CHAPTER NINE
WYNTER
It’s hard to explain the explosions I feel as Ray buries his mouth between my legs.
And true to his word, he doesn’t give up until I’m quivering beneath him.
I’ve never had an orgasm in front of a man before.
I’ve faked it plenty of times, but the only time I get to orgasm is when I’m exploring by myself, so when my body starts to shake and that warm feeling builds up in the pit of my stomach, I have no control and I cry out in pleasure.
His hand leaves the bruising grip it had on my leg and slams over my mouth as he licks me until my very final jerky breath.
When I relax, dropping my arms to my side and trying to regain control of my breathing, he crawls over my body and kisses me on the mouth, making sure I taste myself on his lips.
He fiddles with a condom, I have no idea where it came from, and without breaking the kiss, he slides it on. Then he pins my hands above my head again, this time, using one hand to hold them in place.
“I need to fuck you, Wynter,” he growls, lining himself up at my entrance. “And watch you come on my cock.”
His filthy words light something inside of me and as he pushes his erection into me, stretching me and causing that delicious ache again, I entwine my fingers into his and hold on for dear life.
Ray gives a whole new meaning to the word fuck because he literally doesn’t give any as he slams hard into me.
He pushes my leg up, hooking it over his shoulder. Then he’s turning me onto my side without losing his rhythm. In fact, he puts me in so many different positions, it feels like an Olympic sport.
I’m on all fours and he grips a handful of my hair, tipping my head back so he can kiss me.
His fingers work their way to my clit and the second he touches me, I come apart.
He holds my head in that position as I shudder against him.
Not being able to move makes it feel more intense.
“Fuck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he groans, releasing my hair.
I rest my head against the bed as he slams into me over and over, not letting up until he comes with a growl from somewhere deep in his throat.
He stills, his hands still on my hips. Our heavy breathing seems too loud in the silence.
He releases me and climbs from the bed. I fall onto my side and wrap a sheet over me, keeping my eyes fixed on the wall as he disappears into the bathroom.
Suddenly, my past hits, and Josh appears like an unwanted mirage. The ache in my chest is immediate and breath taking. My eyes find our picture, the one I keep on my bedside cabinet and tears immediately spring to my eyes.
What the hell have I just done? He may as well have been in the same damn room, watching.
I lean over and slam the picture face down, just as Ray re-enters. His eyes fix on where my hand lies, and his brow creases into a frown.
Without a word, he snatches his shirt from the floor and pulls it on. He continues to dress in silence and somehow, that makes everything feel more awkward.
“Unpack your bag,” he mutters. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Relief floods me. What the hell was I thinking quitting like that anyway. I have nowhere to go and I haven’t been paid yet, so there’s no money.
He pauses for a second, his eyes fixed to the floor.
“We’ve had too much to drink,” he mutters, “We’ll draw a line under it and start a fresh tomorrow.”
Then he leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.
Anika wakes as I’m moving the hoist towards her bed. “What’s going on?” she asks, her voice croaky from sleep.
I shrug, trying to go for a casual approach. “I was thinking, maybe we could work this thing out together and get you up and in your chair?”
She gives me a wary look, and I get it, she’s scared. But I’ve been around when the agency nurses have tried to get her into it, and she’s very adamant it’s not something she wants to try. “The nurse is due any minute. She’ll be happy to help.”
“No.”
I sigh. “Have you even tried?”
She allows them to use the hoist so they can bathe her, so I’m pretty certain it’s the wheelchair she’s refusing.
“Of course I have,” she spits and I’m taken back by her tone. She’s always so calm and kind.
“I’m no expert, but it can’t be good staring at these four walls day in, day out.”
“I like these walls.”
“And imagine how excited Sebastian would be to come home on Friday and see you in the living room?”
I see her eyes flick towards the bedroom door.
“I’ll be here every step of the way. And, if you really hate it, you can get straight back in bed. But try it, please, for me.”
She sighs heavily. “Fine. But I’m not happy.”
I grin, “I never asked you to be.”
The nurse arrives right on time and I explain my idea. She jumps straight on board with enthusiasm, much to Anika’s disgust.
I watch the nurse as she fixes the hoist in place, showing me each step.
I push the chair to the bed, and the nurse begins to hoist Anika up enough for us to manoeuvre her towards the chair.
Ray steps into the room, his gaze sweeping over us as we try to manoeuvre Anika into the chair.
“What’s going on?” he asks, already tense.
“Wynter wanted me to try the wheelchair,” Anika says. The uncertainty in her voice makes it sound like I forced her.
Ray’s eyes snap to mine, hard and furious. “Did you want to try?” he asks her.
“Not really,” she admits quietly. “But she’s right . . . it might be good for Sebastian to see me out of the room.”
Ray’s jaw tightens. “Put her back in bed,” he growls.
The nurse doesn’t argue. She lowers Anika immediately.
“Wynter,” he barks, already turning away. “My office. Now.”
Anika gives me a small, apologetic shrug as I follow him out.
The second the door closes behind us, he turns on me. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps. “Who made you her nurse?”
My stomach flips, but I don’t back down.
“You’re not responsible for that side of things,” he continues. “You feed her, keep her company, and stick to basic care.”
“Anika needs to—”
“You don’t know anything about her,” he cuts in, stepping closer, his voice rising.
I hold my ground, even though every instinct tells me to step back. “She needs to get out of that room.”
“And you’re the expert now, are you?”
“No,” I fire back, “but I know it’s not good for her to be locked away like that. If she starts leaving the room, we can build from there. Maybe even get her out of the apartment eventually.”
His expression darkens. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” he shouts. “Just do what I pay you for!”
“I am,” I argue. “I’m taking care of her. That includes her mental health.”
His voice drops, quieter, more dangerous. “I mean it, Wynter. If Anika doesn’t want to do something, you leave it.”
I shake my head. “So, that’s it? You’re happy for her to rot in that bedroom for the rest of her life?” He eyes me, his jaw tight with tension. “There’s no reason she can’t leave this apartment,” I push, my voice shaking now but still strong. “I checked with the nurses.”
“I bet you did. Little miss fucking annoying,” he growls.
Something in me snaps. “Fuck. You.” The words land between us, sharp and deliberate.
His eyes flash. “I am your boss,” he reminds me, each word controlled.
“Sorry,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Am I being unprofessional?”
He exhales slowly, stepping back, putting the desk between us like a barrier. “We should talk about last night.”
My chest tightens. “No.”
His eyes narrow. “Something you need to understand about me, Wynter—no one tells me no.”
I fold my arms, refusing to give him anything.
He sighs. “It’s okay to feel guilty,” he continues, watching me closely. “If you’ve got someone back home, I get it. It was a mistake.” Josh flashes through my mind, that familiar ache blooming in my chest. “He doesn’t need to know.”
I look away. “If that’s all, Mr. Carmichael,” I say tightly, “I have things to do.”
He scoffs, disbelief written all over his face. “Really? That’s how you’re playing this?”
I don’t answer.
After a few seconds, he lets out a frustrated breath. “Fine,” he mutters. “Go.”
I tidy Anika’s room, not that it ever really needs it. The only mess comes from the toys Sebastian leaves scattered around. I move them into a neat pile, dusting the surfaces as I go, humming softly to myself while my mind drifts.
“People stare,” Anika mutters. I pause, cloth in hand, and glance back at her. “They stare,” she repeats, quieter this time. “That’s why I hate the chair.”
I turn fully to face her now, leaning lightly against the dresser.
“It starts small,” she continues. “Sitting in it around the apartment. Then you’ll want me to go further . . . outside.” She lets out a humourless laugh. “And I hate it.” Her eyes flick to mine. “My body might be dead from the chest down, but my mind isn’t. I see everything. The looks. The pity.”
“Pity?” I ask gently.
“They look at me and try to work it out,” she says. “The long blonde hair, the pretty face . . . and then this.” Her voice tightens. “A young woman going to waste.”
Something in my chest aches. “It’s only a waste if you decide it is,” I say softly. “You’re still here, Anika. You’re still you.”
She narrows her eyes. “If you throw Stephen Hawking at me, I will scream.”
I hold my hands up quickly. “Not even on my radar.”
That earns the faintest twitch of her lips.
“I’m just saying,” I continue, gentler now, “you must get bored being stuck in here all the time.”
“I don’t get bored,” she mutters. “I just . . . exist.”
My heart twists and I take a step closer. “How about a compromise?” I suggest. “No big leaps. No pressure. Just the living room.”
She watches me carefully. “That’s it?” she asks.
“That’s it,” I promise. “We go as far as the living room. If you hate it, we come straight back. No arguments. No pushing.”
She studies my face, like she’s trying to decide if I mean it. “I won’t force you into anything,” I add quietly. “But I won’t let you hide from life either.”
A long pause stretches between us. “Just the living room,” she says finally.