Blaire's World: Volume One

by Box Set

  “Cortisone shots should take down the inflammation and pain. Think you can get back to sleep?”

  I nod, hoping that means he’ll leave me alone, and curl up on my side with my back to him.

  But he squeezes back into bed in the small space I left behind me. Right against me.

  I’d argue, but the heat also feels good, so I close my eyes, trying to block out his hand on my hip.

  Laying there, listening to his even breaths, my eyes close and the pain fades, but I still can’t sleep.

  “Galeno?”

  He groans.

  That doesn’t help.

  “What do you need?” he asks when I don’t respond.

  Space. Answers. Sense. “I don’t know.”

  “Give it time,” he says, pulling me tighter against him. I feel his cock through his pants, pressing against my ass. And the only thing I can think about is the Jacuzzi. His fingers. His taste.

  The feeling of my nerves coming alive with ecstasy.

  How it drained everything out of me—including the pain.

  I have to scoot away to make room to roll to my back.

  I slide my fingers down the front of his body and over the band of his pants, feeling his shaft and stroking it through the fabric.

  His eyes remain closed, but a growl rumbles from his throat. “You’re not going to let me sleep, are you?”

  “You could be in your own bed.” There’s just enough light seeping in from the window for me to make out the details of his face. His dark eyelashes. Thick eyebrows. The dark beard accentuating his lips.

  Since I arrived in Toronto, I’ve struggled to find myself again, but if I’ve realized anything, it’s that the “self” I’ve been looking for has never existed. I was my father’s project. Jorge’s puppet. Get your new persona together.

  One he sold.

  Fuck him. Fuck the life he imprisoned me in.

  With all the uncertainty surrounding this whole situation, being forced to strip off the layers of the facade that have imprisoned me, a tiny part of me screams for something more. Something I was never intended to have.

  I want more. I want him.

  Keeping my hand on his cock, I stretch up and kiss him, unable to deny the incessant need to taste him again. This time on my terms.

  His mouth opens, his tongue pressing against mine, taking possession of my mouth as if I’d just invited him in.

  Maybe I did.

  But when I pull back, he lets me have my space. His eyes are wide open now as if drinking me in. “Are you testing me, belleza?”

  “No Spanish, please.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” My fingers move along the length of his shaft again, and his hips move forward, pressing into my touch while his tongue traces his lips. “But if you keep doing that, I make no guarantees.”

  Galeno’s mouth is needy but his touch is soft as his hand moves down my side, pulling my knee up and hooking it over his hip while his fingers trace delicate lines against the back of my knee.

  Before I know it, he’s on top of me, even though I barely feel the weight of his muscular body.

  “What do you want, Serafina?”

  He kisses my neck, sucking on my sensitive skin, and I arch into him.

  My neck. My mouth. My shoulder. He pays intimate attention to each. I know the seduction game, this isn’t it. This isn’t a game.

  This is electrifying.

  Consuming.

  Confusing.

  Galeno sits back on his knees, peeling off his dark t-shirt, then pulling at the hem of mine. I expect him to strip me just as quickly, but he takes his time, inching the fabric up my stomach, following with his mouth. My fingers tangle in his hair as he moves higher. When he reaches the bottom of my breasts, he pulls me up, lifting the shirt over my head and taking my left breast into his mouth.

  I draw in a breath, tightening my grip on his hair and pulling him closer.

  I feel all the things I was never allowed to feel. Yearning. Want. Need. I was always someone else’s nothing.

  Galeno’s touch—whatever it means, whatever his motive—makes me feel like something. Alive.

  He works his way back up to my mouth and stops. I try to pull him closer, but he refuses to move.

  When I open my eyes, I find him staring right back. “If I hurt your back, you tell me.”

  I can’t speak, so I nod.

  And then, he’s suddenly halfway across the bed, dragging me to the foot where my legs hang over the edge. He yanks off my pants, then his fingers trace my slit, slipping inside. At first my back arches, then my hips rock forward, taking him deeper. Every stroke takes my breath.

  My eyes go straight to his hardness when he strips off his pants. He presses it against me, leaning his taught body over mine and kissing my chest. His hair falls over his face and the strands tickle my skin as he tastes me over and over. “Why has no one treasured you?”

  My fingers roam over his back, exploring every defined muscle, as they stretch over his ribs with every breath. Then he settles into place between my legs and his cock pushes against my entrance.

  Ruin me.

  But he waits. Teasing? Does he not want me?

  I slide my hand down his chest, over his taught tomach and stop at his hip when he draws in a gasp and closes his eyes.

  Whatever his hold is over me, I have it on him, too.

  Squeezing his hips with my things, I press my mouth to his collarbone and take in the taste of his skin and salty sweat.

  “Christos,” he hisses through clenched teeth. His back arches away from me, forcing the tip of his cock inside.

  I expect pain, but he eases into me, filling me, fitting against every nerve. Made just to make me come.

  Fuck.

  With every thrust, his thumb rubs against my clit, and I feel the explosion building.

  But I’m not ready for this to end. “Stop.”

  He does—completely—studying my face as he stands over me.

  Fuck. I can’t handle being left on the edge. Not like this. I pull my hair down over my face and yank. “No, I mean…”

  He slips out of me. “Make up your mind before you drive me out of mine.”

  “I want more. Just—” I swallow. “More.” I’m not ready for the fall, I want to keep flying.

  Galeno’s fingers slide inside me. Two. Then three. More. Pulling me apart and stroking my core. Blending pain and pleasure with every stroke.

  Then, with no warning, a finger slips into my ass.

  “Dios,” I cry out.

  “You said more,” he says, “I’m going to give you more.”

  He works another finger into my tight hole, repeating what he’d just done to my cunt, except this time, the sensations multiplied. Pain stretching my muscles. Ecstacy vibrating through my nerves.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  Shouldn’t be doing this.

  But I don’t want it to stop. I hear Galeno spit, then his cock replaces his fingers at my ass.

  Fuck. My eyes widen, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

  This time it does hurt. Pulling. Stretching. Too full. Overwhelmed, I squirm, digging my fingers into his neck and shoulder. And yet, it makes me want him inside me even more.

  He stops halfway, pulls back a little, and I wrap my leg around him, pulling him back. He leans over me, stroking me with his fingers while his cock works its way deeper inside my ass. Nothing should feel this good—especially this, but I grab the sheets on both sides of my head, pulling. I can’t hold back.

  “Fuck,” I scream as the first ripple of orgasm tightens my ass around him.

  He pumps into me while the orgasm takes me away and fades.

  “A little more, baby,” he says in a growl against my neck.

  He grunts, pushing into me three more times before his back tenses and he empties himself inside me.

  I keep my leg hooked around his waist, my fingers dug into his back. His hot breath caresses my neck as he kisses under my ear and m
urmurs, “Are you going to let me sleep now?”

  11

  The next morning, I roll away from the sunlight bleeding through the curtains and find Galeno sitting up in the bed next to me, staring down at his phone. He’s dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt that stretches over his biceps. His legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

  “Morning,” he says without looking up from his phone. He reaches over and picks up a black mug from the table, and the warm smell of coffee fills my nose. I draw in a long, deep breath and sigh.

  “Like coffee?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  He offers the mug to me. “It’s fresh and there’s more downstairs.”

  I take the mug between my hands and inhale the scent. It’s not the drive-thru coffee I’ve normally settled for. This has a deep, nutty smell, and the rich taste leaves a hint of vanilla in my mouth.

  Galeno pats my leg, kicking his off the mattress. “Come downstairs and I’ll fix us breakfast before the doctor gets here.”

  “You cook?” I scoff, but really, I’m intrigued. I’ve barely seen a man step foot in a kitchen for more than a beer or snack. “I’m sure this will be entertaining.”

  I can’t tell if I’m still playing along, but this—whatever it is—comes naturally. Possibly the first time I’ve ever felt that.

  Jorge said falling for a man would make me weak. Dull my senses. Get me killed. But my senses have never felt more alive than they do now. In a way, I hate that, because I also notice every spasm and twinge in my spine, but I take a long sip of coffee and take a moment to do nothing except enjoy the hot liquid warming my throat.

  Galeno tosses my bag on the foot of the bed and as I roll toward it to find some clothes, I also notice the soreness between my legs. The shadow of everywhere he’d been. Which was, literally, everywhere.

  Once I’m dressed, I grab the coffee and follow him down to the kitchen, taking the stairs much slower than his quick and steady pace.

  I sit at the island while he cooks, tossing a small tennis ball across the room to keep Rafe entertained before he can beg for every scrap of my breakfast. Galeno places a plate in front of me with an overflowing omelet and takes the seat across from me with his own—twice the size of mine. Rafe sits down next to him and I quickly learn why his serving was so much bigger as he drops almost as much to the dog as he eats himself.

  “Now what?” I ask when my plate is almost cleared.

  “We wait for the doctor.”

  I huff. “No I mean…” I close my eyes. “Jorge. He’s not going to let this slide.”

  “He probably thinks Serge disappeared with you.” He shoves the last of his omelet in his mouth, to Rafe’s dismay. “For all he knows you could be halfway around the world.”

  My stomach sinks, and I drop my fork, appetite forgotten. “Yeah… about that.”

  Galeno flattens his palms on the black granite, his eyebrows narrowed over his dark eyes.

  “I, uh—” My breath hitches. “I stole a phone and called him.”

  “Why?” he barks.

  “Why do you think? I thought you were fucking with me like everyone else and I—I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Galeno’s shoulders relax but his lips are still white. “And what do you think now?”

  “I told you last night, you were right.” I don’t know exactly when I figured out Jorge’s tell. It wasn’t some clear “ah-ha” moment I can pinpoint, but now every encounter with him is on replay in my head. Every moment. Everything he ever told me. I wish I could separate the truth from the lies, but I’m not sure if I’m seeing the lies because they’re there or because I want them to be.

  Then, the doorbell rings.

  “That’ll be the doctor.” Galeno stands, then leans over my chair, one hand on the back and one on the counter in front of me. “But if you really want to find Jorge first, you’re going to have to give me more to go on.”

  I shove the last two bites of omelet into my mouth. I’m still not hungry, but stabbing each piece makes me feel a tad better. Then, I meet Galeno in the living room, where he stands with an older man.

  “You certainly do look better,” he says, looking me over.

  “Sera,” Galeno says. “This is Martin.”

  “Galeno says you’re still having back pain.” He sits an old-time briefcase on the small table near the end of a massive sectional.

  Goosebumps race up my arms and tickle my neck. I try to concentrate on what Martin is saying, but all I hear is static.

  A briefcase whizzes by my head. I duck just in time to miss the worst of it, but then Father’s hands come at me. He jerks me off the floor where I’d sat drawing a picture of a hippopotamus, I’d seen on a billboard on my way to Krav Maga.

  He didn’t appreciate drawing.

  Wasteful, he called it.

  Taking a fistful of my hair, he drags me out of my room and downstairs to his study where he kept the bamboo mat.

  “Kneel,” he shoves me down onto my knees. He slams a book of etiquette, written in Spanish, in front of me and opens it to a random page. “Read.”

  I begin to read the first line aloud.

  “In Russian,” he yells.

  “Sera.” Galeno jostles me and I put my hand on his chest.

  His eyes narrow. “Jorge?”

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Serge?”

  I stare right through him; my eyelids suddenly feel too heavy to hold open.

  “Tu padre?”

  My mouth opens slightly, but I close it again and nod instead. Another side effect of my broken facade. My past had been vacuum packed. All the air sucked out and sealed away. But those seals are rupturing faster than I can patch them.

  I let my hair fall over my face, but Galeno immediately brushes it back and lifts my chin. “You’re here now. Let’s show them all who you really are.”

  Biting my lip, I barely manage not to laugh at those words coming from a man who doesn’t even know my name. “Fine. But first I need to be able to move without flinching.”

  “This isn’t a cure-all.”

  “Nothing is.”

  Galeno links his arm through mine and nudges me closer to Martin, who already has his briefcase open with a white cloth laying across the table and several plastic packages laid out next to two vials.

  “Have you ever had cortisone injections?” Martin asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Any allergic reactions to…” he rattles off several drugs I’ve never heard of.

  “Look, I’ve never even had a flu shot.”

  Martin looks to Galeno a long second then back to me. “I’m just going to do a trigger point injection to help with the muscle spasms. You’ll probably feel a little discomfort when—”

  “Trust me, I’ll be fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’ll need to have you sitting against something or lying down so I have access to your back.”

  Galeno pulls me toward the couch and takes a seat, then pulls me into his lap, straddling his legs.

  “I don’t think this is what he had in mind,” I whisper into his ear, but he grins, then lifts my shirt over my head and pulls me against him to undo my bra.

  Behind me, Martin makes a sound in his throat. I hear the snap of gloves, and then his fingers press into my back. His touch is nothing like Galeno’s as he pokes the center of a knot near my shoulder blade over and over until I’m tempted to rear back and headbutt him in the nose.

  “That feels like the spot,” he says. “Would you say that’s where most of the pain is?”

  I grunt. “Currently, yes.”

  “She has a knot on the left side of her lower back, too.”

  Thanks, Galeno. I dig my chin into his shoulder.

  I feel something else poke at the first spot and then the doctor’s hands move down until he finds the one Galeno pointed out. When he touches that one, my hips buck, nearly sending my shoulder straight through Galeno’s jaw. And that’s what you get.r />
  Martin lays down his pen and picks up something that looks like an oversized Q-tip. “I’m just going to—”

  “I really don’t need a play-by-play.” If anything, that makes it worse, heightening the sensations when I could just block them all out.

  “You need to hold very still,” The doctor says. “That’s usually easier when you know what’s coming.”

  “Don’t worry,” I’ve been trained for this.

  Something cold touches my back, and I drop my head against Galeno’s shoulder, sinking into my void. A pinch follows next, then a burn. Another pinch, more burning. The cycle repeats four or five times, then the doctor presses his hand against the injection site and rubs the muscle more gently this time. He repeats the process on the lower muscle while I count each breath.

  “No lifting anything over twenty-five pounds,” Martin says. “I suggest you try to rest the muscles for a couple of days and then start with some gentle stretches.”

  Rest. Gentle. Those aren’t traditional words in my vocabulary. I’ve been told to rest more in the last week than in my entire life. When will they get that isn’t something I’m capable of?

  12

  Olvidado. Forgotten.

  That was my life.

  Until all of those forgotten things came back to drive me crazy.

  Galeno kisses my neck. The doctor is gone, but I still haven’t moved. I want the memories to stop. I need to figure out what to do with myself. How to get my façade back up.

  Dios. The facades are too exhausting.

  Galeno’s thumb rubs against my hip and he nudges me. “Are you okay?”

  I sit back on Galeno’s thighs, adjust my bra and fasten it again. “How long have I been here?”

  His face scrunches. “Ten days.”

  Ten days… How can one man undo an entire lifetime in ten days?

  I can feel it, like a deflating balloon full of glass shards, waiting to see which one will slice through first. In the meantime, all the pieces scrape and scratch together, trying to accommodate their rapidly shrinking world.

  I’d been looking forward to breathing without pain, but now my chest is so tight I can’t enjoy it. I close my eyes and drop my head, but there’s no peace anywhere anymore.