Текст книги "Addicted for Now"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

{ 11 }
LILY CALLOWAY

I pace back and forth in the kitchen. I’m a ball of string that needs to be unwound, an anxious mess and a compulsive freak. I didn’t follow Lo’s orders to retreat upstairs to our room and shed my clothes.

I stay right beside the back door, pressing my ear occasionally to the wood, waiting for him, hoping and praying that he’s not doing something bad and dangerous. I bite my nails, listening carefully at the sound of shuffled footsteps.

In the car, he looked like he wanted to sink and drown to the bottom of a dark, cold ocean. And I can’t let him do that. I can’t let him go.

The car door slams.

I peel my ear away and scuttle backwards, not quick enough. The door swings open and Lo catches me right here in the kitchen, disobeying his orders. A horrible, insane part of me wonders if he’ll hate that I care about him, if he’ll reprimand me for it.

I blurt out, “I’m sorry. I was just worried, and you looked upset…” I trail off while he stays stationary near the wall, his cheekbones sharpening. And I imagine what could have happened if he drank, if he did something worse in that garage. If he left me.

For real this time.

The truest deepest part of me suddenly speaks.

“I don’t know how to live without you.” And I shake my head quickly as tears pool. “And I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to find out.”

He is my breath. My soul. My life-force. I have spent forever with him. Being apart is the most unnatural feeling in the world. Three months—I could handle that like a bad itch. Forever without him?

Just kill me now.

He slowly walks to me, and his hand skims my cheek, his eyes never softening, his sharp demeanor never changing. He’s Loren Hale. Ice and whiskey. Powerful and intoxicating.

He’s my very best friend.

His forehead presses to mine, his lips so near. In a low whisper, he says, “You’ll never have to find out, Lil.”

I ache to kiss him, to solidify those words as truth.

His lips nearly brush mine, but he teases, a sliver of space tempting me and causing tension to build between us. His amber eyes flicker to me. “I will never learn how to live without you. I couldn’t fucking bear it.”

I grip his arms, keeping him close. This feels imagined, like a part my fantasies. But I’m touching him, cut muscles, his legs against my legs. I let out a breath. “And what if everyone says we shouldn’t be together—that it’s not right?” Every person has to learn to live alone at some point in their life. Why do we? I always wonder. Because it’s right, my conscience says. But I love him. But you’re co-dependent. But I love him. But it’s not okay.

I want our love to be right.

Why can’t it be right?

“No,” he immediately says, holding my face in two large hands. “If the whole world says living without each other is what we should do, then this will be the last wrong I make.”

Yes.

We connect to each other fully, his lips touching mine in passionate desperation, as though two people are literally trying to pull us apart, as though we’re giving them the middle finger, telling them to fuck off.

Fuck off. I love Loren Hale. I can’t live without him. However silly that may be, it is the undying truth. Even if he was with another girl. Even if we never could touch. I could not live without Lo. He is as much a part of me as the sun is a part of the sky, as the earth is to the universe.

I need him in order to wake up in the morning.

I need him to feel whole.

He clutches my hair, the long kiss stealing my breath. And without warning, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. Oh God. His hand grips my ass as he carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

My heart has traveled to my throat.

On the second level, he opens the bedroom door and tosses me roughly on the mattress.

I struggle to catch the air that escapes my lungs, and when I do, I prop my body on my elbows and watch him watch me.

He unzips his jeans, never breaking my gaze. His shirt comes off next, uncovering his defined muscles that beckon me to touch. I undress with the same mastered efficiency, breathing so heavily that my ribs jut out and in with quick succession.

In this moment, I have no desire to touch myself. I want him on me. In me. I can wait for his hands, for his body, for his breath.

So I watch him as he walks to the nightstand, only in black boxer-briefs while I stay completely bare. He opens the drawer.

I sit on my knees, my eyes widening in delighted anticipation.

When he shuts it, my mouth drops a little. “I thought…” you were just getting a condom. “Are those…?” I’m imagining them. This has to be a fantasy. “Where’d you find those?” I would have seen silver handcuffs in our room! I would have jumped for joy and paraded them around like they were a bag of galleons.

He climbs onto the bed, on his knees in front of me, towering over my small frame. His lips lift in a devious smile. “A little black box,” he tells me.

“I need to start opening more boxes,” I say in a breathless whisper. “Are you going to cuff me to you?”

His grin lights up his whole face. “No, love.” And then he lifts me by the waist and sets me closer to our pillows. He clips one cuff around my wrist and then the other to a rung in the headboard.

Ohhh…my…

“Don’t move,” he instructs as he slips off his boxer-briefs. When he lowers his body against mine, I instinctively run my free hand across his shoulder, his bicep, sliding my fingers along his abs towards his cock.

He grabs my hand before I reach the best place. He shakes his head at me once in disapproval, but his lips betray him, rising as he soaks in my eager gaze.

“No touching,” he says, his voice forceful. He climbs off the bed, leaving me cold and alone on the mattress.

“Wait, I won’t—I promise.” Come back.

He disappears into the closet, and I wonder if this is a test that my therapist concocted. Is he supposed to leave me wanting and craving? Am I supposed to overpower this compulsive demon while I am in desperate need?

I’m going to fail.

I already know it.

I bite my lip, weight crashing into me. I stay entirely still, expecting Lo to walk out fully dressed, to wave goodbye and go meet Ryke somewhere. This was all a game to get me to this point, imprisoned on my bed with only one hand for use.

And then he exits.

But he’s naked, like before.

He holds a scarf, and I can barely process what this means. My head floats away as the bed rocks, as he edges near me, lifts my other hand and ties my free wrist to the headboard.

I am not as excited as before, mainly because I just freaked out.

When Lo looks back down at me, his smile fades into dark concern. “Hey, Lil…” His thumb skims my cheek. “You’re okay.” He must recognize the fear in my eyes. “I won’t ever desert you, love. Not for a goddamn moment. You’re mine to take care of, you understand?”

His words instantly fill my heart. I nod quickly. “Yes.”

“I’m going to take care of you now. I’m going to fill you so deep that you’re going to wish you could touch me, but you can’t.” Yes. “You’re going to come each time I slip in.” Yes. “You’re going to ask me to stop to catch your breath.” Yes. “I won’t.”

Please.

His hand descends to the spot between my legs, wet and ready. He spreads my legs open with his knees, and his fingers pulse inside of me. I writhe and buck up to try to meet him. But he contains me on the mattress; he softens my jagged, impatient movements with a hand to my hip.

I try to reach forward and run my fingers through his hair, but the silky scarf stops me, and the hard cuff digs into my other wrist. He dictates the position, the speed, the tempo of our love.

He replaces his fingers with his long, thick cock, so big for me, and I cry out, jerking against the restraint. He keeps my legs spread open and bends my knees. When he leans forward to kiss me, his whole cock slowly dives into me, no space to breathe.

I let out a staggered moan that turns sharp and needy. His lips hover right over my parted ones, and he rubs the sweaty hair out of my face.

In a low, husky voice, he whispers, “Every inch of me is inside of you.”

“Lo,” I cry. I want to touch him. I want to wrap my arms around his shoulders and never let go.

He doesn’t pull out or rock just yet. He stays deep, my need building fiercely. He breathes just as heavily as me, nearly kissing, nearly shifting, but he remains in this single, taunting position that has my nerves singing.

“Tell me the first thing that comes to your head,” he says.

In an aching whisper, I say, “I love you.”

His eyes graze me with sheer want. “How much do you love me?”

“So much.”

“How badly do you want me?”

“So badly,” I say with a short gasp. “Please.”

“How do I feel inside of you?”

I struggle to form words, my toes beginning to curl, my muscles spindling.

“Lily?” he says forcefully.

“…Good.” I manage to sputter.

“How good?”

I shake my head. I can’t describe. “You’re unlike anyone…” He’s my best friend. My best friend is all the way inside of me. If I think back years ago, when I wouldn’t allow myself to even fantasize about this moment, I would have died and come right there.

 He slowly slips back and then slowly slips in. I shudder as soon as he fills me again. “How was that?” he asks with a growing smile. He knows exactly how that was.

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

“Breathe.” I can breathe, of course—I’m talking. But it feels like my lungs are about to explode.

“I’m not stopping,” he reminds me. Please don’t ever. He slips out the same way for the second time, and when he eases himself completely inside of me, my cries must breach the walls of our bedroom.

“Lo, Lo, Lo!” I repeat in hurried succession. I constrict around him once and then twice.

He lets out a deep groan, his mouth parting like mine, unable to tease me with a lingering kiss any longer. “Lil,” he says, sitting up off my body to see the way he disappears between my legs. I want to see that too, but Lo shifts even further forward, and I constrict again. Holy…

My back arches, and I tug against the cuff and the scarf, the metal digging into my skin, the sharpness reminding me of Lo, igniting something intense within me.

Even as I come, I prepare for him to pull out and say enough is enough. One peak is all you get, Lily.

But he continues that mocking routine. Slipping out so very slowly. Slipping in so very slowly. Stopping, waiting, watching me.

And I come again.

He’s bursting every nerve in my body. He’s causing my world to spin.

And I can see how much he’s waiting for his release, how his own peak closes in, and how he restrains himself from coming, from ending this. Each time I tighten around his cock, he groans and finds a way to stay sane, to stay back in order to help me. In order to allow me to reach this place many, many times.

He’s filling my every single need.

He’s taking care of me.

Only Lo can satisfy every part of my all-consuming soul.

He is truly my everything.

{ 12 }
LOREN HALE

The therapist’s office rests in the heart of New York City, and on the ride here, Lily can’t keep her legs from bouncing. I’ve spent three months spilling my guts to doctors and psychologists; one sex therapist isn’t going to scare me off. I just wish I could take away Lily’s nerves. I told her it won’t be weird—that this lady has probably heard some wild things—but it wasn’t enough to stop her head from whipping towards the door like she was ready to fling herself out.

I take her hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. Her shoulders slacken and she turns to look at me, releasing a giant breath at the same time. I can’t help but smile. She’s cute, even when she doesn’t mean to be.

After paying the cab, a tense elevator ride, and a short walk down the hall, we wait in a small area that looks more like a modern living room: glass bookshelves and light streaming through long windows. The office door swings open, and the therapist motions us inside. A leather couch sits along the coffee-colored wall. And a robust black leather chair lies directly across.

As she takes a seat with a little notebook in hand, I embed her looks in my mind. I’m not sure how I pictured Lily’s sex therapist, but she definitely wasn’t middle-aged with a short black bob. The woman is even tinier than Lily, probably no taller than five feet.

“You must be Loren.” She extends her hand before I sit on the couch. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I shake hers and then settle beside Lily, my arm curving around her waist. And I watch the therapist, seeing if she notices the touch and if she’s going to criticize me for it. She doesn’t say a word, but her eyes do catch our embrace.

“It’s actually Lo,” I correct her. “Obviously Lily didn’t tell you everything.” My words taste nasty in my mouth, and they sound even worse.

And yet, the therapist smiles good-naturedly.

I don’t know why this irritates me. I wish she’d snap at me like Rose does for being rude and insolent.

I glance out the window. Her vast view of the city probably costs a shit ton—especially with a park directly in sight.

Of course Rose picked out the most expensive therapist in a hundred-mile radius. Not that money means anything to Lily. But I wouldn’t be able to afford having a cracker with… I read her name on the plaque of the oak desk. Dr. Allison Banning.

Lily never mentions her by first name, always referring to her as “Dr. Banning” but if I have to expose my personal feelings to someone, I don’t want to act like she’s a complete stranger.

“So Allison…” I watch her cross her ankles and focus her whole attention on me. No wonder Rose liked her. “Do you get many sex addict, alcoholic couples?”

“You’re my first.”

“Shocking.”

Lily elbows me in the side, and I can’t tell if it’s because of my sarcasm or because I called her Allison. The therapist stays unblinking, already mastering that complacent face and cool exterior. She could give Connor Cobalt a run for his money.

“Why don’t you tell me how it’s been since you moved home?” Allison asks me.

“About sex or in general?”

Lily turns a bright shade of red and slumps in her seat. I’m more comfortable talking about fucking, not because I have a dick or because she’s shy—even though she kind of is—but because I’m not the sex addict. I don’t feel ashamed about sex. She does.

I raise my arm to her shoulders, and she eases into my body a little, relaxing more.

“Either one,” Allison tells me. Her eyes flicker between Lily and me with rapt attention now. She’s definitely going to pick apart every single movement we make. “You decide.”

Lily opens her mouth, but I cut her off on purpose. I don’t want her to dodge the subject. “We had sex a few days ago,” I confess. Explaining my inability to be with Lily without arousing her—well, it feels like walking through quicksand. And so I purposefully keep it short, direct, to the point. She doesn’t need to know the messy details.

Like how she couldn’t wait until the night. How, after an hour, I had to pry myself off her to stop. She was satisfied, but with Lily, it’s a momentary fulfillment. It leaves the second she wishes to feel a climax again. I wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to be fucked, but I had to watch her face crumble as she realized that was it.

For the first time, I’m looking at the bigger picture—the future—but Christ, no one ever mentioned how I’d have to endure preliminary pain to get there.

“You had sex a few days ago,” Allison repeats. “What exactly happened?”

“I put my penis in her vagina.” Embarrassment and remorse swim with the black tar in my chest. My filter—it’s permanently on the fritz. I think my father must have busted it one night. But not with his fists. He’s too civilized for that.

Lily lets out a laugh, which makes me feel a little better.

“Not anatomically,” Allison clarifies. “Did you only have missionary? How long did it last? What time of day? And how did it end? What were your feelings afterwards?”

So many fucking questions, but I take them one at a time. “Only missionary. It was about seven o’clock.”

Lily immediately reddens at the time of day.

My eyes narrow, knowing full well that I just got caught by Lil’s ability to turn into a cherry.

“It’s best if you don’t lie,” Allison tells me.

“It was around three,” I say with a shrug. “She couldn’t wait until later, but she did hold out until we got home.”

Allison nods. “That’s really good, Lily.”

She brightens a little at the compliment, and I squeeze her shoulder, realizing that my words don’t hold the same power as her therapist. To hear a professional say, “You’re doing good,” must be a relief.

I wouldn’t know, really. Even though I learned a lot, most of the people at rehab wanted me out of there. And my therapist stares at me like I’m a world-class fuck up. And Ryke—well, compliments from him aren’t worth much. He’s trying to make amends for being absent in my life, for leaving me alone with a father that he knew ranked low on the World’s Best Dad chart.

“And what happened afterwards?” Allison asks.

“I pulled away from her,” I say, “but she tried to keep going. I ended up just holding her in my arms until she fell asleep.”

The brief happiness in Lily’s eyes begins to flicker out, replaced by silent humiliation once more.

“You didn’t fall asleep with her?”

I frown. “What does it matter if I did or didn’t?” I don’t understand how this pertains to Lily. I shift on my seat, and Lily turns her attention to me. I don’t like that at all.

“You have a problem too,” Allison says, “and your addiction will affect her. It already has.”

I cut her off. “I get it. I should stay away from her. I should say goodbye and let her have a fighting chance.”

Lily’s eyes widen, and she clenches my shirt between pallid fingers.

Even thinking about letting her go puts a pain so deep in my gut. No one knows me like Lily Calloway. She’s my best friend, and without her—God, what’s the point?

“No,” Allison says flatly. “I was going to say that I’m here for you too, Lo. Your recovery is congruent with Lily’s. In order for her to be healthy, you need to be as well.” She pauses, glancing only once at her notebook. “I don’t think separation is the right action here. Without a monogamous relationship, Lily may fall back into her old routine, and it’s best to strengthen the one that’s already in place, not destroy it.”

I nod, her words slowly sinking in. I wait for the relief, but it barely hits me. I think all my happiness is buried beneath the torment of what’s to come.

 “So,” she begins again, “why didn’t you fall asleep with her?”

I lick my lips, more willing to clear my thoughts now that I know she’s on our side. “Sleep has been really difficult for me lately. It takes me longer than Lily.” My leg jostles a little, and Lily is the one to press her hand to my knee, to give me much needed comfort, even though I’d rather be her rock right now. “Every night for years,” I say, “I’d drink until I passed out. Alcohol—that was my sleeping pill.” It was the very thing that stopped my restless thoughts and tucked me into bed. Without it, I’m constantly exhausted.

Allison asks me why that is, and I explain my alcohol dependency. Though I give her brief details, not wanting to focus the whole session on me. So I’m glad when Allison directs her next question to Lil.

“How did it make you feel when he told you to stop?”

A long pause strains the air.

Lily is weighing the truth with a lie. It’s what we do. We construct a pleasant story to mask the pain, to soften the hurt. We’re both so good at it that sometimes we even begin to believe the lies. I am terrified to travel down that road again, but it’s an easy one to take.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure.

“It’s okay,” I prod. Even if the truth is ugly and cold, I want to hear it. I’m ready for us to lay everything out until we’re completely bare and exposed. I don’t know how else to make this work.

Allison rewords the question, softening its existence. “It won’t be the first or last time he’s going to tell you to stop. Now is a good time to talk about your reaction to the situation. So how did it make you feel, Lily?”

She only hesitates a second. “Not good.” Her eyes land on her knees, and her shoulders curve forward. She looks small and sad and very, very heartbroken.

A wave of emotions slams into me, and I have trouble picking each one apart.

“And I just…” she stammers. “…I don’t want to be that girl. The one who begs for something she knows she can’t get. It’s like I’m asking a boy I like on a date and he says no, but I don’t listen, and I just keep asking and asking like the answer will be different. I feel…pathetic.”

I don’t ever want to make her feel like that.

“You’re not pathetic, Lil,” I manage to say, my throat swollen. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. I want to take her pain away, but the irony is that I’ve caused it.

“I think, Lily,” Allison says, “you’re going to have to start understanding that when Lo tells you to stop, it’s not rejection. It’s a form of love. I know that’s hard to grasp, especially since you both have done things completely opposite.”

Lily lets out a short nod. It won’t be easy for her to just believe Dr. Banning’s advice. I have the same problem. Our brains are wired a little differently than everyone else. But I’m willing to ride out this rollercoaster with her—until we’re both free from misery.

“Now let’s talk about your restrictions and the letter I sent home with you,” Allison says.

“We call it the blacklist,” Lily tells her. “But I didn’t read it. I gave it to my sister to give to Lo, and we agreed that it’s better if I don’t know. Now…I’m kind of starting to regret that.” She turns to me. “Do you think I should read it?”

Allison beats me to it. “Actually, Lily, I think it’s a great idea that you haven’t read it. It shows support on Lo’s end and trust on yours. It also gives you a chance to relax about limitations.”

“How am I supposed to relax when all I can think about is what’s been blacklisted?”

“If you do read it, wouldn’t you still be thinking about what sexual activities have been banned?”

Lily’s face falls. “I guess.”

“Why don’t you try this way for a while then,” Allison suggests. She looks to her clock. “The last thing I want to discuss are fears. This relationship is new for the both of you, and I think it would be helpful if you told each other one of your fears by it.”

Lily’s lips snap closed, so I take the opportunity to go first. For her.

“Well…” I say and quickly realize I haven’t thought this through. My fears? I have plenty. Lily cheating. Me, drinking. Both of us fucking up until we can’t see straight. “I’m scared that…”

Lily turns to face me, and I am lost for a minute in her eyes. I suddenly realize that I’m scared of everything. Of losing the only girl I’ve ever loved. Of having her secret voiced to the whole world and watching her disintegrate from the repercussions. She’s already so small and fragile, something like that will kill her, I think.

But Lily and I made a decision not to tell Allison about the threatening texts. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know who’s sending them. And partly, the situation feels new and raw, and talking about it is like pressing on an infected wound.

“Lo,” Allison urges at my silence.

“I’m scared,” I start again, “that there’s going to be a point where you become angry and bitter and resentful every time I tell you to stop, that you realize someone else can give you what you want.”

Lily’s head whips from side to side, like I’m so wrong. That kind of reaction feels good.

“No one else could ever give me what I want,” she breathes. “I only want you.”

I hold onto the words, even if we both know they’re not completely true. She wants to fuck. She wants the high of a climax the same way I want to drown in a bottle of bourbon. I want the rush, the flush and the ride to purgatory and back. We are not each other’s first wants and needs. I am second to her. And she is second to me.

I want that to change.

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she doesn’t smile because she knows it’s her turn.

“Lily?” Allison asks.

Lil keeps her eyes on me, and I give her an encouraging smile. “I’m scared,” she says, “that you’re going to hate being on some sort of sex schedule and hate being barred from your own pleasure. It’s not fair to you, and you’ll find someone who will make you feel better than I can.”

My mouth opens in surprise. I didn’t ever think she was worried about that. I didn’t even believe it could be an option. I love her beyond the great sex. “Lil—”

She interjects quickly, throwing up her hands. “What if I can’t ever give you a blow job?” she asks, a little hysterical now. “I mean, what if that’s on the blacklist? That’s not right, Lo! You have needs too!”

I’m grinning and trying so hard not to laugh. It’s probably shitty that my smile has spread to new proportions, but I can’t help it. Not when she’s freaking out over this.

“This isn’t funny!” she shouts, but her lips start to rise, mimicking mine. “Stop. I’m being serious.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t even pretend to sound apologetic, nor can I stop smiling. “It’s just cute.” She blushes, and it only makes me want to gather her in my arms and cage her against the couch. To take her right there. She would love that.

“Okay, well…I’m giving you a blow job after this then,” she demands.

That almost gets me hard. I have to think about something else. Like the fact that Allison is sitting right here. “How about I let you know when I want one,” I rephrase. I’ve read the blacklist, and while it doesn’t exclude blow jobs, it does have certain stipulations. In fact, I think Lily would be genuinely surprised by what it actually says.

Lil narrows her eyes. “You’re just going to keep telling me later until later becomes a year.”

“Within the week,” I say, my eyes lighting up. Only with my girlfriend do I have to basically negotiate her out of giving me head.

Her forehead wrinkles, like it does when she’s thinking hard. After a moment, she looks to me and nods. “Deal.”

Allison pipes in. “That’s good, really good. You two are communicating very well with each other and letting your voices be heard. What I want you both to work on is getting your sex lives to a point where they don’t interfere with relationships, school, jobs, or even daily activities. I know in the past you two had a very active sexual routine.”

Active doesn’t describe what we were doing. When we both were in the lowest of the low, we rarely even left the bedroom. It was an all-consuming affair. Waking up. Drinking. Fucking. Sleeping. Occasionally eating. It was both the best and worst time of my life.

“I think you’re each ready to make a change,” Allison continues. “And that begins now.”