Page 42 of Reckless Love

Chapter 15

Iwatched Leo sleep for at least ten minutes. His breaths were so even and his face so relaxed. It was a wonderful thing to absorb. My goal was to one day be as peaceful as he appeared in sleep. Instead I woke with my head spinning.

Be a good girl.

Fuckhow I loved it when he said that. It got me hot and purring like a kitten every damn time. But every morning after, my heart pounded with anxiety. The kind of anxiety that clawed at my throat. Who was this woman that got off on such dirty talk? Who came at the command of a man? Why did I love role-play so much?

I crossed my legs and stroked Leo’s hair as I thought. It was always the same,whether it was men, the club, or Leo, I became a different person when I slipped into the role of sex kitten. In the safety of that world I could trust. I could give. I could let my mind wander down roads that it otherwise never felt safe wandering down.

So why the anxiety? Understanding that was the million dollar question.

When I was little we’d go to church on Sunday. Early. We’dtake our lessons then shake hands and gather, listen to the sermon while sitting prominently near the front, then spend the next hour mingling. There was more handshaking. More appearances. More favors. My father was important and celebrated despite his deplorable treatment of his wives. His divorces were forgiven, his mistresses overlooked. His unscrupulous business choices apparently had nothingto do with his goodness. In one room I was told sex was bad and shameful, that my virginity was precious and valuable—the most valuable part of me. Not my mind, not my heart, not my potential contributions to society.

No, it was virginity.

My virtue.

My purity.

All while my father was celebrated in the next room. His virginity, virtue, and purity were not factors. Hismoney however...that seemed to be quite important. Perhaps it was there that I began studying humanity, analyzing the inconsistencies of our values, researching the true meaning beneath the fancy words.

Analysis for me always began with stripping away the window dressing. It’s only there to make things pretty, anyway. Then I discarded the distractions. They’re only there to keep youfrom seeing the truth. I scrape away the layers until I’m left with only the most basic elements. In my research that often ends with the simple question:Who were these people and what did they need?Occasionally I follow that up withWhat did they want?Because desire so often explains the break between what peoplesaythey do and what theyactuallydo.

Who were these people I grew upwith and what did they need?

What did they want?

The simple answer was power and control, something they got by keeping my father happy and shaming everyone else into behaving. Their needs for love and comfort, their natural instinct to seek love and comfort in another, pinched out of existence. Sex was a sin.

But when I stripped myself down to my most basic level my needsdidn’t look like sin.

I needed to be loved. I needed to matter.

When I followed the rules I felt pointless. What good was a life lived to serve someone else, devoid of love, comfort, and belonging?

If my most basic need was to be loved then I would find that comfort in any way I could. My search for purpose led me down many paths, joined me with many beautiful, wonderful people.My love for them knew no bounds and the gift they gave me was literally what kept me alive in my darkest hours. I’d rather be a sinner who knew love than an angel who didn’t matter.

The confirmation that this was the right choice came in the form of Leo Hancock. When I stripped away my research, my classes, my daily life, when I stripped away my past and my family, when it was just me nakedwith Leo, I felt the truth of life down to my bones.

I’d given myself to many others but it was only with Leo that I was truly vulnerable and genuinely safe. He loved me as he loved my body, with reverence and tender fascination. He sought to know all of me, to anticipate my needs, to understand how each word or touch changed me, and used that knowledge to enrich my life, not control it.

Thiswas love. This act of intimacy was so pure and innocent. It was meant entirely to make theotherfeel loved.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice was rough from sleep and very sexy.

“Do you like the kinds of sex we have?”

His eyes popped open and zeroed in on me. “Of course.” Then he waited for me to explain.

“I like it too. I love it, actually. It’svery freeing.”

He rolled to his side, trying to shake his sleepiness away. I got distracted by his naked torso and wound up running my hands down the muscles of his body until they disappeared under the covers.

“Careful, Esme.”

“I am being careful.” I pushed the sheet aside. His cock was already hard in my hand—probably a case of morning wood—so I indulged the flash of desirethat passed through me. I wrapped my mouth around his cock, sucking him all the way down until he kissed the back of my throat. The combination of sensations made Leo groan and my core to flutter.

Why? Was it because of the pressure of his head on my soft palate, or was it because I was doing something to him that gave him pleasure, or something else altogether?

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