Zane 2 (Pleasure Extraordinaire: Part 2)

by Liv Bennett

  I need a good night’s rest to be able to function properly, to make the right decisions and not lose my temper. But, I’m a father now. I can’t find comfort in my old unhealthy and reckless methods of resolving my problems. Alcohol doesn’t belong in my life now that I’m responsible for a child’s wellbeing. If I drink now, on his first day in life, there will be no end to it.

  I need another solution. My mind goes through the limited list of things I can do in order to fall asleep, but most require energy or lust that I don’t have.

  The image of Theresa’s dead body carried into the emergency room continually crosses my mind, and the sadness of having to say goodbye to Penelope constricts my chest in pain. At the rate my heart is pumping, I might go into a cardiac arrest.

  I jump out of bed, giving up on any hope of sleeping. I splash cold water on my face to distract myself, take a shower, and finally, end up having a warm bath, none of which help me calm my raging heart. I’ll have a heart attack here and now, without changing my will to include Preston as my son if something doesn’t change. If I die right now or go into a coma from the stress that’s breaking me down piece by piece, my hopes to give Preston a happy life, at least a life where he won’t have to worry about a thing financially, will die with me.

  In one final attempt to save myself and my son’s future, I shoot Julie a text. “Please come. I need you.”

  I rinse the soap off my body slowly, take my time drying myself off, and put on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt to occupy the time as I wait for Julie.

  Relief washes over me, when I hear a knock on the front door half an hour later. I run, possibly skyrocketing my heartrate in the process, but the thought of the oasis waiting outside my door gives me the strength to not collapse right here on the floor.

  Julie shows up with a fearful expression tensing her facial muscles and a long black coat covering her sweats. She pushes the door open and moves close to me, examining me from head to toe with her worried eyes.

  “Are you okay?” She presses her hand against my forehead as if I might have a fever. “You scared me to death. I thought something had happened to you. I thought you tried to—” Her lips tremble, her eyes casting down in a gesture of embarrassment.

  “Kill myself?” I finish her question and then my body enters an unexpected fit of laughter, so much so that I bow forward and pound my knees. I asked her to come so I can survive the night alive, while she feared I’d end my life. My wrecked nerves keep me from stopping the laughter to explain myself to her. I laugh while I should be crying.

  Gently, she circles her fingers around my arms and leads me toward the couch. Her eyes fixed on my face, she gives me a warm, understanding smile and pulls me into her arms as we sit. As unexpected as my laughter came, it’s quickly replaced by tears when she presses my head against her chest.

  “This, too, will pass. I promise,” she whispers, her lips brushing over my ear, her breath warm and familiar.

  This woman, my friend, my family, the cure to my broken soul.

  Tears stop while the tight muscles around my neck and shoulders slowly start relaxing with Julie’s gentle caresses up and down my back.

  The memory of the night where we had the roles reversed flashes into my mind. She cried for the future she thought she’d never have after Nick’s departure. A man to love and to be loved by, children she thought she’d never have because of her inability to show physical affection to a man. And here I am, my face plastered against her chest, for the two women whose lives I demolished.

  Unhurriedly and somewhat hesitantly, I drag myself away from her hold and sit up straight on the couch. “Do you think I’m a monster?” I ask flatly.

  She blinks and her gaze quickly falls on her hands. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What you think of yourself is the only thing that matters.”

  I sigh with weariness. “I have no doubt I am.”

  She shakes her head, still gazing at her hands, then lifts up her head to give me a glare. “You’ll not like hearing this from me again, but I’ll repeat it because it’s the truth. None of the things that happened tonight were your fault.”

  Her hand finds mine on my knee. “Penelope didn’t kill herself because of you. She had a tendency to give up even before you entered her life. I know you cared deeply about Penelope, but you can’t be blamed for the fact that she was not the woman for you. Try to think about it without becoming judgmental about yourself. A loveless marriage would have been bad for both of you, probably causing Penelope even more pain. She had clinical depression, but didn’t seek treatment for her illness. Taking care of herself and her health was her responsibility, not yours. Instead of looking for professional help, she took a permanent solution to a problem that could have been fixed eventually.”

  She slides on the couch to sit closer to me until the side of her leg is brushing mine. “And, Theresa? Think about it for a minute: Who in their right mind inhales cocaine while thirty-six weeks pregnant? Only an addict who doesn’t care about the consequences of her actions. Whether you showed her that you cared about her or not is irrelevant. It wasn’t your fault that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the life growing inside her.”

  “Yes, you might have made a mistake by having a sexual encounter with her in the first place, but you can’t help anyone who doesn’t want it. And let’s face it; no one is going to be in a frame of mind to become a caretaker for someone who basically tricked him into fatherhood. As far as I know, Theresa didn’t ask for help for her addiction problem, or even admit it. There is a possibility she consumed drugs at other times during her pregnancy. You should be grateful Preston didn’t come out of it with an incurable health condition.”

  “But…I can’t stop the feelings of guilt.” I lean forward and take my head between my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

  “It’s because you feel for their pain. It doesn’t make you a monster, it makes you a human.”

  My head turns sharply toward her. Shocked by the realization once again of what a great woman I have as my friend, I stare at her in admiration. “How did you become so wise?”

  She shrugs. “With pain.” A bitter smile forms on her lips. Her eyes cast away, clouded over a distant memory. “We all do our best to avoid pain, but it’s the pain that shapes our souls and makes us receptive to other human beings’ emotions. I seriously believe God sent us to earth to make us suffer so we can appreciate and love one another. Pain connects us and bonds us tighter than any other emotion, don’t you think?”

  I can’t help the new wave of laughter washing over me. Reaching around her shoulders, I pull her into a side hug. “Sounds like the words of a masochist.”

  A blush spreads over her cheeks and neck as she bites her lip. “You look like you’re feeling better already.”

  “Yes, much better, but I’m afraid it’ll be short-lived. I tried to sleep earlier, but I couldn’t, and I don’t want to drink alcohol. I’m a father now, you know?” I wink and watch her blush deepen. “I’m responsible for a baby.”

  “Ummm…I can give you a quick back rub?”

  My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Sure!”

  She starts sliding out of her coat and tosses it over the chair next to the coffee table, while I ponder the appropriateness of inviting her to my bedroom to have the back rub. I’d rather relax on my bed than on this uncomfortable couch. I’ll have time for only a few short hours of sleep before the day begins, which is why my sleep needs to be as restful as possible.

  “Is that okay to do it in my bedroom?” I ask hesitantly, my eyes quickly examining her face for any sign of hesitation.

  She narrows her eyes at me with a hint of suspicion in her gaze. “You know it’s just going to be back rubbing, right?”

  Her direct inquiry has me bursting into another fit of laughter, and this time it’s out of amusement rather than due to stress. “Sorry about the confusion. I wasn’t thinking of anything else other than a back rub.”

  She bites
her lip with sheer embarrassment flushing her cheeks, which makes me wonder if I’ve offended her in a different way.

  “Not that you’re unattractive,” I add in case she thinks the reason for my explanation is anything related to her looks. “You are a very attractive woman,” I add, which doesn’t seem to help with her discomfort. It’s a clear case of a double-edged sword which will end up being stabbed into my chest if I don’t make it right. “Any man would be lucky to have you. You’re a very sex—”

  Fortunately, she raises her hand to end my protestations. “God, Zane. Stop babbling like a school girl.”

  “Yeah, right. Nobody has ever called me that, but okay. I won’t argue with you right now. I just need your hands all over me.”

  Ooops! My mouth seems to be incapable of avoiding innuendo-filled words tonight. And, the blush spreading down her neck and the visible part of her chest in response to my comment makes it all the more rewarding.

  She draws in air sharply and heads to my bedroom without commenting on my poorly chosen words.

  “Sorry,” I call after her and run to the bedroom.

  She grabs a bottle of moisturizer off the bathroom counter. “Lie on the bed, face down.” Giving me a curious once over, she steps closer to me. “Take off that t-shirt.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.” I pull the t-shirt over my head and toss it on the floor, smiling at the sudden sparkle in her eyes as they study my chest. Working out always pays off.

  She climbs on the bed right after I stretch out my arms and sprawl over the mattress face-first, impatient to receive my sleeping aide. I flinch at the cold lotion when she squirts a generous amount on my back, but then her hands begin spreading it all over my shoulders and between my shoulder blades. That’s when I feel the weight of the world literally begin to lift off my shoulders. She alternates between rough and gentle and works hard on the rough knots for half an hour straight.

  No amount of alcohol would simultaneously calm me down and fill me up with energy like the magic Julie’s hands are working on me right now. Both with words and with her actions, she can manage to pull me out of my misery and make me a stronger man, and if I think about it thoroughly, among the hundreds of women I’ve gotten to know, only Julie has that capacity.

  Despite the heaviness of my eyelids, I continue enjoying the special treat, while wondering how much longer she can endure the exhaustion of her hands. It seems, she can keep it up all night so long as it makes me happy. Her own discomfort doesn’t seem to be a reason to stop her from giving me the help I need.

  I’d be a fool to believe she’s standing by my side for some promise she made to my mother ages ago. The reason isn’t her loyalty to my mother. It’s a lot more than that. It’s her bond to me. Just like she said, we share a history of pain that bonds us with an unbreakable tie.

  Why do I insist on remaining blind to her unshakable attachment? It’s evident why she hasn’t allowed any man into her life. Yes, she has been sexually abused and that makes it hard to get intimate with a man, but there’s something else to her story that probably even she isn’t aware of.

  I roll on the bed and grab her by the wrist. “Julie,” I whisper to give her a few seconds to calm herself as she looks shaken by the abruptness of my move. My fingers still encircled around her slim wrist, I sit up and face her. “Do you have feelings for me?”

  Her eyes flick down to the bed, and her head falls immediately to her chest, while the muscles of her arms tense visibly, possibly even her entire body. Her breath grows harsh and short, and she bites her lip.

  Her actions speak louder than words, which she keeps to herself, but I know. Beneath that shy gaze and nervous body, she nurtures feelings for me…feelings I sensed long ago, but never consciously admitted having perceived.

  My mind starts calculating the pros and cons of gambling on a future with her. She’s incredibly responsive when it comes to the problems in my life and cares about me far more than anyone else has ever done. It’s all thanks to her support that I didn’t end up broken and useless through the highs and lows of my life.

  I smile as I scan the gentle curves of her body underneath her clothes. Well, she’s very easy on the eyes, too. Having her would close the giant gap in my life and in my heart.

  On the other hand, if things go wrong, and I hurt her, I’ll lose her for good, along with my mind.

  Shifting on the bed, I close the distance between us and slip a finger under her chin to angle her head back up. Even facing me, she resists looking me in the eye. I slide my hand up to her cheek and caress her smooth and warm skin, loving the complete shyness that’s keeping her speechless. She leans into my palm and presses her cheek against my hand, hesitantly at first, then with visible indulgence, leaning into my touch like a cat.

  It’s unbelievable how incredible her skin feels against mine, how her softness turns my exhausted body alive. I crave to touch the rest of her body and explore every curve and crevice hidden beneath her clothes.

  Her unspoken admission takes my breath away, while my mind juggles through dozens of questions. Since when? How? Why? Why didn’t she tell me?

  The long-forgotten memories of the day my mother brought her home return to me. Julie’s wavy hair in side pony tails, her eyes fearful and shy, and full of innocence—the most evident feature of her expression… My smile widens. She hasn’t lost anything of that innocence despite the ugliness of the world.

  There were times I had wet dreams about her, but felt too ashamed for even thinking of her that way to admit it. If I think about it, that, too, didn’t change over the years.

  However, now, thanks to her silent surrender, I don’t need to rein in the thick desire running through my veins. I don’t need to feel ashamed of the hardening of my cock at the sight of the delicious beauty submitting to me.

  I run a thumb over her lips and watch them part with a soft moan. “Look at me,” I urge her, and her eyes instantly lock with mine. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me. I’m not indifferent toward you, either.”

  Finally her lips move to form words. “That’s not saying a lot.” She smiles shyly.

  “I know, but my ties with Scarlet won’t allow me to delve deeper into my feelings for you right now. I hope you understand.” Not to mention the devastating events that happened only a few hours ago.

  Her eyes blink with sadness and she moves away from my hold.

  I grunt in desperation. The sudden distance between us shoots my heartrate back up and steals away the warmth her closeness brought. I realize suddenly, Julie is becoming my drug and replacing my addiction to alcohol.

  “Not for long,” I say in a quick attempt to retrieve the calm I’ve tasted with her. My body betrays me right then, and my lips press against her rosy cheek, my lips tasting her skin intimately for the first time.

  I slip my arms around her waist to pull her closer, and she molds into me. Just like that. Her small body arching toward me and humming with desire for me threatens to take away the little control I have. I can feel the adrenaline heavy in my blood and the desire pooling down to my loins, turning my cock into a hard rock. My hands tense with the need to yank her yoga pants down and touch her there, right between her thighs.

  I want to lay her down on my bed and spread her wide ‘til she has nothing to hide from me. I want to use her body like she’s made only for my pleasure. I want my bedroom filled with her erotic moans and the sweet scent of her arousal. I want to pleasure her until she can’t remember her name, and every bad memory disappears.

  And I will…but not yet.

  “Stay with me tonight.” I lead her down to the pillows and pull the covers over us once she’s settled and facing me. Gone is the wild lioness who can take over the world if she deems necessary, and in my arms, I have this soft and vulnerable creature. I could get used to this… Hell I can’t imagine having to go to bed without her turning me into a ball of desire and tranquility anymore.

  She snuggles close and nuzzles into my chest
, and I caress her hair and back with intimate strokes.

  “Do you love Scarlet,” she asks just when I start closing my eyes.

  “No,” I whisper a second before sleep overtakes me.

  CH 18 - The Father

  ~

  It takes only two days for Julie to arrange a respectable funeral for Theresa. She sends the corporate jet to ensure Theresa’s sister, aunt, and two cousins can attend the ceremony. Unfortunately, though, my petition to get her father who is serving time for murder released temporarily to attend the funeral gets turned down.

  Given the fact that her sister and cousins are all minors and her father is in prison for the next fifteen years, Theresa’s aunt is the only eligible family member who has a right to Preston’s custody, if I’m not the real father. But she quickly relinquishes her rights to me, and I pay her generously for her gesture, not that I’d ever want to buy my son. I also set up a trust fund for Theresa’s sister and cousins to cover their college expenses, which is the least I can do to help the family left behind after Theresa’s death.

  At the day of the funeral, I’m still undecided about running a paternity test for fear of not being the father. Theresa’s belief that I am should count for something. Even if she slept with another man, she didn’t trust him enough to name him as a potential father. I’m aware it’s due to my financial status; however, money is important, and if Theresa wanted me to be the father of her child, who am I to disrespect her last wish before her death?

  Julie stands beside me in her dark suit along with Theresa’s family, while the minister reads from the Bible the holy words that should help Theresa’s soul rest in peace. She has been my silent bed companion the last two nights, and thanks to her presence, I’ve been able to get a restful night’s sleep.