Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MICAH
Mason was an actual fucking nightmare. He would not leave my house.
It was as if he’d made it his life’s mission to take away any spare second I might’ve had with Dakota alone, and I didn’t appreciate it at all, especially now that I was actively trying to soothe the friction in my relationship with her.
Because every glance they shared in my kitchen, in my living room, even in my own bedroom, worsened the fear.
The paralyzing fear that I was somehow about to lose her to him.
Mason was just as much of a liar as me, but I could tell that he’d already been far more honest than I was capable of. Dakota saw herself in him, and I knew she loved him, probably long before she’d ever loved me—if she did. He loved her, too.
And sometimes that fear did catch me off guard. A hitch in my chest, a tightness in my throat.
A reminder that I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be. Not fully.
Maybe one day she’d be sick of it. Sick of the distance and dishonesty and unyielding dominance I needed to enact over her.
She’d be sick of trying to accommodate me and all the things I’d never speak about.
Mason tore her apart, but I froze her out, and it wasn’t so easy to decide which of those was worse.
Every time I closed my eyes, Dakota was there—kneeling in the same place I’d once watched Mason crash into the ocean. Her hair tangling around her shoulders, her eyes lowered, her palms pressed to her thighs.
The image wouldn’t leave my head.
Every thought of Mason’s fall now carried the mirror of Dakota kneeling. She’d somehow rewritten the memory without erasing it, giving me an even stronger tie to that patch of land. Because now it wasn’t only the place where I’d found him again, but her as well.
I could still do our normal.
Sometimes.
But I needed certainty, needed to know every decision belonged to me. That she wouldn’t ask for more than I could give.
I needed to know that she wouldn’t push me past the point where my own body stopped feeling like mine. The point where my need for power and control overcame everything else.
Ever since hooking up with Mason, something had shifted.
Sex with Dakota frightened me because I no longer trusted myself.
I was terrified she’d unknowingly corner me somehow—that panic would take over, and I’d hurt her just to escape it.
I’d already hurt her enough for reasons she couldn’t understand.
Mason didn’t even understand them fully, and he knew more about me than anyone else.
But her submission had shown me she was willing to place herself in my hands without asking anything in return, which was what I needed.
I didn’t want her pity. I didn’t want her anger. I didn’t even want her understanding.
I just wanted her.
Quiet and trusting and beautiful and mine.
In those moments, I could breathe.
But if Mason wasn’t around, I couldn’t.
Mason wasn’t here now, though. Dakota had requested he go pick up food for her, at a place far enough away that I had time to be with her alone. I didn’t know if she did that on purpose, but I was grateful regardless.
She was lying on the rug in my living room on her stomach with her laptop in front of her, the screen glowing on her focused face.
“It’s getting cold outside,” I said, looking at the frost around the edges of my windows. “It might snow soon. The weather says we could actually get a good few inches this year.”
“I know. Maybe I can go sledding.” She giggled, then folded her arms on the rug and rested her head on them.
“I never really went sledding. Not on a real hill, anyway. Sometimes my brother would drag me around the backyard on this shitty plastic sled we found one year next to a dumpster. It had a big crack in the side that pinched my fingers. And he was mostly dragging me around in the mud, with only some frost on top.”
Hearing Dakota talk about her brother—even casually—made me feel so violently unstable that I almost didn’t know how to respond. It made me feel sick to my stomach. But I kept my expression normal.
“I’ll get you a new sled,” I said.
“No,” she groaned.
I crawled over her body, hands sliding up her thighs, over the soft curve of her ass, until my fingers could curl in the waistband of her yoga pants. She didn’t protest as I slowly dragged them down with her underwear, exposing her perfect ass.
“Okay, fine. I won’t,” I lied. Dakota needed to understand that she couldn’t mention things without me wanting to buy them for her, without me wanting to give her every experience she’d ever missed out on. Without me wanting to rewrite every memory of her abuser.
I moved back so I could just stare at her for a minute, laying there so obediently, pretending she was still working on her homework while breathing shallowly. I pressed forward, leaning down to bite her soft, bare flesh until she yelped.
“Micah!” she squealed as I sank my teeth into her ass, trying to swat my head away. I flattened my tongue over the spot, soothing away the bite mark.
“Sorry,” I said, not meaning it at all.
I laid on top of her, grinding my clothed erection into her ass while covering her body with my weight.
My hand slid down between us to lower my pants in the front, just enough to get my cock out and push it between her thighs, seeking out her pussy.
She arched her back to give me better access, stretching her arms above her head, cheek pressed to the carpet.
“Fuck, Masters,” I groaned as I spit on my hand then used it to wet my cock. “You’re supposed to be studying. I shouldn’t do this.”
“I’m—still—studying…” she whimpered, squirming as I pushed the head of my cock to her entrance.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said as I thrust into her.
It was such a tight fucking fit with her positioned like this, her stretchy pants still keeping her thighs pressed tight together. I spit on my fingers again, then added more lube to my invasion.
She breathed heavily, her eyes squeezed shut as I wedged my cock further inside of her. I gripped the front of her throat, my fingers stretching along her jaw to hold her head up as I breathed against the hollow of her throat.
“Who’s this pussy belong to?”
“You,” she whispered.
“Is that a lie?”
She shook her head, whining and writhing below me. “It’s the truth.”
“That’s right. This sweet little pussy is mine. Just like this mouth,” I slid two fingers past her lips, “and your throat. And you know what else?”
“What?” she panted.
“Your ass is mine too.” I leaned down more, rolling my hips slowly, pumping into her. “Has anyone ever fucked you there?”
She shook her head again.
“That’s good. Because I’m going to be the first.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly.
“You should be.”
A strangled breath escaped her, a moan lodged in her throat.
“Are you going to do it now?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Should we go upstairs or something? To get a towel? I don’t know. I’m scared.” She buried her face in her arms, but I could still see her flushing. Even her ears were red. I kept fucking her slow, grinding into her. She was getting really wet now.
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but I’m well acquainted with anal sex. I’ve had plenty of experience. I’m going to make it good for you.”
“Oh, right,” she moaned, wiggling her body beneath mine, her pussy clenching around me. “Because you’re gay.”
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. She always said gay in such a clinical way.
“Bisexual, baby girl. I’m fucking you now, aren’t I?”
“Oh, right,” she said again, clearly on the edge of being able to comprehend what I was saying. I liked how needy she always got, how sloppy and pathetic and desperate. “Well, are we going to go upstairs?”
“Yes. We’re going to go upstairs.”
“But…” She groaned into the carpet, her voice getting strangled when I pushed deeper. “But what if—”
“Dakota,” I cut her off. “I am fully aware of how anal sex works. Fully aware. I wouldn’t ask for this if I didn’t want it with every goddamn inch of me. But I do, and that’s why you’re going to let me fuck you there.”
“Okay,” she whimpered.
“You’re so fucking perfect.”
I pulled out, then tucked my dick away before picking her up and carrying her upstairs with her pants and underwear still stretched halfway down her thighs. She always looked so slutty like this—half-undressed, the most private places of her so casually exposed—like a doll made just for fucking.
I put her on my bed, then worked on taking the rest of her clothes off, my cock throbbing painfully at the sight of her and the promise of what was to come.
“Micah, I’m worried,” Dakota repeated, her fingers twisting nervously together. “Don’t people, like, prepare for this? Actually—I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sometimes, yeah. But it’s not something I’m bothered by,” I reassured her, tracing the shape of her waist with my hands, then cupping her breasts.
“Could you take away my nervousness?”
That felt dangerously close to forcing her consent.
Even if it wasn’t, it was too close for me.
“I’ll take away your sight instead. All you can do is feel me, hear me, submit to me. Every other sensation is magnified. I’ll do that after I make you come once.”
“Okay.” She nodded. I leaned forward to kiss her tits, then up her neck to her mouth, before I sat back and grabbed lube from my nightstand. Dakota watched me curiously.
“Vibrator or my mouth?” I questioned, stroking my fingers over her pussy.
“Fuck, your mouth.”
“Do you need to be tied up? Or can you handle it?”
“I can handle it,” she promised.
“Good girl. Now you just relax, alright? You trust me. I’ve got you.”
She nodded, lower lip trapped between her teeth, eyes glassy.
I put lube on one of my fingers, then lowered myself between her legs, licking up the length of her cunt as I prepared to take her ass. She was tense but made no moves to stop me as I slowly put the tip of my finger inside her.
“It feels weird,” she whispered through a little moan as I sucked on her clit.
“It’ll feel good, baby girl. Be patient.”