“So…was I really out of it? I mean, did you have any trouble…taking care of me?” He gives me an uncomfortable look…is he blushing? Oh, no, it must be worse than I thought if he is embarrassed about something. Even though I’m curious, I don’t want to know. I’d rather believe I woke up from my flu-induced daze to take care of my own business each time it was needed.
He avoids my questions and stands. “I’m going to fix you some breakfast in bed and then catch a shower. I’ll be back soon.” When I hear him in the kitchen, I exit the bed as quickly as possible in my weakened state and use the bathroom. I finger-brush my teeth and consider a shower before deciding to wait until Lucian is gone.
He has nothing but a comb in his bathroom cabinet, and I do my best to pull it through my hair, wincing as it catches on tangles. Looking around the bathroom, I search for something to put my hair up with; hiding the mess is the only answer. I find a roll of dental floss and pull out enough to make a three-ply string. It’s not easy, and my arms are shaking from the effort, but soon I have something that resembles a ponytail on the top of my head. It will have to do until I can find something better.
When I walk back in the bedroom, he is standing beside the bed holding a tray. For a moment, I have an overwhelming urge to cry. People just don’t do things like this for me. It’s surreal, but so sweet I am choked up. Luckily, he blames my glassy eyes on the flu and actually clucks his tongue at me for getting out of bed. Turning away, I crawl back under the covers, pulling them up so he can deposit the tray on my lap. Holding up a phone, he says, “I picked up a charger for your phone yesterday and let it charge overnight. I’ll leave it here in case you need it.” I thank him, touched by how much trouble he had gone through for me. “You might want to call your friend Rose today; she has been blowing the damn thing up. I don’t think she believes me when I say you’re okay.”
“Crap, I’ll do that first thing. She isn’t used to me having…help.” We both decide to let it go at that, knowing full well what I mean. “So,” I say brightly, “the food looks great.” He has made toast, juice, and eggs; it’s the same thing I fed him a few days before.
While I pick up the fork and eat a bit of the eggs, he studies my face and hair. When he touches my ponytail, I try to pull away. “Is that…dental floss?” At my nod, he starts laughing. “Boy, you make use of whatever you have, don’t you? First, a bread tie and now dental floss. Am I going to come home one day to find my underwear in your hair?”
Childishly, I stick my tongue out, which only serves to amuse him further. I watch him as I sip my juice. You would never know he had been sick just a few days prior. “You look like you feel better,” I remark.
“Pretty much back to normal,” he agrees. “It’s been years since I’ve been sick enough to stay in bed for more than a day.” His eyes seem to drift away after that statement, and I wonder what has put that faraway look on his face. When my eyes slip down to the scar on his neck, I wonder if that is the memory he is thinking of. Surely, an injury like that had required a hospital stay. Without thinking, I stroke the top of the hand resting next to mine, and he jumps noticeably. He had been far away, and he is distant now, looking but not really seeing me. “I’ve got to get ready if I’m going to make my meeting,” he says lightly as he stands. Before I can reply, he takes some clothing from his closet and shuts the bathroom door behind him. It makes me angry to think of someone hurting him physically. In such a short amount of time, I have become protective of this beautiful but complex man. If I never saw him again after today, I would still be forever grateful that for once in my life, someone had made me feel protected and cared for.
When he walks from the bathroom a short time later, fully dressed in a form-fitting suit and tie, my mouth drops open, and I literally drool all over the bed covers. I’ve never felt sexual desire like I do when he is near. I shift my legs together, trying to ease the throbbing of my clit. My body knows its master, and every part of me is begging for his attention. At that moment, he could fuck me in any way he wanted to, and I’d beg for more. As he moves closer, my eyes roll back in my head; he smells even better than he looks. I’m so horny; I fight a battle to keep from leaping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he leans over to remove the tray from my lap, his eyes lock on mine and he knows. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare as if smelling my arousal. I grip his silk tie as he remains frozen over me, the tray all but forgotten between us. When I lick my suddenly dry lips, he groans as if in pain. “So…I guess you have to go to work now?”
“I guess so,” he agrees, making no move to pull away. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, and I part my mouth, licking the tip. He stares as if mesmerized before slipping his finger inside, saying hoarsely, “Suck it.” I have no idea what comes over me, but I suck his thumb deeper, swirling my tongue around the tip before nipping it. He jerks back in surprise and an apology hovers on my lips. He takes his injured thumb and sucks it into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with me. “You’re fucking killing me here.” Unable to resist, my eyes lower to his crotch and the impressive tent there; he isn’t lying, I am getting to him. He clears his throat, and I look up to find him smirking knowingly at me. “That’s right, baby; when I get back, you’ll suck that, too, so get some rest.” With those words, he removes the tray from my lap and leaves the room. A few moments later, I hear the front door slam, and I slump back onto the pillows, using a shaking hand to fan myself.
Suddenly, I’m dying to touch myself. The need to touch my clit and put a finger inside my aching sex is almost overwhelming. The thought of masturbating in Lucian’s bed is dirty…but erotic. Just imagining his reaction if he found out is enough to have my hand lowering, stroking myself through the damp material of my panties. I let out a moan that echoes through the empty apartment. The sound of an incoming text from my phone brings my wandering hand to a halt. Using my free hand, I grab my phone, looking at the screen.
LUCIAN: You better not touch yourself while I’m gone.
Wildly, I look around the room, almost expecting to see him standing there, but he isn’t. He couldn’t possibly know what I’m doing. This is just some kind of twisted foreplay.
LIA: I’m sleeping, sicko.
I chuckle at my clever reply.
LUCIAN: Liar. You’re touching that sweet pussy. Do you want to be fucked with my tongue, baby?
OH. MY. GOD. No one has ever talked dirty to me the way he does, and it drives me out of my mind. The things he makes me crave should embarrass me, but they don’t. The fact that he lets me see how much he wants me gives me confidence I’ve never had. We are both scarred, and maybe that is what draws us to each other like a moth to the flame.
Lia: Yes, I need you…
My answer, though short and simple, is completely honest; I need all he will give me. We are miles apart in every way, but he was there when I needed him, he took care of me, and now I desperately need the physical connection to him.
Lucian: Me too, baby. I’ll be home around noon. Be laying on the chaise in the living room. I want you completely naked with your legs spread and your ass at the end. You better be wet and swollen, or I’ll know you touched yourself.
I’m panting as I read his text. How can he say stuff like that and expect me not to touch myself? I need an orgasm the way an addict needs his next fix. Can you die of sexual frustration, because I feel like I’m close.
Lia: I’ll try my best to wait.
I hope he knows I’m being honest and not trying to taunt him. I’m in such agony that agreeing to wait seems impossible. I’m also shocked at how easily I’m discussing something this personal with him.
Lucian: If you’re a good girl, I’ll eat you for lunch. If you’re a bad girl, I’ll jack off on your tits and leave you to suffer all night.
The breath leaves my body in a painful whoosh. Instead of being intimidated, I’m gushing between my thighs. How will I ever make it?
Lia: Stop talking to me! I’m going to
He doesn’t reply to my text. He is probably laughing his ass off over getting me so worked up, then telling me to wait three hours for relief. Insults fly from my mouth as I stomp to the shower. I can’t handle it cold, but even warm, it’s a much-needed distraction. My nipples are hard as stone as I run the soap over them lightly. I make quick work of the rest of my body; my skin is too sensitive to handle the texture of the washcloth.
When I have toweled off and dried my hair, I pull another of Lucian’s shirts from his closet and settle back against the headboard in his bed. I need to rest before Lucian comes home; I have a feeling I’ll need it. Turning on the television, I flip channels until I find Cartoon Network. There is nothing remotely stimulating about children’s television, so I should be safe. A PG-rated love scene right now would send me over the edge in five seconds flat.
Lucian
A raging hard-on digging into my zipper has become way too familiar lately. I had intended to keep things smooth and easy with Lia for a while, but that’s fucked now. I hadn’t counted on wanting her this much. I spend too much time thinking of ways to get inside that tight little body of hers. Part of me wants to fuck her out of my system and part of me wants to fuck her further into my life. The one thing both parts were in agreement on was the fucking.
If not for the damn meeting this morning I had cancelled the previous morning, I would be balls-deep in her right now, pinning her to the bed. She is an innocent, but the fire burns bright within her. She is a man’s dream come true. A woman who knows almost nothing about sex, but has the desire and instincts of a whore. She’d never be one, though; she would just make the lucky bastard in her life want to drop to his knees in gratitude.
One thing that surprises me is how much I enjoy just talking to her, being with her. The shit she finds around my house to put her hair up in is fucking hysterical. Watching this beautiful butterfly come out of her cocoon fascinates me. I am enthralled by her and scared out of my ever-loving mind.
I had waited around for her Monday morning since she usually came by the apartment before her first class. When she didn’t show up, I assumed her schedule changed and went on to work. I texted her a couple times during the day…and nothing. I told myself she had probably forgotten her phone, but I was uneasy and not getting a damn thing done at work. At four, I had given up the battle and had Sam bring the car around. When I reached my apartment, Lia wasn’t there, nor had she been there. I’d texted and called her a dozen times before having Sam take me to her apartment. Her roommate had been standing outside of their door freaking out. She didn’t know who the hell I was but seemed relieved to have someone take charge. If she found it odd that I walked straight to Lia’s room without asking, she didn’t mention it.
The fear that Lia’s stepfather had harmed her was riding me heavily; I wanted to lose my shit just as bad as her roommate did. My heart almost stopped when I saw her small body, face down on her bed, eerily still. I stood locked in place for a moment, looking for visible signs of injury. When she shifted slightly on the bed, everyone in the room seemed to release a breath. It took me two seconds to reach her and roll her gently over. Heat emanated from her body in waves; she was fucking burning up. Without asking, Sam brought me a cool cloth, telling me to wipe her face with it. This seemed to bring her around slightly and as I started talking, her head followed my voice. “Baby, can you hear me?”
Sam dropped his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Luc, I’m thinking she caught the flu from you. That is pretty much how you were when I got you home from the airport. She needs something for the fever and a few days in bed. Do you want me to go to the store and pick up some stuff while you get her settled?”
“I’m not leaving her here. She’s coming home with me so I can take care of her.” Sam looked surprised but learned long ago to adjust quickly. Her roommate’s mouth has dropped open at my statement, and she looks nervous.
“I…um…who are you? I mean…you’re the God, obviously, but I’m not sure if Lia should leave with you while she’s sick.”
I brushed off her concern, saying, “Lia should leave with me precisely because she’s sick. She’ll call you when she’s feeling better.” I pull out my wallet and hand her one of my business cards. “If you need anything, just call my office, and they’ll get a message to me.” Before she can object further, I lift Lia in my arms and carry her down to my car.
Over the next couple of days, I do stuff for a woman I’ve never done before; I change her clothes, sponge off her face, sit her on the toilet and hold her in place so she doesn’t fall off onto the floor. I coax medicine down her throat, and hold her in my arms when she’s burning with fever but freezing to death. Then I do it all over again…and again. There is one bonus, though: she is fucking adorable on Nyquil. I don’t think she even remembers how she would talk ninety miles a minute and suddenly pass out in mid-sentence. I swear, one moment, she was asking me a question and before I could get the answer out, she was snoring with her mouth hanging open. One of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed.
The office is in some kind of uproar, though. After being out sick a few days myself, then staying home to be with Lia, Cindy is convinced I have some kind of terminal illness I’m not telling them about. Aidan is also calling every hour, ‘just checking in.’ Yeah, when the hell has he called that much in a twenty-four hour period? Sam is the only one who actually believes me since he has been witness to most of it. It doesn’t say much for me as a person if those closest to me can't freaking grasp that I could care about someone enough to doctor them back to health. Maybe care isn’t the right word; returning the favor might be more accurate. It is definitely less terrifying.
Well, fuck, Aidan is standing on the sidewalk smoking when Sam drops me at the curb. Being interrogated before I even walk in the door is not something I’m looking forward to. “Hey, man.” He grins, taking in my impatient stance.
“Aidan,” I say in return. Looking at my watch, I add, “We’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. Are you ready?”
He almost looks offended as he says, “Of course, aren’t I always? We should be wrapping up around lunch; where do you want Cindy to make reservations?”
“Wherever you want. I’m leaving as soon as we are finished.” Aidan takes another drag off the cigarette as he seems to consider my answer.
“The girl still sick then?” I know him well. His manner looks casual and relaxed, but he’s anything but.
“She’s better. I’m going to work from home again this afternoon just in case.”
I jerk in shock when he growls, “What about Cassie? You replace her with a new-and-improved model?” As the shock wears off, I want to take my friend and pummel his ass right where he stands. How dare he ask me that; how fucking dare the bastard.
“That’s none of your goddamn business. Lia has nothing to do with that.”
Aidan, ever the chameleon, smiles, slapping me on the back. “Sure, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just seems this girl is different for you. Strangely familiar, you know?” He stubs his cigarette out under his toe, saying, “I’m just going to get a cup of coffee before coming up.” He walks off looking agitated. No matter how many years we have been friends, Cassie is always between us. For Aidan, she’ll always be the one who got away. I wonder if he would still carry that fantasy in his head and his heart if he had been the one involved with her beyond friendship. I barely survived her love, and God knows I hadn’t been as emotionally invested as Aidan. Maybe if I had, things would have ended differently. Who the hell knows; it’s too damn painful to even think about, and it’s been done to death already.
I make it to my office after collecting some messages from Cindy. She, too, asks about Lia, but seems genuinely concerned. I’m sure Sam has given her all the details by now. She is probably just thrilled to see I’ve been with the same woman for more than a week. The urge to snort a line is strong as I shut the door behind me, but I refrain; I need to stop using it as a crutch to deal with everything that is fucked-up in my life. Maybe that resolve comes from imagining what Lia would think if she knew. Of course, with her screwed-up background, it would take a lot to surprise her.
Cindy buzzes my phone to let me know everyone is in the conference room. I wonder fleetingly what I’ll find when I get home. Shifting my hard cock to a more-comfortable position, I walk toward the door. Time to take care of business so I can get out of here and see what’s waiting for me at home.
Chapter Eleven
Lia
“Well, I don’t believe it. Look who finally learned how to use a phone.” Uh oh, do I detect a tone of sarcasm in Rose’s voice when she answers on the first ring. “Do you have any idea how close I’ve been to calling the cops to come rescue your ass? Jake had almost convinced me you were in a ditch somewhere, dead and dismembered. I kept holding out hope you were just being held hostage as a sex slave.” I start laughing, liking her idea better than she could ever know.
“I’m sorry. I should have called you sooner. Truthfully, I have been out of it until today. I woke up this morning feeling like shit but thinking maybe I was going to live after all. I’ve never had anything come on so fast and hit me so hard.” Rose makes sympathetic clucks in the background.
“Well, now,” she says, “tell me all about Mr. Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down and Fuck Me Raw. I hate to admit this, but while he was kidnapping you, I was ogling his ass the entire time. I’m almost sure he caught me staring at his dick when he was talking to me. I want you to know, though, I put up a token protest before allowing him to leave with you. Give me points for that, because what I really wanted to do was rip you from his arms and wrap myself around him like a freaking ivy vine. Is it cheating to hump another guy’s leg? Because I’d totally do it.”
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