Page 57

I shake my head. “Never. Despite what she did, I don’t think he ever stopped loving her, which is crazy. She abandoned him…and me,” I tack on softly. It was so long ago, I never really mourned the person, I mourned the idea of a mom. Dad, though, he mourned her.
Micah covers my hand with his, squeezing it. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
I tilt my head, words on the tip of my tongue. I get the feeling he already knew Mom left. Joey, I’d bet. The man who can do anything. But it could’ve been Pawpaw too.
“I got something for you.”
My brows rise. “You did?”
He pulls away, fingers grabbing the hem of his Wildcats shirt before he tugs it off. My eyes immediately home in on the fresh tattoo on his chest. His sleeve has now grown over to his left pec. A field of wildflowers backdropped by water and the sliver of a moon.
I reach out to brush my hands across the intricate details. “You got this for me?”
The permanent nature of a tattoo, the way he’s positioned it over his heart, and the seamless continuity down his sleeve sends perfect chills down my spine.
“I noticed the way you admired my forest sleeve, so I thought I’d show you just how serious I am.”
“You’re…a lot,” I swallow. But the feelings pumping through me are a lot, too. Overwhelming, like the battering of waves against my body. They’re useless to deny, powered by the moon Micah has emblazoned on his chest.
He chuckles softly. Pushing his chair back from the table, he reaches his arms out. I move into his lap while he threads his fingers through my hair. Up close, the tattoo is even more beautiful, so many colors and shading, like it’s captured the three-dimensional feelings between us.
“There’s something else…”
I back away to find him grinning. He takes out a gift bag and hands it to me. The laughter in his gaze makes me even more curious. I pull out the tissue paper and grab the box inside. The clear window in the packaging leaves nothing to the imagination.
A dildo. A super lifelike dildo.
“I have a confession,” I tell him, holding the box in my lap. “I didn’t actually use the dildo.”
Surprise lights his eyes. “You want the real thing.” He says it more like a statement than a question, but I confirm it anyway. He points to the box. Typed out in the bottom right corner is Micah Freeman.
Confusion slithers through me.
“While I was away, I molded my dick for you. They put this cast around it, then they filled it to make it a true, synthetic replica of the actual thing.”
I rip open the box, slide the tray out, and run my finger down its length. It’s thicker than the one I purchased. “This is your cock?”
“Do you like it?”
“You’re killing me,” I groan, heart slamming against my ribs.
“This is for when I’m gone. The other ones get thrown away.”
I nod eagerly. Then I bring his dildo to my mouth and guide my tongue across its length before peering at him. “I licked it. It’s mine.”
His eyes could cut stone. His chest moves up and down violently, and his stare stays on my mouth while he lifts me.Without standing, he sets me on the table, nudging the skirt of my dress out of the way with his head before he presses his mouth against my panties.
I’m so surprised a squeak comes out of my mouth. “Micah.”
“Move them to the side.”
I reach between us and slide my panties out of the way. Instantly, his tongue runs up my center before he pulls away. I tug my skirt away from his face. “I licked it. It’s mine,” he growls, his voice determined, much more serious than mine was.
He stands, and I cross my ankles against his ass. The light fabric of my dress does nothing to hide Micah’s real cock from nudging my center.
I can’t make words. The feel of his tongue, the fact that I’ve been fantasizing about that very thing, renders me speechless. Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he walks toward the house. He takes the hallway I followed him through that night.
“We should get the dishes.”