Chapter 31 Toma
THIRTY-ONE
TOMA
THREE MONTHS LATER
My prey walks the halls of Edinburgh University, talking animatedly with Jay, Benoit and the three girls she met at that fateful party mouths ago.
She swaggers in wide purple pants and a black bomber jacket I had to beg her to put on this morning.
March has been kind in Edinburgh this year but I still refuse to have her leave the house without a jacket and at least one sweater, a scarf and gloves in her bag.
She says it’s not fashionable but having a cold is what’s not fashionable.
I rarely argue and just carry the clothes around as I follow in the shadows.
As she approaches the door of one of the main lectures halls, she holds it and lets her friends get in before her. Then, she pauses, squinting to where I’m hidden from view. A dazzling smile spreads slowly across her lips.
“See you later, piccolo,” she sing-songs as she steps inside the auditorium.
I shake my head, the grin on my face hurting my cheeks.
It soothes me to know where Lucie is at all times.
Always has, but especially now. I need her like air and knowing everything is fine in her life is the purpose of mine.
My therapist thinks it’s unhealthy, but agree to disagree. We have bigger fish to fry anyway.
I look down at my watch. “Shit.”
Gisele hates it when I’m late. Fair enough. I fly her to Edinburgh from London once a week for our ninety minutes session, I can at least be on time.
I stride to where I parked my motorcycle and straddle it in a rush, firing up the engine and rushing to the hotel meeting room we rent in front of the airport.
I always have the same room, with glass doors so everyone always knows exactly what happens in there.
Not that I think any of the staff would gossip, or that Lucie would believe I’m cheating on her with my therapist, but I don’t like secrecy.
Not anymore. Secrets almost got me killed.
Almost got my girl killed. I promised to be more open.
Even if vulnerability has my skin itching.
“You’re late,” Gisele complains without raising her eyes to meet mine as I step into the room.
“Sorry, doc. I got held up on the way,” I answer, grinning to charm her as I take my seat in front of her.
It doesn’t work. My therapist looks up from her notepad, throwing me a dark look from above her glasses. Then she shakes her head, the inkling of a smile at the corner of her severe mouth.
Gisele mostly works with incarcerated people. That’s how I found out about her. It’s not common knowledge—her privacy is well guarded—but Dante knows a few people she’s helped over the years and recommended her to me.
“How are you today?” She asks, same as always.
Her half moon glasses hang dangerously low on her short button nose, and with her grey hair hanging in a short bob above her shoulders, she looks like she can chew anyone up.
I guess with working with dangerous people all the time, being a tough cookie comes in handy.
I really enjoy that she doesn’t tolerate bullshit and can be compassionate without being commiserating.
The last thing I ever want to feel is like a victim.
“I was at the university.”
“I figured as much but that’s not what I asked, Toma.”
Her icy blue stare is piercing. My name always sounds like a gentle push coming from her.
I take a deep inhale, looking anywhere but at her.
Even though we’ve met here for the first time almost three months ago, I always look around like it’s the first time I’m seeing this place.
On the other side of the large glass wall, restaurant staff is cleaning the breakfast buffet while managers in their suits supervise and check off items on their boards.
The flowers are being delivered as I take a moment to gather myself, large bouquets of purple flowers to replace the white ones that were delivered last week in all corners of the hotel lobby.
I turn back my gaze to Gisele, who hasn’t moved. She sits in front of me, a leg crossed above the other in her burgundy pant suit. The waist coat is the same colour and covers a beige turtleneck. She’s elegant, patient, and watches me with a kind and knowing eye. So much like Lucie.
“I’m getting tired of…” I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “I still can’t be intimate with Lucie. And I’m tired of it.”
Gisele specialises in cases like mine.
“Are you tired of it because you think you owe sex to Lucie? That without it, you’re not in a real relationship and aren’t doing what you can for her to forgive you.”
“She’s already forgiven me.”
“I know that, Toma. Do you?”
Maybe I don’t believe she should have forgiven me for being awful to her. I tell Gisele as much and we go back and forth on the topic.
After Split, I was on a hospital bed for three days, then transferred to the Ventura mansion where Lucie took care of me while on break. She did so much for me. Some days–like today—I don’t feel like I deserve her kindness and her love.
Gisele has taught me that it’s often not my own voice but the voices of my father and brother. I’m learning to hear it and ignore it. Every time I come here, the dead have a little less influence on me.
My therapist asks about how sleeping in the same bed again has gone.
Even when I was healthy enough to stand and travel back to Edinburgh for her second semester, we still didn’t share a bed until the beginning of this month.
I slept on a mattress Lucie insisted on getting me since I refused to let her sleep anywhere but in her own bed.
One we just wheeled underneath her bed every morning, like it wasn’t embarrassing.
I drop my gaze down to my hands, holding onto the keychain Lucie made for me.
It’s an ugly flower made of clay. I think it’s supposed to look like a sunflower but I can’t be sure.
It’s the most precious item I own. “I still sleep on the mattress sometimes. Last night, her legs touched mine in bed and I… I felt safer on the mattress on the floor.” I groan and hide my face in my hands.
“How am I supposed to be have sex with the love of my life if I can’t bear her touch? ”
“Toma, your vulnerability has been used against you. It’s okay not to feel ready in just three months.”
“I want to, though. God, I want to fuck her, pardon my language. She’s just so sweet and sexy and lush. Fuck! And I love her so much. I just want… I’m not going to tell you what I want, doc.”
She chuckles and gives me an indulgent smile. “I promise you I’ve heard it all.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“How about steps?” She asks, those cunning blue eyes I’ve come to know and trust shining with what I recognise is a new plan she wants me to try out.
I want it all, or nothing. My obsessive personality makes it hard to take things in steps.
So my challenge of the week is to tick off a small sex task from the list of things I want to do to—and with—Lucie.
Literally. Should be easy enough. All I want is to worship the woman who saved me from a life of pain and sorrow.
****
Lucie’s already home when I get back from the airport, the smell of garlic potent in the whole flat.
“What are you making, ru?ica moja?” I ask as I slide my hands around her waist while she chops more garlic to add to what looks like six cloves already diced in the pan.
“Pasta aglio e olio.”
“So garlic, more garlic, and olive oil?”
“And a tad of full-fat cream.”
While her hands are busy preparing our meal, I drop my nose down to her neck and inhale deeply, filling my lungs with her, and caressing her body softly. It’s easier when her hands are busy and I’m free to explore at my own pace.
Lucie sighs and leans against my chest. “How was today?”
“Tough,” I answer honestly.
She hums but doesn’t prod. Her patience takes my breath away.
“Volim te, ru?ica moja,” I breathe against the delicate skin of her neck. I feel her smile against my cheek.
“What does that mean?”
“I love you. I love you so much sometimes it’s the only thing that help me breathe.”
Slowly, giving me time to stop her, she turns in my arms. I nod and she threads her arms around my neck.
She lifts on the tips of her toes and drags her lips against mine.
Thankfully, kissing is never a problem. “I love you, too, piccolo. Ti amo tanto che non voglio mai separarmi da te. I love you so much I never want to be parted from you.”
“Good thing we can track each other.”
She laughs, the sound light and bright, then caresses my forearm scar with her index finger, where a tracker lies underneath. She chose a subtle micro dermal piercing for herself, right under her collarbone. The metal catches the light and I drop my lips onto it in a reverent touch of my lips.
“Food will be ready in twenty minutes,” Lucie says then makes a move to detangle herself from me, but I lock my arms to keep her in place.
“Enough time for what I have in mind.”
She’s stunned into silence but her eyes tell me the story of her hunger. They darkened and her eyelashes flutter closed. “We don’t have to—” I shut her up with my mouth.
Our kiss starts sweet but devolves into a hungry clash of tongues.
I frame her face with my hands, tilting her chin how I want to get deeper, suck her tongue and devour her lips.
Lucie grabs my tee-shirt with both hands, restraint and desire fighting against each other.
I know she doesn’t want to overwhelm me but the proof of her thirst for me makes me feel safe.
Safe enough to lift her up and set her pretty ass on the counter so I can step in between her spread thighs and grind against her.
My greedy girl interlaces her legs behind my back, seeking friction where she needs it most. I drop my head to the column of her neck and groan against her skin, biting and licking the sting.
“Can I kiss your neck?” She pants.
“Yes!”
The word is barely out of my mouth when she latches on my throat and sucks, then licks, biting playfully like she needs more.
“Plant your hands on the counter behind you.”
She lets go of my flesh. When our eyes meet, we’re both breathing hard, pupils blown with lust. I’ve missed this.
I’m in control. All I see is my beautiful girl, hair mussed where I gripped it, cheeks pink with arousal, chasing her own breath.
She bites her lower lip, and obeys, placing her hands behind her.
“Keep them there,” I tell her as I scoop her hips and draw them closer to the edge.
With hungry fingers, I unbutton her jeans and take them down her legs, along with the underwear caught in my grasp. Dropping to my knees, I take my time to kiss her ankles, the back of her knees, earning me a sharp gasp. She looks down at me with hooded eyes.
“I want you so much,” she breathes softly, like the admission could trigger me. But I need her voice to anchor me. Her praise to soothe me.
“Keep telling me how good I make you feel, Lu. I need to know how much you love it when I eat this pussy.”
She nods enthusiastically and I beam at her, pride and desire mixing to a heady cocktail that has me hard and delirious.
I let my hands wander to her thick thighs, caressing the raised skin, then worshipping her with my tongue. Lucie moans and wiggles, impatient and needy. I click my tongue in disapproval and she whimpers, then holds herself still. Her face strains like it takes effort. “You’re toying with me.”
“Yes, Ru?ica moja. I want you desperate and soaking my tongue.”
I drop my head down to the apex of her thighs, kissing her mound. Then I take a quick lick, fleeting my tongue fast. Before she registers it, I’m gone again, kissing her inner thighs, drawing designs and leaving wetness with my tongue on her heated flesh.
I savour the moment, checking in with myself for what I feel.
Aroused, thirsty for Lucie. Secure. Relief floods my system and I lick her pussy again, slowly this time.
Her taste floods my mouth and I moan. “You make me so wet, piccolo. You feel so good, caressing me everywhere. I think I’m going to come in seconds. ”
I smile against her clit as I suck it into my mouth and let the flat of my tongue pulse on the bundle of nerves until Lucie writhes against my mouth. “I want you to come as much as you can until the alarm for the food rings, Lu. Give me all your cum, all you orgasms.”
“They belong to you, anyway, amore mio. Please don’t stop.”
Holding her to my mouth, I lick and kiss and dive.
My tongue glides against her clit before I dip it inside her, revelling in how wet she got, and how messy I’m making her.
My moustache is saturated with her, and I want more.
I hold one of her feet and place it on the counter, then the other, spreading her wide for my pleasure.
The view is lewd and perfect, swollen, pink glistening flesh ready for the taking greets me.
I fall on her pussy again and don’t let up until Lucie’s legs tremble and her orgasm crashes over us in waves of loud moans and breathy pants. Lucie falls on her elbows but I don’t stop. I continue my assault, gorging myself on the taste of her. Sunshine and devotion all wrapped in one.
She gives me two more orgasms before her phone rings.
The alarm she sets for the food. I forgot about it, drowning in Lucie’s pussy and raspy whimpers.
I climb back up to my feet and press her chest to mine, a hand on her back.
She claims my lips, tasting herself on me and moaning again into my mouth.
Then I help her back into her jeans and we set up the table, ignoring how massive this step was for me. Thank you, Gisele, for suggesting a sex task list.
I’m relaxed, light for the first time in months, smiling goofily at the goddess in front of me while eating the best garlic and oil pasta I’ve ever had. Life is good. And a few days later, when I feel comfortable enough to let Lucie return the favour, hope sings in my body. And it feels like her.