Deliciously Obedient by Julia Kent

storm up the small beach, rip her off Jeremy and beat the
ever-loving shit out of his best friend with his own ripped-off cock.
    And
while Mike had a fleeting moment of feeling like all of those men,
the man he truly was simply watched.
    And
learned.
    And
appreciated.
    Watching
Jeremy make love to a woman he himself had made love to wasn’t
exactly new. There’d been Dana most recently, and there was a
flowing sense of reasonableness and knowing in all their intimate
relations. The rush of watching Dana receive pleasure from both of
them, of knowing she was thoroughly and openly given whatever she
needed, was something he couldn’t explain in words. It just was .
Having Jeremy as the third—that the two men would find one woman
not to share, but to please —was as much a part of his
sexuality as having a cock and balls.
    He
was just that way.
    Jealousy
was saved for men who stepped in and tried to take what was his.
Lydia wasn’t his—and never really had been. One bad decision had
led to a domino topple of unimaginable proportions, and he’d asked
Jeremy to look out for Lydia in Iceland, knowing full well the
implications of what that might mean.
    Now
it was staring him in the face.
    Or,
rather, he was staring at its back and legs, hearing the groans of
release and Lydia’s restrained screams as she bucked against
Jeremy, his legs pulled up and used as leverage to thrust up into
her, the sight of the two of them so electrifying and grounding that
he could only watch.
    Not
react.
    As
they finished and hurried to pull their clothes back on, giggling as
lovers do, he paddled backward enough to hide. Lydia’s face was
animated and radiant, while Jeremy was joking and tender. Their
interactions were natural and loving. If he didn’t know how new
their relationship was, he’d have assumed they had been a couple
for a long time, more settled than they were.
    Watching
them make love hadn’t upset him.
    That thought did, though. Jeremy was finding something with Lydia that
Mike had touched, but never had the opportunity to explore. And now…
    What
now?
    A
strong wave set Mike’s kayak up in a rhythmic pattern in the choppy
waters, giving him a choice: fight the waves, or steel his core and
go with the flow until the wave subsided. The Michael Bournham of the
past ten years was a fighter.
    But
now?
    Which
Mike was he?

Chapter Three
    Lydia
watched her third consecutive episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway? with her father on one side of her, snuggled into Jeremy’s side
under a quilt her great-grandma had made, her sides aching from
laughing so hard. The morning’s wild sex—twice in an hour—was a
glowing memory, and after two lattes made on her dad’s new machine,
they’d settled in to watch the show at Pete’s urging.
    “ This
one! This is the skit I think you two should lead for the talent
show,” he said, pointing to some interaction involving invented
superheroes, requiring the improv actor to continue a skit in the
character of ridiculous, made-up superheroes.
    “ Overcaffeinated
Man!” Lydia shouted.
    “ The
Stamplicking Kid,” Pete added.
    “ No
one licks stamps any more,” Jeremy said, perplexed. “They’re
all stickers.”
    “ He’s
got a point, Dad,” Lydia said in response to Pete’s sad face.
    “ Okay,
how about the Amish Buggy Whipmaker Kid?” Pete grunted.
    “ Captain
Barnraiser!” Jeremy took a Superman pose and stroked an imaginary
beard. That got her dad to laugh, and gave Lydia a second to pause
and take it all in.
    Life
was good.
    Mike .
Every time she felt comfortable with Jeremy, or pushed away the chaos
of the last month or two, his name popped into her head. It used to
be Matt , her subconscious still at work sorting the deception
out. Now, though, her brain seemed to have finally integrated that
Mike was Matt.
    Mike .
    Self-sabotage
was never fun. Just as she shifted into a world of acceptance, and
just as she and Jeremy were forging a new level of their
relationship, Mike