“He’s heavily sedated and requires the breathing tube but is off the ventilator. He slips and out of consciousness,” she explains.
“When will he be fully awake and alert again?” I ask hopefully. She looks down at the floor and bites her bottom lip. As an ICU nurse I’m sure she has said this stuff a hundred times but she genuinely looks like she cares.
“He may never,” she says softly. “The treatment center has done all they can, and this last embolism has weakened him past where we may be able to bring him back. He can understand you sometimes, but he’s going to be out of it more than in from this point forward.”
“But you can still save him, right? He can turn the corner, can’t he?” I know I’m badgering her to tell me what I want to hear–what I need to hear.
“I don’t know,” she says solemnly. “His eyes are open now, so why don’t you go in and spend some time with him while he’s awake.”
“I… ah… I don’t know what to say,” I confess. She reaches out and puts a compassionate hand on my arm.
“Tell him you’re here. Tell him you love him,” she says softly. “The best thing you can do with people is tell them you love them.”
Even with her counsel, it’s hard walking into the room and seeing my dad this way. He looks so much smaller than I ever remember him being, withered and pale. The lights are dim and the machines hooked up to him glow eerily with patterns and numbers I will never understand.
“Dad,” I say loudly as I take his hand in mine. It seems smaller than I recall. His eyes open about halfway and he gets a slight smile. “Dad, it’s Julia. I’m here, Dad. I’m here.”
He squeezes my hand. He knows. After a few minutes his eyes close and his breathing shallows to a steady even puff. I keep talking to him, remember old times, good times, how much he loved Mom, and how much he means to me. The numbers don’t change, and I figure he’s out for a while.
“There’s something I need you to know,” I say. “I started seeing Mark. I know you always liked him. To be honest, I wanted to like him too, but I guess I was still hurt from Greg. I see now that Mark is totally different. He’s smart and strong. He isn’t really intimidated by me, at all. He challenges me. I guess that’s why I was so afraid of getting too close to him.”
I stop for a moment, and check the machine again. No change. Finally I’ve found the one person I can share this with who won’t be able to judge me or talk me out of what I’m doing.
“I’ve given him parts of myself. First it was just my body, but I think my heart may not be far behind. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually be changing. Somehow, I think he might be healing me. I fight him, of course. But less and less. And I’m feeling more and more solid.”
I check the machine again, no change. His eyes still closed, his breathing even. Then a shadow crosses his bed. It’s Mark.
I jump up. “How long have you been there?” Oh my god! Did he just hear that?
“I just got here.” He shrugs. “I was worried about you, and your father.” Despite what I said to my father, Mark’s surprise appearance instantly makes me put my defenses up.
“Well, you need to go,” I hiss at him. “How dare you show up here? I told you I didn’t need you! Do you think my dad needs to find out right now about our profane agreement? Aren’t patient files confidential? How did you even know to come here?”
“I’m a rich man,” he says, rolling his eyes, “in a city that runs on money. It’s not hard for me to learn things. This isn’t the first time I’ve visited your dad, as you’re well aware. I doubt he’ll find anything profane in my being here.”
He’s right. Dad always did like him, and Mark was the one that helped to transfer Dad to Glenvale after all. He had as much a right to visit Dad as I had.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” I’m acting like a harpy when the truth is I just don’t want him to know how deeply he’s affecting me. I’m just not ready to give him that yet. “I’m just overwhelmed, you know.”
“I understand. I’ll be in the waiting room. Take as long as you want.”
“You don’t have to wait, I don’t need you,” I say without much conviction.
“Says you.” Mark walks away leaving me alone with Dad.
I feel Dad’s hand squeezing mine and look down to see him smiling again.
“Julia,” he whispers. I lean to hear him. “I’m so glad.”
“What, Dad?”
“I’m glad you finally found a man worthy of you.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you,” my father says.
His head leans back and eyes close once more. I wait for a while but he doesn’t stir again.
Mark’s in the waiting room fussing with his cell phone when I walk out. I want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. My vision blurs at the thought of sharing my pain with him, but I turn away and wipe my eyes.
I quickly dart across the hall and take the side elevator out. Hopefully by the time he realizes I’ve left, I’ll be home in bed and he will get the hint that this part of my life, my pain, is off limits.
Chapter 12
Walking down the hall to my apartment door, I feel the weight of the past few days fold around me like a straight-jacket. Not just the relationship, the magazine, the arrest or my dad–but a combination of everything drains me. I look up to see a person standing by my door. I don’t bother calling the police or security. I know that shape, in darkness or light. It’s Mark.
“How dare you follow me here,” I seethe, expecting him to withdraw or wither or apologize.
He just smiles. “Follow you? I didn’t follow you. I beat you here! I need to get you a better map of the city.”
“You need to leave me the hell alone,” I strike back. “I gave you my body and my compliance, not the title to my life like some cheap ass car you bought on a second hand lot.”
“Julia, that’s not fair,” he says sternly. “There is not one thing about you or your life that is ‘cheap ass’ or ‘second hand’.”
“Well I sure feel wrecked.”
“Let’s go inside and talk this out.” Ever rational, Mark has no idea he’s just stepped onto the rollercoaster ride from hell.
“I’m not letting you inside–my life, my body or my apartment. Take your map and your money and your shining armor and get the fuck away from my door before I call the cops.” I reach out and push his shoulder, tempting him. I don’t know if I want him to fight me, hug me, or push me back. I just want something to happen.
“The way you’re acting, it’s you the cops will be taking into custody. Want that to happen again? Are you starting to like the feeling of zip ties, because I can bring some over if you like them.” His sarcasm cuts through me. Whatever I’m trying to manipulate him into being or doing, it’s not going to happen.
I glance at his face, his jaw firmly set, clearly ready for the argument he expects from me. But I don’t have the energy to fight anymore, not him, not now.
“Just go, please.” I say half-heartedly.
He sighs. “Let’s both just go. Inside. Because I have some things to tell you and I’m not really sure you want your neighbors to hear any more than they already have.”
I nod and let him in. He looks around my place and I realize I haven’t been home or cleaned very much. My table is covered with Paul Fries legal documents and notes. Two blouses and a bra hang over the back of my couch and an empty bottle of wine sits on the coffee table. If I had any sense at all I’d be mortified. But right now I’m so tired I barely care at all.
“Well, have a seat.” I point to the couch. He walks over, picks up my bra, folds it and places it neatly on the coffee table. He does the same with my blouses and then pats the cushion beside him.
“You too,” he says casually, as if he just met me at a café and is inviting me to join him for tea.
“Mark, I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted.”
“Si
t down.” His voice is stern. I obey in an instant, plopping down beside him.
“You could have stopped our deal at any time. I’ve given you chance after chance to say you don’t want to submit to me. But every time you continue to give yourself to my instructions, my desires and directions. Every time you keep the deal. Do you know why I even offered you our deal?” He looks directly at me, his beautiful eyes trying to make contact with my soul. For a moment, I feel myself opening to him and then before I can speak, the hard protective shell covers my heart and mouth.
“Oh, I don’t know. Free sex for a change?”
“I’ve paid for a lot of things in this world, but I’ve never had to pay for sex,” he counters, batting away my bitter retort like a horse swats a fly. Even when I don’t want him to be, he’s perfect.
“Because I’m so hot?” I ask disagreeably.
“Because you’re so sad,” he says, all humor falling from the sky. “So lonely, so… lost.”
“That’s not your business.”
“I think it is. I’ve watched you bully employees, push your weight around, shut out honest offers of friendship and stoke the fires of rage and regret. Lynx isn’t a job; it’s a battleground where you pit your passion and talent against anything you can find. You win. You always win because you give it everything you have, and you have so much. So when I saw you in my office that day, ready to tear the building apart with your bare hands, I knew you needed help.”
“Of course I needed help. I was robbed.”
“Not help with Lynx. Help with life. Help with love. I knew you needed at least one person in your life who was willing to tell you ‘no.’ You need someone gentle enough to listen and strong enough to give you direction. You didn’t just need another man to push against. You needed a man who wouldn’t be pushed and who would give you the freedom to accept what’s given to you, not just the ability to get what you want. You need submission, Julia. It’s not just a game, it’s a gift. For both of us.”
The hot stinging tears forming in the corner of my eyes threaten to fall. I stare at the ceiling, willing them back but it’s too late. I drop my head and try to look away but he puts his hand under my chin and catches my tears in his palm.
“Don’t hide these,” he says, showing me small wet dots on his hand. “Tears are honest. Real. And they are part of you too. Don’t fight them. Let them fall.”
I try to push his hand away but he brings it back, holding my shoulders then brushing my hair off my forehead.
“You don’t understand,” I gurgle. “You’ve never needed anything in your whole life.”
“That’s not true. I have needs, just like everyone,” he says quietly.
“Really?” I pull myself back, forcing him to lower his hands from my face and drop them to my shoulders. “Name one thing you have ever needed.”
Mark reaches up and lets his finger run across my cheek following the path of my tears. He looks directly at me, no distraction, no diversion, just truth.
“I need you.”
His eyes are open wide, looking into mine, his face open and soft, a sheepish grin crinkling the corners of his eyelids. I consider the vulnerability on his face, realizing for the first time that his strong exterior protects a heart that is just as capable of feeling as my own.
I lean forward to kiss him, praying he will take charge again. He does. His lips cover mine and his arm pulls me closer toward him. He envelops me and kisses me deeply, pulling back just long enough to give me a few small kisses, then embracing me with his lips once more.
Reaching out, I put my hands on his chest rubbing it and pulling at his buttons. His hold on me is so strong and I feel such comfort in his arms. I want to be even closer, held tighter. I want to be part of him and I want him in me. I place my hand on his pants and begin to rub, hoping to see arousal in his eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m the boss in that department, remember? I’m the one who gets to say.”
I continue rubbing and pushing against him, moving my kisses across his cheek to his ear where I speak clearly.
“Then, say. Because I really need this now.”
“Not too tired?” Mark asks, his smile returning.
“No. Not at all.”
“Good,” he says. Mark puts his strong left arm under my legs and with his right arm looped around my shoulders he lifts me into the air, kissing me lightly as he carries me toward my bedroom.
Placing me on the bed, he begins kissing and touching me gently. It is so different from his rough thrusts, and so much like the gentle man he usually becomes afterward. I try to hurry him a bit, reaching down to lift my shirt, when he puts his hand on mine.
“Before you do that, I need a decision. A real one. If you think your sexual submission to me is profane, then we should call it off. That doesn’t mean I’ll leave, or even that I’ll stop needing you. It just means we have to go about this differently.”
Refusing to answer the question with words, I pull my top over my head and unhook my bra, dropping it dramatically on floor. He smiles. I place my hands under my breasts and lift them to him–the most fitting offering I can imagine at the time. He accepts my desire, lowering his chin and taking my nipple in his mouth, sucking and pulling on it rhythmically while his hands continue to undress me.
When he is naked too, he positions his body between my legs but continues to knead and nurture my breasts. Eventually he runs his tongue up and down my stomach and side, causing me to quiver all over. Placing my hands on his sides as he hovers over me, I begin to slide down, hoping to take his cock in my mouth, but he stops me.
“Tonight, it’s for you. Just you.” He guides my head back the pillow. He continues to lick and caress me until his tongue finds its way to my mound. He licks both sides of my lips, his tongue occasionally diving deep inside, feeling the wetness bubble out of me. Finding my clit, he sucks and licks around it, pulling it from its hood and enlivening my body until I feel I may spontaneously combust.
My hips are rising as my breath begins to quicken. I am so close to release when he slows to a stop.
“No,” I whine, fearing he might just leave me in the heightened state until I go mad with lust. He chuckles a second and pulls himself up, placing his cock between my engorged lips, right at the entry point. Knowing the power of his thrusts, I bite my bottom lip and wait for it, but, instead he moves slowly, deliberately, into my body.
He surges into me in small strokes, then pulls out slowly, only to surge again. The back and forth motion of his cock inside me sets my whole body to his pulse. My hips come up to meet his thrusts and descend with his pull. In my mind I am lying on a raft in the ocean, the deep blue waves crest against me gently as I float on the rippling water. Just floating there, without a fear, or a care, in the world, each wave as steady and pleasing as the next.
Then I feel his thumb resting on my clit rubbing circles on it as he pushes in me and presses downward with his movement out. Now my mind, body and soul are on the raft and the ocean underneath me is building in speed and volume. I hold onto the sides of the bed for fear the waves will topple me and I feel it–a giant tsunami of pleasure–churning towards me. My cry starts so softly, like a dove’s coo, but by the time the power of the wave is ready to crest I am moaning loudly, begging for it to crash down on me and take me out to sea. Then it hits me.
The spasm is deep inside me and long. I move with the sensation, my entire channel pulsing with the rhythm rocking up and down as my mind explodes while the pleasure takes me under, quivering and throbbing on the end of him. I don’t know if he is making sounds or not, I am drowning in my release when I feel his seed spurting within me.
He stands after he withdraws from my body and lifts me a few inches, moving me to the center of the bed, out of the wet spot. He lies in my place and pulls me close to him. I want to tell him I don’t really mind the remnants of our encounter, but discover I’m not ready to speak quite yet.
He runs his hands through my hair,
and moves his finger over my body. I collect myself in time and finally am able to find my voice when he speaks before I can.
“I think I might have missed your answer,” Mark says with his usual confidence. “What do you want to do about the deal?”
“Why Mr. Stone, Sir,” I say doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impersonation. “I’m yours to command.”
~~~
Twenty days ago I never would have been awakened by the sun streaming through my window. Most days, by now, I would have been showered, dressed and in my office at Lynx looking over writing samples and editing first drafts. But now, I’m curling under the covers enjoying the sleepy morning moment. Stretching, I reach out and jump when I feel something unexpected.
“Mark!” I exclaim, trying to recall exactly what day of the week it is and why there is a man in my bed when last night’s sensuous lovemaking returns to my mind.
“You were expecting someone else?”
“No, I…um…well…” I stammer a moment trying to think of something to say other than I woke up in a fog and didn’t remember the love we made last night, even though it was one of the deepest experiences of my sexual life. “I’m just surprised you’re still in bed. I expected you to be making breakfast or something.”
“Actually,” he replies with a tone of good humor to his voice. “I did get up to make us some breakfast but unless you want a meal made of half-opened expired yogurt, a cracked egg, some cabbage and teriyaki sauce we’re out of luck. Don’t you eat?”
“Not lately,” I confess. “I’ve been a little busy, you know, saving my magazine, supporting my father, being a sex slave, getting my car washed—”
“Speaking of the sex slave thing. We should talk.”
“I thought we cleared that up last night.”
“We did. But I wanted to make sure it was your brain and heart talking and not just the waves of orgasmic bliss. We’re progressing farther into the deal and things are going to get more challenging, more serious, and I need to know you’re fully up to the tasks.”
Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels Page 9