Matt was feeling frantic now. Had Aoife been hurt? His fault if she was. He had sent her to that place. He didn’t even know where to find her. He checked his personal phone but there were no messages. He asked his receptionist to reschedule all his appointments. His ward rounds would just have to wait.
For the first time, Matt doubted his techniques. He wondered if he had been wrong to be so exacting with Aoife. She was in trouble and the first thing she should have done was call him, but she didn’t. Had he let her down that badly? He called Fiona. She had heard from Aoife early that morning. Just some sort of vague text apologising for all her past misdemeanours and asking her if they could meet up some time soon. She had no knowledge of any incident. He hoped against hope that Aoife would have made her way back to his apartment and he headed there.
She was asleep on the sofa, white as a ghost, with a nasty black eye beginning to take shape. Matt wanted to get his hands on the bastard that had done that to her so badly, his fists ached from the tension. He got his duvet from his bed and covered her gently, taking care not to wake her. Judging by the state of her injuries, he figured no doctor would allow her to leave unmedicated, so he figured she would sleep for a while. But he hoped heat would prolong her rest, masking her discomfort and helping her to heal. Tenderly, he moved some stray hairs back off her face. Aoife stirred and moaned. Whatever pain relief she had been given, it didn’t seem to be enough. But all he could do was wait.
Half an hour was forever to him as he sat on the hard wooden floor beside the sofa. Sure, he could have sat in the armchair opposite, but he didn’t want to be that far away. He deserved his body to feel cold and numb—he had caused this. He, and his stupid boot camp. If he’d had any compassion, he would have seen how excited she had been that morning at the prospect of freedom. He would have told her to take the day off from the rehab. But no! Matt had been so annoyed that she was looking forward to leaving him that he didn’t want her to enjoy the thought of it. He’d put his ego ahead of Aoife’s excitement, and now she was paying the price. There was no point in dressing any of it up in trying to do the right thing. He had taken Aoife on to prove his stupid idea that hard discipline solved everything. He’d backed her into a corner many times, pushing her as hard as he could to prove he was right. But never once had he listened to her or comforted her. Even when Paul Smith had tried to tell him that she had a lot of history to work out, Matt had chosen to push ahead with his rigorous program, and shut out any urge to listen to her. He wasn’t going to go soft on her—not when he had a point to prove.
What if something worse had happened to her, what if she had been permanently incapacitated or worse, killed? There would have been very cold comfort in thinking he had been doing it for her own good. Not much point in her being cured from her self-destructive pattern only to be pushing up daisies as a result of his so-called therapy. Matt recalled his excitement when he had realised he’d attained the ridiculously high results in his exams to get awarded the much coveted college place in medicine in University College Galway. Back then he had been so sure he would put it to the noblest of uses. He would save the needy. He would spend some of each year in the third world, gifting his skills to the neediest of the needy. He would make a difference.
He did follow through for a time, spending every moment he could with Medicines Sans Frontiers. And he’d loved every minute of it. But more and more, he had allowed himself to get sucked into the earning culture. And when the people of the British Isles showed less gratitude than those less fortunate, Matt decided they were spoiled and pampered. The casualty department in a London hospital tended to offer the worst of the worst, drunken and drug-fuelled injuries on people who were aggressive and demanding. He stopped seeing the person beyond that drunken night. He had stopped listening. He had stopped being a good doctor. Or a good man. He was thoroughly ashamed as he came to know himself through these new eyes.
Aoife turned and whimpered. Her eyes flickered open and closed again. It was obvious she was in pain but he didn’t want to disturb her—sleep was the best medicine and he was sure she’d had some painkillers. He was surprised by her bruising that she hadn’t been admitted. Her face was already swelling; it would be a lot worse the following day. He was glad it was a couple of weeks until she returned to her normal job. After being suspended, they would surely have seen those bruises as the result of some drunken or doped-up misadventure. She turned again and this time she woke up. Her eyes were like a frightened deer when she saw him sitting on the floor, her recognition function dulled by sleep and trauma, and quite possibly medication. She screamed and her body shook with fear.
“Hey, it’s only me—Matt. Are you okay?” He touched her hand gently.
“Christ, you scared me. Yeah, I’m okay. Sore. Sorry I missed my appointment.” Her breath was still ragged. She was clearly pretty traumatized by the events of the day. Matt prayed it didn’t set her back, not now. Much as he would like her to stay with him for longer, he would hate it to be because she had a relapse. He wanted her by choice, not coercion. Even though, he had to admit, choice was unlikely.
“I think you’ll be forgiven under the circumstances. What medication have you had?”
“Paracetamol. They gave me Xanax, but I didn’t want to take it. I was afraid to.”
“It would relax you. Help you sleep better. You should have been sent to the hospital.”
“I wouldn’t go. When I said I was staying with you, they didn’t push it.”
“Nice to know I’m of some use to you,” he said wryly.
“Maybe now is a good time to say just how much use you’ve been. Thank you, Matt. I really couldn’t have done this on my own. You were exactly what I needed at that time. Even if I did fight it. Fiona too. She was right to pull the plug.”
He was speechless. She was lying there injured because of his idea of harsh therapy and yet she was thanking him. Aoife had certainly come a long way since the day he first brought her home. He rose and kissed her forehead before swooping her up and carrying her to bed.
“You’ll sleep better here,” he told her before leaving her to run to the deli for some soup and soft rolls.
He knew Aoife was actually more mentally hurt than physically. Sure, she had a black eye coming her way, but that was as a result of a blow to her nose, and looked a damn sight worse than it was likely to feel. Her nose would be tender for a couple of days, but it didn’t look broken, just a little swollen. She seemed to be getting sufficient pain relief from Panadol. It could have been so much worse. When he thought of what could have happened, he felt physically ill. He really wanted to kill the bastard who had done it, but then he remembered the real bastard was him.
When he returned, he managed to coax her to have soup and use a cold compress on her nose and eye. But she wouldn’t give in on a tranquilizer. Part of him was proud of her for that, but he wished she would take it, just so she could sleep, the best medicine of all. The soup warmed her and sated her hunger, but he knew she felt violated and vulnerable. He could tell by the way she kept trying to cover up every inch of her that was exposed, even her forearms. He filled a bath for her; the symbolic washing away of the trauma would help her brain, while the heat of the bath would work its magic on soothing her shocked body. But when he led her to the bathroom, even though he had seen her naked many times, she couldn’t bring herself to undress in front of him and he had to leave.
He made her promise to leave the door unlocked, and in return he promised he wouldn’t enter unless she called for him, as long as she was out within the half hour. Once again he sat on the hard floor and waited, constantly listening out for sounds that proved she was awake and well. She didn’t leave him too long, and within fifteen minutes she emerged wrapped in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She climbed back into bed, with her hair soaking, and discarded the towel on the floor. He grabbed her brush and hairdryer from the dressing table. With absolutely no clue what he was at from Adam, Matt McDaid sat h
er up on the bed and turned hairdresser as he brushed out Aoife’s beautiful blue-black locks and then switched on the hairdryer. He tossed her tresses about in his fingers, encouraging them to dry quickly while Aoife just sat back on the bed and let it happen. He then told her to lie down and tucked her in like a small child, kissing her on the forehead.
“I’m so sorry, I should have let you take the morning off. Try to get some rest and I’ll reschedule Paul. You’ll get your freedom cards, I promise.” He left her phone beside her, telling her to text or ring him in the living room if she needed anything at all and then left her to sleep.
When he started to nod off on the sofa, Matt forced himself to get up and go to bed. He checked in on Aoife for about the tenth time and she was still sleeping peacefully. He brought his phone just in case.
A loud piercing cry forced its way into his consciousness. Matt leapt out of bed and ran to Aoife’s room. She was sitting bolt upright, and although she had stopped screaming, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“Nightmare?” he asked. Aoife nodded. He sat on the bed beside her as she told him how the events of the morning had unfolded. Aoife began trembling as she recalled the horrors.
“Matt, will you stay with me tonight? Please?” It wasn’t the request of a seductive temptress, but the desperate plea of a very frightened young woman, a woman he cared for deeply.
“Shove over in the bed,” he replied, climbing under the duvet. He lay down and tucked himself around her, her back to him. Aoife started talking, talking about all the things she had said to Paul. Stuff she had hidden from him for years. As Matt listened, his heart ached for the little girl who had been deprived her happy childhood because of learning disabilities and parents who just didn’t get it. When she fell asleep, safely tucked in his arms, Matt knew he never wanted to let her go.
Matt woke first. He felt his cock react to the glory of the soft curves he was wrapped around and his first thought was to get the hell out of the bed. Aoife had been violated enough, she didn’t need to wake up to an octopus grabbing a feel wherever he could. But as he moved away slowly, Aoife’s bottom seemed to follow him, missing the heat of his body. He was nearly out over the edge when she spoke.
“Don’t leave me. Hold me. Please.” With her words, every intention of doing the right thing drained from his body and when she pushed back into him, pressing her beautiful bottom against his erection, he was lost. He kissed the back of her neck and Aoife’s response was to move her hair so he could get at it more easily. She shimmied out of her panties. Matt knew what she wanted was to feel alive. He could do that. But could he do it and emerge unscathed? That he very much doubted. Every time he let down the barriers, she got under his skin more and more.
“What do you want me to do, Aoife?” He knew the answer, but he needed her to say it, to ask for it. Because already he felt he had crossed too many lines. Her silent consent wasn’t enough.
“Fuck me, Matt. Make me feel wanted.”
“Wanted? I’ve wanted you for years. But are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Matt didn’t need another invitation, but he did need the bathroom, and to go condom hunting. He wasn’t even sure if he had any. Both her tests and his own regular six-month tests had come back clear and she was using the coil, but it was his job to act responsibly, especially after all the lectures he had given her about her sexual health. When he returned, armed with condoms, he slipped back in beside her, savouring her warmth and softness. She was lying on her side, facing him.
“Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them,” he told her. This was for her. He was going to make Aoife feel good. If she had freedom to roam, she would feel obliged to reciprocate. With a light whimper of pleasure, Aoife obliged without argument.
“Don’t move them, or I’ll spank you.” His words had the desired effect. He’d seen the effect of spanking on her, and while her rational mind railed up against it, her body, as always proved so susceptible to it. Her hips made an involuntary, inviting wiggle, pressing against his groin. He moved his hand, first stroking her beautiful, full breasts. The nipples peaked and tensed at the first touch. He lightly flicked his thumb over first one, then the other and he heard the small groan she tried to stifle. He played them until her breathing became laboured and erratic. Then he trailed his hand slowly down, tickling lightly, then massaging, then stopping as he found her neatly trimmed mound. He breathed in deeply. He had just attained Nirvana and he was in no hurry to get out of there. First he slipped his index finger through the moist, silky slit. She felt so warm and welcoming that he had to restrain himself and force his finger to work that stiff erect nub. He was dying to probe farther, deeper, but he knew he needed to savour it. Both for her and him. Dammit, he had waited so long; he didn’t want it to be over too soon.
But fuck, when she pressed her pleasure point against his finger, she made it so hard for him to show restraint. He knew if he urged on, she would hungrily suck his fingers right into her core. And damn, he wanted to do just that. But he forced himself to circle her nub, which was alive and practically jumping in his hand. He alternated soft and firm pressure until her moaning told him she was on the edge, then he applied even firmer pressure, feeling her legs straighten and tense and her torso become momentarily rigid before becoming totally relaxed with a loud moan.
“Now, Matt,” she pleaded, widening her legs and greedily grabbing his cock with one of her hands. But he was only starting.
“Uh oh, I told you to keep your hands still; place them above your head now. Move them again and I will tie them,” Matt said.
Aoife just moaned more pleasure as he rolled her onto her tummy. He raised her hips on top of a couple of pillows, positioning her delectable rump at its maximum advantage. God, how he wanted to eat that ass. He leaned down and nipped it with his teeth. Then he spanked her bottom firmly but without intentions of causing real pain. Aoife raised her buttocks, welcoming the slaps that he rained down rapidly. She grabbed the top of the headboard, and he knew it was so she wouldn’t give into the temptation of reaching back.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Matt reminded her. But he didn’t expect it, not the way her body was lapping it up. To his amazement, her body started to tense as it had only moments earlier. He wondered if spanking could push her over the edge and fascinated, he proceeded to test it by alternating smacks and rubbing. As his hand slammed down in his hardest blow yet, Aoife came, screaming, caught in that wonderful world of pain and pleasure combined.
Her folds were all creamy when he touched them again and her nub had swollen to a massive, responsive centre of electricity. Each touch sent jolts through her. He remembered her response to anal manipulation and he tentatively rubbed her back hole. Aoife responded by opening up for him and his brain and cock went into overload. He had no doubt she would let him penetrate her fully, properly. But not this time. She needed to be treated carefully now. With a finger moistened by an abundance of her own juices, he pressed his thumb past the tight ring, to the sounds of her welcoming groans as she eased his entry by pressing back against him. Using his fingers, he manipulated her clit and within seconds, Aoife came again, her tight hole closing in around his thumb, seeking her pleasure there. He felt each spasm of her climax as she continued to grab onto his thumb, each jerk of her hips was met by a spasm in her anus and the climax seemed to go on and on.
He was so definitely going there next time.
Removing his finger, he rolled Aoife around, moving her hands back by her sides. Much as he would have loved to take her from that aesthetic angle giving him access to her beautiful behind, he wanted to see her while they made love. Yes, he was very definitely making love with her. He had waited too many years for it to be anything less.
She looked so beautiful with her flushed cheeks and shining eyes. His eye caught sight of the bruise on her cheek, spreading right to her eye, purple in the centre, but already fading and going green and brown around the edges. He touche
d it very gently.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked. Aoife shook her head.
“No, forget it, it’s fine. Honestly.” She moved her head and kissed his fingers, then nipped lightly. He brought his mouth down on hers and probed with his tongue, savouring the taste he had so long yearned. While their mouths danced he managed to get between her legs and her hands greedily pulled his boxers away, finding his erect shaft. Matt exhaled loudly as her soft hands took a firm grip on his member, massaging it up and down and twisting it round. He had to have her. Right now. He almost forgot to stop and roll on the condom. As soon as he was sheathed, he pushed in to her sweet, sweet chamber. Aoife was soaking and even with the condom creating its barrier, he pushed in with ease. Her hips arched to grab him deeply. He was in heaven. His arousal was at such a point he was almost afraid to move for a moment or two until he adjusted to the pleasure. He couldn’t but be grateful for the condom helping him to keep it together, had he felt that wetness bare, he knew he would have been lost. Out of control.
Aoife thrust her hips greedily, urging Matt to up the pace, but he kept it slow for a few minutes, savouring her. She smelled great, tasted great, and felt fan-fucking-tastic. He felt her fingernails scoring his back, pulling him in tighter, and he withdrew a little and slammed his cock in hard, repeating it over and over. He could feel her pussy pulsate around him.
“Come for me. Now,” he ordered. And his words seemed to set off an avalanche as she tightened and throbbed around his cock.
Don’t come yet, don’t come yet, he instructed his overeager member. He tried thinking about work, but the only image that came to mind was that of Aoife blindfolded on his examination couch and that definitely was not helpful. He started thinking of putting out the trash and held his breath waiting for her spasms of orgasm to subside. He exhaled with relief, having survived round one.
The Right Treatment Page 9