by Kailin Gow
“Sorry, I woke you,” Kiley says. “Are you feeling better?”
“A little,” I murmur. “Not a whole lot, to be honest.”
“You're capable of speech,” Kiley says. “That's an improvement. Did you have dinner?”
Dinner. Shit. I remember that I was supposed to go to that dinner with my mother and the LaFleurs. I hope they're not too disappointed that I missed it. I wish I could explain to my mother why.
“No...” I say.
“You're too sick to eat anyway. Have some tea.”
I look over to see a cup of tea with a nicely sliced lemon and some honey sitting on the coffee table.
“Thanks, Kiley,” I say.
“Don't thank me, thank Johnson. He was there all night waiting up with you. He only left when I got home from work. Just spent the whole night...staring at you. I have to say, Sidney, you really do know how to pick 'em.”
I'm touched by Johnson's kindness. Even after our fight, he was a true friend: looking after me when I needed him most.
I wish I could put into words my gratitude. I wish I could explain, apologize, try and figure out what went wrong with our friendship.
But right now, all I can think to text is:
Thanks.
It's not a lot, I know. In context, it's pretty damn pathetic. But it's all I can think to express what I'm feeling – my confusion, my gratitude, my desire to make things go back to the way they were: back when we were together. Back when we were happy – me and Johnson, united as one. A team against the world. Back before it all went wrong. I wish I could fix this – all of this – somehow. But my head is still throbbing and I am still sniffling and dripping snot all over myself and I don't remotely feel capable of handling this right now.
I see Johnson's read receipt. Read: 6:34 am.
No response.
My heart sinks.
This day is just getting worse and worse.
Chapter 9
My flu sort of clears up the next day, but I still feel pretty rotten. My nose is stuffed; my head feels like it's full of cotton wool. I've never felt as miserable as I do now. Not only do I have to worry about what's going to happen with Philip, but I also have to stress out about my new family, coping with Kendall, work...
It's enough to make anyone crazy. Secretly, I'm glad I'm sick. It gives me a legitimate excuse not to go into the office and face Philip again. I miss him – my body misses him – but I can't bring myself to go see him. I'm scared that if I do, I'll lose control. I'll give into the desire that's controlling me, making me crazy.
My phone buzzes. Shit – it's Philip.
You're playing hooky again today.
Naughty girl.
Two days, now. How much longer is this “sickness” going to last?
I sigh and pick up my phone to text back.
I really am sick, I say. No excuses.
Come on. You expect me to believe that?
It's not good to avoid facing your fears, Sidney. Sooner or later you're going to have to confront what happened.
As your boss I officially order you to come into work.
Consider yourself on notice.
I roll my eyes. Clearly this guy doesn't just take no for an answer.
I really am sick, I type.
I am the flu.
If you don't believe me, ask Johnson.
It's a low blow, but right now all I want to do is get him off my back. Immediately I feel guilty and try to soften the blow.
How was dinner? I'll try to make it into the office tomorrow and hear about my mom and Alan. We'll talk at the office, I promise.
I turn off my phone and doze back off. Kiley heads off to her second job and then I'm alone. Just me and my cold tea in the middle of this tiny, filthy apartment that smells like used Kleenex. I feel like just crawling under the covers and hiding. I don't want to deal with this shit. I don't want to deal with any of this. I just want to build a childhood-style pillow fort and hide from life forever.
Then I hear it. The knocking at the door.
“Johnson?” I groggily rise to my feet. “What are you doing here?”
I feel like puking. My hair's a mess. It's tangled and ratty. I'm covered in snot. I look disgusting.
So of course, it's Philip that I see when I answer the door.
“Shit,” I say.
He's never seen me look like such a mess before. Hell, he's probably never seen anyone look like such a mess before.
“I'm so glad you're so happy to see me,” Philip says wryly, raising an eyebrow.
I'm wearing an old robe. I haven't washed my face in hours.
“What the hell are you doing here, Philip?”
I admit it, I'm in a bad mood. I don't care if he is my boss, or if I find him dreamy, right now I feel absolutely disgusting and I'm going to kick anyone across the room who wakes me up with his knocking. And that includes Philip LaFleur.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
“I was asleep. Sick. Like I told you. Haven't you ever been taught not to wake a sick person? I mean, jeez. Quit bothering me already.”
“Come on, Sidney.”
He pushes his way past me into the apartment.
I flinch as he takes in the dirty clothes, the laundry lying around, the small and smelly space. But if he notices, he does a good job pretending not to.
“Come on, Sidney, let's get you into bed.”
With that he picks me up and carries me into my bedroom. He puts me down and puts his hand up to my forehead to check my temperature, sitting down next to me. “You're not kidding, Sidney. You're flushed – and burning up. Let me get you something to drink, too.”
“Philip – please.” I'm getting frustrated. I just want to be left alone. I can't have Philip here, not when I'm in my weak state. I'm going to end up sleeping with him and I really don't want to. I have to keep control. “I can sleep this off – just leave me alone.”
“Sidney,” Philip takes my hand and pats it. “I just want you to get better as soon as possible, that's all.”
“But Phillip...”
He silences me by placing his finger on my lips. He looks down at me, and although I'm trying with all my might to fight off my attraction to him, just the confident, powerful way he takes control and hushes me is enough to turn me on. “Not now, Sidney...” he says in a deep rumble, his voice vibrating throughout the room. His thumb rubs gently against my lips. And I can't help it. Without meaning to I open my mouth to take in his thumb, sucking on it with full force, while staring into Philip's bright blue eyes, which are staring back at me with an expression of husky desire in them.
“Sidney...what are you doing?”
I could ask myself the same question. But I'm so turned on I can't stop myself.
“Sidney...” he closes his eyes and experiences the sensation of my lips around his fingers. He looks so sexy, with his head thrust back like that. “I'm trying to respect your wishes – I know you don't want to do anything now. But dear Sidney, what you're doing to my thumb right now, I could only imagine you doing it to my...” He reaches my hand and places it against the front of his jeans – making sure there's no mistake. I know exactly where he wants my lips right about now.
“Philip,” a wave of fever hits me again. “I feel so cold...” I shudder.
Philip feels my forearms. He looks alarmed. “Jeez, Sidney. You've got goosebumps and you're shivering. Hold on.” He gets up and goes to get me some blankets to bundle me up in. “How's that?”
I can't stop shivering. I'm shaking like a leaf. “A little better,” I say. “But I’m still cold. So cold.”
He pulls out a flask from his blazer pocket. “Fine whiskey,” he says. “The quickest way to warm up.” He raises the flask to my lips. I drink, greedily, of the warming liquid.
Then he takes off his blazer. His tie. His shirt. He's down to his T-undershirt and boxers when he crawls into bed with me. He strips me, too. I let him. I don't stop him, don't say no. He rubs me
, heating up my body. Spooning with me. “Body heat – skin to skin – that primal contact is the best way to get warm,” he whispers into my ear. He begins rubbing his legs with mine, my body up and down against his. His arms rub my back. I can feel his stubble against the back of my shoulders.
“I'm warming up,” I whisper. “Oh, Philip...”
It feels so good. My shivering stops. But I can't stop myself. I begin running my hands and arms all around Philip, touching his flesh, trying to consume it with my touch. I want him so badly, so badly I can't stand it.
We're breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes.
Then Philip breaks the silence. “Fuck, Sidney, I can't stand it!”
He kisses me hard, then, and before I know it I'm kissing him back. Passionately. Obsessively. I'm rubbing my hands up and down his body; his hands are down my panties, feeling my wetness, daring them off; he's unhooking my bra and tearing that off, too. His hot mouth is on my breasts, my nipples, and his fingers are inside me, going in and out of me until I'm arching my back, aching for more.
“Oh, Philip,” I groan. “Take me.”
As soon as I say it, I know that I mean it. That I'm filled with a desire and a need that outstrips anything I've felt yet. I can't control myself. I couldn't even if I wanted to. No matter how much I know this is wrong, that I can't go through with it, that this goes against everything I thought I meant or thought I knew, a horrible and wonderful feeling is making me go through with it. I knew this would happen, I think. The second I laid eyes on him. The second he walked into the room. That's why I was so cold towards him. That's why I was pushing him away. He was dangerous – and I knew it. I know it now. He's toxic and I can't stay away. I want to drink his poison, be invaded by his venom, die of the power he exerts over me. My body is in overdrive.
This is it. I know it with dark and fixed certainty. This is the moment I've been waiting for my whole life. I'm going to lose my virginity, and I'm going to lose it to Philip LaFleur. To Philip LaFleur: the man I love.
And in this moment I don't care about the consequences. Not for Kendall or for Alan, not for my mother and her new marriage, not for my career, not for anything at all. All I want to do is feel like this forever: wrapped in his arms, his warmth, his passion, his pain. All I want is him. Nothing else matters and this scares me and thrills me in equal measure.
What happened to the person I used to be before I met him? What happened to the safe, secure, confident girl who didn't care about men or dating?
Clearly, she'd just never met the right man – or the wrong one.
Philip lowers his head, placing his tongue lightly at the apex of my thighs, licking me in long, slow, impossibly sensual licks, making my back arch with pleasure.
I moan aloud. He's driving me to the edge, getting me close – so close – making me crazy...
Then he moves his mouth up my body, kissing my stomach, my pelvis, my heart, my breasts, my neck, until he's kissing my lips again.
“How are you feeling, Sidney,” he asks me slowly. He looks at me with that sexy, deep, penetrating gaze of his. I can hardly breathe my heart is beating so quickly. “Are you okay? Are you sure you want to do this?”
I'm shaking. I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life. I want Philip LaFleur and I want him now, and I know with a sickening and terrible certainty that I will do anything to hold onto him. Anything at all. Even if it destroys me. Let the world go up in flames, I think. I want Philip LaFleur inside me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want to feel your heat in me, Philip. I want you to warm me up from the inside.”
And with that we kiss: an electric, transcendent kiss that blows every other touch we've ever had out of the water. It's a powerful, victorious kiss: a kiss of triumph. Like we're not holding back any more. We know what we're going to do and we don't care and we're in this together. Just the two of us. In this together.
“You're sure...” He is looking at me with a strange expression on his face: a look of concern that slowly melts into awe, and then a warm, sweet affection – something almost gentle, a look so strange on his intense face, his cruel mouth contorted into kindness.
“I'm sure, Philip,” I whisper. “I want you.”
He kisses me again, working my folds with his fingers, waking up my body, making me so aroused and wet that the whole bed feels soaked with the force of my desire for him. “You're so tight,” he whispers, feeling inside me. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“I want you to hurt me,” I whisper back.
“Oh, Sidney.” He's pulling out a condom from his blazer pocket, putting it on. “I want you so badly...you're driving me crazy.”
I help him put on the condom. Feel the size of him in my hand: his hardness, his strength. It's bigger even than I remember it, and beautiful. I never thought a cock could be beautiful before. But his is like something from a statue or a painting. A perfect specimen. And my body hungers with a hunger I don't even fully understand for it to be inside me.
“Oh, Sidney,” he moans. “My God, you are the most beautiful...the sexiest woman I've ever known. You're driving me crazy.”
Then he pushes into me.
It hurts for a moment, but Philip is a skillful lover, and he's gotten me so wet with desire that the pain swiftly passes, and then he's all the way inside me. I moan and writhe in ecstasy as he pumps in and out of me, each thrust deeper and more powerful than the last. He's in me up to the hilt. He picks up my ankles and throws them over his shoulders to gain deeper access; I feel his cock pressing against my G-spot and it's enough to make me scream. He knows exactly what he's doing. When to thrust, when to slow down, when to speed up, when to be deep, and it has exactly the effect he plans. I belong to him. Utterly, entirely. I am his. And I start to match his rhythm, thrusting against him, moving my hips in time with his.
Finally, we climax together: for the first time, with him inside of me. Sweaty. Spent. And then Philip leans on my chest, both of us, sweaty and spent, and he takes me in his arms. He holds me against him in a tight, loving, gentle embrace. “Oh, Sidney... It's the last thing I hear as I start to drift off into a beautiful and dreamy slumber. “I love you.”
*****
Philip, Sidney, Kendall, and Johnson’s story continues in
Book 4 of the Filthy Dirty Laundry Series
Filthy Dirty Laundry 4
Now Available!
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