by Nicola Haken
“You know the answer to that. Stop being ridiculous.”
“But what if she can’t deal with it? The guilt. What if she just wants to run away and hide? What if she does run? What if she tries to push you away?”
For fuck’s sake where the hell was this thing heading?
“What’s your point, Jeff?” I rolled my eyes, exasperated.
“Answer me.”
“I wouldn’t let her push me away. If she ran, I’d find her. Besides, she’s got no reason to feel guilty. It was an accident. She wouldn’t have gotten in that car intending to crash it now would she?” Jesus Christ, I was so involved I was talking about it like it had actually happened. Jeff may well get me over this addiction, but I have a feeling he’ll be sending me straight to the nut ward.
“Like you wouldn’t have picked up that gun intending to shoot your mam you mean?”
Aaaaand bingo. That is where he was heading. He’s a sneaky bastard.
“You’re good, Jeff,” I muttered – laughing inappropriately. “You’re fucking good.”
My eyes flipped to the clock above Jeff’s head and I noticed we were almost out of time. Thank holy mother of fuck for that. This session had been… intense.
“Damn right I am,” Jeff winked. “That’s how I can charge so much.”
I could tell by how tight Emily’s lips were pursed together as she shook her head that she was trying to suppress a giggle. Whereas me? I couldn’t help flinching at the knowledge of where the payment for his fees had come from.
“Right guys, I’m happy to leave it there for today if you are?”
“Damn straight,” I replied instantly.
“Um, yeah,” Emily agreed.
“I think you’ll agree we’ve covered a lot today. But to be honest, we’ve barely scratched the surface. But we’ve got plenty more of these sessions to look forward to,” Jeff said with a mischievous wink. “But in the meantime think about what we’ve discussed today. Go over it in your heads. Fill in the holes. Think of things you wished you’d said, either to me or each other. This situation you’ve found yourselves in? It’s shit, but you need to accept it…”
“And move on,” I finished for him.
“Bloody hell, Dex… carry on like that and you’ll make me think you’ve actually been listening to me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed faintly. “Any questions?”
“How’s Freya? When is she coming back?”
“You know I’m not supposed to discuss Freya with you,” he answered in a low, serious, un-Jeff-like tone.
“But you’re gonna,” I stated, knowing he would. In case you haven’t noticed, Jeff isn’t exactly the following protocol kind of guy.
“Are you saying I’m unprofessional?” he teased, feigning an offended scowl. “Because I refute such an allegation.”
“Soooo, Freya?” Shaking his head and smiling, he sucked in a breath to answer.
“She’s not too great,” Jeff admitted, his voice turning fifty tones of deadly fucking serious. “And she won’t be coming back here.”
“Why the fuck not? The girl needs help,” I snapped. Granted, I don’t know the girl too well but she’s literally got no one to help her fight this. What chance has she got of making it alone?
“Her mam’s withdrawn her fees.” Why would she do that? She knows what her stepdad does to her. “And unfortunately we don’t accept Medicaid here.” No shit. I’m pretty sure they only accept gold. “But we won’t just turf her out. We’ll put her in contact with a center that will continue her treatment program.”
“You think she’ll go?” Because I don’t.
“I dunno. I hope so,” he breathed with a genuine look of concern on his face. “Anyway, time was up twenty minutes ago. Now fuck off out my office.”
“I’ll miss you too, Jeff.” I blew him a kiss, causing him to shake his head and flip me the bird. Taking my hand once again, Emily bit her lip to stop her obvious smile spreading too wide and followed me out into the reception area.
“Jesus motherfucking Christ,” Emily said the second we were alone. I swear I nearly keeled over from shock.
“Excuse me?” I asked in disbelief before bursting into a laugh. I can’t possibly have heard such obscenities leave Emily’s sweet mouth more than three times in all the time I’ve known her.
“That was so intense. Overwhelming. Absolutely bleeding terrifying.”
“You did great,” I assured her.
“So did you.”
“I think we can do this, doll. I think we’re gonna be okay. I think I’m gonna be okay.” A smile so proud and wide it must’ve hurt illuminated her pale face and I tucked my hands behind her back and pulled her into me.
“I’m so proud of you, you know. I know this isn’t over, but nevertheless I feel very positive. Although Jeff?” I was smiling already as I waited for her thoughts on him. “You sure he’s really qualified? At one point I wanted to whip out my phone and Google escaped mental patients in the local area.”
“He’s all kinds of batshit crazy,” I agreed. “But… he’s good for me. I’ve never opened up before like I have to him. I’ve always felt like some kind of project. The questions are practically scripted, they write everything down, they never ever give their opinion… but Jeff? Well… he’s Jeff.”
Emily and I stood holding each other, her head buried in my chest as I rocked us from side to side. The scent of her hair and the feel of her tiny body pressed up against mine sent excruciating pangs of pure fucking desperation straight to my cock and when she looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, I knew immediately she could feel it.
“I wish you were coming home with me,” she whimpered against my chest.
“I will be, doll. Soon. I promise.”
Just not soon enough…
“Call me later?”
“You bet.”
Seeing that the room was clear I pushed Emily against the clinically white wall behind her and claimed her mouth with mine. Siding my tongue into the warmth and sweetness of her parted lips, I kissed her like my life depended on it. I tasted her like my taste buds were waking up from a thousand year coma and I gripped her hair between my fingers like she would collapse and die in my arms if I dared to let her go.
“I love you, doll,” was all that was left to say. “So, so much.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~Emily~
Six weeks later…
Sarah received the best news yesterday. The Royal College of Midwives have found her a placement and secured the relevant return to practice training. She will be based in Manchester and Chris is helping out by searching for small houses and flats available to rent while we’re still over here.
Exciting isn’t it?
In two months we really could be moving on. The thought fills me with an abundance of thrill and nerves in equal measure. We’re all hoping Dexter will be discharged from The Springs soon. He’s come so far and I’m so incredibly proud of him the thought makes my chest literally ache. He’s been completely clean since he stepped foot in rehab and it’s been two weeks since he thought about wanting to use again.
The sessions that I’ve shared with him have never been anything less than intense. I’ve been attending twice a week and Sarah goes once a week. We’ve had a couple where all three of us have been there but I tended to let Sarah and Dexter do most of the talking. We’ve all been brutally honest about the things that concern us the most. Turns out every one of us has the same fear… Dexter relapsing.
But Jeff is right. If we see that point in our future we’ll only ever end up walking towards it. So he’s challenged us to plan a different future. Somehow the New Life list Rachel devised for me before we headed off to Uni together came into conversation one time and Jeff thinks it would be beneficial for Dexter to do one too. Rachel would be so impressed a professional like Jeff (not that he acts professional) backs her idea. It’s a shame I can’t just call her and let her know - that I can’t listen to her tell me she told me so, or
that I’ve not ticked off enough boxes on my own list then listen to the mountain of playful threats she would come up with.
I miss her.
Sarah left for work an hour ago with an enthusiastic spring in her step - she was handing her notice in at the greasy café today. Once she’d gone I jumped in the shower (I miss long, indulging baths so badly, but Sarah’s bathroom is so small the tiny shower barely fits as it is), got dried and dressed and called Chris.
His old boss, Ernie, has reduced his hours to one day a week so Chris is rushed off his feet handling his new business alone. He didn’t tell me, presumably so I wouldn’t worry, but I could tell by the gruffness in his voice the stress of it has been giving him migraines. He’s getting so many lately and after badgering him every time I speak to him, he’s finally agreed to see a doctor about them. I’m sure they can give him some kind of pill to either prevent them or make them go away faster so I’m not overly concerned.
I’d just pressed play on the Glee playlist on my phone that was resting in Sarah’s speaker dock and popped a cinnamon bagel in the toaster when I heard a knock at the door. I hadn’t buzzed anyone in so naturally my heart rate rocketed and my throat swelled up. We hadn’t heard from Martin or Patricia in weeks but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t. Smoothing my hands over my pants to brush off the bagel crumbs I edged tentatively towards the door.
A louder knock on my approach made me jump and without even thinking I picked up the nearest ‘weapon’ I came to – a can of hairspray sitting on the little wooden table by the couch. I stopped breathing as my fingers came into contact with the door handle and then, clutching the hairspray to my chest I warily opened the door.
Huh? There was no one there. Oh crap. Wasn’t this how every horror movie started? When I went to close the door I just knew the foot of a killer was going to jam it open before its owner took me down.
Stepping back cautiously, still not breathing, I held the hairspray out wide in front of me with my finger hovering over the trigger. Then I slowly attempted to close the door, and screamed until my lungs burned when the damn thing got stuck.
“SURPRISE!” My eyes were squeezed tightly closed but some part of my subconscious registered Dexter’s voice. But it was too late. The second the door jammed my finger instinctively pressed down on the nozzle and sent a hissing mist of hairspray directly into his face. “What the fuck, doll?” he groaned, rubbing furiously at his eyes.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I flustered, racing to the kitchen area to fetch a wet cloth. “I thought you were a murderer or something!” After running a clean cloth under the cold tap I started dabbing it over his face. He dropped his hands by his sides, letting me tend to his stinging eyes.
“So what were you gonna do? Style me to death?”
“Funny,” I muttered contemptuously. But on reflection, I guess it was pretty funny. “Stop pulling away!” I grumbled.
“It fucking hurts, doll!” Rolling my eyes I carried on dabbing around his eyes which were getting redder by the second. Eventually, he braved blinking and slowly but surely managed to open them all the way.
“What are you doing here?” I asked once the drama of my misplaced assault had calmed down. At that point I was unsure whether to be excited or nervous. He wouldn’t risk discharging him early and risk ballsing up the amazing progress he’d made. Would he?
“Relax, doll. I’m not on the run I swear,” he teased, winking at me and making my insides melt into a puddle of goo. “I arranged it with Jeff last week. I’ll be going back in the morning. This is kind of a trial I guess. See how I get on in the real world so to speak.”
“So you’re staying?” I asked eagerly. “Like all night?” There was only one problem right now… Dexter still had his clothes on.
“What time does Aunt Sarah get back from work?” he asked with a wicked glint in those captivating denim-blue eyes of his. I cocked my head to read the time on the digital clock on the cooker.
“We’ve got about two hours.”
“So that’s one hundred and nineteen minutes until you need to put your clothes back on,” he murmured seductively, popping the buttons on my black shirt-dress.
Oh sweet baby Jesus my entire body was on fire already. Dexter hovered his mouth over mine, the warmth of his breath sweeping over my face and making my lips tremor. My mouth started watering as I eagerly awaited the taste of him, but then he moved to my jaw and started laying soft, feather-light kisses in a long trail down to my neck. Slipping my now unbuttoned shirt-dress from my shoulders, he continued to spread kisses along my shoulder, over my collarbone and then down to my chest.
He groaned against the flimsy fabric of my blue lace bra and I felt the vibrations of it all the way down to my core.
“Oh my God, Dexter,” I whimpered desperately. I was literally shivering with anticipation and it felt like if he ventured any further south I might actually explode. Slowly he raised his head, locking his hungry eyes onto mine and smiling devilishly. Then he took hold of my hand, brought it up to his lips and grazed my knuckles with a kiss, before lowering it back down and settling it on the front of his pants.
“You feel that, doll?” he growled into my neck. “That’s how much I’ve missed you.” His erection was prominent, struggling against the coarse fabric of his jeans. Removing his hand from mine he placed it on my bare waist before sliding it around to my back and crawling his fingers up towards the clasp of my bra. My own fingers began teasing open the zipper on his jeans of their own accord and when I felt him spring free against my hand I buried my head into his neck and let out a soft moan.
His expert fingers had my bra undone in a nanosecond and as the straps slid gently down my arms he followed their trail with his gentle hands. I wrapped my fingers around his thick length and slowly, teasingly I started working them up and down. Oh God those rings… I’d missed those little beauties.
“I need your pants off. Now,” he growled into my ear before nipping my earlobe with his teeth. His impatient fingers undid them for me and then he tucked his thumbs around the waistband and tugged downwards, taking my knickers with them. Oh my God I was standing stark naked in the middle of Sarah’s living room and I had to try extremely hard not to obsess over the fact the door wasn’t locked.
I opened my mouth to suggest we go to the bedroom but all that came out was a sharp gasp when Dexter dropped to his knees and nuzzled his face in between my legs. Oh. My. God. Putting his hands, which felt scorching hot against my skin, on my inner thighs he gently encouraged my legs to part. I felt a little nervous about the fact I hadn’t showered in a couple of hours but not enough to stop him and he didn’t seem to mind.
“You smell incredible, doll. I wonder if you taste just as good. Would you like that? Would you like me to taste you?” Dexter has always made me tell him what I want, what I need from him. I was glad the fact we’d been apart for so long hadn’t changed that because I would never have the courage to ask him on my own.
“Yes,” I breathed, my legs trembling so badly in anticipation I’m still not sure how I managed to hold myself up. I felt his smile against my sensitive flesh, his light stubble tickling between my aching thighs. He trailed soft kisses along the very edges of my already moist folds, tormenting me… torturing me.
“Like this? Or do you want more?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what, doll?”
“Yes. I want mor-” He dipped his tongue inside me before I could finish speaking. My legs buckled slightly from the sheer intensity but his hands were beneath my bum and holding me up before I could fall. His tongue relentlessly assaulted my most sensitive area, licking and circling me before using his lips to suck on the throbbing little nub, which made me cry out his name.
“How is possible you taste even sweeter than I remember?” he groaned into the flesh against my thigh, making it come alive with goosebumps.
“Get undressed, Dexter,” I begged gently. “I need to feel you too.” After a final few flicks with h
is tongue, Dexter rose to his feet. His hands only left my body to quickly remove his clothes and once he was free of them they immediately found my flesh again, igniting wonderful sparks in their wake as they glided across it.
Cupping my face in his hands he brought his mouth to mine. My lips parted willingly after receiving a small nudge from his tongue. Our mouths worked together – our tongues swirling and tasting each other in unison. My naked breasts were pressed up against his chest and I could feel his heart beating as rapidly as my own which only fuelled my desire. When he pulled away, keeping his hands on my hips, he just stood there staring at me – sweeping his eyes up and down the full length of my body.
I returned the gaze and my eyes devoured every bare inch of him. He was my Dexter again. When I first saw him in hospital after the overdose he was so thin. His usually ripped muscles were barely visible and his face was gaunt. Since entering the clinic however he’s been hitting the gym twice a day and my God you can tell. My pulse throbbed violently as I absorbed the sight of him. My eyes trailed down his body, lingering on the perfectly formed lines of the muscles hugging his chest and settling into a deep v around his hips.
He’s beautiful.
Taking hold of my hand and pulling gently, Dexter started leading me across the room. I assumed we were heading to the bedroom until he went in the wrong direction. He was taking me to the couch. With one arm around my waist he lowered me onto the plush cushions. With one knee propped on the cushion next to me, he hovered his glorious body over mine and buried his face in my neck. He kissed and licked all the way down my collarbone until his mouth settled against my breast.
I arched my chest into him as he drew a nipple into his mouth and swirled around it with his tongue. Every time he pulled away a shot of cool air washed over it making it harden even more. I’ve read about women being brought to orgasm through nipple stimulation alone but I never believed it was true… until now. I could feel it building – growing aching and heavy in the pit of my belly.