29. John
29
JOHN
The next few weeks seem to intensify at lightning speed. The bar feels more crowded, especially in the lead-up to today’s spring festival.
While that’s kept us busy, along with this evening’s fish fry, I’m also glad to see how much Seth has stepped up to take the load off. He’s gunning for more responsibility, and if he keeps it up, I’ll be more than glad to delegate.
Micah has been busy with the sale of the house, his second audition, which he thinks went well, prepping his grandfather’s boat for sale, and the play. We still text constantly and see each other when we can. He’s stopped by for one meal or another nearly every day.
I glance out the window to the shining sun, which feels refreshing after the moderate temps and rainfall as spring takes hold. There’s a certain energy in town, an excitement about the season that you don’t feel many other times of the year. Almost like a rebirth, a reprieve from the unpredictable weather. Though spotting the migrating gray whales is always a sight.
I pat Ross on the back. “Think you can cover for me for an hour?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
A moment later, I’m out the door, and the closer I get to the large grassy field where most events in town are held, the more my stomach scrambles with nerves. I stand to the side of the constructed stage, careful not to disturb Micah or Ms. Hart. They’re busy giving a pep talk to the students, who look great in their wardrobe and makeup.
There’s a nervous anticipation in the air that brings me back to our high school days and watching Micah behind the scenes. I can’t hold back my smile once my gaze lands on the lead, seeing how closely he seems to be listening to Micah’s direction. It only solidifies how much Micah is meant for this sort of thing, and I can’t fault him that, not that I ever did.
By the time the play begins, the rows of chairs are completely filled, and June joins me on the sidelines with a blanket so we can sit on the grass to watch the production.
“I’ll admit he looks happy behind the stage,” June whispers to me. “Like he’s really enjoying himself in that role.”
“He’s definitely passionate about helping the students.” As soon as he decided to help Ms. Hart, he went all in, never missing a practice and going above and beyond for the kids, even staying after rehearsal to help the lead actor go over lines.
She presses her arm against mine. “Sorry, kiddo.”
I offer a sad smile. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”
“Thought maybe you needed your big sister’s support. I know you’re hurting even if you act all diplomatic about everything.”
“Yeah…yeah, I am.” The dull throb in my chest hasn’t gone away since he showed up in town. “But it’s still right to let him go.”
She doesn’t argue, only says, “Jack told me about the divorce papers.”
Us filling them out still feels surreal. “He’ll file them when he returns.”
“And when is that?”
“He wanted to see this production through. Plus, all the paperwork for the sale of the house.” I pause to take in the headless horseman, which makes many in the audience gasp. “So likely soon.”
She frowns. “Sounds like he’s about done tying up loose ends.”
“Suppose it’s long overdue.”
She pulls me in for a hug like she did when we were kids. Except I’m way bigger now, so her arm barely fits the breadth of my shoulders.
We watch the rest of the play in awe because, outside of a couple of slip-ups, it’s entertaining and successful, given the applause at the final curtain. A couple minutes more, and the kids file out to take a bow. June and I are loud with our whoops and hollers, especially when Ms. Hart appears with Micah, and they lift their arms high before bowing as they get showered with praise.
“That’s Micah Malone,” a man behind me blurts. “What’s he doing back in town?”
“Obviously didn’t make it in Hollywood,” the woman beside him says.
I turn to glare at them, and they avert their eyes, undoubtedly embarrassed to have their comments overheard. They know nothing about Micah as an adult, and few took the time to try and understand him as a kid. Thank God for people like Ms. Hart, who put all her faith in him. My parents too.
June says her goodbyes so she can help Aunt Dina at Honeycomb, and I wait a bit longer, hoping to catch Micah’s eye.
I near the stage and wait at the bottom of the steps as Micah busies himself, helping Ms. Hart and the students clear the props as best they can so the production crew has less to clean up.
When he sees me, he grins and descends the steps two at a time. “You made it.”
“Of course I did. Great job!”
“Oh, I didn’t do anything. It was all the kids.”
“But you helped them perform better.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, maybe a little.”
“Oh, please don’t be modest,” Ms. Hart says, carrying an armload of costumes down the steps. “If I could bottle up your enthusiasm for theater, I would.”
“Where do you think I got it from?” he retorts, and she smiles.
It’s true—I haven’t seen Micah this animated since high school drama club.
I wait as many of the students hug Micah and Ms. Hart, introduce their parents, and then say their goodbyes. Fuck, that’s so good to see. He deserves that.
“All right, I’m going to head back to the high school,” Ms. Hart says.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Micah tells her.
She eyes us. “Take your time. No rush.”
I hold up my hands. “I need to get back to my bar anyway. Feel free to stop by for drinks on me.”
“We might just take you up on that,” Ms. Hart says. “Fish fry for dinner?”
“We’ll be heating up the oil and pans in a couple of hours.”
Micah nods and smiles. “See you later, then.”
I walk back to the Witching Hour, stopping to chat with townsfolk on the way. I briefly step inside Honeycomb to buss Aunt Dina’s cheek, and then I wave to Beth, who is thankfully busy with a trio of customers in her shop next door.
I walk into a hopping bar and immediately get to work, picking up any slack from Ross and Seth. Before I know it, it’s the dinner rush, and we’re serving fish and chips to most of the patrons. I help in the kitchen for a while, but thankfully, I hired the best staff, and they have it all handled. Jack and Aaron stop in with his mom, Isabel, and her friend Mae, who runs the inn and motel. When the guys see how busy we are, they offer extra hands to run food to tables, which I always appreciate. I’m so distracted I don’t even notice Ms. Hart and Micah have pulled up two stools at the bar until they wave to get my attention.
I smile as I take their drink orders. “Be right back.”
I serve Micah a cider and Ms. Hart a white wine, which she says will pair well with her fish dinner. Speaking of which, I grab their plates from the kitchen and set them in front of them. “The perch you caught for me,” I point out.
Micah’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“I’m actually not sure, but I’m pretending it is.”
“Oh goodie, I’ll pretend too,” Ms. Hart says as she inhales a forkful of beer-battered fish.
“Need my help?” Micah asks when the door opens and more people step inside.
I wave him off. “Just enjoy your dinner.”
I check in on them when I can, as well as on Uncle Chuck, Aaron, and Jack, who grabbed a table in the corner with the ladies.
When I see that Micah’s and Ms. Hart’s plates are clean, I reach for them. “On me. For entertaining the town this afternoon.”
Ms. Hart grips her chest. “You are the sweetest.”
“ Thank you, ” Micah mouths.
I’m not sure how much more time passes before I see Ms. Hart stand and grab her bag. “Stop by before you leave town?”
“I will,” Micah replies as an air of solemnity descends between them, maybe because all their hard work has come to an impressive end. Micah used to say the week after a production felt like a letdown, and I get that sentiment. Sort of like it does after the rib fest and fish fry. Like you can finally catch your breath but lament all the energy and excitement leading up to the event.
“We might lock you in the costume closet and only let you out to help us for our fall production,” Ms. Hart teases Micah.
I wink. “If you need any help with that, let me know.”
Ms. Hart laughs as they hug, and then she waves as she heads out the door.
Micah seems lost after she leaves, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“How about that help you offered?”
He nods, gratitude and relief in his expression.
It reminds me of how lost he seemed the month after returning from our wedding in Vegas. Happy but adrift, and I did everything I could to keep him occupied.
It’ll never feel as peaceful, contented, and clandestine as it did our first night back in town before we told our families we were connected for life. Till death do us part.
It’s late when we arrive home, so we tiptoe down to the basement, to our bedroom, careful not to wake my parents.
Once undressed, we fall into bed, exhausted but giddy with excitement.
“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” I exclaim as if we haven’t tested out the word the entire trip home. “And I like that you kept your name. For when you make it big.”
“Shhhh, they’ll hear us,” Micah says before winding his arms around my neck and planting a kiss on my lips. “Husband.”
“Fuck, I love hearing you say it.” I blame Micah for being too adorable, too irresistible, as I lick down his throat and give in to the urge to suck a mark into his skin right above his breastbone.
Micah grunts, his fingers gripping my neck. “What the hell?”
“I’m marking you,” I tease. “You’re mine now.”
“Always have been. Always will be,” he murmurs, and my shaft stiffens just like that. Just by uttering those words, he makes my chest swell and my cock hard as nails.
When I draw a nipple between my teeth, Micah hisses.
I snicker as my hand covers his mouth. “Now who’s loud?”
“I can’t help it when you do that.”
He squirms against me as I focus on the other nub, his eyes blazing even in the dim room. “Let’s make it official.”
“Didn’t we already do that in the hotel room? Not that I’m complaining.”
The memory of us making love all night, sometimes slow and sweet, other times fast and hard, arouses my senses even more. I lick down his stomach, grasp his thighs, and nip at each hip bone before soothing the sting with my tongue.
Micah’s fingers tug at my hair. “You always make me hard. Especially when you’re inside me.”
“Nothing I love more.” I inhale his scent as my nose grazes across his groin, his coarse hair tickling my lip. The head of his shaft bumps my chin, precome tacky against my jaw. I angle my head to lap at his cock, savoring the salty taste as a fresh burst awakens my taste buds.
When I increase suction and take more of him between my lips, Micah arches and rocks his hips, spurring me on. My tongue licks and twists in time with my mouth, and I sense that I’m already bringing him to the edge.
“Fuck me, J.”
I pull off and reach for the lube, but his fingers still grip my scalp as if they have a mind of their own and aren’t quite finished reveling in my giving him head. I chuckle to myself, enjoying how responsive he is to my every touch.
I take firm hold of his thighs and spin him to his stomach. Micah clutches the pillow and buries his head, his moan muffled.
“Damn, this ass.” I knead his cheeks, feathering soft kisses on each side as he writhes against the mattress. Impatient as ever, Micah lifts to his knees and slides his hands behind him to part his cheeks, inviting me in.
“Fucking hell,” I growl, drawing his hips closer and wasting no time swiping the length of his crease with my tongue. He gasps as I get to work on that tantalizing hole, licking, sucking, and nibbling around his tender pucker.
Skin softening, I prod my tongue inside as Micah groans and squirms, fisting the sheets. He tastes like sweat mixed with the fancy soap from our hotel room, and I can’t get enough of wriggling my tongue into his hole until he’s a pleading, sobbing mess. “Please, J.”
I pull back after one last lick and reach for the lube, liberally drenching my fingers and cock as he rolls to his back. It’s his favorite position because he likes watching me. I confess I like it too.
My hand winds around his neck as I bend forward to bring our mouths together. He eagerly kisses me back, nipping my lip and sucking on my tongue until my eyes practically cross with raw need.
When my finger reaches down to his taint, he lifts his knees to smooth the way. Prodding my finger inside his hole, his lips part, his eyes glassy. I make quick work of adding a second digit. Our eyes hold as I thrust in and out of his ass, and soon enough, there’s bald desperation in his gaze.
I remove my fingers and adjust my hands to the underside of his knees. Going bare is one of the best feelings, but I can’t help drawing out the anticipation. “Tell me how much you need me to fuck you.”
“I need it bad. Don’t want anyone else inside me. Only you, my husband, the man of my dreams,” he murmurs, and my heart nearly gives out because, holy fuck, hearing those words from the man I love is heady.
I bend to kiss his jaw, cheeks, and lips before I line up my cock to his entrance. His entire body trembles as I prod against his hole, barely penetrating it.
“I’ll never want anyone but you,” I whisper as I rock farther inside. He gasps as his eyes spring to mine. His face is flushed pink, his gaze soft, a sheen of sweat dampening his bangs.
My hand trails up his chest to his shoulder, squeezing for leverage. I shift to his neck, my fingers caressing his fluttering pulse, content that it matches my own.
My initial thrusts are shallow as I grow accustomed to his tightness and heat, the pressure perfect, like we were always tailor-made for each other.
I watch as, inch by inch, my shaft slips between his smooth, round ass cheeks. When my entire length disappears inside his body—inside my husband, my forever love—I nearly unravel right then and there.
I pull almost all the way out, then watch how my cock splits Micah in two again, admiring how fucking hot and debauched he looks.
“Feels so good. Love you so much.” He sighs, seeming completely adrift as my shaft throbs inside him.
My fingers tighten on his thighs as I toggle between leisurely rolls and deeper thrusts, dragging moans and sobs from him.
“Love you more.” I bend to fit my mouth against his, his tongue dipping past my lips and flicking tenderly against mine.
We groan in unison as I push his knees higher and change my position. My pants turn hoarse, and I’m dying to lose myself, but I also need to prolong this incredible feeling.
I can feel his cock leaking between us, so I draw back enough to fit my hand around his warm, stiff shaft and begin stroking.
His hand reaches blindly to grip my thigh as his eyes search mine. “I might die if I don’t come right now.”
My hand grips the back of his knee as I drive into him harder, my other palm messily jerking him off until his hand replaces mine. He pumps his cock in earnest as I watch him chase his orgasm. My knuckles graze his chest, brushing over his hardened nipples, making him writhe and moan.
A vivid flush intensifies over his cheeks and chest before his eyes roll back and he shudders, finally letting go. Hot come spurts between us as he pants roughly, his hole gripping my cock like a tight glove.
Soon enough, I feel the familiar quiver in my groin as my balls feel impossibly full. A tidal wave pulls me under as I shatter, pumping all my seed inside him.
I collapse on top, my skin hot and clammy, my pulse hammering frantically against his. Our fingers intertwine, our mouths and tongues connecting messily until our breaths even out.
We lie pasted together, sticky come lining our stomachs and dripping down his legs, and I want to beat my chest like a damned gorilla that I get to have him—love him, indulge him, and even argue with him.
Micah hums in satisfaction, and as our gazes hold, I know with razor-sharp certainty that I will never feel for anyone what I do for Micah Malone. No matter what life brings us.