Eighteen
F uck it. I couldn’t hold back any longer, waiting for her to say it, to ask me, to fucking permit me to be with her.
“Lissa…”
She leaned into my touch as I cupped her cheek.
“That feels nice.”
“Please say you want me. This is killing me.” I was so hard it was almost painful, but it wasn’t just about that. It was about needing to be with her. This one person in the whole fucking world who actually saw me. Who knew me. Who knew the things I’d hidden from every other bastard I knew.
She shivered, and nodded.
“It’s… it’s difficult to have the courage to say it, because I know it’s wrong, and I should have the strength to resist how I feel, but yes, Ice. I want you too.”
Finally. I leaned closer, sliding my hand into her hair, so I could angle her mouth to mine, feeling a sense of relief and pride, when this amazing woman opened up to me, kissing me back like she was just as desperate for my touch, as I was to be touching her.
We both edged closer to each other, as the kiss grew more intense, and desperate. I wanted her. I wanted her so fucking badly, that I felt like I didn’t want to take it slow. I didn’t want to waste a second, just wanted to be inside her so fucking desperately.
I eased her onto her back, and moved over her, lifting that t-shirt up her warm body, as I kept kissing her. My god. Just feeling her skin, her smooth, bare skin, was almost too much for me. It had been too long since I’d felt like this, if I ever even had. Something about this woman made me forget everything else, because all I could think about was her.
I pulled away from our kiss, so that I could take a look at her, as I pushed the t-shirt up past her breasts. They were perfect. Beautiful. I shifted, so that I could get my mouth on them, teasing one nipple, by circling it with my tongue, before I closed my lips around it.
She was squirming beneath me, wriggling, and letting out these soft moans and gasps that shot through me like jolts of pleasure. Fucking hell… I felt like a schoolboy seeing his first tits. It was intense, it was more than just fucking, it was… I felt like…
The fuck? I couldn’t stop it . I couldn’t fucking hold back, as I did the pathetic schoolboy thing, shooting my load way too early, and fucking ruining everything.
I cursed, my cheeks burning red with humiliation. I couldn’t look her in the eye, but she knew, of course she fucking did. She’d seen it happen. Felt it. Couldn’t miss it. Pleasure had rippled through me, just before I came all over her fucking leg. Even with my boxers in the way, I probably dribbled cum on her.
“Jesus.”
Her hands fell away from me as I backed away, rolling onto my back.
“Fuck!”
“Ice-”
“Don’t. Just don’t say a fucking word. I can’t… Fuck … I can’t… I’m sorry. What a fucking…” I lay my arm across my eyes, because they were burning again. Horror and humiliation had brought tears to my fucking eyes. So it wasn’t bad enough that I’d fucking lost it, and shamed myself, but now I wanted to cry about it like a fucking child.
I threw the covers back, and lurched out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. I didn’t switch the light on, but I kicked the door closed, before she could see what a pathetic waste of space I was.
Fuck, who am I kidding? She just fucking witnessed it first-hand. I’m a loser addict, who can’t even hang on long enough to fuck the woman he wants, instead of blowing his load early.
Pathetic, that’s what I am. I slid down onto the floor with my back against the wall, my head in my hands. Yeah. Turned out that I absolutely was going to cry about it. What the fuck was the point of my existence? I had nothing to offer her. Nothing at all. Who’d want a useless, waste of space, piece of shit junkie like me?
Lissa
I wanted to follow him, to try and ease his embarrassment, to try to help. I had a feeling it’d be a bad move right now. I’d advised addicts through their journey to recovery. I’d talked over issues like this with them. I’d never witnessed it, or experienced it first-hand. I wasn’t sure what would be the best approach. Should I try to get him to talk about it? Or should I just pretend it didn’t happen?
I kept seeing that look in his eyes… the look of pleasure, followed immediately by horror, and then shame. That desperate need to disappear, to stop being seen in that moment. If I tried to reassure him, would he even hear me right now? Would he even be willing to face me? I wasn’t sure what to do.
For the first time in my career of working with people like him, I had no idea what to do, and maybe that was partly because there were no other people like him. That was the point. It’s not a ‘one size fits all’ kind of therapy. It was about helping him find his way, the solution to his personal situation.
He was in the bathroom for so long, that I finally realised he might be waiting me out. Hoping I’d fall asleep before he returned. I even wondered if he was planning to hide in there all night.
Finally, I turned over, facing away from the door, and curled up on my side, hoping he’d feel it was safe to return, if it looked like I was asleep. I must have fallen asleep like that, because I was woken by the bed being bumped, and a soft curse.
“Ice?”
“Sorry. Stay there. I’m going… uh… I’m just popping out for a bit.”
NO. I knew exactly what that meant.
“God, don’t, please. Ice, don’t do it.”
I sat up fast, grabbing at the clothes he’d already thrown on, my fists wrapping around soft fabric.
“Please, Ice, don’t.”
I couldn’t see well in the darkened room, but he gripped my fingers, carefully peeling them from his clothes.
“Don’t worry, doc. Just sleep. I’ll make sure someone gets you to work in the morning.”
I followed him, as he headed for the door, stumbling around the unfamiliar room, catching my toe on something hard, and crying out as I dropped down to grab my foot. The door slammed, and I felt panic filling me up. I had to stop him. If he went out there, and tried using, he’d ruin all the hard work he’d done so far.
Worse than that, it could kill him. Recovering addicts often made the mistake of going back to drugs like they’d never been away, and their bodies couldn’t handle the same levels they’d been taking. It was how so many overdosed during recovery.
“STOP! Dammit, Ice!” I ran down the hallway, trying to work out who the hell to ask for help. There were several doors along the way, but I didn’t know where to start.
I reached the door to the outside, just as the rumble of a motorbike warned me of his escape.
“NO! ICE! God, no, please don’t do this to me!” I turned to run back inside, to find someone, anyone, to ask for help, and ran straight into a strong bare torso.
“Whoa… what’s going on?” The guy, who caught me before we both fell, was scary looking. His head was shaved, and there was something tattooed on it, which I only caught a glimpse of as he looked around to see what was going on. He had dark eyes. So dark they were almost black. And dark stubble on his face.
“You Ice’s doc?”
I nodded when he turned that deadly gaze on me again.
“What happened?” He stepped back, releasing my arms, and cast his eyes over me. One eyebrow lifted, and I knew what he was thinking. They’d all think the same, and were they wrong?
“He… you have to stop him. I think he’s going to find drugs.” The guy cursed up a storm, as he turned and hurried back down the hallway. The place was empty, except for another head peeking out of a door as he reached the first floor, with me on his heels, hobbling to avoid catching my throbbing toe.
“Torch? What’s happening?” It was the guy with the dreads. Has-Been, I think was his name. He was still so familiar. Had he used the centre too?
“Fucking Ice. He’s gone on the run.”
“Bastard. I’ll get dressed.” He didn’t even look at me, before he disappeared into his room again, and the half-naked biker, Torch, hammered on another door.
“Ry? We need you!” Then he ran for the stairs, and up to the floor I hadn’t seen before. I followed, because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Reacher!” Torch banged on the only door on this floor, and we heard a whole lot of cursing, before the Club President stuck his head out of the room.
“What!”
“Ice left, Pres. She thinks he’s going to use.”
Reacher shot me a glare, then took in my appearance.
“This is your idea of therapy? You’re fucking him? And now you’ve sent him right back out there, and into his addiction again?”
“Pres…”
He shot Torch a glare. “Get dressed. If he makes it past the prospects, we need to find him before he fucks things up.”
He looked at me again, with pure disgust.
“You need to get out of here. You’ve done more than enough damage already, don’t you think?”
I felt a lump in my throat, as his words hit me right where it hurt. He was right. I’d messed up. I’d let my feelings get in the way of Ice’s recovery, and now I might have killed him. A sob burst out of me, and I turned, running for the stairs and Ice’s room.