The Professional Lover (18+) | [Complete]

21 : Trusting Him

The following chapter contains explicit material intended for an 18+ audience ONLY. 

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"Oh, fuck!" Mickey says as his fingers dig into my thighs. I grind against him as I stare down at his twisted expression, loving that I was the one that gave it to him. His body shudders between my legs. I slide my hands against his chest as he comes down.

"Feel better, baby?" I ask him. He nods as he pants, his face still tense. He hums his assent. "Good." I ease off him and stand to go to the kitchen.

This is my last night in Ohio. I'm sure I should be feeling something, but Mickey was here, and he's ... distracting.

He had helped me pack up the last of my things. Most of my clothes are in boxes to donate. The rest I packed in luggage I plan to check, excluding a couple outfits I kept in my carry-on, just in case. 

We sold my car and most of my furniture on one of those apps. Now there was nothing left but boxes, suitcases, and the bedding we piled on the floor of my living room to sleep in. This was it. We would be leaving to catch our flight around eleven.

I walk back over with the last of my juice. I kneel down onto the blankets and hand Mickey the glass. "Thank you," he says before taking a sip. I crawl into the covers and lie down beside him against the pillows. "So are you excited yet?"

I wasn't quite sure what I was feeling. "I think so."

He laughs and settles back into the makeshift bed. "You sure you want to do this? Last chance to change your mind."

I laugh. "Of course I am, Mickey. You should be the one wanting to back out." I press my lips to his.

"You should stop saying that," he scolds me, all while kissing me back.

I lean away and rest my head against the pillow. "You can ask me about it, you know."

"I know." He props his head against his fist. "But you don't seem to want me to."

"Mickey, I love you. The real, scary, forever kind of love. You're the only person I've ever wanted to talk to about it." I stare into his eyes and watch his brows furrow as he smiles. "Ask me anything."

His mouth twists as he hesitates. "Do you ... do you know the father?"

"Yes and no. He was my cousin's Colombian friend from college. I met him in Mexico on vacation with my dad," I admit. To be honest, I'm not even sure I remember his name. "I convinced myself I loved him, but he was just a boy."

"Just a boy?"

"Just a boy," I say and place a quick kiss to his lips. "He isn't important."

Mickey nods, but he doesn't look like his mind is made up. "You were fifteen, right?"

"When I had him, yes. Not when I got pregnant."

"You were fourteen? That's so young ..." He sighs. "Did he ... assault you?"