“Yeah, it’s me, Sam. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Meg.”
Heart plummeting, Gabe put the ice cream down on her coffee table. “What about her? What’s happened?”
“S-She’s been in a car crash.” Sam sobbed out a breath. “I just got the call from the hospital. I’m down as her next of kin. She’s been rushed into surgery.”
For a second, Gabe stared at the wall, his eyes blurred as he tried to process what Sam had just said. When he couldn’t, he licked his lips. “An accident?” he whispered.
“Yeah. It’s bad, Gabe. Oh God, it’s bad. I just saw the wreck on the way over. I’m at Lincoln Memorial.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“No! Drive safely. It takes twenty from Meg’s house. The last thing we need is you in a pile up as well.”
Gabe blinked then shook his head at himself, needing to wake up from the dose of ice water that had just been dashed in his face. “What have the doctors said?” he asked as he grabbed his keys, headed out the front door, and locked up behind him.
As he climbed into the truck and started the engine, Sam replied, “They’re not saying much. A doctor hasn’t come out to see me yet. The nurses don’t have any answers.”
After hooking up his cell to the dash, he powered out of her drive, taking Sam’s words to be careful into consideration but breaking a few laws as he went along the way.
“Where was the wreck?” he asked after a few minutes of trying to focus. Sam probably thought he was talking to air, but Gabe had heard the panicked mumblings of the other man as he talked to himself, told himself that Meg was okay, that she had to be okay.
Gabe could easily understand. He felt that way himself.
God couldn’t... He wouldn’t take her away from him. Not after...not when he’d waited so long for her.
Tears burned his eyes, making them prickle. He dashed one with the back of his hand, careful to keep his attention on the road, mindful of Sam’s words.
Meg would need him now. She’d be on the road to recovery soon enough, and she’d need him to be strong.
Sucking in a breath, he sought a calm that was a long time in coming, and then he passed the wreck. It was on the interstate, right on the way to the fucking hospital.
“I’ve seen the wreck, Sam. Jesus,” he bit out. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” Sam retorted, his voice a low whisper. “These things happen, I guess.”
“Not to Meg. She’s too conscientious.”
It was Sam’s turn to suck in a quivery breath. “She hadn’t been drinking. The most I saw her suck back was an orange juice.”
“Have the police come around yet?”
“No. They’ll come when she’s out of surgery, won't they? Ask her for her statement?”
“She will get out of surgery, Sam. We both know that. We both have to believe that.”
The intake of another shuddery breath sounded down the line. “Yeah, I know. She’ll need us both, Gabe. Y-You have to step up to the plate, man. That car...whatever it did to her, whatever happened in the crash, it’s going to be bad.”
Gabe swallowed. “I know, Sam. I know.”
“Can you deal with that? Because if you can’t, then just turn your car around and go home. As long as she has me and her folks, she’s okay.”
That stung, but he understood. “You’re mistaking me for Terry, Sam. I’ll be there with her, every step of the way.”
“Good man,” he replied, then continued in a less strained voice, “Her parents are here. I’m going to explain the little I know.”
“Okay, Sam. And hey, before you go...” He pulled in a breath. “I love her. I’ve loved her for a long time. Just know that.”
“I do now,” came the soft reply. “We’ll pull her through this, whatever this may be.”
“Yeah. We will. Because we love her and she loves us. Even if she doesn’t know she feels that way about me yet.”
“Oh, she knows. She wouldn’t have gone back with you if she didn’t. Admitting it to herself is one thing, but deep down, she knows.”
Feeling more tears prick his eyes, Gabe whispered, “Thanks, man.”
“It’s the truth.” And with that, Sam cut the call.
Chapter Ten
Two months later
“I’m sick of this,” Meg snapped, slamming the tray, loaded with the worst food in the tri-state area, on her hospital table.
It was that bad, the miserable excuse for strawberry Jell-O didn’t even fucking wobble. It just sloshed around in the white cup it came in.
Sam eyed her over his magazine. “Tough. You’ll have to keep on being sick of it. You know you’re in this place until you’re a few weeks into physiotherapy.”
Meg’s lips tightened. “I’m bored shitless, I’m starving, and I’m so fucking horny you wouldn’t believe it!” she wailed.
Sam snorted, but that wasn’t anything to the guffaw that escaped Gabe who, of course, just happened to pop his head around the door at that precise goddamn moment.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Sam retorted, still chuckling as he got up from the uncomfortable armchair that had been his home for the last eight weeks. Leaning over the bed, he bussed her on the cheek. “Be good,” he chided. “If you’re lucky, that hunk of meat has brought you a treat.”
Despite herself and feeling like a coddled brat, Meg perked up enough to kiss him in return. He waved at her, clapped Gabe on the back in farewell, then disappeared out into the hall.
“Someone’s in a grouchy mood,” were Gabe’s first words.
“Well, you heard my complaint,” she snapped, unable to temper her irritation.
It didn’t matter that her leg was itching like a bitch beneath the cast, it didn’t matter that she’d damaged her shoulder and collarbone so severely she’d need eight months of physiotherapy, and it didn’t matter that she was only now getting strong enough to eat sitting up... She was so fucking horny, if there’d been a way for Gabe to slide his cock into her there and then, she’d have tried it. Casts be damned.
“I’m sure they’re lacing this crap with aphrodisiacs,” she growled, glaring down at the tray of dog turds the hospital served under the guise of ‘dinner’.
“I’m sure they’re not,” he retorted, but, from behind his back, out popped a brown paper bag.
Eyes widening with delight, she held out her right hand and snarled, “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
He chuckled. “You’re such a brat. I think I’m going to have to start spanking that out of you. You’re getting unruly.”
Considering those were the first words he’d uttered with any sexual intent, was it any wonder she sat there gawking at him, her mouth working like a goldfish as she processed them?
Sputtering, she gasped out, “Spank me? Since when was that your kink?”
“Since when were you a brat?” he countered.
She pouted. “A girl’s entitled to a little attitude when she’s been in a car wreck.”
“You don’t hear me complaining, do you? I will when you’re up and about though.”
“That’s not fair.”
He grinned. “Who said I had to be fair?”
Shit, he had her there. She nibbled her lip and eyed the paper bag he was still holding. This time was different to the others when he'd brought her something. He'd handed those bags over immediately, but not this one.
“What's in the bag?”
“A treat.”
She huffed. “I know that, but what kind of treat?”
Gabe walked to the window and shut the blinds. As they flapped closed, she felt her arousal spike at what that one move might mean. Privacy. Apparently, they needed it. Her pussy started to ache as he walked back to her and finally, handed her the bag.
She peered inside, then bit her lip. “You can't tease me too much.”
“I thought you were dying of horniness,” he mocked, a glint in his eye. “Desperate to come were your
words.”
Meg licked her lips, then swallowed. “Anyone else, I'd say thank you. This isn't a treat where you're concerned.”
He grinned, then reached for the bag and pulled out the vibrator and the remote control. “It's all charged up. Can run for four hours, according to the reviews.”
A flush of heat drowned her cheeks. “Four hours?” she squeaked.
“Yeah. Four hours, babe.” With no warning, he pulled back the sheet, slowly baring her yellowing cast, pasty white thigh, and the rotten hospital gown she'd grown sick of wearing weeks ago. Discomfort hit her in the gut this time, mostly at how shitty she looked. She half-reached for the sheet then settled back when he groused, “Those legs work, babe. That's all they need to be beautiful to me. And you have to be alive to wear that gown, so it could be designer shit for all I care.”
“You're such a romantic,” she teased, but found herself feeling more comfortable at being exposed the way she was.
“I know. And I’m all yours.” Gabe lifted a brow and asked, “Can you separate your legs?”
How the hell did he think she peed? Not that she said that, she just nodded.
“Do it then.”
She gulped, but parted her thighs a few inches. His hand came to rest on her good leg, and his tanned fingers were astonishingly bronze against her paleness. They both watched as those fingers started to slide up, up, moving the horrendous gown out of the way and baring her mound to their fascinated gazes.
His hand slipped higher, immediately reaching for her core. She jolted, her stomach rippling with the move as he found slick skin, hot juices, and a need that was underscored with his name.
A rough sigh escaped her as he touched her clit. She luxuriated in the touch, knowing it wouldn't last long—he was never generous when it came to this. “Oh, damn, that feels good,” she whispered, a breath shuddering from her lips.
“I thought it might.” He tutted. “You're very wet for someone in recovery, Meg.”
“I can't help it,” she whispered, tilting her head back and closing her eyes to focus wholly on his touch. “I need you.”
Her mournful words made him chuckle a little, but his own were equally as sober, “And I need you.”
“You do?” Her eyes popped open. “Even though I look like this?”
“Even though you look a bit rumpled, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
“You're biased,” she retorted.
“You have that damned right.” He pinched her clit, making her hips jerk up.
That time, her small cry was loaded with pain. “Careful,” she whispered, but grabbed his wrist, holding him in place when he made to move away.
“I-I didn't think. I'm sorry, sweetheart.”
“No, it's okay. I should know better. You taught me to stay still, remember?”
“You'll have to think hard about all those lessons we worked through.”
“What do you think has been on my mind for the last month or so?” She blew out a breath, making her bangs fly out in front of her. “I've thought of nothing else. But thinking and doing are two separate entities.”
“Well, now's your time to relearn my training.” With his free hand, he reached for the remote and set the vibe on low. Its dull buzz sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room and she jolted when he rolled it up her thigh.
“That packs a punch,” she commented, astounded at the strength of the vibrations in contrast to its size.
“It should do. Only the best for you.”
Meg hid a smile. “Flattery will get you everything.”
“Everything's already mine where you're concerned, isn't it, Meg?”
Her eyes widened as she recognized the truth in that statement. She only did because of His tone though. It was pure Dom. Her Dom. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, giving Him His due and using the appropriate title.
He approved if the smile on His face was anything to go by. “Brace yourself,” He warned as He slipped the bullet between her legs, settling it between the lips guarding her sex and resting it just underneath her clit hood. “I think we should get this pierced,” He murmured, His tone conversational. “I'd like to play with it when I suck on your clit, or let you feel the vibrations harder when I'm teasing you.”
“Whatever you think, Sir,” she gasped out, trying hard not to move her lower body and desperately wanting to roll her hips as the delicious sensations flooded her nerve endings, making them twitch back to life.
Maybe the doctors shouldn't have bothered testing her reflexes when they'd been concerned about her temporary paralysis. Just arm Gabe with a vibrator, and she'd have known immediately if things were working or not.
“What are you smiling at?” He asked, a low growl to His tone. As punishment, He added more pressure and a low cry escaped her. “You should be concentrating.”
Knowing better than to lie, she gasped, “I was thinking the doctors shouldn't have bothered looking to my toes to test if I was paralyzed or not.”
A low chuckle escaped Him, but His thoughts must have run parallel to her own because He murmured, “They should have sent me in with a wand, eh?”
“Yes, Sir.” She sighed when He slipped the vibe away from her clit and gently slid it inside her pussy. He fucked her with it, once, twice, slipping His fingers inside too as He put it into position.
When He pulled His hand away, her eyelids fluttered at not only the power of the bullet and the need it was both creating and appeasing, but also at the fact He was sucking His fingers clean of her juices.
Dazed, she watched Him, then started to protest when He reached for the remote and tucked it into His pocket. She thought He was about to turn up the vibrator, but He hadn't. At the twinkle in His eye, she murmured His name, needing to know the rules.
He took a seat in the armchair Sam had just vacated and pulled out a sheaf of papers. As He pulled on His reading glasses, He murmured, “An hour. You're not allowed to come until I say so.”
She gasped. “I'll never last that long.” Her eyes darted to the alarm clock on her table. She'd had Sam buy it for her, because not knowing the time had driven her insane. “Plus the doctors will be making their rounds then.”
His grin was evil. “I know.”
Silence simmered between them at that, because His word was law and she had no choice but to deal with the consequences of that law. Rather than focus on down below, she studied Him as He read through some notes.
His presence still astounded her.
He'd been the last person she'd expected to be at her side when she'd woken up from the drug-induced coma the doctors had put her in. Not that she'd expected too much, she'd been groggy as hell, but even in that state, seeing him had brought with it a jolt of delight. A flurry of relief.
It was then, half-doped on drugs, half-dead from her injuries, she'd admitted the truth. She loved him.
Almost as though he'd read her mind, he happened to look up at that exact moment the words whispered across her consciousness, and he cocked a brow in question when he noticed she was staring at him.
“Thank you for being here for me,” she told him, meaning every word and wishing each one held more power.
“As if I’d be anywhere else,” he retorted dismissively, his attention slipping down to his papers again.
The two guys had been like her bookends over the last few weeks. She rarely had a minute to herself with her parents, sister, and Sam and Gabe all taking turns to be with her.
This last week, the need to burn off some sexual tension had appeared, marking a change in her mindset. For the first time, she hadn’t been agonizing over the pain in her leg and the sharp arrows of discomfort perpetually arcing along her left arm. The fault of said arousal rested with this man, of course.
He’d arrived on Wednesday morning smelling fresh from a recent shower—she’d been incredibly jealous, because she hadn’t felt fresh in a lifetime. And then, after bussing her cheek as was his way, he’d sat down, pulled out a pair of g
lasses and started doing some sketching of a new piece he was intending to work on.
She had zero idea why that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. All she knew was that had opened the floodwaters down below and she’d been suffering ever since.
“You could have walked out that door and never come back,” she countered softly, pondering his reply. “I’m not sure I’d have thought any less of you... I know it was rough at the start.” At first, when she’d awoken and hadn’t been able to feel her toes, well, that had been more than rough. Paralysis had beckoned, drawing with it a whole different future.
In the split second it had taken that drunk driver to smash into her, everything had changed, and at that moment, she’d never felt so furiously helpless in all her days. But he'd been there with her. Holding her good hand, squeezing it tight when the doctors had given her their diagnosis. He'd held her as closely as her injuries would allow, had wiped away her tears, and stayed through it all... no good, plenty of bad, and a disgusting amount of the ugly.
“You’re it for me, Meg,” he told her, crossing his legs so that his ankle sat on his knee. “I told you that before, and I’ll tell you that again.”
When she studied the ease on his face, the lack of artifice or tension, the simplicity of his words, the meaning behind them finally started to break through. Actions spoke louder than words, and these last two months were proof that he spoke the truth.
Nibbling her lip, she whispered, “I’m starting to believe, Gabe.”
He smiled and said, “It’s about time, honey.”
And with those words, he turned up the vibrator and turned her thoughts onto other, more pressing matters...
Serena Akeroyd is a romanceaholic. She won’t touch a book unless she knows there’s a happy ever after at the end of it. Pathetic as it may be, because of this addiction, Serena decided to craft her own tales, stories that suit her voracious need for sexy romance. After all, a love story ain’t a lurve story without a bit of naughty!
A citizen of the world, Serena is a nomad at heart, and her novels enable her to travel the globe and all behind her computer desk. Naturally, she’d prefer the option of a private jet, but still, if wishes were horses, eh?
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