Chapter 18 #2
“And you’re safe with me,” I said, voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The kiss came slowly.
I kissed him because I wanted him to feel anchored. Because I wanted him to feel wanted without expectation.
My hands slid to his shoulders. His to my waist.
The world narrowed.
We didn’t rush. We didn’t speak much.
When we finally moved together, it was with intention—not hunger, but connection. I led him, this time. Showed him with touch and presence what my words had promised.
That he wasn’t alone.
That he was held.
His mouth lingered on mine, soft at first, tasting of salt from the air and the faint bitterness of whatever storm raged inside him.
But as my fingers threaded through his short hair, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my stomach flutter with that now-familiar heat.
It was sweet that he'd been my first, teaching my body things I'd only ever imagined in secret.
I was still sore in places, a tender ache between my thighs that reminded me of how he'd stretched me, filled me, made me come apart under him.
And yet, here I was, wanting more, my inexperience making every touch feel new and overwhelming.
Micah's hands tightened on my waist, lifting me gently until I straddled his lap right there on the edge of the pier, my knees pressing into the rough wooden planks on either side of his hips.
The wind whipped my hair around us, carrying the briny scent of the marsh, and the distant lap of water below felt like a heartbeat syncing with ours.
"Joy," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough, hesitant, like he was afraid he'd break me—or himself.
"I'm here," I whispered back, my hands sliding down his chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath his shirt, the same powerful body that had loomed over me in my bedroom.
I tugged at the hem, and he helped me pull it off, exposing his broad, sculpted torso to the cool night air. Goosebumps rose on his skin, but his eyes burned dark and intense as they met mine. He was beautiful in a brutal way, and the sight of him still made me shy, even after everything.
He kissed me again, harder this time, his palms skimming up my thighs under my skirt, pushing the fabric higher until his thumbs brushed the edge of my panties. I gasped into his mouth, already wet for him, embarrassed by how quickly my body responded.
"You're sure? Here?” he asked, voice low, fingers pausing as if giving me an out.
I nodded, rocking against him instinctively, feeling the hard length of him straining through his jeans. "Yes. I want to feel you. All of you."
With careful hands, he eased my panties aside, his fingers gliding through my slick folds, teasing my clit in slow circles that made my hips buck. I was still learning what felt good, but his touch was patient, guiding.
"Like this?" he asked, dipping one thick finger inside me, then two, stretching me gently as I clung to his shoulders.
"Oh ... yes," I breathed, my head falling back as he pumped slowly, curling them to hit that spot he'd discovered last night—the one that made stars burst behind my eyes.
It was different out here, exposed under the open sky, the creak of the pier and the whisper of marsh grass adding to the intimacy. No one around, just us and the water.
He withdrew his fingers, and I whimpered at the loss, but then he was unbuckling his belt, freeing himself. His cock sprang out, thick and heavy, veins prominent along the shaft, the head already glistening.
I stared for a moment, still marveling at how something so intimidating had fit inside me, how it had made me feel so full, so claimed.
"Touch me," he said softly, guiding my hand to wrap around him.
I stroked tentatively at first, then firmer, loving the way he groaned, his head tipping back.
When I couldn't wait anymore, I rose up on my knees, positioning myself over him. He held my hips steady, eyes locked on mine. "Go slow, baby. Take what you need."
I sank down inch by inch, the broad head parting me, stretching that delicious burn as he filled me completely. It hurt a little—still so new, my body adjusting—but the pleasure overrode it, waves of it radiating from where we joined.
"Micah," I moaned quietly, starting to move, rocking my hips in the rhythm he'd taught me.
He thrust up gently to meet me, one hand sliding under my shirt to cup my breast, thumbing my nipple until it peaked hard. The other hand gripped my ass, guiding me faster. "You feel so good," he rasped. "So tight around me. Like you were made for this."
I rode him harder, chasing the building pressure, my breaths coming in pants as the pier swayed faintly beneath us.
It was primal, healing—him letting me set the pace, me giving him something to hold onto in his pain. When he shifted, angling deeper, hitting new places inside me, I cried out softly, burying my face in his neck.
"Let me turn you," he murmured after a while, voice strained.
He lifted me effortlessly, turning me so my back was to his chest, my hands bracing on the pier's edge in front of us.
I was bent forward slightly, skirt bunched around my waist, exposed to the night air as he entered me again from behind.
This was new—deeper, more intense—and I gasped at the sensation, his cock sliding in to the hilt.
"Like this?" he asked, one arm banding around my waist, the other reaching around to circle my clit as he thrust slow and steady.
"Yes—oh, God, yes," I whimpered, pushing back against him, learning how to meet his movements.
The angle made everything sharper, his body dominating mine without overwhelming, teaching me with every roll of his hips.
Pleasure coiled tight, building until I shattered around him, clenching hard as I came with a muffled cry against my arm.
He followed moments later, burying deep with a low groan, pulsing inside me, his grip tightening as if I were his lifeline.
Later, wrapped in quiet and salt air and the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, I knew something had shifted.
Not healed.
But changed.
And I understood something with absolute clarity:
The old fears weren’t what scared me anymore.
Losing him was.