Chapter 15
Emee
God, please believe me, I’m trying to keep this professional.
King has his head in my lap as we lie side by side on the bed.
If I’m wearing my therapist hat, there’s no reason for the tingling between my legs at the proximity of my pussy to this man’s face, the way my fingers long to curl into his hair and pull him down onto me.
Or the way my breath hitches as his fingers trail along the inside of my thigh, inching closer to the hem of my skirt.
I don’t wear skirts for meeting clients. Never. It goes entirely against my code.
“Are you wet, little firecracker?” he rumbles, his deep voice connecting with all those dark parts of me that he’s been waking up. “Wet just for me… makes my mouth water. Want a lick?”
“N—no,” I stutter. “I’m your therapist right now.”
“And I’m your King.”
I ignore him. Or try to, as my mind gets all flustered and I struggle to think clearly. “Tell me about your time at school,” I say clumsily, silently berating myself for being so blunt.
The tiny increase in pressure of his fingers on the inside of my leg tells me I’m getting close to the truth of King Hertzof. But instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “What do you dream of, firecracker? If you had a magic wand, what would you wish for?”
“That’s not what we’re here for.”
“Humor me.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
As his therapist, I should be keeping things professional. But that ship has already sailed… “Well, it’s pie in the sky…stupid, really.”
“No.” He runs his hand up and down my leg, making me shiver. “Never say that. Nothing about you is stupid, baby. If it’s your dream, then I want to hear it.”
“There’s this farm,” I say, then shake my head. “Well, it’s not the farm. The farm was a mixture of Green Gables and a painting my parents had hanging in what passed for our living room. Not the best painting, but when things would get really bad, I dreamed of living on the farm in that frame. I used to wish I could take Benjamin’s hand, wish hard enough, and jump into that painting.”
“It sounds perfect, baby,” King says, but there’s a hint of something in his voice. Something I can’t place. Interest, not just in me but in the idea, I guess.
“It would be, and I had a place I was looking at, but… Something came up, and the people selling the farm took another offer. I don’t blame them, but that’s what I’d want. That farm.”
“I want to know everything. Every thought, dream, victory, heartbreak, joke…” he says, turning his face on my lap, just enough to watch me out of the corner of his eye, the angle of his crooked nose reminding me of how tough this man is but how soft his eyes are when they look at me.
I laugh at the look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing… There’s—”
A buzzing interrupts my answer.
”That’s me,” he says as his hand leaves my skin, and he drags his phone out of his pocket.
I tut in irritation. “Mr. Hertzof, I’ve told you before to turn all electronic devices off when you attend our sessions. Do I need to—”
His hand darts out so fast I barely see it. I have no time to react with anything except a gasp as his fingers shoot under my skirt, and his fingers dig in, taking a handful of my mound.
“Firecracker, I’ve told you to call me King. Do I need to teach this soaked little cunt what happens when you don’t follow the rules?”
I shake my head. “Please, this is hard for me. I feel like I still need to be your therapist.”
His knuckle drags down my slit, making me moan. “You want to know me? The parts no one knows?”
“Yes… I want that.”
He grins and pulls away, smoothing down my skirt and taking my hand in his to pull me to my feet. “That’s not going to happen locked up in this hotel room. I’ve got somewhere to show you.”
“King books?”I ask, as he helps me down out of the truck.
“You wanted to know the real me, it’s here in this bookstore.” He laughs at my expression. “You think I can’t read?”
“No!” I laugh. I remember him telling me he reads, and me telling him about my copy of Anne of Green Gables. “I—”
“It wasn’t so much the reading, firecracker,” he says with a smile, pulling me into his arms.
He leads me down the sidewalk in front of the five-story old brick warehouse. This place is a Detroit icon and landmark, but I haven’t been here since I was a kid.
As we step through the doors of the bookstore, I immediately get the same sense of wonder I felt the first time I came here, my grandfather treating me and Benjamin to the outing in a way my parents never would have. I remember the slight musty smell of old books. The dim light as my grandfather let us browse for hours, with the promise that I could pick any book I wanted, and it would be mine. Not for an hour, not for a day, but to keep.
Forever.
Except… the one book I loved more than any of the others, I didn’t get to keep. Because it was a rare first edition of Anne Of Green Gables, and a year later, after I had read it cover to cover at least a dozen times, my parents pawned it for the money they owed their drug dealer.
I blink away the burning in my eyes, trying to focus on what I’m here for: to find out about King. To help him, not muddle through my own messy memories.
“Why a bookstore?” I ask, ignoring the clenching in my chest.
“Before I was adopted, I was bounced around foster families. Nobody wanted to keep me, even though clearly I was a cute little kid.” He licks his lips, cracking a smile. “They certainly didn’t want to try when I became an obnoxious one. I got into fights, I got in trouble.” He kisses the side of my head, as if he can sense my effort to focus on him. “You sure you want to hear all this? We can talk about you—”
“No, please, I… I can’t talk about me…” I blush at the irony in that statement, that I’m frightened to open up this can of worms when I’m expecting him to be honest with me.
“Okay, firecracker,” he says, landing another kiss to my forehead this time. “As a foster kid, you don’t have much. Maybe a garbage bag to take when you change houses with whatever ratty clothes or shoes you’ve got. But one thing I made sure I took with me was this pillow case full of books. It was heavy as hell, especially when I was little, and over time the books changed, but they were the one thing I wouldn’t give up. I fought and ran and lied and did everything I could to make sure, I always at least had that pillowcase.”
“They were your anchor,” I realize. “They gave you something to hold onto when your world was so chaotic.”
He nods, turning and stopping, taking both my hands in his. “Pick one,” he says.
“What?”
“Pick a book. Anything you like. I’ll buy it for you.”
The tears threaten again, and this time they win. We’re so different, but we have this one deeply rooted thing in common.
I try to turn away before he can see me crying, but he catches me up in his arms, pulling me in close and the tears wet the front of his shirt. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he says. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “No, it’s… You took me by surprise, that’s all. You don’t have to do this for me.”
“Baby, the things we’ve done together already, I don’t think me buying you a book is going to make much difference, do you?”
I choke on a laugh, shaking my head.
He’s right. And as I glance around, I realize where we are in the store. Children’s fiction. M.
Montgomery.
It takes me a moment to find the book on the shelves, and if I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d think it was the same copy I had all those years ago. I pull Anne Of Green Gables from the shelf, my fingers trembling, then look up into King’s eyes.
“Did you remember I told you about this book? This can’t be coincidence.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “It isn’t coincidence, baby. You told me how that book changed your life, and I called and he said he had a first edition. It’s fate baby.”
“This is crazy. It looks like the exact same book.”
“Open it up.” He grins, and I do as he says, turning to the title page.
And see my own childlike handwriting, where I wrote my name in pencil. Faded now, but clearly visible. Along with a brand-new inscription.
I’m gonna make all your dreams come true, Firecracker. – Love, King
“You makeme feel like a king, baby. Like I’ve never taken a breath before you.”
We’re back in the hotel room, doing what we seem to do best. Fire and ice.
He pulls my head down to his, his cock still stuffed inside my battered opening, until our foreheads meet.
“I still think I’m going to wake up in the hospital after some horrible accident and realize all this was a dream.”
“All I know, I need to be touching you. I need to be inside you. Not just your body, but your head, too.” He breathes in as I exhale. “I’m impulsive and a wild card, but I also know what I feel. I fucking love you. I’ve never said that, and maybe now is not the time, but I can’t hold it in anymore, baby.”
I let out a little hiccup, then a whimper. Love.
His hands fall to my hips, rocking me slowly up and back, his still-stiff length moving inside me, wetness and his sticky release making sexy sounds between us.
As if to punctuate this moment as only this crazy man can, he slips his hand around the round flesh of my rear and pushes a finger against my tight back opening, making me hiss and purr.
“You have anything to say to me?” he growls, applying more pressure. “I want you to always remember the first time you said you loved me. And what says happy memory more than getting a finger in your ass?”
Laughter burst from my lips. “You are crazy.”
“Crazy in love.” More pressure, more finger moving inside of me, making it hard to think. “Stop thinking so much. Just feel. I’m inside you, aren’t I? Dick, finger, heart, head, just admit it, baby. It’s okay to be crazy sometimes.”
There is a newness shining in his eyes. The edge he had that first day has softened, and I hope to God what’s happening between us doesn’t hurt his game, but I can’t deny what he is saying.
“I do. I do love you. I can’t believe it. But, I do.”
His chest puffs and his cock jerks inside me as he pumps his finger in and out of my ass. “Someday, when our kids ask, ‘Mommy, when was the first time Daddy told you he loved you?’, I’m going to sit back and let you tell the story.”
“You’re impossible.” I lift up, looking at the ceiling as tension gathers in that overworked bundle of nerves.
“I’ll never let you go. You need to come to terms with that. All that seed you’ve taken? That’s me, staking my claim. I’m in it to win it, baby.”
Our movements turn feral. He bucks up as I move down, one finger, then two pushing into my back entrance, making wicked, fevered bliss roll up on me out of nowhere.
The orgasm knocks the air from my lungs as King bellows to the ceiling, filling me with another round of sticky heat, and I wonder where the old Emee has gone.
After I come down, King eases me off, and I lie back on the pillow, spent, out of breath and happier than I’ve ever been in my life. We’re together, one, and I have to accept that. It wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t go out looking for this with one of my clients, but he loves me. He’s shown me in so many ways, and doesn’t everyone just want to be loved like that, in the end?
So, here I am, watching his chest rise and fall ignoring the potential impending doom of my actions.
Something inside me has shifted. There are so many reasons this could blow up in both of our faces.
What if King’s no sex superstition would actually hurt his game?
Then, there’s the chance things could go sour and he could even turn me in to the ethics board.
So many hurdles but apparently none of them could have stopped this freight train.
But, it does make me think of the reason he walked into my office that first day.
“You need me to sign off on you going back to the team,” I say. It’s not a question.
King cocks his brow on a shrug. “Big game in two days, firecracker. Our last chance to get to the playoffs.” His fingers twirl my hair around and around.
I pause. “Do you think you’re ready?”
“You’re the therapist,” he says like it doesn’t matter, drumming his fingers on the flat plane of his chest. “You tell me.”
“I wouldn’t sign off if I didn’t think you were.”
I have crossed a hundred ethical lines, but I’m not a liar. I wouldn’t sign off if I thought he was really a danger to others.
He’s ready.
And, selfishly, I want to see him play.
And win.
“From what I’ve seen,” I tell him, “you’ve turned a corner.”
“I’ll turn every corner if I get to have you, baby.”
“You’ll need to keep seeing me if the league requires it. We need to keep things between us a secret.”
“I’ll be coming to your sessions for the rest of my life. But keeping us a secret, that’s not gonna work,” he says, turning serious, his hand trailing down my bare stomach, down between my legs, making me gasp when his fingers wiggle against my overworked clitoris.
I squirm, stifling a yelp. “Real sessions,” I tell him. “Let’s see what the league says.”
“I love you. I want the world to know. We will figure it out.”
I blink at him, my mouth opening and closing, puzzling out how to keep him doing the thing he loves, while keeping me doing what I’ve worked so hard for.
One seems to cancel out the other, but the look in his eyes tells me, I need to trust him. Let him take control of this conundrum, and let go.
“I love you, too,” I say, as his lips crush onto mine.
As his magic fingers and mouth send me flying again, there’s the landing.
When I reach the ground, guilt slinks through me.
I haven’t heard much from Benjamin. I should call. I should check on him.
I’m sure he was overreacting when he said they would kill him. Right?
For once, I let go of what might happen and lean into what is happening.
It’s for me, this time. It’s time my brother grew up.
“So, you agree?”I smile into the phone listening to Milton and the soft singing coming from the bathroom.
King said he’d grab a shower, so I could speak to Milton in peace, but I don’t think peace is the kind of word usually associated with King Hertzof.
“I agree,” Milton confirms. “There’s been a change. The league will go along with our recommendations and lift the suspension. If he agrees to continue with both of us through the end of the season.”
“He’s already agreed,” I tell him.
“Good. You’ve worked a miracle with that one, Emee. You know, if you want more hockey players—”
“Oh my God, Milt, I need a minute on that,” I say, as there’s a banging on the hotel door. “But I have to go. Thanks, Milton.”
“No, thank you. The Blades need the King. Can’t wait to bring that cup back home.”
We sign off, and I hang up as the banging becomes more insistent.
“Emee! I know you’re in there, I can hear you!” Benjamin sounds desperate. Like, even more desperate than the last time I spoke to him.
I glance around the suite. My bra is hanging off the lamp. My panties are torn and laying just inside the door. The door to the bedroom is open and the bedding is torn off, the sheet pulled from the mattress and King’s clothes are scattered everywhere. And I have no time to clear it up.
I scurry for a robe that’s on the floor and belt it around me.
I jog to the door, pulling it open a few inches as Benjamin’s fist is poised to knock again. “What?”
“Emee, can I…” He glances over his shoulder toward the elevator. “Can I come in? I need help.”
“Not a good time. I was just in the shower,” I lie. “I’m not dressed. If you need money—”
He shakes his head, pushing his face into the opening of the door, looking over me at the room. “What I need is…”
“Hey, baby, who’s at the door?” King’s voice comes from behind as I grit my teeth on a wince.
Benjamin pushes at the door with his shoulder, and the train has left the station.
This is happening.
Benjamin is silent as I step back and let the Jenga blocks fall.
“My brother,” I finally say, tugging my lips to my teeth, curling and uncurling my fingers and toes.
Benjamin steps inside, staring over my shoulder.
“Hey, what’s up? Benjamin, right?” King calls as I open my mouth to answer but drop my chin turning my head toward his voice.
King is walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Looking all damp and tempting, and totally unabashed about my brother standing in the room.
For a second, I consider telling Benjamin it’s a new type of therapy, or that King got upset and needed to shower.
But then, why would I be in a robe? And I don’t think my brother missed King calling me “baby”, either.
I shake my head. “Benjamin, I didn’t… You can’t tell anyone about this. It would cause huge problems for both of us.”
“King Hertzof, motherfucker.” Benjamin grins, nodding, and his eyes are bright as he turns back to me. “Don’t worry, sis, I ain’t telling nobody that doesn’t need to know.” He drops his voice as he steps back looking like he just won the lottery. “Thank you, I owe you,” he whispers.
I shake my head.
“You guys are busy! I’ll see you some other time,” he says on a wink and a salute, spinning and bolting down the hall, fist pumping the air.
I stick my head out the door, calling behind him, “No, Benjamin, I didn’t—”
But, it’s too late.
Maybe I didn’t do it for him, but maybe, just maybe, it will still get him out of trouble.
Love always wins, right?
But, that means, someone else has to lose…is winning the cup more important than saving my brother’s life?
I don’t have the answer. It’s out of my control and for the first time, I’m okay with that.