by Alex Grayson
My answer doesn’t satisfy him. I can see it in his eyes. The anger his face carried before is still there, but he’s trying to keep it in check on my behalf.
Still, he nods, then settles down on the bed, rolling me to my side so my back is facing him. He reaches over me and flicks off the bedside light. His arms go around me and he pulls me back against his chest tightly. In this one moment, I feel normal. I don’t ever remember a time I’ve felt normal.
“I don’t let the guys I sleep with stay overnight,” I murmur into the darkness.
His arms tighten around me even further, and his face goes in my hair. His hot breath reaches my neck when he says, “Just try to make me leave.”
I can’t help the flutter in my stomach at his words. “So… you’re staying?” I ask hesitantly.
He kisses my neck. “Yes, I’m staying.”
It’s stupid. I should make him leave. Even if he is okay with my addiction, nothing can become of us. But I can’t force the words past my lips. I can’t make them form and leave my mouth. I’m glad he’s here. I have my friends. I know they love me and would be there for me any time I need them, but this, what I have right now with Blue, is something I’ve never had before, and I want to cherish it, even if it’s just for one night.
Chapter Nine
Colt
I lay with my arms wrapped around Abby’s shoulders, snuggling her against my chest. My other hand absently twirls a tendril of her hair around my finger. I’m staring out the window into the pinkening sky, thinking about what she revealed to me earlier. What she told me shocked the shit out of me, but now that I look back, I can see it. The way her face looked pained, her body tense, the sweats. It’s still shocking to believe. I’ve never known anyone with a sexual addiction, but I’ve heard it’s a very real issue that people deal with.
There’s still so many unanswered questions I have, but I needed time to think and take in what she said before I asked them. I hated that she automatically thought I would look at her with disgust. It’s not her fault her body demands a certain type of stimulation. And it pisses me off that others have. I could tell she’s been hurt in the past because of it, even before I asked her and she confirmed.
The story she told me about the motherfucker that forced himself on her had me seeing red. I wanted to demand his name. I wanted to hunt the bastard down and beat the living hell out of him. I wanted to haul her into my arms and tell her no one would ever hurt her like that again. But I knew I couldn’t. Abby is too strong and independent for something like that. I don’t think she would have appreciated my interference. So, I sat and listened to her story, my blood boiling hotter and hotter with each word she said.
I look down when she shifts in my arms, and see her looking up at me with sleepy eyes. Confusion fills her face for a brief second, before a stunning smile I’ve never seen on her face before takes over.
“Morning,” she mumbles, leaning down and placing a single kiss on my chest.
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Morning, baby. How did you sleep?”
“Mmm… Good. Especially considering I haven’t slept with anyone in years. You?”
A pain hits my chest. As much as I don’t like the thought of her sleeping with another man, I don’t like the reason she hasn’t, because it was done to protect herself even more.
I don’t tell her I didn’t sleep last night. I had too many things going on in my head for it to shut down.
“Well, I’m glad you chose me to do it with,” I tell her with a smile.
She stretches lazily, her bare chest pressing against my side, causing my dick to take notice. The woman is pure sex on legs. I knew that the first time I laid eyes on her at Blackie’s.
“What time is it?”
I pick up my phone from the nightstand and check the time. “Almost seven.”
She groans and tucks her face in my neck. “I gotta get up,” she grumbles.
I flip us around so I’m on my back, with her straddling my waist. We’re both still naked, so her soft flesh meets my hard cock, and it feels damn good.
“What time do you have to be at work?” I ask, running my hands up and down her sides.
Her eyes blaze as she rocks her hips against me. She’s already wet, so I easily slide along her folds. My hands creep up her ribs to tweak her nipples, and she moans deliciously.
“Nine.”
“You’ve got time then.” I watch as pleasure washes over her face. “I want you to work my cock first.”
She looks at me with half-hooded eyes. Licking her lips, she lifts her hips, angles my cock at her opening, and sits back down, taking the full length of me in her tight body.
Later that evening, I’m in the kitchen, checking the timer on the oven. Ten minutes and the food will be done. I check the time on my phone. Five more minutes until Abby is supposed to be here. Supposed to is the operative word. We started out having a great morning. She fucked me good and drained me dry. We both showered, where I fucked her good and made her legs weak. Then we ate a quick breakfast of bagels, slathered with cream cheese.
Then it all went to shit.
When I told her I wanted her to come to my house for dinner tonight, she clammed up. I don’t know why… maybe it’s a defense mechanism, to keep herself safe emotionally. She refused, which pissed me right the fuck off, because I knew she would need someone, and if I wasn’t with her, that someone wouldn’t be me. There’s no fucking way in hell I’m going to let her fuck another guy. That shit’s over with. When she needs someone to tame the cravings, it’ll be me, and only me.
Tamping down my temper, I eventually coaxed her into agreeing. But I could still see the doubt in her eyes. I don’t understand why she doesn’t want to give us a chance, but I plan to find out tonight. I’ve thought over her predicament and want to be the one that she calls on when she needs someone. I don’t doubt it’s going to be tough, maybe not in the beginning—after all, having sex with Abby at least once a day is no hardship at all. I’m going to love fucking her in every way possible, but I can see the problems it could cause in a relationship when someone depends on another to have sex with them. I know there may be some nights I can’t be with her, but when that time comes, we’ll work through it. I just want a chance to prove to her that we can make this work.
When the doorbell rings, I breathe out a sigh of relief and wipe my hands on the rag on the counter before going to let her in. As soon as I pull open the door, I don’t wait for her to say hello. I’m so damn pleased she actually showed up, I pull her forward with an arm around her waist and plant my lips solidly over hers. She gives a little squeak in surprise, but doesn’t protest, thank fuck. Her arms go around my neck, and her tongue meets mine halfway. She tastes so damn good—sweet, like bubble gum.
Pulling back, I thread my fingers through her hair with my palms on her cheeks.
“Thank you for coming.”
Her eyes look guarded, but I ignore it. She’ll come around.
Her gaze drops to my chin when she murmurs, “You’re welcome.”
Grabbing her hand, I pull her behind me and into the kitchen.
“Something smells good. What are we having?” she asks after taking a seat at the bar.
I move over to the oven, just as it starts beeping, and use an oven mitt to pull out the dish.
“Meatloaf. My mom’s recipe.”
Her brows raise in surprise. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the domestic type. I imagined you having a cook who prepared all your meals.”
Walking to the fridge, I pull out the salad I prepared earlier and set it beside the dishes holding the mashed potatoes and cooked carrots.
“Where did you get that assessment from?” I lean my hands against the bar opposite her, and wait for her answer.
She looks around the modern kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances, pan rack above the bar, granite countertops, top-of-the-line six burner stove, and huge side-by-side fridge, before looking back at me.
; “Look at this place. It’s huge, and screams ‘I have a lot of money and I don’t have time to care for it myself.’ Not to mention, you own your own company.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. We haven’t talked about what I do for a living. “Well, you’d be right. I don’t have time, but I don’t have a cook. I’d rather cook myself or order in.” I reach across the counter and tug an errant curl. “How do you know I own my own company?”
She bites her lip, before releasing it and admitting, “Nathan, the guy I was with that night at Blackie’s…” I nod. “He does security at Silver Technologies. He said you’ve been into the office a few times.”
“Ahh… so that’s where I know him from,” I remark. “I thought he looked familiar.”
She nods and gets up from her seat, making her way around the bar. “Do you need help with anything?”
“There’s some plates in that cabinet there.” I lift my chin, indicating the cabinet by the fridge. “And silverware in that drawer.” I point with the serving spoon I’m holding.
She grabs the necessary items and takes them to the table, while I put the meatloaf on a ceramic plate. Minutes later, we’re sitting at the table, our plates full of food.
“How was Lizzy today?” I ask after taking a bite of meatloaf.
“She was fine. She’s such a precious little girl. I think she’s starting to open up a bit more with the other kids. Her and Ashley, a girl a year older than her, seem to be getting close. They’re always together.”
“Good. We’re all worried about her. Some days are good for her, and some not so good.”
Abby takes a sip of her wine, then wipes her mouth with her napkin before placing it back on the table.
“Can I…” she stops and clears her throat. “Can I ask what happened?”
I set my fork down on my plate and rest back against my seat, rubbing my hands down my face. I hate talking about what happened, but if I open up about something so important, maybe that’ll give Abby the courage to do the same.
“My brother, Ben, died from a head-on collision five years ago.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her hand going to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Colt.”
The use of my name pleases me. I’ve noticed the few other times she’s used it; she was in a highly emotional state. This time was because she’s sad at what I’ve just told her. Her defenses are down.
I continue. “My sister-in-law didn’t take it so well. She had just gotten off the phone with him, after telling him she was pregnant. Our guess is he was trying to rush back home to her. The police said he never saw the car coming. The guy swerved in front of him at the last minute. He was thrown from the car, his neck breaking on impact when he hit the ground.”
Grief hits my chest hard at remembering my mother’s hysterical voice, telling me to get to the hospital, that Ben had been in an accident. None of us knew the damage done until we made it to the hospital.
“Lucy’s blood pressure rose to dangerously high levels, and she had to be admitted. That’s how we found out she was pregnant. She was in a severe depressive state during her entire pregnancy, blaming herself for Ben’s death. When Lizzy was born, she snapped out of it for a while, but it only lasted for six months. She started out using Nyquil to help her sleep at night, but when that didn’t help anymore, she moved to pills. Eventually, she started using stronger stuff. She hid it well for a while, but we ended up finding out when I went to visit and found her passed out on the floor, with Lizzy screaming her head off, sitting beside her.”
My hands ball into fists as I remember that day so clearly. I knew ten feet away from the front door that something was wrong. I could hear Lizzy’s cries and ran inside. Seeing Lizzy, her face red and soaked with tears, and Lucy lying on the floor like she was sleeping soundly, had fear freezing my blood. Rushing over, I felt for a pulse and thanked God when I found one.
“We spoke with Lucy once she came to in the hospital. She explained that she was having problems sleeping, and must have taken too much sleeping medicine. We were stupid when we believed her. She became distant from us and her own family, who were living in California. We’d still check on her from time to time, or when we would take Lizzy for a few days, but we never suspected it had gotten bad again. Lizzy always looked taken care of. Her clothes were clean, her weight was good, and she seemed like a happy baby. You could clearly see the love Lizzy had for her mom and Lucy had for her. She was a good mom.
“One day, several weeks back, my mom got a call from Lucy’s neighbor. Lizzy had somehow gotten out of the house and was wandering the street. Luckily, the neighbor saw her and had Mom’s number for emergency purposes. Lucy had overdosed on OxyContin, and was barely alive when the paramedics arrived. She’s in rehab now, and will be for the next six months. Come to find out, she had been doing drugs the whole time. We still don’t know how she managed to take care of Lizzy as well as she did. The only thing I can think of is she knew deep down that my brother was watching over her and would be heartbroken if something had happened to Lizzy. I think that Lizzy is the only thing that kept Lucy alive.”
Abby has tears traveling down her face by the time I’m done. She looks so sad. I hate that she looks that way, especially because I know she’s an incredibly strong woman who probably doesn’t show her emotions very often.
I get up from my seat, walk around to her, pick her up, and sit back down in her chair with her in my lap.
“I am so unbelievably sorry, Colt,” she says, sniffling and wiping at the tears spilling down her face. “And poor Lizzy. I can’t imagine what she must be going through. She’s too young to lose both of her parents like that.”
I wipe away the leftover tears she missed. “From what you and my mother say, she seems to be doing good. As much as we know it hurts her, not seeing her mom, we’ve kept her away from the rehab facility, but she does talk to Lucy on the phone every day. I think having that connection and making new friends at preschool helps.”
“How’s Lucy doing? Do you think she’ll get better?”
I nod, giving her a tender smile, trying to wipe away the sad look from her face. “Yes, I do. She loves Lizzy too much to not get better. Although, Lucy needs to do it for herself, or it’ll never work. I think Lizzy will be the one to show her that her life has more meaning than what she was giving it. That she may have lost my brother, but she gained a sweet little girl in return.”
“I hope she does.”
I lean forward and kiss her sweet lips. “Are you still hungry?”
She glances down at our forgotten food and pulls in a shaky breath, getting herself back under control.
“Yes.”
Another kiss to her lips, I get up and put her back down and retake my own seat. We eat and talk. I make sure things stay on a lighter note, because I know the conversation we’re going to have later will be heavy. I want to keep her in a good mood for as long as possible.
Once we’re finished eating, Abby insists she rinses and puts the dishes in the dishwasher, while I put the leftovers in containers and deposit them in the fridge. I grab another bottle of wine, and we both go into the living room. I noticed during dinner that Abby started getting fidgety, and a crease of pain pinched her forehead. Her legs bounced underneath the table, and her hands started wringing the napkin in her lap. I know it’s the cravings she’s starting to feel. I just don’t know why she hasn’t approached me yet. I should bring it up myself, but I want her to come to me. I want her to choose me.
I sit on one end of the couch, and Abby tries to sit on the other. Just before her ass meets the cushion, I reach over and pull her down until we’re both lying on the couch, me tucked against the back, with her head on my chest. I pull one of her legs over my thigh.
“You need to stop this pulling me everywhere. I go where I want to go, not where you want me to go,” she grumbles, but still snuggles next to me. I don’t miss how she presses her pelvis against my thigh, or the sharp inhale of breath she takes.
“You know you want to be right where you are. Why fight it?”
She pinches my side, but I laugh and grab her hand, bringing it up to my lips for a kiss.
My laughter dies down and my thumb makes circles on the small patch of exposed skin from her shirt riding up.
We lay in silence for several minutes, before I decide to break it.
“You said you get cravings every day. Do you have them all day?”
She traces the letters on my T-shirt as she says, “There’s a tiny twinge there all the time, but I can ignore it. It’s not until the evenings it gets bad.”
“Are you in pain now?” I ask.
“Yes, but it’s not so bad right now. It’ll start getting worse soon.”
I took note of the time while we were in the kitchen. It’s just past seven in the evening. I store this information away.
“Have you ever tried taking care of it yourself?”
She rubs her nose along my pec at the same time her hand goes underneath my shirt to settle on my stomach. Her hands against my bare flesh tries to distract me, and I have to force myself to focus on her answer.
“Yes, many times. It lessens it fractionally, but it comes back, and when it does, it’s worse than before. It’s like once I find that relief from myself, it makes my body hypersensitive, and needier.”
“Have you always lived here in Atlanta?”
Her hands stop moving and she tips her head back to look at me with confusion.
“Since I was an adult, yes?” She forms it as a question, like she’s not sure where I’m going.
“Do you ever sleep with the same guy more than once?”
I gather from her comment last night that she doesn’t let guys sleep over, that she also doesn’t like to sleep with the same guy more than once. But that’s difficult to believe. There are a lot of guys in Atlanta, but there’s not so many she could sleep with a different one every night for eight years straight.
“That would be pretty damn impossible not to do, Blue,” she answers with irritation in her voice. “No, I don’t like sleeping with the same guys for fear they may get attached, but there are some nights I need to. I just try to put a lot of time in between.