I feel like a teenager witnessing a catfight. I wait until I hear Marissa leave, then I race back to my desk and act like I’m sifting through papers.
A light knock at the door comes, then Amelia peers her head in the door. “Doctor?”
“Bluebird. What are you doing here?” I relax back in my chair without a worry to be found.
“I was feeling a little sick.” Her hands splay across her stomach.
“Amelia.” I’m on my feet going to her.
Then she bursts out in laughter, slapping at my chest when I wrap my arms around her. “It was supposed to be sexy. I was in the mood for some role play.”
“You little shit. Never do that again.” I pick the little temptress up, latch my mouth to hers, and walk us backward until I position her straddling me in my chair.
“Seriously, this is a surprise. What’s going on?” She’s never come to visit me before. I can say I love the fact she’s here. But on the other hand, I understand all too well why hospitals are not her favorite place.
“Just finished shopping with Renee and Zoe for the ball.”
“I clearly remember requesting pictures of you in the dress and some naughty ones of you in the dressing room.”
“You have to wait.” She taps the tip of my nose.
“So, tell me about your symptoms.” I palm her ass.
“There’s this ache. It’s kind of tingly.”
“Show me where?” My eyes grow heavy with desire.
Amelia slowly runs her hand down her stomach until her fingers disappear in the waistband of her skinny white jeans. I sit her on my desk and rush over to the door, peering out to see if Jana is back. I holler out to not let anyone in, lock the door, and gaze over my shoulder to Amelia to make sure it’s okay.
“You better hurry, doc,” she moans out.
My dick jumps to life at the vision of her on my desk, her legs spread wide and her mouth gaping open.
I take my seat, rolling my chair up to the desk.
“Does anything make this pain worse or go away?” I ask, taking my stethoscope from around my neck and placing it in my ears.
“There’s this guy. A really hot doctor. When I see or smell him, the pain becomes really bad,” Amelia says all this while moving her fingers inside her pants.
I take the end of the stethoscope and place it on her right breast. This causes her to erupt out in laughter, throwing her head back. My lips are hungry to taste her neck.
“You suck at role playing, doctor. Boobs don’t have a heartbeat.”
“Well, they’re making my cock throb.” I toss the stethoscope to the side. “Okay, let me try again.”
I spread her legs further apart, dragging my finger from one kneecap up the inside of her leg until I’m cupping her sex through her jeans. “The pain is it right here?”
Amelia moans and nods her head.
“Going to need to conduct an exam. It will be quick and pain-free, I promise.”
She lifts her hips up, letting me pull down her skinny jeans. She kicks off her sandals, and her pants tumble to the ground.
“Think you forgot something.” She eyes her nude, lacy panties.
“That would be very unprofessional of me, ma'am,” I say, sliding her panties down.
I take my time drinking in the sight of her spread wide on my desk. Her pussy a Goddamn beautiful sight.
“Put your feet up here, please? I place her feet where I want them. Her ass on the edge and her hands gripping the back of my desk.
“Dripping wet. Does this usually accompany the pain?” I ask, sliding a finger down her slit.
“Yes,” she pants.
“Let me have a look.” I slide one finger inside her.
Amelia slaps her palm over her mouth to muffle her cry. Then I have two fingers inside of her, working them slowly, curving them upward a hitch. My head comes down, so my mouth can lightly suck on her clit. My mouth and her hips find the perfect rhythm. Amelia fucks my face until she’s falling apart into a fulfilled mess on my desk.
“I feel better,” she says. Voice serious and darkened eyes.
“Good. However, I’m going to need to do a follow-up in about five hours.” I lean back and grab a prescription pad, scribbling on it. I tear it off and hand it to her. Amelia’s feet are in my lap, rubbing up and down my hard cock.
“Must spread legs and have doctor thoroughly check the site of pain. Lots of tongue and cock needed for a healthy recovery.” Amelia clutches the piece of paper to her chest. “I knew you were the best doctor around.”
“The only doctor who can cure your ache,” I correct here.
“I have a problem, though, Dr. Hartley. I forgot my purse in my car.” She slides off the desk until she’s on her knees undoing my pants.
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “I take several forms of payment.”
This gets me a slap to my thigh, and a finger pointed at me. “Only with me, or I’ll never do this again.”
She clutches the base of my cock.
“It’s always only been you. Now, pay up.” I thrust my hips up at her.
“You’ve learned this role playing rather quickly, doctor.”
Her lips wrap around the head of my dick, and I know everything is going to be just fine.
25
Amelia
I buckle the strap to my heel and take one last look at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me at all.
There’s no dirt under my freshly painted nails, no bags under my eyes, and no marks on my arms.
My hair is shiny, pulled up loosely on top of my head and pinned to perfection. My lips are stained nude, with a shiny gloss. My eyes are drawn in a thin black liner; lashes coated heavily to make my clear, bright blue eyes pop.
And the dress I have on is my own. I worked hard to pay for this dress. I knew it was the one the minute I walked into the store.
A beaded sweetheart V-neck in sky blue. Dipping low in the front and even lower in the back. It’s elegant, clings to my skin, and shows off every healthy curve I’ve earned.
My four-inch pointed shoes are my favorite. They match the dress with their silver and same color blue crystals. Those crystal colors hang from my now pierced ears and a few matching bangles on my wrist.
With one final smile from the woman staring back at me, I twist my watch upon my wrist. I grab my silver clutch, leave our bedroom, and walk down the hall.
I come to an abrupt stop when I take a look at the man waiting for me. His back is to me, his phone to his ear, and I know him so well now that I can tell he’s tense.
“Both of them. What about his son?” he whispers. My stomach drops. It’s the way he speaks that has my already nervous and sour stomach churning. I haven’t felt very well in days. Chalked it up to nerves and butterflies about this ball.
I want it to be perfect for him and Brick. Although, Brick won’t be there. He donated money, simply said it’s not his style. They loved Clara so much. The way she died has played over in my head several times. No woman should have to be brutally raped and murdered, left alongside the road as if she were nothing. She was everything to them, and this entire charity and night are dedicated to her.
“Do not let him out of your sight, Saxon,” He barks out, and I nearly jump out of my skin at his tone.
My first inclination as to who he was talking about has me walking backward until my back hits the wall. I place my hand to my throat, my pulse beating out of control. He has to be talking about my family. We haven’t spoken about them at all since that night at the museum. I told him to do what he wanted. I didn’t want to know. I meant it. I still do.
However, with all the love I have for Zeke, I hope he can live with what I know he’s going to have done. He’s going to have them killed. I know he is. It was written all over his face when we argued; it was still there when we talked, and it’s been there this entire time. I’ve simply chosen to ignore it. Until now.
And Brick. God, is that what
he does for the club? Is he a killer? If so, I don’t want to know. I vow right there that I will never bring the club up again. I adore and love these two men for who they are to me, not what they do.
My head starts spinning, and my upset stomach lurches. I feel as if I could vomit.
I stay in my spot while I wait for the tears of guilt and remorse to come. And when they are replaced with something else, something I haven’t felt in my entire life until Zeke, I straighten my spine, pull back my shoulders, and continue forward to make my presence known. I feel worthy, loved, and, most of all, safe.
I can honestly say I feel no grief in knowing in my heart that my mother is dead or will be. How can you grieve for a person you don’t love? I have hated her since the first time she chose money over me. I will hate her for the rest of my healthy, drug-free life. As far as my stepfather and brother go, I hope they are being tortured the same way they did me on nightly bases in their corners of hell.
“I love the tie,” I say from my spot in the hall. Zeke is now facing me with his head down, staring at his phone in his hand.
Everything shifts and changes when his head lifts and his eyes graze mine. He holds them there before scanning me from head to toe and back up again. The old Amelia would have looked down out of embarrassment to have anyone look at her at all. But the new Amelia, the one with confidence, with self-worth, and the love of a man who washed away the last ounces of her pain, stares back with eyes of steel. Eyes that tell him I heard and we have nothing to talk about.
“Fuck me.” He shoves his phone in the pocket of his black tux jacket. Pushes himself off from the counter and makes his way to me.
“I did this morning before I left to make sure everything was lined up for the event tonight. I suppose if you're lucky, I can when we get home,” I say cheerfully.
“Is that so?” He grabs my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses the inside of my palm. “You are beautiful, Amelia, without all of this. But, my God, you are radiant right now. The dress is gorgeous. Not gonna be able to wait until tonight, darling.”
“Thank you.” I wrap my arms around his waist. Place my mouth to his ear and say, “For everything.”
“No, you’re the one to thank, Bluebird.” His hands slide my dress up, then his hands are in my panties. “Need this scent on me tonight.”
And he sure as hell doesn’t wait until after the ball. I'm up on the counter with my legs spread and Zeke driving in and out of me. The perfect finishing touches to my outfit.
* * *
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Amelia. If you ever decide to quit working for this one here, give me a call. You’ve outdone yourself,” Rodney Sinclair, the mayor, says.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Although, I do believe I’ll be busy teaching art at Resting Palm full time after I recoup from all of this,” I announce loud enough to get Zeke to crane his neck my way. We’ve been inside the Smithson Promenade room at The Four Seasons for a little over an hour now.
Our ride here was full of laughter, joking, and no tension rolling off Zeke at all. But the minute we stepped through these doors, his tension came back in a flurry. He hasn’t paid attention to much of anything at all.
“Well, good luck to you, dear.” He pats my shoulder, shakes Zeke’s hand, and saunters off to do his job, I suppose.
“I was kidding. Lighten up.” I place my arm through his, rest my head on his shoulder, and sigh. “I told myself I wouldn’t bring this up, but if your sudden change in your mood has anything to do with—”
“It doesn’t. That’s over,” he states. “I’m overwhelmed by all of this, Amelia. I mean, look at this place. The lights, the colors, food, the people. All this time you’ve been telling me to quit doing things for you. That you could never pay me back, and you go and pull together something like this. Christ. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m never letting you go.”
The question of if it happened has now been answered, and I’m just fine with all of it. And if I'm honest with myself, I feel like an extra weight has been lifted off me. Soul light and heart happy.
“I love you. When you love someone, you do things for them out of that love. I had a vision for all of this before you told me about Clara. I just added more color.”
He plants a chaste kiss on my forehead before pulling away. The naughty glint in his eyes tells me exactly he still has plans for this evening.
I reach up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “My pain is back, doctor. Think I better go mingle a bit before I double over,” I tease.
“We could find an examination room.”
“You are too much.” I push on his chest. “Mayor Sinclair mentioned his wife would like to meet me. I would like to meet and thank her personally for helping me with your charity.”
“Our charity,” he says while wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me into him.
“Ours,” I whisper back.
“Now, go rub elbows, my beautiful girl.”
As soon I as I leave Zeke’s side, he joins a group of elderly men dressed in dapper suits, tumblers of whiskey in their hands. He’s definitely the man of the hour. I’ve stood around listening to so many conversations about ER procedures and new techniques tonight. I was honored to be included in them, and I’m honored watching him interact now.
“Amelia.” An older lady strolls up to me.
She’s gorgeous in an elegant yet simple black dress. Her jet-black hair is sleeked back in a smooth yet sophisticated ponytail.
“Hi.” My voice comes out squeaky.
“I’m Samantha Sinclair. The mayor’s wife.” She extends her hand my way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well,” I reply.
“My husband and I are quite impressed with your work. I’m honestly blown away.”
“Thank you. Zeke made it quite easy on me.”
“That boy is in love with you. I’ve known him for a long time. I went to high school with his mother. I’ve never seen him like this.”
That leaves me speechless, unable to form a single thought.
“I would love to know more about his family. He doesn’t talk about them much or his time in the military,” I say, managing to get out the one thing Zeke and I don’t discuss. Much like me, he’ll talk to me more about it when he feels the time is right.
“He deserves happiness, and so does that brother of his. Those boys have been through hell and back.”
“Yes, they have.” I nod agreeing with her. Our conversation floats around into talking about my artwork and her own charity work. We discover that we may become partners in another charity. Samantha’s passion lies in an afterschool program and thinks me teaching art once a month would be perfect.
“The kids will be so excited. They’re all very bright children and grow bored easily with the same activities.”
“I would love to help. Let me speak with…”
The words die in the middle of my throat. The walls cave in around me. All my hard work crashes to the ground right along with my heart.
“I’m in my final year of medical school. Starting to look around for job openings.”
What the other man says to him falls on deaf ears. It’s his evil sound that streams through my blood, causing my skin to prickle alive with all the years of poison I put in my body. All the pain. The torture. The abuse. No. This can’t be happening to me.
I don’t why, but I do it. I turn around and see him standing there. The same young man who used to haunt my dreams. Dexter. He has his dad’s sharp looks, dark hair, and he’s bigger. Taller even than he was before. My tongue is tied, my hands are shaking, and my breathing becomes short. He turns his head to gaze my way. I’m frozen. Ice clogging my veins.
He stops speaking. Scans me up and down, and I die a little right there. Naked and vulnerable to his glare.
“Amelia.” Samantha’s palm lands on my forearm. I flinch. “Dear, where did you go on me? Are you okay?”
Slowly and with extra
effort, I turn to face her. My bottom lip begins to tremble. I can’t let her see me like this.
“Yes. I’m fine. I just remembered that I need to check with the caterers. I’m sorry.”
“No worry, dear. Since we have each other’s numbers, I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Thank you.”
Samantha wraps me up in a tight hug. She will never know how much I needed that hug.
I scan the room for Zeke, who is still surrounded by a group of men. Dexter’s voice is still booming in my ear. Marissa is at his side. It seems the two fuckers are trying to drown me in my own past. Does she know who I am? Does she know the things he has done to me?
I don’t run to Zeke even though that’s what my brain is telling me to do. I slowly and precisely begin to walk away from the crowd. It appears everyone is staring at me. Even though I know they aren’t. They can’t possibly know what I’m thinking or who the man I’m running away from is. I glance at Zeke one more time to see him reach into his suit jacket, pulling out his phone. He can’t see me this way. I’ve come too far. I need to get out of here. This night is too important to him to have it ruined by a man I thought would be dead by now.
The sign for the bathroom catches my eye. I walk with my head down, my feet feeling like lead. My mind caught up in a violent tornado.
I push open the door. My hand immediately going to the lock. I panic when I spring to see there isn’t one.
I can’t hold it together anymore. The minute my back slides down the cold tiled wall opposite of the door, a rapid storm starts its purpose of tearing right through me. My lungs are crying out for air.
I need to think. Need to get as far away from Dexter as I can. My hands tremble, and my fingers fidget while digging in my purse. The red light on my battery life is blinking. It’s going to die any minute, but I need my Zeke. Yes, I need to run. Not to the streets. I need to go to him.
I hit his contact info on my phone and wait for it to ring. My phone beeps in my ear, letting me know the little fucker is going to die any second now.
“Amelia!” he roars into the phone.
Blank Canvas Page 21