Chapter 37
I feel like my life is finally coming together, don’t get me wrong I still have my down days where I question everything and the negative thoughts begin to seep into my brain but Dean is always there to remind me of how far I’ve come and the progress that I’m making.
Everyday he showers me with compliments and tells me how proud he is of me.
I’m also attending therapy every other week with Doctor Phillips.
I was apprehensive at first, the thought of digging deep into my pain and trauma made me feel sick to my stomach, and to say I struggled during our first sessions would be an understatement.
Dean picked me up like he usually does and the whole way home I was having a panic attack, my breathing strained and painful like a dead weight was sitting on my chest. Doctor Phillips said I would go through these motions, that by me talking about what happened would dredge up old feelings and break open old wounds, and boy what she right.
I was ready to call it quits after the first couple of sessions, believing that I couldn’t do it any more, that I wasn’t strong enough to face my nightmares that plagued me everyday but Dean flat out refused to let me do that.
He pushed me like I’d never been pushed before and at first I was resentful of him, like he was forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do but I know I needed to and I’m so thankful that he did because now my sessions are a little bit easier, my nightmares aren’t as often and I’m learning to love myself again which in turn is letting Dean deeper into my soul.
We haven’t officially put a title on our relationship and I don’t think it needs one.
He’s there for me like a partner would be, he cares and supports me every step of the way and that’s more than I could ask for.
It’s just me and Lyla at home today as Dean’s in the garage.
He’s had a couple of resprays to catch up on and I’m happy he gets to do what he loves, but I miss him everyday that he’s not here.
The feeling is strange and unusual to me.
Yes, I miss my girls but this is a different type of yearning.
I feel like half of my soul is missing every time he walks out of the door and it doesn’t become whole again until he returns.
The sweet smell of rich vanilla cookies swirls around the open kitchen, the low sun over the trees beams in through the kitchen window, creating an orange glow that shines along the kitchen units.
I scan the kitchen to make sure Lyla isn’t standing behind me before I open the oven, a blast of heat hits my face as I grab hold of the tray before placing it onto the stove top, then turn the dial to switch the oven off and close the door.
I started baking a couple of weeks ago when Doctor Phillips recommended that I try a new hobby.
My heart ached at the thought of wanting to read again but I’m not sure if that was ever going to be a thing for me again so I tried my hand at baking and if I do say so myself, I’m pretty fucking good at it.
I thought it best that I begin with small cakes, vanilla, carrot, red velvet, chocolate.
Those went pretty well and Dean seemed to appreciate the sweet treats I was baking.
Once I mastered the smaller cakes, I attempted cookies, failing the first couple of batches.
They were either too soft that they wouldn’t hold their shape or hard as rocks.
I clocked Dean’s humorous expression every time I botched up a batch but he never let me quit or made me feel bad about ruining them.
A wide smile spreads across my face as I take in the perfect vanilla and chocolate chip cookies on the baking tray, the delicious smell making its way into my nose.
I quickly spin round to hear Lyla jumping down from the couch before placing her head onto the window frame, the hot breath from her nose steaming up the window in a small patch.
The distinct sound of Dean’s raptor coming down the gravel path rushes through the house, and my skin tingles all over, my heart thumping around in my chest. Now I know how Lyla must feel when she knows that her dad is coming home.
The loud rumble becomes clearer the closer the truck gets until I see the massive black shape break through the tree line.
Dean pulls up at the side of the garage and Lyla begins to bark at the window.
“Calm down baby, he’ll be here in a minute.
” I coo from across the kitchen counter and she immediately stops her shouting.
Laughing at her excitement, I turned back to the stove top to place the cookies on a cooling rack.
The front door swings open, my skin prickles to life and shivers run up my spine at the sound of his heavy footsteps coming into the house.
Slowly spinning on my bare feet, I turn to face Dean.
The sight of him has my heart jumping into my mouth and my pussy purring.
I mentally scold her for constantly wanting to jump his bones, but who can blame her when he constantly looks the way he does.
His rich dark locks are tucked underneath his cap, a sheen of sweat covers his tattooed skin and he’s dressed in his signature all black cargos, boots and shirt.
He drops his backpack on the floor and leans over to shower Lyla in affection and she laps it up, rolling around on her back as he scratches her belly.
I’m half tempted to do the same to see if he’ll rub me like that.
Lifting my hand to my mouth, I discreetly try to clear the cotton ball in my throat but as soon as I make a noise Dean’s bright green eyes lock onto me like a missile.
His gaze is burning with hunger, his sharp brows drawn together as he takes in my form, starting from the top of my head to my bare feet.
He pats Lyla one last time before stalking over to me like a deadly animal.
I fidget under his glare and I have to stop myself from rubbing my thighs together under his oversized shirt to ease the ache.
Dean quickly closes the distance between us, his boots touching my toes and I crane my neck back to meet his face, my arms bracing on the countertop behind me.
He spins his hat around before dropping his face to my exposed neck, the softness of his lips grazes the sensitive skin and I shudder under his tender touch, then he places one arm at the side of me, the orange sun beaming onto his warm skin from the window, his other hand barely grazing my knee before he drags his fingertips up my thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
My skin comes alive and I whimper at the double sensation of him touching my leg whilst placing chaste kisses on my neck.
Dean’s movements are torturously slow, teasing me until the ache in my lower belly is ready to burst. The roughness of his beard tickles against my skin as he makes his way up to my ear.
“You missed me, pretty girl?” The deep baritone of his voice penetrates my ear and I nod, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. “I didn’t quite catch that, I said did you miss me? Use your words baby.” Fuck. I’m panting like a dog in heat.
“Yes. I missed you.” I stutter over my words as his hand travels further up my thigh, lifting the material of his t-shirt, exposing my pussy to him.
“Let’s find out how much you’ve missed me shall we?
” He doesn’t give me any reprieve as he slips his middle finger between my pussy lips before coming back up to circle my clit.
My head falls back, a heavy moan slips free from my mouth and I part my legs for him, granting him all the access he wants.
Dean’s teeth nip the skin along my jaw until he reaches my lips, taking the abused flesh between his teeth before letting it spring back into place.
“You’re fucking soaked for me baby. Do you want to come?
” God, I’m a desperate mess for this man.
I nod but remember to use my words. “Yes. Please, make me come.” I beg and grind against his hand with zero shame.
His jade green eyes lock onto mine as he ever so slowly pushes a single finger inside, the feeling is good but it’s not enough.
I want more, I need more.
“I need more Dean, please.” My eyes pleading with him.
“Does this pretty pussy want to be filled, hm? Stuffed so full that you can feel the burn of me stretching you wide open.” He begins to pick up the pace with a singular finger, the wet sloppy sounds bouncing around the kitchen.
“I want that. Please, give it to me!” I beg and plead but he quickly pulls his finger out causing me to wince at the friction.
“What? No, no. Please I’ll be a good girl, please.
” A wicked smile spreads across his face at my pleas, and my pussy tenses on nothing, desperate to feel him again.
Dean lifts his hand between us, his middle finger is soaked in my juices, then he brings it to his lips and sucks my arousal clean.
My mouth parts at the erotic scene before me, hot desire burns under my skin.
Closing the small distance between us, Dean leans over me to the utensil pot behind me, the metal and plastic spoons clanking together until he grabs what he’s looking for, and I can feel my breathing beginning to grow heavier, deeper, more erratic as he brings the small, heavy plastic rolling pin between us, the exact one that I use for rolling out fondant.
My eyes bug wide at the shape, it’s smooth and thick but looks tiny in Dean’s hands.