Page 19 of Mine

“That’s what friends are for. And hell, you never know, maybe one day a man will boss me around and I’ll realize it’s hot or something.”

“So hot.”

I stand and finish getting ready. Reggie stays in my room with me, chatting while I do. When it’s time to go, he hugs me goodbye, and I take off. Rainbow Brew is within walking distance of our apartment, so I don’t have far to go. My stomach is in knots the whole time, excitement and fear fighting for dominance.

I still don’t know what Sir looks like, and vice versa. He’ll be looking for a man in a baby-blue V-neck and jeans. Hopefully that’ll only be me.

My hands are sweaty, so I rub them on my pants before opening the door. No one looks up or pays me any attention. I’m a couple of minutes early, but I have a feeling Sir will be too. My gaze shoots around the coffeehouse, snagging on the hallway leading to the bathroom. Will he really fuck me in there?

I take a few steps inside, looking from table to table. There are a lot of men here alone, which doesn’t help, and then—“Oh fuck,” I say softly when I notice Marsh at a table, looking at his phone. Because of course my dad’s best friend would be here the day I might get fucked in the bathroom.

My feet itch to turn around and sneak out, but if I do and Sir is already inside, I might miss him. And what will he think of me if I’m not confident enough in myself to meet up with him because someone I know is inside? I’m already nervous about the age difference between us, and it’s not as if Marsh will know what’s happening just by looking at us.

So I decide to head over, say hello, and tell him I’m meeting a date. I’m a grown-ass man. There’s no reason I can’t meet a man here.

The soles of my shoes make a weird noise on the floor, which is annoying. The knots in my stomach grow as I head to Marsh’s table and jokingly ask, “Are you stalking me?” I cross my arms over my chest.

He looks up with a grin, having recognized my voice. “I believe I was here first, was I not?”

His gaze travels to my shirt and holds there. The smile slides off his face, making the hairs on my arms stand on end, spider legs tickling across my nape.

Marsh’s stare snaps up to mine, pupils blown wide, the truth slamming into me like a punch to the stomach.

He wouldn’t…not Marsh. There’s absolutely no possibility that my dad’s best friend, the man I’ve known my whole life, is a Dominant. My dad would hate that, and though Dad and Marsh are different in so many ways, I figure they have to be similar in some too.

“Is there a reason you’re wearing that shirt?” he asks, the question a tight fist around my lungs.

“I…” Nothing else will come out. I…what? Have been talking to him for a month? Dreamed about his hands on me? Sucked my fingers pretending it was his cock…showed him my hole…stuffed a dildo in my ass because a man who is like family to me told me to?

“Breathe, JT.” He pushes to his feet, hand on my back, rubbing circles on it. I hear it then, the dominance in his voice, the part of him that’s a caretaker. And it’s always been there. I noticed it at the barbecue. It’s not unfamiliar to me, but I never thought…never imagined.

Marsh is a Dom.

I’ve been calling MarshSir.

And he’s right. I’m not breathing.

“I’m going to be sick.” I push away from him and run to the bathroom. His footsteps follow. I don’t take the time to lock the door before rushing to the toilet and dropping to my knees, but nothing will come up.

The door closes behind me.

The lock clicks.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you in the bathroom of a restaurant or coffeehouse where we meet.”

My dick twitches in my jeans, which makes me feel like a sicko. This man calls my dad his brother. This situation is a fucking mess, and here I am, getting hard because we’re in the restroom together where he said he might fuck me?

I gag again, but for the second time, nothing comes up.

“Jesus.” Marsh grabs paper towels, wets them, then kneels beside me, rubbing the sweat from my forehead. “Take a deep breath. Concentrate on me. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

Lean into him, cuddle close, let him take care of you.

The part of me that’s always been there—but never directed at Marsh—is trying to work its way to the surface. I want him to fix this, to tell me it will be okay, to make me forget how we know each other and do all the things he promised to do to me.

But God, what if he tells my dad?

And why do I care?

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