“Fuck you—”
Another backfist. The man spits a tooth and slumps down the wall, his eyes enormous, as if he can’t fully comprehend what is happening to him.
Aaron turns to my stall. “You all right in there, sweetheart?” he asks me very gently.
“I’m okay!” My voice breaks and trembles, but I’m telling the truth. “He just gave me a scare.” I undo the bent latch with some difficulty, then hurry out and dart for the door.
Aaron stays between me and the slumped over creep as we walk out. He takes the knife with him, like a trophy. I don’t question it—I’m too grateful and relieved.
Relieved ... and tingling all over. I should be absolutely terrified, but instead, I keep thinking of him beating that creep to a pulp and feel surges of excitement that I just can’t understand.
He defended me. He didn’t just talk about it, he did it. And that guy that I was so scared of folded in seconds.
He saved my life again. Who is this doctor? How did he manage to walk into my life at just the right time?
He ushers me back over to the motorcycle and turns to me. “Do we call the police?”
It’s a terrible idea. I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me when I talk about how the doctor is a master manipulator who could easily get the police on his side. I want that creep back there to get locked up so he can’t do this again, but ...
“Let’s call anonymously and then leave. I don’t want to get caught up here.” I feel cold now. I shiver and pull his leather jacket closer around me.
He watches me a moment longer, then nods slowly. “I understand. Fine.” He pulls out his cellphone.
I watch the back corner of the building as he makes the call, wary of the trucker emerging from the bathroom and heading for us again. But he doesn’t come out our side, and he doesn’t come around the other side and walk out toward the trucks.
The longer we stand there waiting with Aaron on hold with 911 and me shivering and watching, the worse I start to feel. I can feel my adrenaline leaving and my mood crashing, the depression flaring up now that I’m emotionally exhausted.
I know Aaron’s with me now and I’m safe, but it was far too close a call. Just a few more seconds and that man would have dragged me out of the stall by the legs. The ugly side of the world is taking the shine off my newfound freedom, and my heart aches.
Finally, he hangs up and glances in the direction I have been watching steadily. “Did he ever come out? I know I didn’t hit him hard enough to knock him out.”
“I d-don’t think so.” Without expecting or wanting to, I let out a low, gulping sob.
Embarrassed, I cover my face with my hands. The cold inside me grows so intense that I shudder violently—and then the dam breaks and I’m weeping openly for the first time in years.
My emotions come to a boil as every ugly thing I’ve been pushing out of my head comes crashing back in. I feel a surge of fear, knowing I’m not supposed to be showing this much emotion.
It’s the conditioning. The doctor wanted me calm. Compliant. Doll-like, as he had tried with several of the other young women in his care. Even though I know it’s from the years of brainwashing the doctor forced on me, I can’t help but feel anxious and ashamed of my emotions on top of everything.
Shit. I sob into my hands, and hate myself for not being able to stop it.
I don’t realize that Aaron’s talking to me at first, and even then I can only hear the warm, comforting tones of his voice, not the words. My heart is banging away in my ears as I cry uncontrollably.
But then suddenly, I’m enfolded in warmth.
My eyes fly open as my cheek hits his collarbone and I feel his arms tighten around me. He’s murmuring soothing things in my ear, petting my hair, telling me that it will be all right. I can feel his steady heartbeat against my breasts and the heat of his body rolling off of him and soaking into my chilled bones.
I sob and wrap my arms around him, hiding my face in his chest. I listen to his steady heartbeat and low murmurs, and faster than I ever would have expected, I feel the thoughts and memories stop torturing me and ebb away. And even then, I do not let him go.
It feels so good to be held and comforted, and I realize as my skin starts to tingle that I’ve been starved for touch. The right kind of touch, from the right person.
Then something strange happens. His heartbeat starts picking up, and I feel a shiver go through him. His breath catches.
His muscles flex as he pulls me a fraction closer, and I feel how much of his strength he’s holding back from me and lose my breath. He could hurt me terribly ... but he never would, would he? His strength, used like this, just makes me feel safer.
Neither one of us wants to pull away. I can feel it. And then I feel something else that confirms it, and sends a hot blush across my cheeks.
The firm lump pressing against my stomach is unfamiliar to me. I’ve never been this close to any man outside of the doctor and one of his attendants. Sex, lucky for me, was never on either of their agendas. Here, though ... the discovery that I turn Aaron on makes me smile instead of shudder.
Whether it was his intent at the beginning or not, he’s interested. What a strange thing! What an exciting, new thing—to be desired by someone that I want as well!
The faint sound of sirens in the distance shocks us out of our embrace. He lets me go, glancing around, as do I. If the man has left the bathroom, he didn’t return to the parking lot. It’s possible that he ran off into the woods, but I can’t afford to stick around and point that out to the police.
“We should make ourselves scarce now,” Aaron says in a husky voice, and I nod, stepping away from him. We put on our helmets and climb on the bike, and I feel him shiver pleasantly when I wrap my arms around him. By the time the police get near the rest stop, we are already roaring off down the road.
Chapter 8
Aaron
I’m a little worried that I may have accidentally killed that fat fuck who went after Madelyne. I wasn’t entirely in control when I hit him. Not after hearing her screams and seeing him crawling under the stall door like an animal trying to get at her.
Half of me wanted to check before we leave, but that would’ve been too risky. Not just because of the police, of whom Madelyne seems strangely skittish, but because if I had laid eyes on that would-be rapist again I might have finished the damn job and beaten him to death.
Holding Madelyne in my arms after that adrenaline-fueled mess had a predictable result. Her slim body pressed against mine, clinging to me, set off one hell of a boner. And it won’t go away for a long time.
I drive for most of the next hour at half-staff, just from her arms around me.
More clouds are starting to roll in by the time we get to the bed and breakfast. I promised a fat bonus to the owner to cover the inconvenience of getting up to check us in. Good as my word, I count out ten twenties for the sour-faced old man behind the counter as he stares coldly at us with watery hazel eyes, lips twitching with some unvoiced disapproval.
I take the key and swipe my card, and we head upstairs to the room. It turns out to be quaint, pretty, and a bit cramped, with a big four-poster bed, two narrow closets, and a window that overlooks a large forest-backed pond. Madelyne trails in after me, her body language gone tight and nervous again.
I lock the door and turn to her. “Hey. What is it?” I ask as kindly as I can.
She offers a shaky smile. “I’m not sure that guy liked me very much.”
I scoff, trying to show her it’s all right. “He’s just an old man who didn’t like having his sleep disturbed. It’ll be okay. We’ll be out of his hair in the morning anyway, and he’s getting three times what the room is worth for bothering with us.”
“Okay,” she mumbles, looking around and then quietly taking off my jacket and her “borrowed” lab coat. Now that she’s had time on the road and a meal in her, she looks less like a Japanese ghost and more cute and artsy. A college girl—startlingly
normal.
The truth is, I don’t like how the owner looked at us either. Like he assumes I’m a married man having an affair, or that we are some drunken late-night bar hookup. I don’t actually care about his angry, conservative disapproval. People like that need to keep their noses out.
“So you never told me much about yourself,” she prods so gently that I barely mind. “I know what you do for a living but really, nothing else. What do you do when you’re not working?”
I let out a rueful little laugh. “Well, I don’t actually have all that much free time right now. See, I inherited a big administrative mess from my predecessor, so I give up part of every week finishing up all the paperwork he left.”
“That must be hard on whoever’s special in your life,” she observes, so softly that I know she’s feeling wistful about filling that position. She’s got a crush. Okay. That’s kind of adorable.
“Heh, no, not really,” I say with an awkwardness I’m not accustomed to. “My staff feed my pets when I’m gone.”
Her face lights up, and I brace myself for the standard gold-digger refrain: “You have staff?” Meaning, of course, that I make enough money to afford staff.
But instead, she squeaks, “You have pets?”
I fight down a huge grin. Okay, that’s definitely adorable. “Yeah. Two rescue dogs—a Pit-Rottie mix named Smiley and a standard-issue brown mutt named Jake. Plus Derp; he’s the cat. Black and white, kinda ... special.” I grab the one chair in the room, a stiff wooden rocker, and stretch my legs out in front of me.
She blinks as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Special how?” she asks in that strange innocent tone.
“Well, he knows all the usual tricks of feeding and cleaning himself, uses the litter box, doesn’t wander into traffic. He just happens to, uh ... think he’s a dog.” That is actually kind of an understatement.
“Wait.” She leans forward a little, and I try to avoid staring into the sweater’s overlarge neckline. “You mean that he plays fetch?”
“Yep. He prefers socks or small chewy bones.”
“He uses chewy bones.” She’s relaxing now, intrigued.
Behold the power of cute animals. “Yeah, and God help the skin on your hands if you try to take it away.”
“Does he bark?”
I shake my head, smiling, my relief probably showing on my face. The further we get from that hospital, the more she acts like a normal person. Yes, she might be a bit mousy, tense, and socially inexperienced, but she’s getting less depressed, less skittish and less ... broken.
She’s a really special girl, this one. She needs a lot of help, but as things go on, I’m starting to feel like I wouldn’t mind. I look after people all the time. Why would I balk at looking after my woman?
“You’re ... staring at me,” she murmurs wonderingly.
I look at her and make myself a promise. No matter how hard it is, I’m going to be completely honest with her and let her decide how to act on the information. And that’s how we’ll handle it from now on.
“I’m sorry, I just ... you’ve changed so much just in a few hours.” Has she been faking everything amazingly well? Am I that gullible? Or is she actually improving now that she is off the psych meds?
If she needs tranquilizers, her mood should not be improving. I could be wrong—she could just be on a temporary emotional high from finally getting free of her captor. But that’s certainly not how it seems. “It’s like you’re becoming more ... alive.”
“The poison’s starting to wear off.” Her face is thoughtful; her expressions have become more animated as well, helping her shed more of that ghostly look. “That and just ... being free, and finally being around someone I actually want to be around.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you feel that way.” I stare at her, trying to look ambivalent, not sure whether to bring up my desire or wait.
“What is it?” She looks at me in confusion, and I smile a little awkwardly.
That’s okay. I don’t have to be smooth. She’s rough edged and inexperienced and probably will feel better if I show that I’m not perfect either. “Well, it’s just that I’ve been thinking of kissing you for a while now, but I know you’re coming out of a bad situation.”
When did I get up? I barely notice until I’m settling onto the bed next to her. My cock is throbbing almost painfully in my pants, and I reach over and lay one hand gently over hers.
She shivers, but her eyes light up. “Oh,” she murmurs. “I ... don’t have any experience with that kind of thing.”
Her tone is uncertain, and for a moment I’m concerned enough that I almost call the whole thing off. I don’t want to scare her or do anything that might leave her with more pain and me with any guilt.
“Is that okay?” she’s asking, and for a few beats, I stare at her in confusion.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“That I don’t know what I’m doing,” she clarifies, looking nervous and embarrassed, and maybe even a little apologetic.
“Huh? Oh, no, no. Seriously.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Nobody knows what they are doing in the beginning when it comes to sex.”
“I just don’t want to embarrass myself, or ... or make you angry.” Her shy glance breaks my heart a little.
“You’re not going to make me angry,” I reassure gently. “Yes, intervening in a suicide is a really weird way to meet people, but I think you’re sweet and attractive. It’s not why I decided to help you, but it is the reason I want to kiss you.”
“Oh,” she says with that tiny, tentative smile again. “O ... okay.”
My heart starts beating fast and I turn toward her, licking my lips. “Yeah?” I double check.
“Yeah,” she replies, holding my hand in both of hers.
Part Three
Chapter 9
Madelyne
First kiss. Another thing I thought I would never experience. Aaron’s lips are warm and wide and firm against mine, and a tingle shoots from my lips back through my whole body, like sparks being struck between us.
Whatever else happens, whether I’m caught, whether I die, at least I’ll have this, I think feverishly as I respond. My return kiss is a little breathy and clumsy, but he seems to enjoy it anyway. We hold each other tight and kiss and breathe each other in until I’m dizzy from it.
All those lonely, terrifying years in the doctor’s hands left me with no real idea what affection is. I hadn’t known it well enough to recognize what I’ve been starving for. Just a hug, a kiss, Aaron’s hand stroking my hair—it fills up empty places inside of me that I wasn’t aware of. “Interesting,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and keeps caressing me until his own breathing shivers and grows harsh.
He pulls off his button-down shirt, startling me with how heavily muscled he is beneath. His body is tanned, gold hairs gleaming on his forearms and in a trail down his lower belly. Tossing the cloth aside and kicking off his shoes, he clambers onto the bed and moves around behind me on his knees.
I am busying myself kicking off the white nursing slip-ons when I feel him move up behind me, brushing my hair away from the back of my neck. Then his lips come down on my nape and I gasp, my newly-bared toes curling.
He holds me from behind, pushing up the tank top to bare my back while I shiver and pant in his grip. His mouth refastens on my neck, nipping and licking, then moving slowly downward. I tremble, nails digging into my knees, low moans pushing out of me with every breath.
I am starting to crave his bare skin against mine—our whole bodies, tangled together. I have no idea exactly what it will feel like to have the cock I feel pressed against me inside of me instead. But I want every inch of it, even if it hurts.
His lips and tongue run up and down my spine, lowering gradually toward my hips. I whimper and gasp, my pussy starting to ache in an unfamiliar way that feels good and drives me crazy at the same time.
The doctor would actually show anger if he saw me like this—free, clearheaded, emotional
, sexual. It’s all the more reason to throw myself into it now that I’ve found someone right. Impatient, brave, defiant, I strip off the tank top altogether, and take the plain bra beneath with it.
Aaron lets out a startled chuckle, and then his hands slide around my ribcage and move up under my breasts. He teases me with his fingertips, just brushing against the undersides before cupping them warmly in each of his smooth palms. His hands are steady and sure, and my small breasts disappear completely under his palms, even as the brush of his skin against my nipples sends fresh pleasure through me.
I can’t seem to get my breath at all anymore. I’m not worried—the strange, lightheaded sensation exhilarates me. He wraps his arms around me and scoots me back with him, then shifts our positions and lays me back sideways across his lap.
Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2) Page 4
