by Lilly Atlas
And a ravaged woman.
How had it come to this? Why could they only connect as strangers? How come Alyssa and Derek had to pretend to be other people to find the connection that once came so easy?
He showed her no mercy, sucking on her outer lips with strong pulls, circling her clit with his tongue then drawing it into his mouth, spearing her opening with his agile tongue. Never was he in one spot for too long, and just when she’d get used to a new and intense sensation, he’d switch it up, sending her reeling once again.
“Christ,” he mumbled against her pussy. “I thought you smelled amazing, but it’s nothing compared to how fucking incredible you taste.”
His teeth grazed her clit and she cried out, reaching for his head on instinct. Unfortunately, her carefully balanced position didn’t allow her to lift an arm and she toppled down onto the island. With a growl of frustration, she tucked her elbow back against her side and pushed up.
What had been the plan anyway? Pull him closer? Push him away? Just hold on and ride out the storm?
It didn’t matter. A pleasant tingling sensation started in the tips of her fingers and toes, extending through her limbs. When he shoved his tongue inside her yet again, her pussy clamped down and she threw her head back as flashes of light shot through her vision. “I’m gonna come,” she cried out.
“Give it to me.” The barked command, combined with the way he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard, threw her over the edge.
“Shit,” she yelled, as pleasure crested over her in waves. It had been ages since she had an orgasm like this, one that made the world quake beneath her. One that made her soul sing and left room for nothing in her head but joy. Only one man had ever been able to wring that kind of toe-curling response from her.
After that powerful release, her body tried to come down to a sated state of lethargy, but Tyler had other plans. He didn’t let up, didn’t ease or gentle in his devouring of her. Had he not noticed the monster orgasm that ripped through her?
No, that wasn’t possible.
Her body had been spasming, out of control, and she hadn’t stifled her cries.
He was just on a mission to bring her to the edge yet again. The only problem was she was sensitive from the recent orgasm, beyond sensitive, really. And he went at her like a man possessed. Like he was unaware of anything but her pussy and his hunger.
“It’s too much,” she said with a moan. “I can’t take it—oh God, it’s too much. You have to stop.” She tried again to reach for him, but as before, was thwarted by an inability to hold herself up without her arms.
If she survived this, she’d be hitting the gym every day. Clearly, she was lacking in the abs department.
With a grunt, he left her pussy and stood, drawing a sigh of both relief and frustration from her. The reprieve didn’t last more than two seconds. Two thick fingers slid into her, taking the place of his mouth in driving her crazy. With his free hand, he yanked the lacy bra cups down, exposing her neglected breasts and bent to suck one nipple into his mouth. He only spent maybe three seconds on her breast, but the strength with which he drew on it had her moaning. Then he switched to the other breast and treated it to the same brief but intense treatment.
She could barely keep up with the overwhelming riot of sensations when he took her lips in a fierce kiss, infusing her with her own flavor. The kiss was as brief as his attention on her breasts but just as powerful. “You’ll take what I give you. Everything I give you. Got it?”
His fingers curled inside her, finding the spot that made her eyes cross and she nodded. Always. She’d give him anything he wanted and take everything he dished out for as long as she lived.
“Say it,” he commanded.
“A-anything you want to give me…everything.”
“Damn straight.” He dropped down to his knees once again and added his mouth back into the mix. While he fucked her with his fingers, he licked and sucked around her clit like it was his favorite treat.
On the barstools, her overtaxed leg muscles quivered and shook with the effort to maintain the position. If she let her legs go, she’d probably slide right off the bar. The muscles in her stomach began to twitch and tremble and her shoulders ached from bracing herself up. She was torn between the desire to flop back on the bar and give her exhausted body a rest or continue watching the erotic sight of Tyler eating her out for all he was worth.
In the end, she couldn’t look away, transfixed by the sight of the almost animalistic way he pleasured her. Tears filled her eyes. It had been far too long since she felt this incredible. And not just the physical pleasure, but the connection to another person, the loss of control, and knowledge that she wasn’t the only one in so deep.
Wasn’t the only one lost to the madness.
His name was on the tip of her tongue and she longed to yell it at the top of her lungs. To make sure he knew she associated the indescribable pleasure with him, but it wasn’t the right name. She couldn’t bring herself to utter it. Only one man’s name would ever cross her lips in the throes of passion and Tyler wasn’t it. This time, there was no buildup to the orgasm. It slammed into her before she had time to prepare for it. She screamed with the force of release as the room went black.
At some point, while she was coming with the force of a category five hurricane, her upper body failed her. When the world came back into focus, she was staring at the ceiling with her back flat on the island. She twitched and jumped with aftershocks and her skin felt so hypersensitive, she was afraid to do so much as brush against Tyler.
She could only imagine the picture she made. Heels still on, legs spread wide on the barstools, skirt rucked around her waist, open top, bra yanked down, hair a wild mess. Probably pretty damn hot.
With a chuckle, she struggled to a semi-upright position. At least upright enough to see Tyler. “I’m glad to know I’m still alive after that insanity. If you give me two minutes to gather my strength, I’ll return the fav—”
Uh-oh.
There was no arrogant male conqueror look on his face. Nor was there the smoky desire that had been present earlier. And he didn’t look like a man who was ready to have his own world rocked. He looked more like a man who just received devastating news.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He ran a hand through his hair, scattering the short strands. Some of his beard still glistened with the evidence of her arousal.
“Can’t do what?” Nerves skittered across her skin, dimming some of the afterglow she should have been basking in. Couldn’t be with her? She held her breath waiting for an answer that had the power to destroy her.
“Um…this. Right now. I can’t do this.” He waved a hand between them and around the room. “I’m sorry, Alyssa. So fucking sorry for all of it.”
With that step out of character, he spun and charged for the door.
“Derek, wait!”
The slam of the door echoed through the quiet room making her jolt. She waited for a moment, listening for the sound of his own hotel suite door banging closed, but was greeted with only silence. He must have left the floor.
Alyssa sat up straight and began the task of righting her disastrous clothing. Well, shit. She’d pushed too hard. So hard, he’d abandoned the game and called her Alyssa.
Had it all been one colossal mistake? Sure, the idea had been radical, a Hail Mary attempt to save the most precious thing in her world. Maybe he just needed time. That had to be it.
That had to be it.
Because the alternative wasn’t acceptable. The notion that he was done with her, didn’t want her anymore…
Her stomach rolled, and tears flooded her eyes. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. The first devastating loss she experienced nearly did her in. Derek was her world. Until she met him, she’d thought stories of true love and romance were exaggerated tales made for books and movies. But Derek was made for her. There was no other way to describ
No way in hell would she throw her marriage away without giving it all she had.
Chapter Nine
Derek stormed toward the elevators with his heart in his throat, trembling hands, and the intoxicating tang of his wife still lingering on his lips. His cock was harder than it had been in years and his balls ached with the need for release. A raging case of blue balls was the least he deserved for walking out on Alyssa before the sweat had cooled on her soft skin.
When he thought of how long it had been since he’d tasted her, pleasured her like that, seen her give herself over the pleasure she loved, he felt physically ill.
For years, he’d lived for that. Lived for the needy whimpers she made when she wanted him. Lived for her tantalizing contradiction of shy and sensual. Lived for the way she responded to him and only him. Lived for every moment he spent with her.
And now?
Now he felt like he barely knew the woman who should have been his whole world. Had no clue what went on in her days recently. Didn’t even know she’d gone back to work. Didn’t know if she was sleeping through the night or plagued with worries and grief. How had this happened? How had he let it happen? He’d failed her miserably. So wrapped up in his own grief and selfish inability to deal with his feelings that he’d shut himself off and neglected the rare and priceless connection they shared.
As the elevator reached the ground floor, he pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Brett. Take you up on the offer of an ear. Meet at Pint’s? It was their favorite neighborhood bar. He needed a drink and didn’t need to be drinking alone at this point. Maybe hanging with Brett would help him get his head on straight.
His phone chirped.
Already there, one drink in.
Well, that was convenient. Derek stepped into the frosty evening and headed in the direction of the bar. He bypassed the metro station. A long walk would do him good.
Twenty minutes later, he sat on a stool next to his buddy at the bar. Brett had his favorite beer waiting for him. It was then, he realized, just what a lucky bastard he was. He’d neglected his relationship with his wife, yet she was willing to do anything to salvage what they had. Even try a radical plan that had him staying in a hotel, but turned out to be hot as fuck.
He’d also neglected his friendship with Brett, yet the moment he texted in need of an ear, his buddy was there for him, no questions asked. Two of the most important people in his life suffering from his inability to deal with his feelings and heartache were both willing to fight for him. More willing than he’d been apparently.
What an undeserving ass he was.
“So,” Brett said, “you ready to spill about what’s going on with you and Lyss?”
No preamble, no small talk. Just dive right into the heart of the problem. Classic Brett. And very much appreciated.
Derek sipped his beer. “No.”
Brett grunted. “Okay, listen. You need to talk. Get out of your fucking head. I promise your balls won’t shrivel up.”
Studying his beer like it held all the answers, Derek sighed. If he talked, opened that floodgate, all the pain he was trying to avoid would come crashing in with the power of Niagara Falls.
“I’m good to sit here all night if we gotta.”
Shit. “Fine. I’ll talk.”
A smile lit Brett’s face. “’Bout fuckin’ time, brother. Go ahead. Spill your guts. Dr. Brett is here for ya.”
A laugh burst out of Derek, easing some of his tension. “Shit, it must be worse than even I realized if I’m using you as my marriage counselor.”
“Pfft. I’m damn good with the ladies and you know it.”
Derek sipped his beer. “Kick her to the curb and find another isn’t exactly the advice I’m looking for.”
With a roll of his eyes, Brett flipped him off. “Drink more. You know damn well I wouldn’t say that about Alyssa. She’s always been my favorite person.”
A ghost of a smile curled Derek’s lips. Brett may be a notorious womanizer, but he treated them all well. From the moment he’d met Alyssa years ago, he’d had a soft spot for her. And she’d always thought of him as a big brother of sorts.
“Well, as you picked up on, things haven’t been right with Alyssa and me since…” The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
Brett sat, a patient expression on his face. His friend was there for him for sure, but wasn’t going to give him a pass. He’d make Derek say the words.
He cleared his throat. “Things haven’t been right since Katie died.” There. He’d said it. Given voice to it. And got the stab of pain in his heart was just as sharp as it had been the day it happened.
Brett nodded and let Derek speak. He tempered his voice and tried to keep from being pummeled with emotions he didn’t want to feel. As he confided in his friend, Derek’s mind replayed the past year, but especially the events of the past week and a half.
Thirteen Days Ago
Derek pushed the door open and smiled at the professional woman with a long, deep brown braid over her shoulder and dark rimmed glasses perched atop her head. Damn, she couldn’t be much older than he was. Hell, she may have been younger. For some reason when he imagined the marriage counselor, he pictured an older, sophisticated woman spouting wisdom borne of a long healthy marriage.
With an apologetic smile, he cast a glance at the plush couch where his wife sat, her back straight and hands folded in her lap. Ever the lady. Though a nervous lady if her posture was any indication. She may have been rigid and tapping her foot, but her eyes shone with genuine happiness to see him.
Since he was fifteen minutes late, she probably thought he bailed. “Um, hey, babe, sorry I’m late. My last client was a little woozy after a few hours in the chair.”
The therapist checked her watch and motioned toward the couch. “Actually, Mr. Jackson, I was running a bit behind as well, so you’re right on time. We haven’t even formally introduced ourselves yet. Please, take a seat.”
He took the space next to Lyss on the couch and threaded his fingers through hers. They trembled in his hand until she clasped him so tight it nearly hurt. She must be even more nervous than she appeared.
He wanted to reach out to her. To drag her into his arms and promise her everything would work out. But he didn’t. It was an unnerving feeling. This uncertainty. This absence of confidence in his relationship. He felt as though he’d forgotten how to touch her.
Not for sex. That he damn well remembered.
But this deeper intimacy. Comforting, reassuring, loving…
Had he really closed himself off that much? So much that he couldn’t remember how to touch his wife?
Christ, he was an asshole.
He hadn’t exactly been enthused about the idea of counseling when she broached the subject, but he loved his wife, and wasn’t enough of an asshole to deny her something that might help her, or them.
“I’m Doctor Margret Appwater, but I like to keep this as informal as possible, so please call me Maggie.” She smiled at Lyss, and his wife lost some of the starch and tension in her spine.
“Derek and Alyssa, I presume? And is it okay if I use your first names?”
He nodded while Alyssa said, “That’s correct. And, please, those names are fine.”
Maggie nodded and jotted notes on her pad. “All right, I’m not one for bullshit or much small talk, so I’d like us to just dive right in.”
Derek snorted. He had plenty of experience with therapy, though it seemed a lifetime ago. PTSD was a nasty bitch and had had him in her clutches for years after he left the Navy. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember any of the therapists using the word bullshit. Maybe this Dr. Appwater wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Given the nature of my practice, I’ve heard it all. I want you to feel comfortable enough to say anything, and I mean anything. I promise, it is not possible to shock me, and I also promise you will not tell me anything I haven’t dealt with before. There will never be any judgment. Okay?”
Alyssa nodded, but Derek had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m sorry, the nature of your practice? You mean marriage counseling?” He glanced at his wife who wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Maggie kept her attention on her notepad. “Well, yes and no. I mean the fact that I specialize in couples and individuals with sexual and intimacy issues. So, I’m going to dive right in with my first question, then I’ll let you speak freely. When was the last time the two of you engaged in any type of physical intimacy?”
What. The. Fuck.
Alyssa was unsatisfied with their sex life? Since when? He wanted to laugh out loud. There was no way in hell. She loved sex. Loved sex with him. Even after eight years together she responded to him like she was made for him and he could practically make her come by whispering filthy words in her ear. He was pretty damned certain they had the hottest sex life of anyone they knew.
Christ, the thought that he wasn’t satisfying his wife had nausea rolling through his gut. No, it just wasn’t possible. The last time they’d had sex she came four times, screaming his name and pulling his hair so hard he teased her and bought a box of Rogaine the next day. And that was just…what?
“Two years ago.” The words left Alyssa’s mouth in a small, sad voice the exact moment his brain registered the timeline.
Two years ago.
Derek’s jaw dropped, and he faced his wife. How on earth had he gone two years without her touch, her taste, without watching her face as she came, without hearing the sound of his name escape her lips in a fit of ecstasy?
That really couldn’t be possible.
But her dejected smile and his own memory said it was more than possible. It was true.
“Okay, thank you for being honest. I’d like to get a little background on you guys. Let’s start with you, Alyssa, since you’re the one who initiated the appointment. Derek, I understand you took a little convincing.”
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