9. Micah
AFTERCARE AND GOODBYES
Six .
Apparently that’s my limit on how many times I can come back to back.
Groggily, I ease my eyes open and wince even though the room is dark, a four-arm brass candelabra on the nightstand the only source of light in the room.
“Welcome back, Ms. Shaw.” A tall, brown skinned man with long, raven hair stares at me expectantly.
“Who are you?” I croak, shifting on the firm bed.
“I’m Dr. Alonzo, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up right now?”
“Three,” I answer, my eyes darting around for the familiar pumpkin head. My chest deflates when I come up empty, shifting my focus from the door back to the man at my side.
Had I made it up? Was it an hallucination?
A vivid wet dream?
“What happened?” I ask, voice scratchy.
The doctor in front of me holds up a paper cup of water and waits for me to take it. I’ve already forgotten his name but accept it with a grateful nod, downing it in one swallow.
“You blacked out,” he replies, sounding bored. “It’s completely normal during intense sessions, but that’s why safe words are important.”
I don’t think he means to sound so harsh but I feel scolded nonetheless.
“It’s never happened to me before,” I rush to say in my defense. “I didn’t know it could happen to me…”
The doctor says nothing as he jots down something on his notepad. I’m more impressed he can see in the low light of the room. “Well, now that you know you can, I hope you’ll take this seriously.”
He takes a seat on the bed beside me and holds up his stethoscope.
“I’m going to listen to your heart,” he says by way of explanation, a second before the cool chest piece touches my skin.
“Very good,” he offers after a while. “Let me take your blood pressure and then I’ll let your companion back inside. ”
“Companion?” I echo as he tightens the cuff around my arm.
He nods. “Yes, I asked him to step out while I examined you.”
“Oh.”
He takes my blood pressure and jots down the number. “Looks good.”
“How long was I out?”
“In here? About five minutes.” His eyes flick down to check the Apple Watch on his left wrist. “But he carried you in from outside so I’m guessing you were out for eight to ten minutes at most.”
He carried me from the graveyard? I look down at myself, noting the dirt and scratches along my knees.
Evidence of a good ass time before I went and fucking blacked out.
I shake my head and realize the doctor is staring at me. “What? Is something wrong?”
“Nah. You be safe, Ms. Shaw. If you ever feel like you can’t breathe or orient yourself during sex, let your partner know before you blackout next time.”
Biting my lip, I give a curt nod. It’s not like I get it on the regular. And never as good as it was tonight. The last thing I’m worried about is a repeat, but he doesn’t have to know that.
He gives me a tight lipped smile and heads for the door, opening it and letting a man in a black balaclava in as he steps out.
Recognizing the stitches on his chest right away, I relax against the bed and make eye contact with him for the first time tonight as he comes to a stop at the foot of my bed.
The rest of his face is covered, but at least I get his eyes. His eyes are enough.
“Damn, pet. If you couldn’t take it that’s all you had to tell a nigga.”
The playful glint in his eyes halts my comeback. I find myself smiling instead. Like a whole ass lovesick woman instead of someone at a sex party.
“You okay, mama?” I melt at the question, nodding at the tenderness in his voice. I know it’s probably because he took off the jack-o-lantern, but I take it personally anyway, soaking up the sound.
“I’m okay.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I give him the same answer I gave the doctor. I didn’t know.
With a nod, he absorbs my excuse and comes to stand beside me. “You scared the shit out of me. We both got carried away.”
He squeezes my thigh, his thumb trailing down over my knee to massage my scrapes and bruises. “Damn, that shit was good though. Best I ever had.”
And now my head is swelling, all my earlier embarrassment washing away while memories flood me.
“What do you need right now?”
His question pulls me out of my reverie, the earnestness grounding me.
“A bath would be nice,” I joke. Now that the spell is broken, all I want is to feel clean again. There’s dirt and cum all over me and the feel of it caked on my skin is gonna send me into sensory overload until I get?—
“Then let’s get you a bath, pet.”
“What?”
He leaves my bedside and walks through a door I hadn’t noticed before. Seconds later, the room fills with the sound of streaming water. Shortly after that, jasmine and rose scent the air.
Light spills from the bathroom into the small room, piquing my curiosity. I’m propped up on my elbows by the time he comes back into the room.
“Did you just run me a bath?” I ask, eyeing his advance on me.
He lifts me in his arms without confirming, carrying me bridal style to the steamy bathroom.
It’s when he sets me on my feet that he finally breaks the silence. “Hell yeah, I ran you a bath. Aftercare is non-negotiable, pet.”
I fucking blush when he curves his index finger under my chin and winks.
“‘Specially with your fine ass. Since you like to pass out and shit.”
His teasing has me hiding a snort of laughter as I duck my head and begin undressing, unfazed by his presence. He waits until my clothes are a puddle by my feet before scooping them up. The last thing to go is my lace mask and he collects that too, telling me to get in the tub.
The water isn’t as sudsy as I expected judging from the scents permeating the air.
There are a few bubbles as I submerge my body in the warm water, but only just enough to know he used some bubble bath.
“I used a shower steamer and ran hot water over it in the sink,” he supplies. “That’s why it smells like a garden in here.”
How the hell does he keep reading my mind?
“There’s some scented bubble bath behind your head.
Add as much as you want.” He nods toward the back of the tub, but I keep my eyes pinned on his, mesmerized by this man whose name I still don’t know.
“The only thing I put in the water is some Dr. Bronner’s.
Not trying to fuck up your pH, but you know your body. ”
He walks out and I try to ignore how bereft his absence makes me feel.
Spotting a loofah and wash cloth on the tray spanning the width of the tub, I grab the loofah and submerge it in water before I start cleansing my body.
My mystery man returns moments later and folds his large frame into a kneeling position by the tub. He eases the loofah from my shaky grip and takes over the task of cleaning me.
My shameless nipples peak under his ministrations, yearning for his gentle touch.
A sigh of relief rushes out of me when he drops the loofah and lets his fingertips trace the stiffened buds. “Your body is fucking unreal, pet.”
The awe in his dark eyes tapers into carnal desire. But he shuts it down, shaking his head as he goes back to washing me.
Letting the loofah float away, he grabs the washcloth and wipes my face clean. The absence of dried tear tracks and my light makeup makes me sigh.
I’ve never been taken care of like this, and if you told me the first time I’d experience it, it’d be with a man whose face I can’t pick out in a room, I’d call you a damn lie.
But here I am.
It’s been a night full of first and I’m just happy as hell I didn’t ignore that invitation.
I sink into the tub until the water is up to my neck, resting my head on the cushion behind me without breaking eye contact with the man lavishing me in unmatched care.
He doesn’t know it, but he’s created a problem. Because never again will I be able to deal with a man who doesn’t slut me out and treat me like a princess after.
My eyes droop as his thumb drags down my bottom lip.
“You were perfect,” he praises. “So fucking perfect for me.”
Then his touch is gone and he’s standing at his full height. “I’m gonna go get you some clothes. Take as long as you need in here, pet.”
I don’t question why the nickname hasn’t bothered me all night. It sounds right falling from his lips. And if he has to call me anything, I’m glad it’s that.
I soak in the tub until I feel like a prune. Then I drain the water and shower quickly before stepping out.
Wrapped in a towel, I walk back into the bedroom and find the man I thought had long disappeared sitting at the foot of the bed beside a pile of folded clothes.
“Here you go. I got you an extra large but let me know if you need something else.”
This man.
I slip into the plain black briefs with MM stitched into the waistband then pull on a loose black tee and soft sweats bearing the same branding. They’re a perfect fit. The only thing I have to put back on from earlier are my boots.
I find my phone on the nightstand and stuff it in my pocket, finding his gaze on me when I spin on my heels.
“Take care of yourself.”
Emotion blocks my vocal cords so I just nod, knowing this is goodbye.
His featherlight touch is on my cheek for the length of one bated breath before he backs up toward the door. And when he’s gone, I stand there staring at the space he filled. The room feels bigger without him in it so I walk out, refusing to let myself get swept up in what ifs.