The Sweetest Devotion

𝐗𝐕.

Since my father's trip to the emergency room, I made it a point to be more present in my parents' home. I couldn't afford to be two cities away in case something serious went down the next time.

    So, I made myself readily available Sunday afternoon as I headed over to their estate. Though, by the luxury vehicle in the circular drive, I knew my father had company over. Deciding to wait it out, I got comfortable as I sat in my family's living room skimming a woman's magazine. I was flipping through the pages aimlessly when I stumbled upon an article advertising "The Best Sex Tips." There were a few illustrations in various positions and I found myself looking around to see if the coast was clear.

    I thought of myself as good in bed, but there was no denying I could always better up my skill. Keith came to mind and I couldn't stop myself from smiling, from feeling warm inside. I'd never been confident about getting on top during sex. I didn't trust my stamina or my rhythm enough to truly drive my partner crazy. Gaius had never minded, but it was nice to know that Keith wasn't one to judge on this area. That he was patient enough to guide me through it.

    I hardly knew him, but I was beginning to feel safe with him.

    The first sex tip was to "Spend Time Kissing." A craving I was fighting off each time I was with Keith. I missed kissing. It was the best part of sex. Of being with a man intimately. It was ridiculous that we weren't kissing. As if not kissing would spare us from developing feelings more than our full-blown sex.

    I'm afraid once I start, I'll never stop, Keith had said to me.

    Threats like that kept me in check. Kept the line in place. But just once, I wanted to know what his lips felt like. What type of kisser he was.

    Probably passionate, hungry, intense like his sex.

    I shivered at the thought.

    "Cold?" My mother entered the room and was looking at me worriedly.

    I tossed my magazine aside. "Uh, no. I'm okay."

    Before I would have to explain myself further, Irene, my father's parttime caregiver, entered the room and flopped down with a paperback on the other end of the sofa I was sitting on. Irene wasn't that much older than me, I thought she said her age was twenty-six. What I'd seen of her work so far, was that was incredibly gentle and patient, something needed for my father's stubbornness and pride.

    My mother shifted her attention to Irene, lifting a questioning brow.

    Irene immediately sat up. "Business talk. They wanted privacy." She glanced at me nervously before returning to my mother. "The scary one didn't mind taking over when Mr. Nichols kicked me out."

    I couldn't help but snort. I knew exactly who was here. My dreaded fiancé.

    "He has a name, Irene," my mother chastised. "Mr. Carter."