by Alex Grayson
Tears spring to my eyes, and I let them fall on the table. I’m so tired of fighting this. I miss my family so damn much. I could really use their strength right now. But I’m still so afraid to tell them. Afraid they’ll look at me with something other than pure love.
“I know,” I whisper. “Just give me time to think. I promise I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee anything, okay?”
She lets out a relieved sigh, and it makes me feel like shit all over again. I know I’ve put a strain on my family, and the guilt plagues me.
“Okay.”
I lift my head and change the subject. This is the first time I’ve talked to Nina since our mom told me the news about her being pregnant.
“Tell me about the baby.” This time, I’m able to inject some cheeriness into my voice.
Her laugh is strangled at first, but then it comes through with a giddiness that I needed to hear from her right now. Although she’s hesitant at first, like she’s worried about my reaction, she tells me all about the baby. How she believes with certainty that it’s a girl, and she thinks it was conceived the night of her and Jeremy’s anniversary. Last week, they heard the heartbeat for the first time, and both her and Jeremy cried the entire time. She’s already started buying baby items, even though she still has well over seven months before she’s due.
I’m proud of myself, because while she’s talking, I manage to rein in my emotions at knowing Nina is finally getting the one thing I’ve always wanted. I’m truly happy for her, but I can’t help but feel sadness and jealousy, which only fuels hatred for myself.
After a promise from me to think about coming clean about my problems to my family, and a promise from her to get our mom off my back for a while, we hang up. My legs are wobbly when I stand up, but I lock my knees to hold me up as I make my way to the shower. I glance down at my phone and note the time. Right now is when Nathan would normally be getting here. I have an hour to wait.
I can do this. I can do this. I repeat the mantra in my head over and over again, as I strip down to take a cold shower. I’ve done it before, but I’ve never purposely went this long without having sex with someone. Thanks to Colt, my body is a mixture of confused emotions. On the one hand, the chemicals in my brain makes my body still need the release only a man can give it, but it also revolts at just the thought of another guy touching it. And my heart and mind want nothing to do with another man’s touch. Even the thought is abhorrent to me, and makes the nausea worse. I’m so fucked-up in so many ways, and I haven’t the first clue as to how to get it back on track.
The cold water helps to bring down my higher body temperature, but I force myself to get out before it brings it down too low, before it leaves me a crumbling mess on the floor. The cramps are worse by the time I get out, and my trembling turns into shaking. The nausea is setting in, and I know it won’t be long before I’m incoherent.
I slip on my night shorts and tank top, and force my weak legs to carry me to the bed. The ache between my legs is telling me to leave my apartment and hunt down a willing man to take away the pain. I force the want away, and instead, sit on the bed and pull open my nightstand drawer. Pulling out the bottle of pills that my doctor gave me over a year ago, I notice I’m almost out. The normal dose is one pill, and I’ve been taking three a night. It’s the only thing that helps. It knocks me on my ass, just enough for me to sleep through the pain. I may sleep restlessly, and it’s filled with dreams of Colt taking me, but when I wake in the mornings, the pain is strangely gone for the most part. It lingers, but I’m fully functional.
This has been my reality since last weekend. The pills and Nathan have been the only thing that’s saved me the last few days. I know I should force myself to just go out and find an available man, but every time I even think about it, pain radiates through my chest, leaving me feeling like I’m being stabbed repeatedly. I just can’t do it. I know I’ll have to eventually, but I’m not ready yet. My body and heart still want Colt, even knowing they can’t have him.
I try not to think about what I’m going to do once I run out of the pills. I’ll either be forced to go back to my doctor, or forced to go out and seek relief. I hate even knowing I’m abusing the pills like I am, but I don’t really have a choice at the moment.
I’m becoming a fucking pill popper. I feel disgust at the thought.
My hands shake uncontrollably as I open the water bottle. Dribbles of water slip down my chin when I take a swallow, leaving my tank top wet. Capping the bottle, I set it on the nightstand and crawl in bed until my back meets the headboard. I wrap my arms around my waist and rock back and forth, as time slowly creeps by.
I whimper and moan when the pain gets worse. I clench my jaw when the shakes get so bad my teeth want to chatter. I dig my nails into my thighs when the need to find release tries to take hold. Tears slip down my face when the ache in my center becomes far past unbearable. I squeeze my eyes shut when the pounding in my head becomes so loud, I can’t hear anything but the thump thump thump.
Colt.
I haven’t seen or heard from him in what feels like five lifetimes. He hasn’t tried calling or stopping by. He said he wasn’t giving me up, but it feels like he has. I should be grateful he’s making it easy on me. I’m not sure I could have turned him away if he had shown up during one of my meltdowns. Instead of being relieved he hasn’t tried pushing me, I feel a deep-rooted pain that he, obviously once he’s thought about it, came to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth it after all.
I go through this every night, and every night I wonder if I made a mistake in ending things between us. But then I think about all the pain and worry I would inadvertently be putting him through, and realize that yes, I did do the right thing.
And just like every night, my moans become cries of pain, not only for the ache in my body, but the soul-shattering pain I feel in my heart.
Please, God, help me through this.
Chapter Fifteen
Colt
I quietly pull the front door closed behind me and head straight for the hallway that’ll lead me to Abby’s room. It’s dark and quiet when I enter. My eyes briefly land on the man that’s silently sitting in a chair in the far corner, before settling in on the woman lying on the bed, unknowingly scissoring her legs, trying to relieve the ache between them. Little whimpers leave her lips, sending icy pricks of pain to my stomach.
“How is she?” I ask Nathan, as I peel my shirt over my head.
He unfolds his body from the chair, comes to stand at my side, and we both look down at Abby. I’ve been here every night since the night she ended things between us. She doesn’t know it, and would probably freak the fuck out if she did, but there is no way I’m going to let her go through this pain if there’s a way I can stop it. Nathan was reluctant at first to agree to my plan, but when he saw her crying in her sleep, knowing there was nothing else that could be done, he relented. I always make sure I’m gone before she wakes up. She may have thought she broke things off, but that’s the very last thing she did. I’m just biding my time until it’s the right time to come clean. Her supply of pills is dwindling, so I know it won’t be long before I have to confess my sins. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll have to get over it.
I love this girl too damn much for it to end for something like this. Yes, it’s a huge deal, but not so huge we can’t overcome it.
“The same as every night this week,” Nathan says quietly beside me. “You’re running out of time. You need to tell her.”
“I know.” My eyes land briefly on the pill bottle on her nightstand.
He doesn’t say anything else, for some reason trusting I know what I’m doing, and silently slips out the door. I look over my shoulder and watch it close behind him. To be honest, I haven’t the first clue what I’m doing. I just know that I refuse for Abby to do this alone. She has Nathan and her friends, but they don’t have what she needs.
I pull the rest of my clothes off and slip under the sheets behind her. Guilt
tries to push its way in, but I don’t let it. I know what I’m doing isn’t traditional, and may seem too taboo for some to grasp, but when in a situation like this, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish what I need accomplished. And that’s helping Abby.
I pull her fevered, but clammy body against mine, and she instantly relaxes. She always does. Her body knows I’m here, even if her mind is numb from the pills. Guilt festers again when she rubs her ass against my hard cock, but again, I push it away.
“Colt,” she murmurs in her sleep. Her whispered murmurs of my name and her body melting against mine is the only reason I allow myself to take her while she’s sleeping. Had she not known it was me, I wouldn’t. I would be stuck by her bedside, slowly dying inside, while I watched her suffer.
“I’m here, Abby,” I whisper against her temple, knowing she’ll hear me, but not wake up.
“Mmm…”
She lifts her leg, and I slip my cock against her opening, not sliding inside yet. There’s one more thing I wait for from her before I take her.
“Abby, do you want this? Do you want my cock inside you?” I ask the same question I’ve asked her every night this week. I know it’s sneaky, and she doesn’t really know what she’s saying, but I still need to hear her give me permission.
“I need you, Colt,” she whimpers sleepily, giving me the same answer she always does.
I slip one arm between her and the mattress, and wrap it around her waist, while gripping her hip with the other. I rock my hips forward until I’m firmly planted inside her. Her ass meets my pelvic bone, and we both moan in unison, the pleasure gripping us both instantly. The snug feeling of her wrapped around me has my body already tightening up, and I have to force my release back. I bend my knees and rest her raised leg on top of one of mine. I gently make love to her in her drug-induced state, hating that’s it’s come to this, but secretly loving that I’m the only man that can give her body what it needs. Nathan’s told me she refuses to go out to meet new men. When I found this out, I had to restrain myself from doing a fucking fist pump, like some damn teenage fool.
I slowly rock my hips forward as I pull her back to me. It’s the only time she’s allowed me to make love to her. When she’s awake, she wants it fast and rough, like she’s afraid her body won’t get enough if she isn’t taken roughly. I relish these moments more than I should.
I kiss along her neck and shoulders, and she moans as I do so. Her nails dig into my forearms and her breaths come out in pants. She sleeps the entire time, but a part of her still knows I’m here. I don’t know if she’s dreaming, but she still participates, as if she’s merely too exhausted and can barely move.
I move my hand to flick my finger against her clit, earning me another sweet moan. Knowing I could be giving myself away if she were to notice it, but not caring, I lick along the back of her neck and latch my lips and teeth and suck greedily, leaving behind a mark. My own body starts to tremble and shake with pleasure. I want so badly to flip her to her back and take her as I look into her stunning green eyes. I want to kiss her lips softly, and murmur sweet words of love and devotion. I want to feel her legs wrapped around my hips, and have her hands run down my back. I’m every bit into fucking rough as the next man, but sometimes, you need to take your time and cherish the person you’re with. During these times when I take her, I love our slow movements.
It never takes either of us long to reach our peak, but I always make sure she’s pushed over the edge first. She shudders in her sleep, her pussy spasming around my cock, and I follow behind her, catching the last of her orgasm as mine begins. She always moans deep in her throat when she feels the warmth of my cum filling her.
Her sigh of relief loosens the tight grip around my heart. She relaxes against me, her trembling subsides, and her breathing evens out more, telling me she’s fallen into a deeper sleep than she was before due to her body’s demand not being met. I gently run my hands down her side, kissing the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. These are the only times I get to see and feel her, so I take full advantage. Her smell intoxicates me. She may be addicted to sex, but I’m addicted to her, and I don’t want to be cured of it. Lying with her cradled in my arms, even if she doesn’t realize it, settles a huge weight in my chest. I need these times to help me get through the day.
It was almost two in the morning when I got here. Now it’s going on three. I normally leave about this time, just to be on the safe side, but I don’t want to leave yet. The drugs will start wearing off soon, so I can’t stay much longer, but I need a few more minutes.
Getting up on an elbow, I look down at the beauty laying before me. I brush the hair away from her face and just watch as she sleeps. If doing this, watching her sleep without her knowledge is wrong, then being right is way overrated. The light from the cracked bathroom door gives just enough light to show off her cute little pout. Her thick lashes lay against her cheeks, and I’m grateful to see the sheen of sweat and the flushed look are gone. She always looks content after I’ve taken her, and there is no better feeling than knowing I do that for her. I relieve her body of the ache it has. It’s me that helps her throughout the night.
Through Nathan, I know that her days are a lot better than what they would be if I didn’t come to her, but she still looks tired by the time he gets here in the evening. I don’t like knowing he sees her in a state of such desperation, especially the cause of her anxiety, but if I can’t be here, I’m glad someone she knows is, even if Nathan told me that he would fuck her if she asked. I know she won’t ask. She seems to think I wouldn’t have any faith in her ability to stop herself from having sex with another guy if there were a time I couldn’t be there, but I honestly think she wouldn’t. It’s not in her to cheat on someone, even in her situation.
I also don’t think her days would be any worse than what they are if I didn’t come to her each night. I think her addiction is worse at night, and as long as she can make it through the night, she’ll be fine. I sure as shit am not ready to test that theory out yet, though. I need these nights too much. It may be selfish of me, but at the moment, I don’t care.
I stay hovering over Abby for another thirty minutes, before pulling her back against me once again. I’ll give myself a few more minutes of holding her before I get up to leave.
Kissing the back of her neck, right over the mark I left earlier, I murmur, “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.” Reluctantly, I climb from the bed, my dick still hard from being pressed against her, and make my way to the bathroom on silent feet. Using a washcloth, I wash away the mixture of mine and Abby’s release, before wetting another cloth with warm water and walking back out to Abby. Very carefully, I wipe away the cum still leaking out of her. I always make sure I clean her before I leave. Not because I worry she’ll see the evidence left behind of me being here, although that should be a worry. I do it because a man should take care of his woman in that way. She moans in her sleep, but doesn’t wake up, still too doped up on the drugs.
After depositing both washcloths in the hamper, I get dressed. I choose to dress as close to the bed as possible, so I can keep my eyes on Abby for as long as possible. I take my time, lingering around longer than I should. All too soon, I’m dressed. Bending down, I place a soft kiss against her lips, before leaving the woman behind that I love beyond all reason.
I don’t go home. Instead, I head straight for the office. There’s no sense in going to my house when I’d only have to get up in a few hours anyway. I have a stash of suits in my office, and a shower in the bathroom that’s connected to my office. When I first started my own business, I was at work more than I was at home. I had the bathroom installed because I knew there would be a lot of late nights and early mornings for me. Over the years, my workaholic ways have lessened, so my need to use the en suite shower has lessened. Or it has until this week. The last night I’d slept in my apartment was the night Abby broke things off. Since then, I only go home after work for a few hours, opting to come
straight here after I leave Abby, shower, and catch a couple hours of sleep on the sofa in my office. My routine leaves me tired as hell, but worth every single second of lost sleep.
I drop my suit on the back of the chair and head straight to the bathroom. Turning the dial on the shower to warm, I strip down. The water feels good, running down my back and shoulders. Ten minutes later, I walk out of the bathroom in a towel, slip on some boxer briefs, and fall to the leather sofa. The cleaning crew has already been through the office, so I don’t worry about anyone walking in on me sleeping damn near naked on the couch.
Lying on my back, I throw one arm over my eyes, and it’s not long before exhaustion takes over and I’m out like a light.
I wake to an irritating buzzing sound and reach over blindly to grab my phone from the coffee table. Squinting my eyes open, the screen shows Tera, and I sit up.
“Where in the fuck have you been?” I growl into my phone as my way of saying hello. “I’ve been calling you for days.”
My sister sounds tired, and not her usual bitchy self when she replies. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot going on. I… I needed time to think.”
“And you couldn’t tell me and Mom that?”
The day after Abby broke up with me, I went to my mom’s house to talk to Tera, only to find she left earlier that morning, and my mom didn’t know where she went.
“No,” she sighs. “I just wanted to be left alone and not talk to anyone.”
I lean over and run my hands through my hair, before resting my elbows on my knees. Tera tends to run off when she encounters a problem, versus facing it. She’s always been that way, even as a child. If not for knowing that was her usual behavior, and the couple of messages from her saying she was okay, I would have worried.
“What in the hell did Lukas do?” I ask, knowing this has something to do with him.