Chapter 41 #2
“I was too drunk to move. So drunk that when I tried to get to my feet to search for him, I kept falling. It took me three tries before I made it to where I’d last seen him.
I looked overboard but couldn’t see him.
The waters were too dark. I managed to call the coastguard for help, then jumped off the ship to search for him. "
“Did you... Did you find him?” she whispers.
I shake my head. That familiar heaviness knocks at the backs of my eyes.
I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat.
“They never found him. I was arrested for running a pirate radio station. Arthur had to come bail me out. He also paid enough money to make it all go away. He refused to let me attend Danny's funeral, and I’ll never forgive him for that. And when I told him I was joining the Marines in Danny’s memory, he never forgave me.
He wanted me to join the Davenport Group and learn the ropes.
He had dreams of making me the CEO, since my older brothers weren’t interested. ”
“So that’s why there’s bad blood between the two of you?”
“Well… It didn't help that my nephews followed my example, and all of them, except one, joined the Marines. Of course, you wouldn’t know that when you hear Arthur boast about how there's a tradition of serving in the military among the Davenports. He spun it as a PR story to boost the company’s reputation.”
She shakes her head. “He’s a canny old man.”
“He is.” I half smile. “If it weren’t for the fact I was searching for a purpose when I returned from the Marines, and I realized I did want to leave some kind of legacy for my son, I never would have agreed to join him.
I also realized that by helping to grow the business and claiming my inheritance, I could use the money to further the cause of military vets.
It’s what Danny would have wanted.” My heart feels heavy, my guts churning with that familiar guilt I've carried with me since he died.
“So, that’s why you like listening to the radio?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“It makes you feel close to Danny.”
I stare at her, my thoughts in a whirl. I never made that connection, but she’s right.
It’s a connection I have with Danny that nothing can sever.
When I listen to the radio, it feels like he’s speaking to me from the beyond.
It never occurred to me. It took my wife to connect the dots and point something so obvious out to me.
“Q, you okay?” she asks in a hesitant voice.
I nod slowly.
"You miss him." She swallows, her gaze filling with compassion “I am so sorry for your loss.”
"It was a long time ago.” I glance away, not wanting her to see how her words disturb me, yet are so healing.
How can she see me so clearly? How can she read what my subconscious has been trying to signal to me for years, when it never occurred to me?
How can she know me so well in such a short time?
Her eyes gleam with unshed tears. She lays her fork and knife on the island, then slips off the stool and walks around to stand between my legs. "I’m sorry."
Her sweet voice is like a steady rain that wears down the barriers I’ve placed around my heart. How could I have let her get this close to me? Why is it I'm unable to walk away from her, knowing I’m setting myself up for a fall? I can’t...
I can’t bear to think of a time when she leaves me.
And she will. One day, she’ll wake up and realize she could do much better than me.
She’ll leave me, and I won’t be able to go on.
It’s bad enough that I’m in love with her.
I can’t let this passion for her turn into an obsession.
I cannot allow her to get any closer. I cannot get more invested in this relationship. That would hurt her, and me, more.
When she cups my cheek, my entire body seems to leap to attention.
My fingertips tingle, but I resist the urge to reach out and touch her.
Instead, bastard that I am, I lock up my emotions once more in that deep, dark place inside.
And in an attempt to deflect her from showing more compassion for me—which would be my downfall—I twist my lips.
"Aren’t you going to kiss me and make it better?"
She rises on tiptoe and presses her mouth to mine. It’s sweet and honeyed and tentative. And it’s so right... And so wrong.
I don’t want her love and sympathy and tenderness right now. What I want is lust and avarice and the need to feel her skin on mine. I want to treat her like the submissive she is. I want to bury myself inside her tight holes, so it drowns out all other thoughts in my head.
My muscles tighten, and when she licks my lips, it’s like a signal to my body.
I grab her hips and spring to my feet. She gasps, begins to pull back, but I hitch her up.
She instantly wraps her thick legs around my waist. Her bare pussy pushes into my crotch.
I can feel the heat of her center through my sweatpants, and all of the blood drains to my groin.
I lean into her and cover her mouth with mine.
I want her so distracted she forgets to feel sorry for me.
I want her so filled with endorphins from the orgasms I’m going to wring from her that she’ll forget to look at me with sympathy.
I don’t want her concern, or her warmth, or her gentleness.
I don’t want her to learn any more of my secrets.
I don't want her understanding. I want to reduce our connection to that of a Dom and sub. I want her to see me as someone who awakened her body to the pleasures of BDSM, and nothing more. I want to distill our relationship to purely the physical, so when I leave her, while she’ll be upset, but she’ll be able to move on.
A tightness grips my chest at the thought.
I’ll awaken her desires, and she’ll, no doubt, seek another Dominant. Another lover who’ll take advantage of her lush body and her giving nature. The thought sends a ripple of anger up my spine. It’s going to be difficult to let her go, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
For now, I’ll focus on her mouth, her body, the curve of her hips, the way she melts into me. For now, I’ll focus on her pain and her pleasure.