whole life. It’s confusing but also perfect. I like it more than I should.

I work for a few more minutes before I give in and check my phone again.

Sir: Jay…brat…sub of mine…we’ll fuck when I decide it’s time. Don’t you know that if you ask for it, I’m going to take even longer to do it?

My response is part groan because he’s going to make me wait, but part giddiness because I love conversations like this with Marshall. I love that he jokes with me and called me sub of mine just for fun. Marshall needs more fun in his life.

Me: When do I get to swallow your load again?

Sir: I’m working. Leave me alone.

Me: Then stop smiling at me.

There’s no doubt in my mind that he is. Of course, I’m grinning as well when I push my phone into my pocket. He enjoys me.

I’m just finishing out my workday when I get a call from Mom. “I have to run to the mall, and you know I hate going alone. Wanna meet me there?”

I’ve always been close to her. While she’s similar to my dad and thinks I’m not living to my potential, that I could be doing so much more, I do feel like she and I get each other a little better. Or at least, she hides her disappointment more than Dad can. Having overachieving parents is harder than most people would assume. They were in college and med school with a kid when they were my age, and I feel like sometimes they think they gave up so much to give me a perfect life, and it was all for nothing.

But I do enjoy the time I spend with just her, so I agree to meet.

We always park outside the food court and meet each other there. The second I walk inside, I see my mom, wearing a big smile. She hugs me tight, and I savor it, wondering how she would feel if she knew about me…and about me and Marshall.

“You look good,” she says, studying me the way only a mom can.

“Do I? I haven’t done anything differently.”

Mom shrugs. “I don’t know what it is. You’re brighter. Or maybe I’m being silly. Come on. Let’s shop.”

She’s looking for a dress for a dinner party she and my dad are invited to. Surprisingly, dentists party often, and coupled with my parents’ philanthropy, it means the two of them are always busy. “What do you think of this one?” She holds up a long blue dress.

“No way. You’re young and hot. You’re not wearing something that looks like a grandma dress.”

We chuckle as I help her sort through the racks. Nothing grabs our attention, so we head to a second store, where she finds both a black dress and a pink one that are maybes. I wait outside the dressing room while she tries them on.

Sir: I wasn’t smiling.

Me: Whatever you say.

Sir: I think you want a spanking…and not a fun one either. You’re being very sassy again.

Me: Yes, Sir. My butt is ready for whatever you want to do with it…fuck it…hint, hint.

“What do you think?” Mom asks, and I fumble my phone, trying to hide it and hoping like hell she didn’t suddenly get super vision or the ability to read minds.

I pick my cell phone up from the floor and look at her. She went with the pink dress first. “Huge maybe. Dad will love it on you, but I’m not totally sold on the color.”

“Okay, I’ll try the black one.”

She disappears into the dressing room, and I immediately look at my phone again.

Sir: But I enjoy your mouth so much. You can’t talk when it’s stuffed with my cock. It’s quite peaceful.

I snort out a laugh.

Me: You’re a mean, mean Dom. The sound of my voice is very peaceful…Sir.

I turn my phone over this time, unwilling to risk Mom catching me again. She comes out a moment later in the black dress, and while it definitely proves my mom’s still got it, I’m not sold.

“Oh no. Not this one. Let’s keep trying.”

“This is why I asked you to come with me instead of one of my friends. You never lie to me.”

Guilt squeezes my chest. I’m lying to her about Marshall. What will she say when she finds out? Dad will be angry, but Mom…she’ll be more hurt and confused. “I love you,” I tell her, wondering when the last time was that I said it.

She smiles. “I love you too. I know we’re hard on you sometimes, but it’s because we love you and want what’s best for you.”

“But don’t you think I know that better than anyone else?”

Mom sighs, and where Dad would keep pushing, I’m not surprised when she says, “Let’s not do this today. I just want to have fun with you. And your father loves you more than anything in this world.”

I look down. “I know.” And I do. I lucked out in so many ways, but him loving me makes it harder that he wishes I was different.

“Let me get dressed. We’ll get one of those big cookies you like and then keep searching for my dress.”

I force a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

We go to our favorite cookie store, and I get two because one is never enough—chocolate chip and red velvet.

Mom and I chat, enjoying each other’s company. Every once in a while, I check my phone, holding it beneath the table to reply something sassy and playful to whatever Marshall says.

When we get to the third store, I spot the flowy, short red dress and head straight for it. “Oh my God. This is gorgeous.” Clothes really aren’t my thing, but I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy a little shopping from time to time and helping Mom out in situations like this. It’s more about the bonding time with her than anything else.

“Ooh. I like it. Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“It’s absolutely not too much, but let’s not get our hopes up. You have to try it on first.”

We find the right size, and she disappears in the dressing room. I can’t stop myself from pulling out my phone to see if Marshall responded. I enjoy talking with him like this too much.

When I click on his message, a photo pops up of him with his dick inside a Fleshlight.

Sir: This hole isn’t mouthy.

Blood rushes to my groin because he’s got a great cock, and seeing it reminds me of how it feels in my mouth. I’m stuck between laughing at his playfulness and throwing a temper tantrum because he’s fucking that instead of me.

Me: Oh God. You’re getting me hard in the middle of the mall, Sir. Please, use my hole next time. I promise to be good.

I smile down at my phone, wanting to wait for his reply—and keeping it real, wanting to stare at the photo of his cock too—but I force myself to shove it in my pocket. When I do, Mom is standing outside the dressing room, looking at me. I fidget, though with the angle I had my cell and the distance between us, she couldn’t have seen what Marshall sent me.

“You look gorgeous. That is absolutely my favorite, and if you don’t choose that one, I’ll never forgive you.”

“It’s great, isn’t it? I feel like a hottie.”

I chuckle. “You are a hottie.”

“Damn right I am.” She looks at herself in the mirror. “I’m buying this one.”

I don’t allow myself to look at my cell again while she changes and then checks out. We’re at the opposite end of the mall from where we parked, and I carry her bag for her as we head back.

“So…” she begins hesitantly. “I’m not trying to be…well, me, but you sure have been smiling at your phone a lot today. Have you met a boy?”

I stumble, my heart jumping to my throat. I haven’t just met someone, and he’s certainly not a boy—something my parents still see me as. “I have…but it’s not serious.” The second I say that, I want to sink into the floor and die. Why the fuck was that my answer? I should have told her no, or that it was Reggie.

“I recognize that look on your face, and you seem pretty smitten to me.”

It’s a strange feeling for your heart to be in your throat but also to be punching at your insides. I’ve never felt it before, and I kinda feel like I might pass out. “I’m not smitten. It’s nothing. Just someone I’ve seen, like, once and don’t know if I’ll ever see again.”

Lies, lies, lies. Already starting to stack up. Because the truth isn’t just that I’m seeing Marshall; it’s that no matter how early it is, I’m maybe a little bit smitten with him already. It’s a huge mistake. I’m not sure if I even realized it until this moment, but part of me wants to tell her I’m seeing someone. That he makes me feel buzzy inside, even if that makes absolutely no sense.

“Tell that to your face when you were talking about him. I’m hoping we get to meet this boy soon.”

“Mom, don’t. It’s not what you think, okay?”

“Okay,” she says with a smile that tells me she doesn’t believe me, and the thing is, I don’t believe me either.