Page 16 of Motivating Mira
I motioned for her to roll the window down and she quickly obeyed, although she didn’t look happy about it.
“What happened to following doctor’s orders, Miss. Wilcox?”
She pressed her lips, her face flushing pink, but her eyes seemed to darken with a tell-tale need.
Three
Mira
I stared at his handsome face—his questioning gaze, as he looked down at me through my window. My heart thundered against my ribs. The look he was giving me was tame right now, but far more serious than it had been in the hospital. I wanted to tell him it was none of his concern what I was doing. But I was sort of trapped measuring the arch of his eyebrow, the curve of his frown and the depth of his eyes. I knew this look. I could draw it from memory.
Glancing at his square jawline, I looked for tightness. A firmly clenched jaw meant I was in big trouble vs a relaxed one which meant there was time to negotiate before he made any decisions about what he would do to me.
I straightened, reminding myself that information was moot. I wasn’t his submissive. I was no one’s submissive. Well, I was Rawhide’s but that was a place not a person, so it was safe.
Speaking of safe, being near him wasn’t. It made my heart feel both inflated and crushed all at the same time. Because I wished more than anything, that he’d scoop me into his arms, take me back to Rawhide, and make me hisGirlieagain.
But wishes weren’t meant to come true, and what Ineededwas for him to stop being all Daddy-Dom-like and bossy before I damn well crumbled.
Crumbling wasn’t an option. And neither was going back to being his Girlie. I didn’t do Daddy-Doms anymore. I only played with the Doms who wanted a weekend partner, or a scene or two, nothing lasting, no strings and no sex.
At one time though, he’d been all I’d wanted.
Reaching down to the floor, I grabbed my book, smacking it onto the seat next to me. I didn’t need the reminder of how weak that made me—my mother had proved that to me a year ago.
“I promised myself when I brought you into this world with no one at my side, I would be here for you always. That I’d take care of you. But somewhere along the road, I made a mistake. I took away your ability to take care of yourself.”
“I don’t need someone to take care of me, Mom. I’m a fully functioning adult. We’ve been over this.”
“Then why was Josh taking care of you?"
“He wasn’t. I paid half the bills, took care of the house, and went to work. And I don’t want to talk about that jerk. It was the worst time of my life.”
She snorted and it was so unlike her. “You called him sir, right? He made all the decisions? Spanked you when you disobeyed him?”
I was speechless. Humiliated and speechless. My mouth opened and closed, and my face flushed so hot I broke out in a sweat.
“That’s … that’s not what that was!” I protested.
“I’m not stupid, Mira. When we went to Florida on vacation, the walls were thin. I overheard him scoldingyou for overspending and then I heard him spank you like a naughty child.” Her fists had landed on her hips.
“It was sexual.” I swallowed hard. “A game we played.”
“A game? Why did he control everything all the time then?” She shook her head. “People don’t play sex games twenty-four-seven, Mira. And even if so… why is it when your relationship ended, you came back to me, jobless, homeless and broken?” She huffed angrily. “Fully functioning adult my ass.”
My eyes went wide. Who was this woman? She never talked like this. Where was my sweet, caring, and over-protective mother?
“Because—” I threw up my hands, ignoring the way my stomach roiled and churned from her observations. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m in school like you wanted, rebuilding my life, and I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t even paint much now.” In my head, I wasn’t so convinced though. Because I lived, worked, and went to school at a BDSM ranch. A place where if I screwed up, I was punished, not kicked out, fired, or failed. It was like doing life with a safety net.
“Mira, I have cancer.”
I choked on whatever I was about to say next and when she said her next sentence, I collapsed to my knees.
“It’s terminal. Six months is all they’ve given me.”
Tears streaming down my face, I begged her to tell me she was lying. That this was some lesson she was trying to teach me. But no, it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t a lesson. It was a cruel truth.
Finally spent and unable to shed another tear, I asked, “Mom, what can I do for you? What do you need?”
