by Lisa Eugene
“I love you more,” She issued a wispy breath, then went on tiptoe and nibbled my chin.
Her lips plotted a path down my neck, her tongue swiping into the hollow at the base. I groaned low at the wet heat and the feel of her against my skin. Arousal swept through me like a forest fire. Cupping her ass, I ground my erection into her belly and she rocked her hips against me in answer.
Pushing up her sweatshirt, I latched on to a fat nipple, sucking as I wrapped my tongue around it. She looked away, her eyes snapping shut.
“You’re beautiful, Stats,” I whispered, gently kneading the mounds. She still couldn’t see her awesomeness, and that knowledge made me sad. I did notice, however, that she hadn’t asked me to turn the light off.
She pulled my shirt from my trousers, palms sneaking beneath to skate over my chest and around my back. I shivered. Tiny sparks of electricity ignited under my skin. I was so stiff that my dick poked out of my waistband. It had been way too long since I’d had her. Her palm brushed the sensitive head, spreading clear fluid over the swollen glans. My shaft twitched in her hand, her touch ripping a low moan from my gut. My balls drew up as pleasure buzzed down my cock.
I slid my hand into her sweatpants, eager to touch her. My fingers skimmed through soft curls then delved into the slickness coating her pussy. I rubbed and massaged her crease, dancing a finger over the hood of her clit. She shuttled her hips back and forth, moaning and seeking more of my touch.
“Oh, God! Yes!” she cried when I sank two fingers into her shivering channel.
Her walls clenched tight, sucking me in deep. I loved the soft, wet sounds crackling the air. With a needful moan, she arched back, flinging her head against the door. The action exposed the lovely length of her neck. My teeth bit into the creamy skin as my fingers drove deep, filling her again and again. I inhaled her. I savored her. I adored her hot, sumptuous body. The thought of my cock filling her pounded my pulse so hard it felt like my entire body was beating.
“Dex.” My name was a sob. Her fingers pawed through my hair. “I need you inside me. I need us connected.”
Her words warmed me. Didn’t she realize we already were?
I pulled open my belt as she wiggled out of her sweatpants. My cock reared up, fully engorged. I quickly rolled on a condom, ignoring my pants that dropped and pooled around my ankles. I couldn’t think outside the sensation driving me to possess her in every way possible. My need was fierce, almost a visceral ache. I lifted her against the door, wrapping her legs around my hips. She locked her ankles at the base of my spine and held on tight. I lost myself in her gaze and delighted in the simple joy of our intimacy.
Pulling her hips down, I thrust forward, sliding my shaft deep into her heat. Her lids fluttered shut and I smothered her cry with my lips. The kiss was messy, wet, reckless. I cautioned myself to slow down, but my fingers dug into her ass and I pounded urgently into her tight flesh. The pleasure was absorbing, achingly sweet and wickedly intense.
The sharp slap of skin and eager thumps against the door couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t stop. God himself could’ve walk into the room at that moment and I wouldn’t have been able to pull myself from her incredible body. This was so different from the time we’d had sex in her parents’ bathroom. Right now, I didn’t give a fuck who was on the other side of the door. It was selfish, but I needed all of her, all to myself for these few stolen moments.
I just hoped that if someone came into her room, they’d have the sense to turn around and leave. Anyone doing a room check would quickly realize she wasn’t in any danger.
I cursed my lack of control as I fucked her hard and rough. She gripped the shirt on my back, her nails scraping skin. The sting inflamed me, drawing my balls up tight. I slammed my entire length into her again and again.
“Yes, yes, Dex,” she whispered.
A second later, I almost lost my goddamn shit. Tension shot like a hot rocket through the center of my body, stiffening every cord of muscle. Razor-sharp pleasure crested through my balls and stroked down the length of my cock. The tips of my fingers and toes tingled with it.
“No!” I hissed, withdrawing quickly. Dropping my forehead into the crook of her neck, I groaned, my breath panting out roughly. I was shaking so badly that my teeth chattered. The savage beat of my heart was thunder filling my ears. My cock throbbed, thick and swollen between our bodies. I struggled for control, fighting the orgasm that milked several pulses of cum into the condom. Forget the quickie. I wasn’t ready for this to be over.
“Christ, it’s been so long, Stats. You feel amazing. I just need…a minute.”
All I could hear was the fast, uneven saw of her breath. When she didn’t respond, I raised my head. The expression on her face stilled my pulse. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her pupils dilated until they almost eclipsed the blue. A dazed serenity mingled with the passion filling them. Her lips were parted, bewitchingly ripe. She was so beautiful that my heart hurt. Our gazes locked and a breath choked out of my throat. Slowly we breached the space between us and my lips captured hers for an easy, effortless kiss.
Still kissing like we had all the time in the world, I slid gently into her body, feeling the snug stretch of her pussy surround me. We groaned together, setting an achingly slow rhythm, a contrast to the frenzied fucking a few moments ago. Then, I’d been desperate to steal her soul, to claim it for myself. Now, she gifted it freely. It was a treasure for us both to share. I’d never felt so emotionally connected to another human being.
At the end of every thrust, I pushed a little deeper, rubbing hungry little jerks against her clit. Her breath came quicker, choppier. I angled and slid over her clit again and again with the root of my dick, sinking deep. I love the inarticulate sounds she made when I did that. Like she was drowning. But I wasn’t just her lifeline. I was the water, the air, the elusive sun above and the broad blue sky. She held me like I was everything.
She gripped me, keening into my mouth on a shrill note. Her channel fluttered around my buried cock as she flew apart into stunningly beautiful pieces. My senses absorbed and savored every nuance of her release. I let her ecstasy fill me up until I was bursting. I’d been so close to coming myself that I couldn’t hold back any longer. With one final thrust, I threw my head back and came hard, my body shaking with exquisite pleasure.
I lowered her legs, still holding on when I realized she was a little wobbly. Reluctantly leaving her body, I drew her against me. The bathroom smelled of hot, satisfying sex. I smiled broadly and tucked her head under my chin.
“I wish we had a bed we could fall into now.”
Her lips brushed my neck. “Me too. I miss when we’re wrapped up together.”
I chuckled, handing her back her glasses. “Ah, so you admit to tying us up.”
She sighed, still nestled against me. I could imagine her eye roll and fat grin. “I admit to nothing.”
I was about to tickle an admission from her when I heard a noise come from the other room. I froze, pulling back to give her a questioning look. She cocked her head, listening quietly.
“It’s the orderly picking up the dinner tray,” she explained in a whisper.
I snorted, discarding the condom. “Sam fucking Champion will probably knock on the bathroom door to give us a weather update.”
She started to giggle then clapped a hand over her mouth. I laughed, mainly because of her sexy disarray. Her eyes were owlish behind her glasses. Her hair was wild and…well…crazy, and she stood in front of me wearing nothing but a beat-up sweatshirt. She was a beautiful mess. I loved her to death.
I was probably no better. My pants and drawers shackled my ankles, my shirt was a second skin, and my half-hard dick was already looking for an encore. I chuckled. She clapped her other hand over my mouth and I playfully nibbled the scarred skin of her palm. She grinned, pinched and wiggled my nose, then pulled away. I dragged her back against me, never wanting to let go.
Chapter Thirty
Your struggles tod
ay
May be your strength tomorrow
Alexa
I was starving. All the time. Even now when my belly was full. Once my body started healing, my appetite came back with a rapacious vengeance. Accompanying that was the constant worry kindling the fires of my anxiety. I finished dinner. The orderly who’d delivered the food tray saw that I really liked the meatloaf and had been nice enough to leave an extra meal. I both appreciated and cursed his kindness.
After he’d collected the empty trays, I sat on my bed, eagerly flipping through channels. I tried to find something my mind could seize hold of. I needed a distraction from the malignant thoughts eating away at me like a cancer. Sweat beaded my forehead. Saliva collected on my tongue that I needed to constantly swallow away. Inhaling deeply, I blew out a long, slow breath.
I wanted to throw up. No, I needed to throw up. I’d overeaten like a ravenous cow. What was wrong with me? I’d been doing well. There was no scale here, but my loose clothes confirmed I’d lost more weight. I was screwing it all up. I was terrified of gaining it all back. I hated myself for being so weak. I was powerless to control my urges. If I couldn’t control myself, how could I possibly expect to pick up the pieces of my life? My life was a car I was constantly wrecking. I was doomed to crash over and over again.
I had no self-control. My father’s voice was a terrible echo in my head. The thought left me deeply dispirited. I could easily reverse this transgression if I purged. I could unload the guilt into the toilet and wrestle back some control. I was still healing, but if I was gentle, maybe it would work. I didn’t have to completely empty my stomach, but perhaps I could expel most of the calories.
The desire was so compelling that it swelled to a chant in my head. Switching off the TV, I sat on the bed. Anxiety exploded in my chest. I rocked back and forth, my body’s needs at battle with my conscience. Hot tears stung my eyes. Shit. What the hell should I do? I hate this. I could re-injure myself. I could lose control.
The compulsion wouldn’t leave me. I was almost mad with it, crawling out of my skin, shaking like a vibration along a taut string. My taste buds leaked. My bloated stomach grew more and more painful. I could feel my body growing, expanding. My skin stretched. I sobbed into the quiet room, asking for answers and getting only silence. I wiped my tears with my sleeve. When I pulled away, my gaze found the phone.
Dex.
I shouldn’t bother him. I was already such a burden. He’d be disappointed. He did nothing but praise my progress. He kept telling me how brave I was, how much he loved me. What would he think now? He’d hate me. He’d know the secret fears and doubts still filling the dark place inside me. He’d know how often I circled the edge of the tunnel that threatened to gape open and swallow me up. And he’d get fed up. He’d leave for good this time.
But he’d said to call him if I was having a hard time. This was Dex. Relentless Dex. My lover. My friend. My heart. He’d asked me to trust the honesty of his words and his actions. He’d ask me to trust us. I already felt stripped in front of him, like he was seeing me through a magnifying glass. Could I let him see me like this? Terror rang through me, filling my head with indecision.
Before I could strangle the thought, I snatched up the phone and dialed his number. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. It was the middle of the day. He was at work, probably in a meeting. I should just hang up.
He answered on the first ring.
“Stats?” Alarm saturated his voice.
I choked, tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t release the sound from my throat. Oh, God! I was a basket case. I wanted to puke.
“Stats, babe…are you okay?”
Fear erupted in every cell. My heart beat so hard and fast it felt as though I was on the brink of a heart attack. Nausea assailed me. My hands shook. I sucked in a breath on a long sob.
“Stats, it’s okay. I’m coming.”
I nodded, still sobbing, realizing belatedly that he couldn’t see me. I curled on the bed, my body shaking. Goose bumps flocked over my skin. A minute later, I heard my nurse enter the room. The bed dipped next to me. Dex must’ve called the nurses’ station. Shit. He must be freaking out. After a few words with the nurse, she left, assured that I wasn’t going to try to hurt myself.
About ten minutes later, the air stirred in the room. Dex stalked in. The look on his face broke my heart. It wasn’t sympathy. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t the disappointment or drudging weariness I’d expected. His expression was filled with purpose, strength, and infinite patience. In his eyes I found redemption. It broke my heart because I was the complete opposite: a quivering ball of emotion clamoring for release. He sat on the bed, and in one fluid move, pulled me into his arms. I wept quietly into his suit, trying desperately to hold myself together. My body jerked in spastic bursts as I clumsily sucked in air. I was hyperventilating, trying to keep a full-blown panic attack at bay.
“Stats, talk to me,” Dex whispered. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I shook my head. I didn’t know where to start. How did I explain that everything inside me was wound so tight that I felt like I’d detonate and implode. How did I explain this maddening urge for release of the pressure? How could I catalogue the varying degrees of fear and hopelessness?
He pulled back and brushed my hair away from my face, holding my head in his big palms. His face was inches from mine. The cloud of his warm breath surrounded me. I stared into eyes that were determined, intensely gray, almost silver.
“Tell me. Trust me.” His voice was a mixture of velvet and steel.
“I—I’m so afraid…” I choked out.
He seemed confused for a moment. His forehead furrowed.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Myself. Falling apart. I want to throw up so badly. I’m afraid of losing control, of never getting better.”
The muscles in his jaw bulged. “Stats, it’s okay. You’re going to get better.”
I shook my head, feeling a wave of sorrow crash over me. Panic swelled like an ocean tide. I was drowning, choking on the hysteria. My limbs flailed. I knocked his hands away, suddenly smothered.
“Dex, I can’t do this! I can’t! I don’t know how to. I’ve always tried so hard to do everything right, but I’m not strong. I’m weak and I’m horrible. I hate being this way. I hate what’s inside me. I hate these feelings. I’m falling apart. I can’t do this! I just can’t! I can’t stay in control.”
“Then don’t,” he said firmly.
I froze, confused. My breath heaved in and out. “What?”
He gripped my head, holding it steady in order to peer into my eyes. He refused to let me turn away. “Then stop trying to stay in control. It’s okay to fall apart, Stats. You don’t always have to be perfect. You don’t always have to stay in control. It’s okay to let go.”
I shook my head, sobbing. “Dex…”
“It’s okay, Stats. Stop fighting it. Just let go.” His voice cracked with emotion. He hauled me against him, wrapping me in his big body and squeezing me tight. “Let go, babe. Don’t try to stifle how you feel. Accept it. Don’t worry about falling apart. Don’t worry about falling. I will always be here to catch you.”
I went from choking up large gulps of air to full-blown hysteria. I crumpled into tears, embarrassingly pathetic sobs. Adrenaline surged through my veins like lit gasoline. My heart felt as though it would beat a hole through my chest and the pain was excruciating. An intense wave of fear squeezed me. The room spun, spiraling around my head even when I shut my eyes to escape the feeling. I cried and wailed until my throat was raw, until the nurses came rushing in with a little white pill. And the entire time, Dex held me. When I thought I’d retch and throw up, he made me breathe deeply, talked me through the cresting sensation.
He kept me in his arms until my cries melted to tired whimpers and I grew spent from exhaustion. I laid against his chest for long moments,my body in a constant tremble. His suit was ruined, wrinkled and wet. The thud of his heart
beat strong against my ear. It lulled me, synchronizing with my own rhythm. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that. It seemed like hours. When I finally spoke, I sounded like I’d gargled with glass.
“He always told me to fight it, that I had to control my feelings. He said if I didn’t, I was weak, worthless.”
Dex was leaning against the pillow, holding me loosely. His body suddenly stiffened and his muscles bulged. There was no doubt he knew who I was talking about.
“Stats, your father is—” He broke off. He sighed heavily, then continued after a moment. “What your father did to you was wrong. Very wrong. It was abusive.”
“I always felt different. I didn’t have any friends, didn’t relate to anyone. I thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn’t good. I’d get so depressed, so filled with anxiety. I often feel like there’s a hole rotting inside me.”
“Your father did you a disservice. You were just a kid. Kids have a lot of confusing emotions and problems with self-image. When he realize you were ill, it was his responsibility to get you the help you’d needed.” His palms rubbed slowly along my arms, warming me. “He’s a monster, Stats. I’m sorry if it hurts you for me to say that, but it’s true.”
I thought for a long moment. “It would be easy to blame everything on my father and his…unconventional methods. I’m not defending him in any way, but this is my problem. They’re my flaws, my weaknesses.”
He rolled us over so we were laying on the bed face to face. His hand came to rest on my hip. “I don’t see it that way at all. You’re ill. If someone has pneumonia, or heart disease, are they flawed? Does being sick make them weak? Mental illness is a medical condition that requires treatment, like any other illness. It may be more complex than something that requires an antibiotic, but it makes you no less of a person because you’re sick. It’s a problem that affects a lot of people.”