15. Lilith
LILITH
Only when I reach my building do I slow down and text Alaric.
Me: Miss you too. And I’m a little sore. If only I were dating a doctor who could help me with it…
His response comes just as I step out of the elevator.
Alaric: Bad girl.
Alaric: Why are you up, really? Talk to me.
Heat spreads through my body, my smile wide.
Once more, he’s making time for me when he’s either cleaning up after Harold or already home and about to go to bed.
I’ll make it worth his while.
Me: Other than my sore pussy, I…
Me: *Cough, cough* I don’t know, Dr. Lockwood.
Me: Wait, can you do that? Be my doctor?
The lights are off at home. Hope’s probably already asleep.
I lock up behind me, go to my room, and kick off my shoes when my phone flashes.
Alaric: Not while we’re dating.
Alaric: However, there are ways to address that cough.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to the empty room. He didn’t say anything explicitly dirty, but the meaning is there, in his restrained, professional words.
I want more.
Me: That’s a relief. Because other than my pussy, my throat’s been feeling really empty too. And I’m thirsty. All the time.
Alaric: With the right treatment, it can be manageable.
Me: What treatment?
Alaric: It’s a bit unconventional.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stifle a moan.
Me: I’ll do anything at this point.
Alaric: Like letting me shove my cock in your pretty mouth?
Me: Anything, Doctor.
Alaric: Whatever I shoot down your throat, you’ll need to swallow it too.
Alaric: But you can’t tell anyone, or I risk losing my license.
Wetness pools between my legs. My nipples pebble into hard peaks as I think about his cock stretching my lips, hitting the back of my throat.
I get wetter when I imagine him groaning as he empties himself into my mouth and orders me to swallow.
I’ve never done it, but with him, I ache for it.
Me: I won’t, I swear.
Me: Thing is, what if my symptoms never resolve? What if I drain you?
My phone rings a second later, just as I’m curling under the covers.
“Lilith.” His husky voice sends shivers down my spine. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I am.” Despite the pressure building in my pussy, I don’t rub myself. It feels wrong to do it without his consent. But I do squeeze my thighs. “Dr. Lockwood.”
“Bad girl, teasing me like that.” He sounds serious, sweet, tired, and mine. “You really should get some sleep.”
“I’m fine. I swear, I’m not tired anymore.” Confusion makes my brow furrow. “That’s why you called? To tell me to go to bed?”
“I called because I wanted to hear your voice.” One sentence, and my mood lightens. “And to tell you that you either go to bed now, or I’m done respecting your space.”
“Can we talk instead?” As tempted as I am to say, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk the next day, I want to get to know him too. Not by stalking him, but by listening to his stories. “Just until I fall asleep?”
“I was about to get out of bed and come over, but yes, if that’s what you need, we can definitely do that.” An image of him in nothing but his boxers beneath the covers floats into my head. I melt. “So this is how it’s going to go. I’ll ask questions, and you’ll answer them. All of them.”
“No.” Surprisingly, I’m not upset by his bossiness. I love his care and borderline obsession with me. It’s just that… “What if I have questions too?”
“You’ll have your chance once you’ve answered mine.”
“Fair enough.” I flip to the other side, facing the pillow next to me, pretending it’s him lying there. That alone has warmth seeping into my cold bones. “With one exception. No questions about my last name or when we met. Other than that, you’re good to go.”
“Deal. What kind of music do you listen to?”
My heart stutters at the question since the answer is…none.
Loud sounds, or any sound at all, got on Mom’s nerves. That’s why him telling me I can be loud, as long as no one but him hears me, made such an impact.
But music… She’s been gone for seven years, and I still can’t bring myself to play anything on my phone.
I don’t even dare to buy headphones. The one time I did, back when I lived with her, a glitch blasted some random pop song through the speakers while she was home.
I couldn’t sit for a week after that.
Shame rushes through me as I realize how deep my scars run. How I’m still letting her affect me.
The therapist the foster care system sent me to reminded me time and again that this is very common and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. She said that I should be proud of surviving my mother.
But what if Alaric thinks I’m weak? What if he tells me I should just get over it?
My skin crawls. My stomach churns, my breath picking up.
“Lilith? Are you there?” Alaric’s voice takes on an urgent note. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not into music,” I blurt out, deciding I won’t tell him the reason behind it. “I—uh, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you told me.”
No You have to check out to this band. I swear they’re good. No Strange. Who doesn’t like music?
He simply accepts me, his words a balm to my fragile soul.
“Favorite movie?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound as confident as before.
I squeeze my eyes shut as old memories resurface. Mom used to get so pissed at the flicker of the TV, even when it played on mute. I’ll never forget the one time she slammed my face into the screen.
“Not a fan of movies or TV either.”
A low growl reverberates from him.
Does he think I’m difficult? Is he upset?
My head knows he’s safe.
My soul remembers how I was treated by the one person who was supposed to love me.
Protective instincts have me curling into a tiny ball.
“I’m sorry, Alaric.”
“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you ever apologize to me. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I gulp audibly.
“Lilith.” When he sucks in air, I want to ask what’s wrong, but I’m too scared. “Favorite food?”
“Cream cheese bagel,” I breathe out, hoping this isn’t another wrong answer.
“Goddammit.” A loud thump comes from his end. A fist banging against the bed, the headboard. Then he sighs. “Lilith…”
This isn’t him, this unrestrained anger. Must be because he’s tired. People get upset when they’re worn out.
And it’s okay for him to take it out on you? Why?
“I’m going to hang up now.” I need to think. Need to breathe.
“Please, don’t.” The pain in his voice stops me right before I hit the end button. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It came out all wrong. I’m not mad at you. I could never be.”
“Then?”
“No music. No movies, no shows.” He groans. Curses. “Your favorite food is something you can chew silently. Some scars never go away, do they? Like how you tried to survive by staying small. Invisible.”
Relief slams so hard into my chest that a sob tears out of me.
He isn’t frustrated, isn’t being cruel.
He sees me. He gets me.
And he’s enraged on my behalf.
He’s my lover and protector, through and through.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
My chin wobbles. “Yes.”
“God. Fuck. Who hurt you? Who did this to you?”
“Mom,” I whisper before I start crying uncontrollably. “It was Mom.”
“Baby,” he says with enough affection that it’s as if he’s hugging me. “Let me come over. We won’t do anything but sleep, I promise you.”
More ugly sobs crawl up my throat. I bury my face in the pillow as thuds and the sound of a zipper come through on Alaric’s end of the line.
“I can’t take another second of hearing you like this.” A loud thump is followed by his footsteps. “I’ve already packed an overnight bag. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“You don’t have to,” I murmur into the pillow. “I don’t want you to pity me. Or treat me like a patient.”
“Never. You’re mine. I want to be with you when you’re happy, when you’re hurt. I need to be there.”
“Really?”
“I’m already out the door.”
I sniffle. “Okay.”
A door slams in the background. “You’re going to let me take care of you.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” His praise washes over me, warming me through until he arrives.
By the time he steps into my apartment, my tears have dried enough that I can see him clearly. His damp hair. His soft loungewear. His gaze roaming over me.
God, he’s so beautiful.
“Hey.” I manage half a smile. A wobbly one.
“Come here,” he says, but instead of folding me into a hug, he scoops me into his arms and carries me down the hallway. “Which room is yours?”
“That one.” I point, snuggling closer to his chest.
With each passing second, I feel more protected. More cherished.
Safer.
So safe that my eyes start to flutter shut, my defenses lowering. I don’t need them when Alaric’s here to shield me from my worst nightmares.
In no time at all, we’re both under the covers, our legs tangled, his hand stroking my hair. “Want to continue our conversation?”
“Another day.” I yawn. “Tonight, I want you.”
“You have me.” He presses the softest kiss to my forehead. “And when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. Waiting.”
“You’re too”—my body sinks into the bed as my eyes close—“much.”
“Not enough, apparently,” I think I hear him say.
I would’ve told him he’s wrong, but I can’t.
Sleep steals me away.