Chapter 11 - Atlas
Chapter eleven
Atlas
Mid April
It had been a month since the cock cage incident, my first scene with Miles, and his infamous raspberry rant—and two weeks since our memorable weekend in Atlanta—and we’d seen each other almost every day.
We spent most nights together, too, though the cloak-and-dagger routine was starting to get a little stale.
I’d never been in the closet, so I hadn’t had to hide boyfriends from my mom when I lived at home, though having sex was another issue entirely. I’d spent a fair amount of time in the backseat of a car at Yellow Branch Falls, a popular make-out spot. I’d actually lost my virginity there.
This sneaking around with Miles felt similar. The good thing about now, though, was that we were adults with our own homes, and both of our houses were fairly secluded. So with a bit of intention, we were able to avoid nosy neighbors and stay out of the small-town grapevine.
Skullduggery aside, I was loving our time together. He was the perfect boy for me. He was so responsive, especially when I laid into his sexy ass, and his talent for fucking was unmatched. I’d even played pillow princess a few times, let him do all the work, and I’d felt so spoiled.
Other times, I rode him, edging him with my delectable ass until he was fisting the sheets and sweating as he tried to hold back his orgasm. I loved having that kind of effect on him, loved how easily he gifted me with his submission.
I cherished it.
How’s it going with your boy?
I tapped into Anson’s text with a smile, taking a break from creating the latest ad for Jeb’s Landscaping. We’d already seen returns from the last one I’d sent out, so I was feeling optimistic about this next one.
Swimmingly. He’s perfect and adorable and hot as fuck.
He sent me back a laughing emoji. Glad to hear it. Have you asked him to the reunion yet?
Shit. I bit my lip, staring at Anson’s fair but annoying question.
He’d only asked because I’d told him—when I’d had one-too-many vodka sodas one night—that I wanted to ask Miles to the reunion next month as my date.
Hell, I wanted to officially date him, take him out here in town and show him off.
But none of that was going to happen as long as Miles was still in the closet.
We hadn’t talked about it at all since getting together, but since he hadn’t brought it up, I figured the decision to keep his secret had been made.
I sighed, scrubbing my hands through the hair I’d dyed a subtle purple last week.
When Miles first saw it, he’d combed his fingers through it, pulled me to him, and kissed me senseless until we were both naked on his bed.
He’d gone down on me first, swallowed every bit of my spend like the good cum slut he was, then wore my gold lipstick on his cock for a full hour following his own orgasm.
I’d deliberately made him stay dirty—and naked—for me, forbidding him from washing the lipstick off.
I loved messing him up and making him wear evidence of me on his body. And though it was much too soon, I was starting to think I was getting close to loving him.
With another sigh, I tapped out a response. Not yet. We’ll probably have to go as friends, anyway. I don’t think he’s ready to come out.
Have you asked him that?
Anson’s second direct question hit me right between the eyes.
Fuck, some Daddy I was. Assuming things was the antithesis of a healthy relationship, say nothing of responsible kink, and I’d done just that.
His lack of talking about coming out didn’t mean he wasn’t ready or even that he hadn’t been considering it.
Shit. I’d failed him. I haven’t. Guess I should ASAP.
Good boy was his response.
I sent him the middle finger emoji and added a Fuck off for good measure. I hated when he was right and flaunted it . . . because he always did.
He just sent a gif of one of our favorite celebrity Chrises cracking up. Love you, boo.
I rolled my eyes but sent back a quick Love you back.
Setting my phone face down on my desk, I rubbed my eyes—I’d used my waterproof mascara and skipped liner and eyeshadow today—then turned back to my computer to finish up the ad and the dozen other things I needed to get done today before heading home.
Miles was already planning to come over with takeout for dinner and to spend the night, so I supposed tonight would be our opportunity to talk.
I’d ask him about going to the reunion with me first, and maybe that would get him talking about his coming out plans, if he even had any. Regardless of if he did or not, I hoped we could find a way to talk about it, at the very least. He wasn’t alone anymore—we could deal with it together.
That was how it should work, anyway. And what kind of crap Daddy was I that I’d forgotten that?
I left work right at four so I’d have time to shower and work on a few things before Miles came over. And sure enough, my doorbell rang just as I was finishing up some research on the latest goings-on in Seattle’s fashion marketing industry.
I was keeping tabs on my nemesis, Jon Hosier, through some contacts I still had in the field, and I could probably position myself to jump back in when the right opportunity arose.
One of my friends, Chase Sinclair, had been able to fight back, poaching some of Jon’s clients and building his business up in the months I’d been gone.
Chase had even started to hint around at wanting to hire a Chief Marketing Officer to build out his C-suite once he had the revenue to support it.
It wasn’t a job offer or anything—and it might not even go anywhere—but I’d kept in contact just in case.
If this thing with Miles went anywhere, it might not matter anyway. If he wanted something long-term, I’d most likely stay in Gomillion, if that was where he wanted to be. But if not, if he wasn’t ready to take this all the way, Seattle would be as good a place as any to tend to a wounded heart.
Given the realization I’d had from Anson’s questions, I might find out where his head was at soon.
I opened the door with a wide grin that grew even wider when he smiled back, lifting the bag of noodle bowls. His smile—which came more easily since our first night together but still felt like a gift—lit up my world every time.
He hurried inside as I grabbed the bag so he could take his coat off while I unpacked the food. I was starving, and despite my nerves over the topic of conversation tonight, I wanted to spend time with the man I lo—
Nope, no. It was too soon. And besides, what was the point of falling in love with someone who wasn’t ready to commit to this, to us?
I’d never been very good at reining my heart in, though.
“Dinner’s ready, baby!” I called from the kitchen loudly enough that he could hear me from where I knew he was washing up in the hall bathroom, the only bathroom in this tiny place. It was his routine every night.
He came around the corner with a smile, his long locks barely brushing his shoulders and hair tie around his wrist. His hair was dark and full, wavy from his bun, and I adored it.
When I couldn’t stop staring at him, he blushed, tucking the strands behind his ears. But that just made my mouth water. Shit—could we just skip dinner and get right to fucking?
My stomach growled in answer. Traitor.
“Stop looking like you want to eat me—I brought ramen from the good place.” Miles huffed, wincing a little as his ass, clearly still sore from his spanking yesterday, hit the seat of one of the two wooden chairs at my small kitchen table.
He reached for the containers of broth and noodles and started to pour some of both into the large bowl I’d set in front of his chair.
He had a designated chair at my table. Fuck, I loved that.
After a brief staring contest with the back of his beautiful head—I won, by the way—I joined him at the table, grabbing the noodles and broth while he added all the toppings to his bowl. Soon, we were both slurping the best ramen in South Carolina.
We talked about our days as we ate, settling into our comfortable routine. I almost hated bringing up a potentially contentious subject, but I was the Daddy, which meant I didn’t shy away from hard conversations.
My boy deserved nothing less than my absolute best self.
I handed him a brownie from the batch I’d thrown in the oven while I showered then followed him with my own into the living room.
We savored the sweet treat while discussing the town events planned for the upcoming summer—the perfect opening for the conversation we needed to have tonight—and my gut tumbled as we finished our dessert.
After setting my empty plate on the coffee table and taking a sip of water, I cleared my throat and leaned back on the davenport. “Um, baby?”
Miles mirrored my actions, his own brownie gone. “Yes, Daddy?”
I smiled at the term of endearment. Would I ever get tired of hearing it?
But my smile soon faded. “I wanted to talk to you about something else happening this summer.”
He frowned, and I knew he knew I was referring to the reunion.
He’d been volun-told to help with the Gomillion High twenty-year reunion by his sister, who he loved dearly but annoyed him, too—from what I’d heard of siblings, that was pretty common—so it had to be on his mind.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Vanessa has been pestering me to confirm I’m coming. ”
“And?”
Fuck, that was the coward’s way out.
I waved my hand between us to halt his response. “Sorry, that was indirect.” I cleared my throat. “We’ve been together for over a month now, and by the time we get to the reunion, it’ll be more than two. So I’d like to know if you would go with me. As my . . . date.”
His eyes widened, and I saw fear shoot through them. My poor boy was terrified of coming out, and I wasn’t even entirely sure why.