Page 44 of Loving Luna

Turning us so that her back was the one to the bed, I gently lowered her onto the mattress and covered her body with mine.

“Drake!” she gasped. “I don’t think…”

“Shhh.” I pressed a finger to her lips, loving the way her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Let Daddy take care of you now.”

Concern flashed across her face. It felt like a knife through my heart. But she must have seen something in my expression that made her understand, that prompted her to give in.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

With her sweet acquiescence, I smiled, kissed her once, then pulled her halfway off the bed and dropped to my knees between her legs, burying my face in her pussy.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LUNA

As I lay in bed in the early morning hours the day after the funeral, watching Drake sleep, images of his mother’s face as they’d lowered Harold’s casket into the ground haunted me. I wasn’t privy to the inner workings for Drake’s parents’ relationship, of course, but I did know they’d had a dynamic of some sort and were no strangers to the lifestyle. I couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. In the short time since we’d made it official, Drake had become everything to me—even more than he already had been. The idea that if we stayed together, I’d someday maybe have to deal with losing him terrified me and just added another item to my list of reasons I’d avoided relationships.

We’d had one almost perfect day before everything had blown up in our faces. And I wasn’t feeling any kind of way about it—I understood that that was just the way life was sometimes, but after almost a week of being around constant grief, I was wrought out, overwhelmed and feeling like I was about to crawl out of my skin. I’d have given anything to have a class to escapeto or some homework to do, but it was winter break. Rolling over, I picked up my phone off the nightstand and glanced at the time. Four a.m. I didn’t know where to go, but I knew I couldn’t be in this apartment any longer. The air was too heavy, the grief too great, and the reminders that everything could change in an instant were all I could think about. I’d be back… I wasn’t giving up, at least I didn’t think I was. I just needed some space, some time alone, a chance to breathe and work through the dark thoughts currently invading my brain.

Suddenly the bed felt too small, and I slowly rolled out of it, careful not to wake Drake. I dressed in a pair of sweats and t-shirt, shoved my feet into boots, threw on a hoodie, and slowly made my way to the front door to make the trek back to my suite at the main Ranch building.

Time and space and the comfort of my own suite didn’t help, especially since I had to be quiet so as not to wake Mia. The thoughts were too loud, I couldn’t get away from them. So I did what I did whenever I couldn’t sleep: I went for a run. A long one around the lake, and I didn’t time myself or try to rush. I took my time, savoring the chilly morning air, admiring the light dusting of snow on the trees and the sheen of ice atop the lake’s surface. I listened to music and just let the time pass. By the time I got back up to my suite the second time, Mia was already off to work. After taking a shower with my music blaring and screaming into a pillow a few times, I dressed in my usual plaid pleated skirt and black button-down top. After adding some knee socks and my signature combat boots along with a coat and gloves, I took the elevator down to the first level, then walked out the doors and made my way to Rawhide University. I still felt like I was seconds away from exploding, but I was really hoping that getting to the Library, which was open during the break, would give me something to keep my brain busy.

As I slid into a chair with a book on human relationships, Jenna nudged me in the side. “Hey,” she whispered. “I was so sorry to hear about Drake’s dad. How’s he doing?”

I grimaced. Even when I was getting away from it, I couldn't get away from it. “About as well as can be expected,” I answered. It was a really dumb question and it made me instantly annoyed.

But I knew it wasn’t Jenna’s fault. The truth was, watching Hettie grieve had my thoughts wandering into old self-destructive thought patterns. Her heartbreak was so raw, so tangible, so palpable, it sometimes seemed like it was the only thing in the room. And I didn’t fault her for it. No, I understood. I knew what she’d lost. I knew it intimately. I couldn’t imagine being in her spot, losing Drake, whether it was tomorrow or fifty years from now. The pain would break me. I was sure I’d never recover, just like I was sure Drake’s mom wouldn’t. How could she?

I shook my head at Jenna and sucked in air, trying with all I was worth not to start crying again as I focused my attention on the book and tried my best to follow along.

But as I walked out of the room an hour later, I realized I hadn’t absorbed a single word. I couldn’t even have said what the book was about. Fuck.

There was no way I could study as I’d planned. I found myself turning and rushing down the hallway, and out the front doors of the University. Instead of heading back to Drake’s apartment, I made a beeline for the main entrance to the lodge.

I kept my head down when I entered, not in the mood to see anyone or engage in friendly conversation, and rushed to the elevators that I rode to the third floor where my submissives’ suite was.

I kept my head down and all but ran to my room, thankful that all of my suitemates would be working around the Ranchat this time of day and I would have the place to myself still. Despite sharing it, my suite had always been my sanctuary.

Today, when I looked around at the fluffy black bedding, pink throw pillows, and band posters adorning the wall, along with photos of all my friends here at the Ranch, I was filled with emptiness.

Drake had said he wanted me moving in with him. I wasn’t even supposed to have come back here except to pack my things. I was supposed to let Master Derek know I’d be moving out of my room. But that had been before our world imploded.

Did Drake even still want me? Did he still feel the same way? Even more importantly, did I?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tears pricked my eyes and I felt myself falling down the fear spiral I’d been staving off for days.

The one that whispered desperately,What if something happened to Drake? You wouldn’t be able to handle the pain. It will break you. It’s not worth it because eventually, someday, you’ll lose him.

The one that made me want to run as far away as I could in the opposite direction. The selfish one that wanted nothing more to do with Drake’s pain and even less to do with his mom’s. I hated myself for it.

Running was my worst habit. A coping mechanism I employed far too often even though I knew better.

As panic gripped my chest, the voice in my head screamed at me to do just that.Run! Run!

Fuck. I sank onto my bed and let all the things I’d learned in Psych 101 seep into my brain, overriding the voice.

Coping mechanisms. I needed to find some. I ran through them in my head. A hot shower or bath. No. A long walk to clear my head. In December, in Montana? No. Besides, I’d already done a version of that when I’d run. I could… scream into a pillow. That wouldn’t help. Not long term. I could do a craftor redecorate my room. I shook my head. Everything felt too exhausting.

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