Make Me Believe

by Karen Ferry

  What kind of an arse would I be if I tried something with her when she, quite clearly, wasn’t in the mood for it?

  I hope she’ll confide in me soon. Those nightmares of hers . . . they’re beyond horrible. I’m not the one suffering from their attack on the mind, but having witnessed them twice now -- especially the one last night -- frightened the ever-loving shite out of me. I’m not an idiot; it’s clear ghosts haunt her.

  I wish that the ghosts will be eradicated so that we both can put our pasts behind us for good

  The problem is, though, if Emma will allow me to help her get rid of hers?

  Or will she push me away, running as fast as she can in the opposite direction?

  The weeks pass. My mum rings me every Friday, asking me about my session with Katherine. She tries not to probe me with too many questions, but I know it’s costing her to hold back.

  My mum is definitely not one to restrain herself, hence the reason she chose criminal law at uni: she can be quite scary at times.

  And every week, I try to open up more, to let her in my innermost thoughts and feelings, but it is just so damn difficult at times.

  I mean, I pour my heart and soul out in my sessions -- why do I have to do it twice every week?

  Some people go on and on about their emotions all the time, but I favour my dad, I think: a man of few words. I prefer to act, not talk.

  Which, come to think of it, is probably why I’ve got into trouble so many times in the past.

  Daniel has been staying at my place a lot the past two weeks, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Katherine keeps telling me to take things slow, and I agree with her. I’m not ready to take things further, despite our hot and heavy shenanigans in private and in public.

  Yes . . . in public.

  I can’t believe the way I let reason fade away whenever he’s near me. Only yesterday, we decided to go out to dinner after our studying session, and it was absolute torture sitting beside him at the restaurant we chose and try to ignore the way his hands and fingers would tease me underneath my summer dress. And he was oh so subtle about it, keeping a straight face all the while he did the best he could to make me come then and there, and plain for all the other guests to see.

  Now, that would have been so embarrassing.

  Before I knew it, I’d dragged him to the ladies’ room, told him to go down on me, and then commenced to suck him off once he’d finished licking my pussy with so much vigour and passion, I was feeling completely lightheaded for a while after we got back to our table.

  Knowing how much he loves to go down on me, as if he can’t get enough, is a truly powerful thrill, and one I take advantage of as often as possible.

  Daniel, being a man, kept looking at me with such cheeky smugness for the rest of our evening, not caring in the least bit about everyone else.

  What the heck is wrong with me?

  I must be hormonal or something. It’s either that, or I just don’t care what people think when they see us together.

  Honestly, I don’t think, full stop.

  The other strange part is how I’m becoming even further relaxed and simply enjoy spending time with him, or how I’ve noticed that I grin like a goon whenever he texts me another one of his random questions. I’m even becoming addicted to seeing him each day.

  I’ve introduced him to Camilla’s, of course, and he seems to enjoy rattling George with some wild conspiracy theories from time to time. Needless to say, George lets off every time, not even picking up on Daniel pulling his chain, while Camilla and I watch our men fondly as we chat about this and that. I’ve also been given the stamp of approval from my friend -- even though I didn’t ask her for it, of course -- and I have to confess that it thrills me to no end having it.

  We went clubbing with Suzy last weekend, which, to tell the truth, did confirm that Daniel’s definitely not a dancer. Even though I told him that we only went so that he could become more comfortable around girls, I hated seeing them flock to him like bees to the honey. I ended up sitting at the bar, sulking, at the other end from him, all the while Suzy kept snickering at my jealous behaviour.

  I didn’t find it remotely funny. Not. One. Bit.

  Daniel didn’t drink any alcohol -- which is kind of understandable -- but that didn’t prevent me from holding back. I did imbibe less than I usually do, thereby keeping my promise to Suzy to take things slowly, and I hope she took notice. Well, the times she didn’t have her tongue stuck down some blonde bombshell’s throat, that is.

  At some point or another, I was being chatted up by a blue-eyed bloke that I’d definitely never had passed up before I met Daniel, but all of a sudden, he was gone, and Daniel was pulling me from my seat. In no uncertain terms, he demanded that it was time to leave, and so we did. In my drunken state, I didn’t really protest that much. After we got back to my place, he told me find my secret stash of toys, and he ended up pleasuring me in all sorts of naughty ways that night.

  Phew. Mind. Blown.

  Ever since he told me about the situation at home, and about his dad walking out on him and his family, it seems as if he’s let go of his own ghosts. He’s more relaxed, happier even, from when we first met. Or maybe that’s just my lovesick feelings overanalysing everything to death as usual.

  Yes, I said the word: love. The one thing I have never believed in -- or believed I would ever have the desire to experience -- has befallen me.

  I love him.

  He makes my heart soar whenever he’s near. I miss him on the nights we don’t spend together. And I long for him and his familiar touch when I wake up in the morning and he’s not there, spooning me.

  How is it possible to love someone you haven’t even kissed yet?

  It’s so bizarre. Completely irrational.

  Yet . . . it’s also true.

  Needless to say, I’m yearning for that kiss with every fibre of my being even though I feel so conflicted about it at the same time. I hope it’ll blow my mind . . . that I’ll see stars and fireworks and all that crap once I muster up the courage to pick up my big girl panties and just go for it.

  It’s Thursday, and both Daniel and I are at the bookshop and busy going through our stock. A big, annual book fair is happening this week at The Bella Center in Copenhagen, and Mr. Andersen always makes sure we have enough of the current Danish bestsellers available.

  Being in this close proximity with him is wreaking havoc with my libido, though, but I’d be lying if I pretended not to enjoy it. Because I do . . . and so does Daniel, I’m sure of it. He keeps giving me those intense, scorching hot looks that almost make me completely forget where I am, making me imagine all sorts of crazy ideas that urge me to take off, him in hand, and ravage him somewhere nearby.

  I don’t want to be responsible right now.

  However, I have another appointment with Katherine later today so, obviously, I have to at least act like a grown-up and attempt to get some proper work done before I have to go soon.

  The thought hasn’t even really left my head before a pair of very familiar hands find their way to my hips, firmly gripping me and keeping me in place.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Daniel softly, my heartbeat picking up speed as his warm breath meets my burning skin until his lips find the sensitive spot just below my ear.

  “Nothing,” he murmurs, but his actions clearly belie his words. I lean back until our bodies are perfectly aligned, and I sigh softly . . . content, happy even.

  “That’s not true, you know,” I whisper, reaching an arm up to curl around his neck, and he chuckles.

  “Well, you’re right, of course . . . But, technically, we ought to be working. I just couldn’t resist your neck...you taste like melons, my favourite fruit.”

  A tiny shiver runs through me as I become lost in his caresses . . . his right hand loses its grip on my hip and moves scintillatingly slowly around my soft belly and down the front of my dress until he’s cupping my pussy.

  “Aren’t you be
ing a bit too . . . forward?” I ask him teasingly, short of breath.

  His lips leave the curve of my shoulder, and he growls seductively, “If you didn’t want me to take advantage of you in some way every time you’re near me, you shouldn’t have worn a skirt today.”

  Dang it . . . and I thought I was being so subtle about it.

  My fingers thread through his hair, and I widen my stance a little.

  “I love it when you go all hot alpha on me,” I whisper on a sigh, and it’s true.

  “I know,” he replies smugly, and I laugh at his forwardness.

  “Are you going to ravish me now?” I ask him seductively, revelling when I feel the way the fabric of my skirt brushes up my legs as he pulls it up. When his fingers begin to tease my clit, I can’t hold back a moan.

  “Fuck it . . . you’re already wet for me, sweetheart . . . Always ready for me, aren’t you?” The dark growl in his voice turns me on even more, and I roll my hips in time with the movements of his fingers. He pushes his erection into my back, and I reach a hand back to unbuckle his belt.

  “Yes,” I gasp. “But . . . the door . . . we need to lock it. What if someone comes in?”

  “Don’t pretend the idea doesn’t thrill you in some way,” he answers, and he’s right again: it does.

  “Maybe so . . . but . . . “ I hesitate, biting my lip for fear of revealing my desires.

  “But what? Answer me, Em,” he orders and grips my ponytail in his left hand, pulling lightly yet just enough to make me realise that his dominant side has come out – and that he’s in charge completely.

  “I don’t want to share you,” I groan out, submitting to him once more.

  He bites my earlobe lightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t every share you with anyone else . . . However . . . “ It’s his turn to hesitate, and I hear his sharp intake of breath when my hand finds his ready cock and I start to stroke it earnestly.

  “You were saying . . . ?” I tease him, reassured and beyond thrilled that he feels the way I do; that we’re exclusive.

  “The thought of having an audience while we’re consumed with each other is something I’d like to try sometime,” he replies huskily. His words make my pussy even wetter, and he hums in pleasure, no doubt feeling it, too.

  “We’ll have to look into that,” I whisper and close my eyes when he puts two fingers inside me and begin to finger fuck me thoroughly. I place my head on his chest with abandon, so immersed in his ministrations that I almost don’t hear his reply.

  “Shit . . . Fuck, Em, I want to kiss you so badly,” he groans out.

  It feels as if a bucketful of cold ice douses me when I hear the desperate plea in his words. The lust quickly abandons my body, stilling my movements when the impact of them pierces my heart.

  “What’s wrong?” Daniel asks me, voice devoid of the dominant male I have come to know so well.

  Yes. What is wrong with you, you idiot?!

  “I . . . I’m sorry, Daniel. I have to go,” I mutter and pull out of his embrace, straightening my clothes quickly.

  “What?!” he asks me, disbelieving. I can’t meet his gaze, though; I’m too embarrassed about my reaction. “Hold up,” he says and takes a firm grip on my shoulders, preventing me from running away.

  “Emma?” He leans down, trying to catch my eyes, and I squirm in his arms, trying to break free of him.

  “Let me go,” I demand harshly, but, for once, he doesn’t do like I ask him to.

  “Why?” he demands, and I glance briefly at him. He’s frowning, frustration and concern clear in his eyes, and I can’t blame him.

  “I forgot that I have an appointment today and so I have to leave now,” I try to placate him, but it only seems to backfire at me.

  “I know,” he replies, the sarcasm hitting me right in my heart. “It’s Thursday, Em, and I’m not stupid. It’s the same bloody thing every week! You make up some vague excuse and then you disappear for the rest of the day.”

  Mouth hanging agape, I place a hand on his shoulder, but he shakes it off. I wince from the hurt his action causes me even when know that I have no right to feel that way.

  He sighs and finally releases his hold on me. As he takes a step away, he quickly rearranges his own clothes, all the while his eyes remain steadily on my face.

  “Why won’t you trust me?” he asks me quietly, and hearing the sadness in those few words make my eyes well up.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper hoarsely, trying with all my might to hold back the tears.

  Daniel closes his eyes briefly, clearly hurt, and I wish more than anything that I wasn’t the cause of it.

  “Go,” he finally says and rubs his neck. “I don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t care; I don’t want to pry. But, Em . . .” He moves back into my private space, forcing me to lean my head back in order to hold his gazes.

  “Sooner or later, I’m going to start asking questions, because I’m in love with you.”

  I think I stop breathing altogether.

  His declaration of love simultaneously make me long to throw myself at him and run screaming in the other direction.

  “I. Love. You,” he continues, enunciating each word clearly, and I can see his love for me mingled with the hurt from before shining in his eyes. “I’ve tried to hold back, but I can’t do it anymore. I want you so much, every single part of you – the light, the darkness, and the in-between. It’ll hurt me beyond measure if you refuse me, and . . . Well, now you know the depths of my feelings for you. It was never only physical between us, sweetheart. I even told you that when we first started out, but you refused to listen. So . . .” He cups my cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs. “Please think about what I’ve said. Go to your meeting, or wherever the hell it is you have to be, and then text me when you’re home later.”

  Not even giving me time to respond, he gives me a quick kiss on my forehead and opens the door to the storage room.

  I turn around, crying, “Wait!”

  He pauses in the doorway and only looks at me briefly.

  “How can you love me, Daniel?” I ask him, my voice hitching on his name.

  Shaking his head, he answers quietly, “We’ll talk later.”

  He leaves me, and I’m alone once again. I stand there for a while, staring after him, my head filled with confusion, before I finally pull myself together.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the room to pick up my things, barely avoiding to run smack dab into Mr. Andersen.

  “Are you alright, Emma?” he asks me, clearly concerned, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. I don’t want to explain my haste, though.

  “I’m fine,” I hurriedly say and then leave the shop as quickly as possible. As I open the door, I almost trip over my own feet, but thankfully manage to right my body before falling headfirst down on the sidewalk.

  I can’t get to Katherine fast enough.

  “Daniel told me he loves me,” I blurt out when Katherine opens the door to let me in. I ran all the way here and I’m suffering from an annoying sting in my side because of it.

  She blinks slowly and says drily, “That boy works fast.”

  Her statement causes a hysteric giggle to erupt from my mouth, and I wipe away the perspiration from my forehead as I enter her flat.

  “I know I’m here early,” I apologise and wait for her to lead the way like I usually do. “My mind is running amok at the moment, and I just wanted to get to you as soon as possible,” I explain further as she walks me to the living room. She sits down in her armchair across from mine.

  “It’s alright, Emma,” she responds calmly and pours me some water. “Here, sit down, and have a drink. It looks like you need it.”

  Thankful, I do as she says, and a huge sigh of relief falls from my lips before I take a sip of the heavenly cold drink.

  “Now,” Katherine says quietly and opens her ever present notebook. “Initially, I wanted to discuss something else today, but seeing as you’re here early, we
’ll save that for later. So . . . Daniel . . .” She looks closely at me, her familiar thoughtful expression in place, and her eyes assessing me. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Feel?!” I exclaim. “I’m scared to death!”

  She chuckles. “Well, yes, I gathered that, but try to explain to me why that is?”

  “I would think that it’s pretty obvious why I’m freaking out right now, but okay, I’ll say it out loud for clarification,” I answer, a bit annoyed at her for forcing me to spell it out. “What if he’ll be disgusted with me for not speaking up about Tom? What if he won’t understand?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Do you have so little faith in yourself?”

  Gaping at her, I wave my hands wildly around. “Katherine, what do you mean?”

  “What I mean is just that: why do you think he’ll even care about that? Don’t you think he’ll stand by you? Do you find him weak?”

  “No,” I scoff and shake my head, denying that notion immediately. “Someone who’s had to endure what he did as a child can’t be weak.”

  “Exactly!” She snaps her fingers at me, the movement startling me because it’s such an uncharacteristic thing for her to do.

  “Emma,” she sighs and sits back in her seat. “No one will blame you for making that decision because you were a child. You were only ten years old. Should your parents have taken action?” she asks me, tilting her head to the side. I shake my head vehemently before she goes on. “Maybe they should. Maybe not. The point is, though, that I have no doubt in my mind that you chose to do what was best for you at the time. And should you ever wish to change that, nothing is stopping you. Only yourself. I’m sure that having a man such as Daniel standing beside you would only be an asset for you -- and something tells me that he’s strong enough to have your back should you stumble on your way.”