Page 55 of At Her Pleasure
Cyn wasn’t a person who projected a willingness to be casually touched. But the women included her in their brief gestures of easy affection. From the earlier grip on her shoulder, Ros clearly had license to let that touch linger.
The Snicker pie was good. He’d look up the recipe. His small freezer could accommodate it, and it would be an easy way to remember this evening. He imagined himself miles away, sitting down with the full pie and a fork, thinking of the people here. As he ate the memory alone.
He had damn good reasons for being separate, not part of a family or community long term. If he was letting his head get messed up in those thoughts, it was time to go.
He waited until the others started to get up from the table. They were talking about adjourning to the fire pit. It gave him the opportunity to casually announce he had to take off and handle some things. It wasn’t just because of his headspace. He did have shit to deal with before he could faceplant in his bed.
Before he departed, he helped carry some dishes back into the kitchen. Abby waved him off when he offered to do his part to wash, letting him know they’d deal with it later.
A s’mores plan was in process. Tiger was pulling some Hershey bars and marshmallows out of the pantry and holding them over Skye’s head. She grabbed his belt to give herself jump leverage and snatched it. When he pulled her to him to kiss her mouth, the marshmallows were mashed between them. She put her hand in the pocket of his jeans to squeeze his ass as he smiled down at her.
Tiger lifted his head and gestured at Mick. “If it’ll save you some dough, come back when you’re done tonight and use our place as a camping spot. There’s a nice place over by the bike track. You can see the sun come up over the marsh. I’ll leave the kitchen door open in case you want to use our guest bath for a roomier shower.”
The idea, particularly the isolation of the spot, had appeal. “I may take you up on that. Don’t shoot me if I roll in after bedtime.”
Tiger tapped the phone in his shirt pocket. “I’ve got cameras. I’ll know it’s you without leaving the bed.”
Given the curvy, dark-eyed Domme with her hand on his ass, Mick didn’t blame Tiger a bit for using the tech.
Cyn had been stacking dishes on the counter, but now she wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Good. It’s a scary neighborhood, and I’m a little nervous.”
“Shut up. Tell the nice people good night and thanks for putting up with you.”
“Aw,” Vera purred. “She said we were nice.”
“I’m being polite,” Cyn told her. “Doesn’t mean I actually meant it.”
Mick offered his farewells and thanks for the meal. As he bid Ros good night, he met her gaze. “Ma’am.”
She nodded, but offered nothing more. He was used to bothering people, particularly those with radar for trouble. He didn’t usually let it get to him, but it was a no-brainer why it did now. It couldn’t be helped. He took his leave, holding the door for Cyn so she could precede him.
They walked toward the motorhome side by side, not touching, but that didn’t matter. Every shift of their bodies as they matched pace brought a change in air currents he could feel against his skin. “I’m sorry I can’t hang out longer. I would have liked sitting by the fire with you.” He nudged her. “Maybe use the excuse to put an arm around you.”
“It’s New Orleans. It doesn’t get really cold here, not like Jersey. We’ll sweat our balls off for those s’mores.” She sent him an arch look. “Even if it was cold, women don’t get any colder than men do. You don’t see women putting their arm around them or offering them their coat.”
“Women do get colder, because they’re thin-skinned,” he told her. “Unless you’re a vampire and happy being cold.”
“It goes with my cold heart,” she retorted.
He turned toward her, hooking the chain of her necklace over two fingers and cradling the skeleton in his palm, his knuckles over her beating heart. “There’s nothing cold about you, baby. You’ve never brought a boy home to the family, have you? Is that why Ros gave me the mama bear eye?”
When he withdrew his touch, she studied him as if he was something she wasn’t entirely certain how to manage. He knew the feeling.
“She’s not old enough to be my mother.”
“No, but she watches out for you. I’m glad you found a family.”
She looked toward the house. Ros and Abby were visible through the kitchen window, talking, Ros pouring herself wine. Vera and Skye headed out the side, carrying the s’more makings, plus some Oreos. Lawrence and Neil were at the firepit, getting it going. Tiger trailed the women with a bottle of Jack and a couple shot glasses, probably for him and Neil. Lawrence seemed to prefer the low or non-alcohol beers. Probably because of his ex-wife, who’d been an alcoholic.
He’d done the background checks purely because he wanted to know the make of her family, even if he could only do it by cheating. If he’d known ahead of time he’d be invited to this, he could have saved himself some effort. The women’s strengths and personalities fit in ways that explained how they’d succeeded as business partners and evolved into the family unit. The men who’d bonded with each Mistress fit right into the tight weave.
Family figured shit out, so they could give one another what they needed. They loved through good, bad, and damned uncomfortable but necessary things.
Maybe seeing that up close and personal hurt more than usual because finding Cyn, being with her, told Mick that bond did exist for him somewhere. If he had time and what was needed to commit to it, to give her what she well-deserved. Which he didn’t.
Cyn hadn’t asked him to stay, he reminded himself. Or even invited him to come back. Everything about her said she shied away from that kind of thing.