“P-Please, sir.” I reached behind me, closing my fingers over his thighs. My fingertips rested on his butt. He was naked, too. Thank God. “Please.”
He smacked my butt again, a little harder this time, and tossed the belt aside. From behind, he cupped my breasts, squeezing them and rolling his thumbs over their hard tips. I cried out, resting my back against his chest, and closed my eyes, losing myself in his touch. When his rough palms moved lower, over my stomach and down to cup my core again, he bit down on my neck.
His hard erection pressed against my lower back, and suddenly, I ached to taste him. To please him with my mouth. It had been so long since I’d done it that I couldn’t even remember the last time. It was overdue. So much between us was overdue.
I spun in his arms, resting my hand on his chest. He let me. I locked gazes with him as I lowered myself to the couch. As I settled on the edge, he flexed his jaw and threaded his hands in my hair. Reaching out, I clasped his smooth shaft and closed my fist around it.
Then I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, moved closer so my mouth touched the tip, and asked, “Please, sir?”
“You asked so nicely.” He ran his finger down my jaw, his touch soft yet possessive. He fisted his hand in my hair and urged me closer. “How could I say no to such a pretty request?”
Grinning, I opened my mouth and guided him in, closing my lips around him and sucking him in deep. He groaned and tossed his head back, his corded muscles tightening and teasing me. Every inch of his body was so hard. So perfect. And it was mine.
All mine.
I rolled my tongue over him, letting my eyes drift shut, and he moved his hips experimentally, going deeper into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him guide himself in, sucking and licking and loving every second of it. When he let out a strangled run of curses, his hand tugging on my hair impatiently, I sucked even harder.
Cupping his butt with one hand, I held him in place, and my other moved over his shaft as I sucked on the tip, licking up every drop he gave me. When his muscles went hard under my skin, and he cursed, I took him all the way in, covering his whole erection with my mouth.
“Jesus, Carrie.” He fisted my hair and tugged. “Enough. I don’t want to come like this. I want to be buried inside of your pussy when I come.”
I sucked harder, refusing to give in.
He hissed, pulling my hair until my eyes stung with tears. Finally, I let go. He tugged me to my feet by the hair, and he bent down until our noses touched. “I said stop, and you didn’t listen.”
I licked my lips, already dying for another taste of him. “Sir?”
“You’ve been a bad, bad girl, Ginger.” He caressed my cheek tenderly, the loving movement at odds with his words. “Time for your punishment.”
He spun me abruptly, bending me over so my butt was in the air again. He gripped my hips, tilted them up, and thrust inside of me with one hard, quick push. I hadn’t been expecting that, so I cried out in surprise—and pleasure.
So much freaking pleasure.
“Yes.” I gripped the couch so hard I swore I heard it tear. “Oh my God, yes.”
“I didn’t say you could say those words.” He slid his hand up my body, resting it right below my throat possessively. “Should I stop? Punish you?”
“Please, sir.” I gasped when he bit down on my shoulder, sending a shaft of pain to intermingle with the pleasure. “Please.”
“Please what?”
I whimpered, because there was no way to answer that with my permitted words. Oh, wait. I’d forgotten one. “More. More, more, more.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he murmured, biting down again and moving his hips with a precision that killed me. “You’re allowed to come now.”
“Please,” I panted.
His free hand came down to massage my clit, sending me over the edge. As he made love to me from behind, his hands working their magic, I closed my eyes and lost myself in him. I exploded with pleasure, need, and so much want.
Everything just stopped, except this.
Him. Us.
He grunted and moved behind me, his hips pumping faster. Deeper. Inexplicably, I crept toward the edge again, thisclose to coming a second time. His fingers moved over my clit as he made love to me, hitting a spot inside of me that sent shivers through my whole body. “Yes!”
My entire body tensed, and he went still behind me.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping into me one more time. “Carrie.”
I was right there with him, coming a third time just from his fingers moving over me. He tightened his grip on me, keeping our bodies glued together, and fell on the couch, hauling me onto his lap effortlessly as he did so. I curled up like a sleepy kitten, and I might have purred.
He rubbed my hair back from my face, his breathing uneven and his hard chest and arms covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His hold, his touch, they were both so tender. So very Finn. I’d missed this. Missed him.
Dropping his forehead to my head, he sighed deeply. “See? I knew it. For a second there, after you made me leave, I thought I’d need help. But now that I’m back in your arms, I know I don’t.”
My heart shattered. Had he really just told me he had been planning on getting help, but he’d changed his mind because of me? No. Just no. “I’m not enough, Finn. I love you, and I’m here for you, but you need help. Help I can’t give you.”
“But I don’t.” He laughed freely, sounding so freaking happy. It only made it harder, because I knew he was wrong. And eventually, I’d have to tell him that. “You’re all the medicine I need. As long as I have you here holding me, I’ll be okay.”
I swallowed hard, dread threatening to choke the life out of me. It was too much pressure. I wanted to help him, but he couldn’t rely on me and only me. He had to rely on himself, too. I couldn’t be all he had in his arsenal. “You need more than me. You need Dr. Montgomery, too.”
“But I have you.” He sat up, cupping my cheek. “Can’t that be enough? I really think I’m getting better, Ginger. I don’t need to talk to someone else to heal. I have you.”
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. Resting my palm on his heart, I soaked in the steady thumping against my palm. “I love you and I’m here for you, but I’m not enough.”
“I’m fine.” His arms tightened around me and his face lowered to mine. “Don’t you see it in my eyes? I’m better. You’re making me better.”
I turned my face away, my heart wrenching so hard I thought I might collapse. Had he already forgotten about his fear at the door earlier? Did he truly believe he had it under control? Because he didn’t. And neither did I.
I’d pulled him in closer, trusting our love to be strong enough to heal him. Trusting myself to know how to help him without overstepping my boundaries. By letting him back in, I might have made it worse.
So much worse.
Finn
The next morning, I stood by the bed and watched Carrie as she slept. She’d been shut behind the bedroom door all night long, but I’d snuck in to see her before she awoke. Carrie was curled up in the bed alone, her hand on the pillow beside her that she hugged to her chest. She used to rest her hand on my heart like that.
Now she had a fucking pillow instead of me.
I didn’t dare move closer, because I didn’t want to wake her up. Didn’t want to break the moment. She’d hidden herself away from me last night after I’d mentioned that I felt I didn’t need a therapist again. I shouldn’t have said my thoughts out loud. She was so fucking convinced I needed help, but after I’d made love to her, I’d actually felt normal again.
I wish she could feel how I felt after she touched me. Then maybe she’d believe me when I said all I needed was her. She stirred and rubbed her nose, crinkling it up adorably, and glanced up at me within seconds. Her eyes were guarded. She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, smoothing her red hair off her face and t
ucking it behind her ear. “I’m going to grab some firewood and get some coffee started.”
She nodded once. “Thanks.”
“We’ll talk when I get back in.” I tipped her face up to mine and kissed her gently, brushing my thumb over her jawline. “I know that we need to talk.”
She sat up, hugging her knees. “We do.”
Heart in my throat, I walked out of the room. I made quick work of brushing my teeth, my mind on her words the whole time even as I walked out the front door. All she wanted was for me to agree to go talk to Dr. Montgomery a few hours a week. I might know I didn’t need it, but she didn’t. I might know this was only a small backslide, and that I’d be okay, but again, she didn’t.
Could I do what she asked of me, while still knowing I wasn’t actually admitting I needed her help to get better? While still making her see I was strong enough on my own? Was going to see Dr. Montgomery again really so much for her to ask at this point, after all I’d done?
I might not think I needed help, but she did. If she thought I needed help, then I’d get it for her. It wouldn’t help, but I’d do it. It would help her.
Unlocking the front door, I stepped outside. As I headed toward the woodpile in nothing more than jeans and a pair of boots, I knew I’d finally come to the right conclusion. Knew my head was on straighter than it had been in a while. When I reached the spot where the wood was stored, I let out a relieved sigh. Once I’d agree to get help, she’d tell me to come home, and then we’d both be back to normal.
I could put this whole mess behind me.
As I bent down, I saw the tip of a bottle poking out from underneath the woodpile. I picked it up. Right away, I knew whose it was. It was her father’s favorite scotch. His secret stash, I suppose. Or maybe it was something he’d just stored in the bottle for convenience purposes. Lighter fluid or some shit like that. I tossed the mostly full bottle back and forth between my hands, then cracked the lid and took a quick sniff.
Yep, definitely booze.
I stared down at it, my hands trembling, the old urge I’d avoided for so long hitting me like a fucking throat punch. For the first time in a long time, I wanted a drink. I felt like I needed a drink, and it was humbling. Maybe I didn’t have my shit together quite as much as I’d liked to believe.
Closing my eyes, I focused on Carrie. On Susan. On putting that lid on that drink, but my fingers didn’t move. I was immobilized. My hand lifted higher, and I finally realized it fully. I wasn’t fine.
A few minutes later, I walked into the house, my arms filled with wood. When I opened the door, I tripped on the raised entrance and stumbled inside clumsily. “Smooth, Coram,” I mumbled to myself.
Was it too much to hope that she hadn’t seen my embarrassing entrance? I peeked over the wood. Of course it was. Carrie sat on the couch, her hands clasped tight in her lap. She looked like she was still in worry mode. “Grand entrance aside, I thought about it some more, and I—” I broke off mid-step, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, not talking. She watched me with tears in her eyes. The way she looked at me…it reminded me of the way she’d looked at me the night she’d found me asleep on the couch.
“Stop it.” My heart stuttered to a painful halt. “Why are you looking at me like that again?”
“Why, Finn?” Her beautiful red lips trembled and she just kind of broke. “Why did you do it to me again?”
I set the wood down, slowly, my eyes locked on hers. I was confused as hell. She was looking at me as if…as if she was done with me. It sent chills down my spine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about right now. Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not.” She crossed her arms, and her voice was so fucking hollow it was amazing I’d heard it at all. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Tell me, how was your drink?”
“My—?” I broke off, understanding hitting me like a knife to the fucking gut. She’d seen me out there with her father’s scotch opened up and in my hands. “That wasn’t mine. You have to believe me.”
“No, I don’t.” She stood up, her fists rolled at her sides, and her cheeks wet with tears. “I looked out the window, because you were taking longer than usual, and you were out there with a freaking drink in your hand. You tricked me again. Lied to me again. Hid the truth from me again.”
But I hadn’t. Not this time. I stepped back, rage and pain making my vision red. “Are you fucking kidding me? You actually think I was out there at nine o’clock in the morning chugging back scotch? Is that really what you think of me?”
“You’re seriously going to deny it?” She stomped her foot once. Actually stomped her foot. “I saw you, Finn!”
“You saw what you wanted to see, damn it,” I snapped, tugging on the hair at the back of my head. “Again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re jumping to conclusions, like usual. It means you’re unable to believe anything good about me anymore.” I cupped the back of my neck, locking my hands and finally accepting this for what it was. “It means you don’t have faith in me. Don’t trust me. And never will. How can we possibly recover from that?”
She staggered back, her eyes wide. “Stop it. Stop turning this into something else. You need help, Finn. Turning to booze and pills and sex isn’t going to give it to you.”
“There it is again.” I threw my hands up. “Those fucking words. ‘You need help,’” I mimicked, making my voice high. “That’s all you ever say to me anymore.”
Something inside of her seemed to snap. That self-control and strength she’d had all weekend faded away, and I finally saw the hurt I’d caused her. Finally saw the pain deep within her. It shattered me. Fucking shattered me.
“That’s because you do,” she snarled.
“Maybe you do, too.” I laughed a little uneasily. “Once upon a time, you would have seen a drink in my hand and believed me if I told you it wasn’t mine. Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have immediately assumed I was hiding something from you. Once upon a time, you would have trusted me.”
“You broke that trust too many times,” she whispered, fisting her hands at her sides. “That’s on you, not me.”
“Yeah, it’s all on me. I know.” I covered my face, dragging my hands down it. “I’m tired, Carrie. So fucking tired. I constantly have to prove myself, and even then? I fail.”
She bit down on her lip, shaking her head slowly. “You had a bottle in your hand. Every time you’ve gone out there, it’s been for a drink, hasn’t it? For once in our whole relationship, just tell me the truth. Just admit it. You’re self-medicating again.”
“The only medication I wanted was you.” I locked gazes with her. “And you just might fucking kill me instead of save me.”
She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “You can’t rely on me anymore. I can’t do it. I’m not enough, again.”
“You could be if you’d just believe me.” I stared at her, willing her to actually see me. “Just believe in me, and I will be fine.”
“How many times have you gotten a drink out of that bottle?”
“None.” My shoulders drooped. “Not one fucking drop.”
She shook her head sadly. She looked resigned, which scared the hell out of me. I’d only seen that look on her face one other time, and it had been right before we broke up. “I saw you. You had it in your hand. Have you gotten a drink every time you went outside? Was that whole thing an excuse?”
“Yes.” I ground my teeth together. “Because I don’t give a fuck about anything else but getting drunk. I certainly wasn’t out there getting wood for the fire so we didn’t freeze.”
“Yeah, because that requires a drink,” she said sarcastically.
“Lately, it fucking should.” I stalked toward her. “I’m always making excuses, and I’m always fucking up. And you know what else? Most of all, I’m tired of hurting you. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”
Her eyes flashed f
ire at me. Blue, hot fire. “Oh, here we go again! We’ve done this before,” she said. “Go on. Tell me I’m better off without you. Tell me you’re leaving me so you can save me.”
I swallowed hard past my swollen throat. “See? No matter what I do, or what I say, you’re fucking pissed at me. Well, guess what? You win. I quit trying.”
“Go ahead and quit.” She shoved my shoulders. I stumbled back. “You’ve been dying to, haven’t you? Dying to leave. Dying to be free and not answer to anyone anymore. That’s why you keep doing this stuff, isn’t it? So I kick you out and you don’t have to feel bad for leaving. Well, go. Just go.”
I stared at her, unable to believe she said those things. “What?”
“You heard me.” She shoved my shoulders again, tears streaming down her wet cheeks. Her eyes looked bluer than the sky on a crystal clear summer day. “Go! I don’t need you here, hiding things from me and lying to me. Making me think you’re getting better when you’re obviously not.”
She was kicking me out again. Bullshit. I wasn’t having it. “Actually, you do. I’m your ride.”
“I’ll call a taxi. That was something else I was used to doing once upon a time.” She stormed past me, heading for the bedroom. I caught her elbow as she passed, knowing I should let her go, but unable to. “Let go of me. It hurts when you touch me.” She broke off on a sob. “It hurts so freaking much.”
It hurt me, too. But it would hurt even more if I let go. “If I told you I didn’t drink anything, swore to you, would you believe me?”
“No.” She yanked free, tears streaming down her face. “Not anymore.”
My heart broke into a million pieces. I could tell her to smell my breath. I could prove to her I hadn’t had a sip of that booze, that I’d been strong enough to put that bottle down, despite the desire to down it all in one swig. But in the end, it didn’t matter what I’d done out there.
She didn’t believe me, and never would again.
Fractured Lines Page 9
