by Ellen March
He glanced up. Tears shimmered in his eyes, and he hoped to God that some miracle could salvage their relationship. Yet he instinctively knew that nothing could help them; they were doomed.
They would make love to each other for a short, blissful interlude and after that, go their separate ways. He just hoped she’d be erased from his memory, because he couldn’t go through the afterlife thinking of her. Wondering where she was, what she was doing.
That, to him, would be hell.
* * *
Grace rolled over and slapped at the bed. She’d dreamt that Breece was with her, pumping into her hard. And she wanted more. Then she glanced across at Sage, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his full uniform of pyjamas, his back to her. Rising, she checked out his cock and was curious as to his lack of erection. Breece, she knew, was hard full-stop.
A regular sex machine.
She scrubbed at her eyes, thinking of his tenderness last night, how he’d kissed her tears away. Yet there was nothing he could do to pacify her, allay her very real worries.
The ultimate outcome would be their parting.
There was no way it could continue for long. Whilst she aged, he would remain young. He’d come to loathe her. Heck, she wouldn’t want to screw an old man, why would Breece fancy an old woman, even if he did stay with her through the years?
“Glad to see you awake,” Sage said. “Can you rustle up a breakfast for me, honey?” He stood and stretched, then crossed to the window and flung the curtains open. A blaze of light burned into the room. “Ah, a glorious day for golf!”
Grace threw him an evil glare that bounced right off him. It had been a long time before she’d returned to bed.
She’d sat in Breece’s lap and cried, not just cried but sobbed and sniffled until nothing was left. Now her eyelids were red and swollen—not that Sage would notice. Breece had held her and calmed her, although she wished to Christ he’d been a twat and sent her away to sniffle alone. Where she could curse his selfishness and call him every bad name under the sun.
But no, he had shown nothing but caring and concern, kept her with him, soothed her, and meanwhile his own eyes drizzled with very real worry. He was making it harder with every passing second to say goodbye.
Chapter Sixteen
Grace sat in the chair, a bundle of nerves, wondering what the shrink was going to ask her. She’d heard Sage speak about Dr. Lovelock several times; she was a colleague who worked in a private clinic across town. Grace had never met the woman and would have preferred to keep it that way, but Sage had other ideas. She leaned back against the headrest and breathed in the pungent scent of leather. Not your usual NHS stock of plastic vinyl.
A tall, skeletal woman entered the room, her features sharp and angular. She held a file to her bony chest and gave Grace a withering, dry smile. Not exactly comforting. Obviously she’d missed the customer care course.
She’d always thought shrinks were supposed to put you at ease, act the part of the comforting figure you wanted to open up to. She rolled her eyes at Breece, who lounged against the panelled wall.
Grace had grave doubts about even giving this woman her name, much less allowing her access to her innermost thoughts.
“I see Dr. Gerret has recommended this appointment.” As she said his name her features instantly softened. “I’m Dr. Lovelock.”
Grace wasn’t surprised she was single and merely stared at her. Here was yet another drooling fanny to add to his list. If only they knew, she thought, rasping out a sigh.
“And you are Grace McGillis, residing at 7 Pinetree Avenue?”
Breece interrupted. “That’s your surname, huh? Any Scots in your ancestry?”
“Shut up.” The words whispered out.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, thinking out loud.” She threw him a murderous glare and noticed that the shrink followed her gaze.
“Do you see anyone there?” The woman didn’t bother to hide the condescension in her voice.
“No,” she shook her head, “do you?”
“I’m the one asking the questions, Grace.” She paused “You don’t mind me calling you that?”
“As it’s my name, why should I have a problem?”
“You appear to have a great deal of passive aggression in your tone. Can you tell me the reason behind it?”
Breece smothered a chuckle.
“Yes. I shouldn’t be here. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Sage, I mean Dr. Gerret, thinks otherwise.”
“Yeah, he would.”
The woman sniffed. “I value his opinion.” A sharpness edged her words. She still hadn’t sat down and now leaned her scrawny ass against the large desk. An intimidating dark block of wood, it monopolized the small room. She indicated the couch at the rear, a chair on each side. “If you would like to make yourself comfortable, I won’t be a moment.” She stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” Grace said to Breece, who was enjoying the entire scene, judging from his broad smile. Arms folded before him, he pushed away from the wall and wandered over to contemplate the view of the park from the office window.
Grace chucked her shoes and leaned back, settling against the rolled headrest. Unsure what to do with her hands, she folded them across her stomach.
Breece came over and knelt next to her. “Are you wearing knickers?”
“Cut it out, Breece. I’m here for counselling, and that’s your fault. Behave and sit quietly.”
His knuckles grazed her cheek, and leaning over, he followed the caress with a lick. Then he nuzzled into her neck.
Grace shrieked with laughter. He’d hit the spot that turned her to jelly. “Oh God, that makes me go insane,” she told him.
“Really?” said a voice.
Grace pushed at Breece then closed her eyes. Realizing too late how her actions would look. She opened them again and stared into the arctic blue depths of Dr. Lovelock’s narrowed gaze. The woman carried a small pad and a pen.
Grace didn’t speak, not one word, when Dr. Lovelock sat on a small chair beside her. “How long have you been speaking to your friend?” she asked, tapping her pen on the pad.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play games, Grace. I saw you.”
Grace chewed on her lip, debating what to say. If she told the truth, they’d cart her off to the nuthouse.
“You told Dr. Gerret someone made love to you in the shower?”
Grace nodded, afraid to open her mouth. She was sure she was going to be railroaded into telling her what she wanted to know.
“And you didn’t see him?”
Again shook her head. Breece leaned over her, his hand roving over her tits, flicking across her nipple. She counted back from a hundred, trying to ignore him, the torture he was conducting.
“Yet you heard him speak?”
“Yes, oh God yes.”
Breece grinned. He was enjoying himself, teasing her without mercy.
The woman raised her brow at the ardent tone in her voice. It was as if she were saying the words to someone else.
“And you thought it was your partner?” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. She swallowed with some difficulty.
Again Grace nodded, biting down on her lip. She wished he’d stop. And when he did, a wave of relief crashed over her. But it didn’t last.
“How long have you been together?”
“Eight months, give or take.” Her eyes shot open. His fingers sneaked up her leg, dipped carefully beneath her skirt and tripped a delightful path along the inside of her thigh.
Destination pussyvilla.
“Yet you didn’t recognize his voice. I’m sure most people would be able to distinguish between a stranger and a lover.” The last word was choked out.
“He was whispering, and the noise of the shower, it … oh my ….” She clenched her t
highs together, but it was too late; his wicked finger had already slid inside her knickers. All she’d achieved was to hold him there. His one hand moved in deep; the other held her skirt down, not moving.
“Is anything wrong?” Dr. Lovelock stared down at her, and frowned at her closed eyes, her pained expression.
“No.” She squealed as his fingers began their assault. They sneaked across her clit, teasing and loitering with wicked intent. His thumb moved in a soft sensual swirl, and his fingers slipped inside, first one, and then two, followed by a third.
She arced into his hand.
Dr. Lovelock didn’t miss the action. She was paid well to observe closely. “You had a sexual fantasy in the shower. Are you having another one now?”
“Oh God, please.” She dropped her hand. It rested on her skirt over her crotch, holding his hand firm.
“You’ve got to realize this isn’t normal behaviour. Your incessant need for sex has produced an imaginary lover.” She shook her head in disapproval. “You’ve obviously got an addiction to sex.”
“Dr. Lovelock, would you mind leaving for a moment? I need to be alone.” A film of perspiration had formed on her forehead.
“And why would that be?” She cricked her head, and her gaze lit on how her hips wriggled, how she arced her back and her hand remained on her crotch, circling with the heel of her palm.
“Because any second I’m going to come, and I’d prefer to do it in private.” Grace groaned, and a small whimper followed.
Dr. Lovelock rose so abruptly that she knocked her chair over. “Miss McGillis, you don’t need me; you need a sex therapist!” She turned and stormed out, slamming the door. From beyond the door, Grace heard, “Wait till I see Sage!”
“Breece, you bastard, finish what you started,” muttered Grace, opening her legs to welcome him.
He tugged at her knickers, ripping them off. The fact that at anytime the hag could return added to the suspense. He settled between her thighs and entered her in one swift lunge. Her legs locked around his waist.
He knew she was seconds away from coming.
Breece began pumping into her, his palms flat down on each side of her face, his gaze fixed on her as he lost himself in the black irises that were equally lost in him. She squealed then gave a deep, heady groan. “Oh fuck, Breece, I’m coming already.”
“Then come with me, baby.” As he spurted inside, he covered her scream with his lips.
* * *
Sage glanced down. His mobile was ringing with a long, low trill, and Dr. Lovelock’s name appeared. “Hi Joanne, how are things going with Grace?” He sat at his desk, a pile of files and papers littered before him.
“I can’t help you; I’m sorry. There’s most definitely something wrong with her, though.”
“Why can’t you do anything? If she needs help, then you’re the best there is.”
Her cheeks glowed from his praise. “What she needs, Sage, is a sex therapist.”
He sat up abruptly. He was of the same mind. “What brings you to that conclusion?”
“She asked me to leave mid-session. Her exact words were that she ‘needed to come.’ ”
“What!” That he hadn’t been expecting. A flood of shame smothered him. He was determined to have a word with her. More than a word. She needed to know that her actions weren’t acceptable.
“At this moment I imagine she’s masturbating on my couch.”
“Oh, dear God!” Sage sank back in the chair, a hand to his head, trying to hold back the headache that had suddenly appeared.
“Of course I’ll be billing you for the cleaning.” She would milk it for all it was worth. “And now I’ll return, and just pray she’s finished. You’ll have my report by end of today.”
Sage clicked the phone off. He was furious. As soon as possible he had to confront her. If she couldn’t control herself then he would have to break things off. He couldn’t afford to be associated with the shame and embarrassment that came with her.
* * *
Dr. Lovelock checked her watch. Ten minutes had passed, surely enough time. She returned to her room. She placed her hand on the handle, was about to open it when she heard Grace talking. And pressed her ear to the door.
“Breece, if you weren’t already dead, I could kill you for doing that.”
“Sorry, baby, but you were lying there looking so fuckable …. I mean, what’s a guy to do?”
“Try holding back and keeping control of your cock?” She swiped at his hand. “Stop that, haven’t you had enough?”
“Of you, Grace, never.” And realized it was true.
She was seated back in the chair, and he leaned over it, his hands trailing down to cup her tits. They mesmerized him; he was convinced they were the best pair he’d ever laid eyes on. And there’d been a few.
“I dread to think what Sage is going to say. I still can’t believe I asked her to leave so I could come!”
“And you did, baby, spectacularly as always.”
“Breece, what is it about you that makes me so horny? Shit, you’ve only got to touch me and I’m putty in your hands.”
“You’ve either got it or you haven’t.” He gave her a sinful wink.
“So modest with it.” She tried to keep the smile out of her voice. “Wonder when the skinny witch will return? God, but she needs a lesson in bedside manners.”
The door burst open. “So do you, Miss McGillis. I’ll be sure to mention this in my report to Sage.”
She looked around the room. “So, who were you talking to?”
“No one. As you can see, the room’s empty.” Grace rose and straightened her clothing. Shaking her head, she added, “Maybe you need to see someone about that. Hearing things?” Without a backward glance, she left. Breece followed, his laughter reverberating off the walls.
Grace reasoned that if she was going to get slated in her report, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace was sitting at the reception desk when Sage came through. She concentrated on putting each buff folder into alphabetical order. The reception area retained all hard copies of appointments, and the mundane task of filing them fell on her. The hospital didn’t rely totally on the electronic system that Amy operated. One look at his face told her he wasn’t a happy man. In fact she’d never seen him angry before. The emotion required too much effort. Of course she knew at once what had pissed him off.
His hand slammed down, making her jump. “What the heck do you think you’re playing at? Do you think this is some sort of joke?”
Amy discreetly moved away, a call to the ladies’ imminent. She made her excuses and disappeared. There was no one waiting in the reception area to force him to suppress his anger.
“No, I don’t, and keep your voice down.” She gave a slight shake of her head to Breece, who’d moved towards her. His jaw was clenched as were his fists.
“Come outside. I need a word with you,” Sage grated out.
“I can’t. There’s no one to cover reception.” Grace was glad Amy had made herself scarce.
“Lunchtime in my office. We’re going to have a serious talk, because if you think I’m putting up with you ridiculing me, then think again.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have booked me in to see her.” She shuffled a load of papers together, not that they needed it, but it gave her something to do.
“That’s no excuse for your absurd behaviour,” he said, looking as if he were about to explode, “and you’ll be the one to pay the cleaning bill, not me!” Her face flushed a beetroot red before he turned, executed a perfect pirouette, and marched down the hall.
Grace gave a sigh, and knew she was in for a lecture.
“Didn’t realize you’d come that hard,” said Breece, trying to inject some humour into the situation. He could see the dejection on her face.
“Shut up. I’m not in the mood.”
Amy returned and glanced around, looking for any sign of Sage. “Wow, first t
ime I’ve seen him in such a state. Thought I’d leave you to get on with it.”
“It was a good idea. He wanted a chat outside, and with you gone I had an excuse to tell him I couldn’t. Except that now he wants to see me in his office at lunchtime.”
“You going?” Amy pulled out the chocolate biscuits, the perfect comfort food for occasions such as this. She ripped at the packet. “Here, think you need one.”
“Too right I do.” She glanced over at Breece, who appeared to be studying something with an avid intensity. “What’s up?”
Breece didn’t reply; instead he kept his attention focused on the scene before him.
He stared at the young girl. She was about twelve, he guessed, and crying. A slight woman walked alongside her. The woman looked up, and her tearful eyes locked with his.
“Please tell her it’s not her time yet?” she begged him, scrubbing at her own tears.
Breece turned to Grace. “I’ll be back later, baby; something’s come up.” He crossed the short distance towards them.
Grace watched. He appeared to be talking to someone before moving away, out of sight.
* * *
Breece looked down at the woman who was pleading with the girl. “You have to go back. Please, Alysia, please. For me? You can’t leave Daddy alone. Someone needs to look after him.”
“But Mum, what about you?” She clung to her mother’s hips, her face pressed against her, clawing at her in desperation.
“I’ll be okay. It’s my time, not yours.” She unfurled her arms and knelt before her, her face awash with tears. She didn’t want to leave her daughter—not now, not ever. But she couldn’t come with her. It was only her never-ending love for her that kept her strong. “And you know I’ll always be with you. You’re my baby girl. You’ll always be my sweetheart, one I love soooo much.” She choked down a sob. “So very, very much!”
“Your mother’s right,” Breece said. “Why don’t I take you back to your room?”
The woman glanced up, her face a mask of grief. She was gnawing on her lip, biting down to stop the pain exploding through her. “She’s on Ward 2. They’re trying to save her. Please, will you take her back?” She turned to her daughter and gave her one last shaky hug, holding her in her arms for the last time. “You know I’ll always be with you.” Cupping her daughter’s face, she let her tortured gaze dwell on every dear feature, knowing it would be the last time she’d get to touch or kiss her. Without a backwards glance, she slowly walked out into the daylight.
