16. Joey
Chapter 16
Joey
The blue light from a screen casts a soft glow around the usually dark room as I slip inside and close the door.
The low-light digital clock switches from 6:59 to 7:00 a.m. Right on time.
“Get on the bed.”
Without hesitation, I pull my shirt over my head and step out of my sleep shorts and panties as I approach. Kyl and I have this routine down to a science. I know what he wants—how he expects me to present myself. Just like I know that he’s going to give me a high like no other, and all I have to do is submit.
I also know what following this routine does for him. Hell, what it does for me, too. He’s not the only one who needs this one-on-one time. I crave the consistency of Sunday mornings the way my lungs crave my next breath.
I crawl up the mattress and drape my limbs across his body as he sets his phone on the nightstand and wraps his arms around my bare back.
Kylian’s steady heartbeat reverberates through me. Sinking into him, I slow my breathing to match his pace. His hands go wide on my low back, gripping me with a reciprocated sense of need.
My body calms. My heart settles. My entire sense of self renews as we slot into place.
“Good morning,” I eventually murmur, lifting my head to place a kiss in the center of his chest. Kyl may not be as big as my other guys, but the muscle he does have is hard and defined.
“Are you okay?” he probes.
I let the question wash over me. There’s not a right answer. If I wasn’t okay, he would honor that, and our Sunday morning would look very different.
But that’s the beauty of truly being seen and being loved so well.
Yesterday I started to spiral.
But I was able to stop, regroup, and open up about what was bothering me instead of letting it fester or grow into a monster I was scared to confront.
It’s okay to not be okay. That doesn’t make me a burden or difficult to love. It’s part of being human. It’s part of surviving something awful and then refusing to let it corrupt the best parts of life.
I give him a confident nod. “Yes. I’m okay.”
He watches me, his bright blue eyes barely visible through the lenses of his glasses. After a few beats, he nods once, accepting my answer.
I roll my lips together as he stares at me.
“What is it, baby?”
Warmth radiates through my chest. Kyl can always tell when there’s something on my mind.
“You didn’t get me anything,” I state. I’m not upset by the lack of gifts—on the contrary, I love that he read between the lines and correctly assessed the context of the situation.
He hooks his hands under the meaty part of my ass and shifts me higher up his body. I pop up on my elbows, wanting to see as much of him as I can despite the darkness.
“I assumed you would react poorly to the receiving of unrequested, unexpected gifts.”
That tracks. Kylian explained at Christmas how stressful it felt to not know what he was receiving as a kid. He asked each of us for a specific gift and even sent the order link to ensure we purchased the right version of what he requested. None of the guys balked, and once he explained how uncomfortable he was with the uncertainty of surprise gift-giving, I quickly came to terms with it, too.
His inclination to avoid surprising me makes sense.
I bite down on my bottom lip, silently debating whether I want to ask the other question that’s been nagging at me since yesterday. I clear my throat and find my courage. “You didn’t think to warn the others?”
Kylian sighs. “I tried. In retrospect, I should have tried much harder. I realize that now,” he confesses. “I did not have the bandwidth to talk Decker and Kendrick out of their grandiose ideas. I just wanted to get away from the mansion and enjoy this weekend together. I’ve been overextending myself, trying to help Spence and keep up with the security detail for Hunter. I thought I was coping well, but there are a lot of people at the house right now, and obviously, I’m slipping.”
“Kylian. No. I didn’t mean—”
“I recognize the role I should have played in this situation, Jo. I’m not accepting all the blame or berating myself, but I know I could have done better. Could have, should have, and decidedly will moving forward.”
We’re both quiet as I let his words soothe me. I’m glad I asked, because now I have a better idea of everything he’s dealing with, too. Eventually, I lift my head and peak up at him once more.
“So… besides the sprinkles, which I really did love, by the way…” He smiles, and my insides tingle. “There aren’t any more surprises?”
We’re leaving around lunchtime. I would be shocked if there was anything else, but my anxiety still needs to know for sure.
“I’m making pancakes for breakfast after I eat you out for several hours. That’s the last surprise I planned for this weekend.”
Contentment washes over me.
“I can live with pancakes.”
Kylian snickers.
“No comment on the other part of the morning that’s about to commence?”
I rest my chin on his chest, willing him to feel my sincerity. “No comment, but only because my feelings are a given. Sunday mornings are my favorite part of every week.”
With a salacious grin, he says, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby. You haven’t tried these pancakes yet.”
I snort-laugh, my chest bouncing with amusement as I try to keep it together. Kylian never used to joke. I love when he makes wise-cracks or offers up a quippy remark.
Black and white. Cut and dry. I love life with this man. I love the structure and security he provides. Right now, and for every day after this, I know how lucky I am to be loved by Kylian Walsh.
His body tenses below me, and his brows knit together. “Wait. I just thought of something else.”
“What?” I demand, slightly panicked.
Flipping us, he frames my head with his forearms and hovers just out of reach. “There’s a high probability you’re going to be thanking me for what I’m about to give you. I’ve gathered enough anecdotal evidence to reason you may even beg for more. Following that strain of logic, one could assume that my tongue, my mouth, and my cock are all presents.”
This time, I snort. “You’re so full of it.”
I settle on my back, getting into position, and spread my legs wide, then press my hands into the headboard. I know the drill. I know how he wants to take me. I’ll do anything for this man. Submitting to his hyperfixation on my pussy truly is what I love most about Sundays.
“I think what you meant is ‘May I have my gift now, Daddy?’”
I bite down on my bottom lip, eyeing him lasciviously as he holds himself in plank position and rakes his gaze along my body.
“I want everything you have to give me, Daddy.”
His gaze heats with desire. “Say it again.”
“Please, Daddy?” I ask sweetly. “Please can I have my gift?”
He adjusts his glasses, places both his hands on my inner thighs, and spreads me open wider, licking his lips before he lowers himself and brings his mouth to my core.