Page 85 of The Fire We Crave

Even as I was being cruel.

“You don’t have permission to talk,” I say. “Just listen.”

Quinn opens her eyes but nods her consent.

“I’m the coward. Not you. I’m sorry I alluded to the idea you were. I’m glad I was the only safe place you could think of running to. I’m glad you’re here, and I don’t want you to go.”

She places her hand to her heart but doesn’t say a word.

I begin the process of squeezing and pulling each of her pretty toes. They slide out of my grip with a quiet pop. Then, I slide my fingers between each of them and grip her foot, twisting it and stretching it.

Her breath catches again, and it’s all I can do to not split the towel and dive my face between her thighs.

I suppose this is the other reason I picked a foot massage.

In some ways, this is punishment and torture. To not be able to come all over her feet is my atonement for being a dick.

“You were right. It’s easier to keep everyone at arm’s length. Not just you. I have, and have had, jobs and a vocation that robs me of people I care about too fucking often. Not getting involved with people is a survival tactic, but that’s my baggage. Not yours.”

I shift my hands to her ankle and rotate it, first clockwise, then in the opposite direction. Unable to resist, I bring her foot to my mouth and suck her toe into it.

She wiggles, and bright laughter escapes her. So, I bite down on it gently.

The movement causes the towel to part across her thighs, and I get a glimpse of her pussy. My already heavy cock grows longer, and I discreetly try to adjust myself. But it fails, leaving my boner even more obvious. Quinn will be able to see it if she looks, as the button on my jeans is undone and the zipper isn’t fully up.

I glance down, and sure enough, my leaking head is fully on show.

It’s all part of it. Being vulnerable.

The discomfort of it sits uneasily, but I trade it off against how important Quinn is becoming to me. And while I’m not usually a man who is naturally romantic, I’m going to have to find it from somewhere.

Because Quinn, who is now watching me intently, eyes bright and smile soft, deserves a life filled with it.

Along with some spankings for good measure.

“You were also right,” I say. “Last night, in that moment, you were the only person I wanted to see. The only person I could tolerate seeing me vulnerable because I didn’t think you’d judge me for it or tell anyone it happened. You were the body I wanted to lose myself in. Your hands were the only ones I wanted to feel on my skin. And your cunt was the only one I wanted to lose myself and those thoughts in. It was really shitty of me to pretend you weren’t. And I’m really fucking glad I woke up here, with you, rather than in the clubhouse with any of the club girls. I’m sorry I was a dick, sugar.”

She raises her hand, and my heart does that thing where it bangs against my rib cage.

“You’ll get your turn,” I say. “Can you be a good girl and let me do this my way?”

I was never quite sure what the wordbeatificmeant in context, but I feel like that’s how I should describe the smile she gives me.

“You like being a good girl?” I ask.

She bites down on her lower lip and nods.

“Good to know. Because I’m thinking we should combine our relationship stances.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion. The unspoken question emanates from her.

“You can speak now, because I’m about to ask you some questions.”

“Clarification. Can I go back and comment on what you just said?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

I switch feet and begin the whole process again, repeating my actions, starting with massaging the arch of her foot.

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