Chapter sixteen Parker #2
“Were the dreams the same as the ones you described to me last time?” she asks.
“Two of the nights they were, but the other night…it was different.”
She jots something down. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, it wasn’t the morning I asked her to go to rehab. It was the week after—when I got the phone call that she had checked herself out.” She nods, urging me to continue. “But this time, I actually got to see her before she skipped town.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
I run a hand over my face. “She kept saying, ‘You’re the reason I’m dead. You killed me.’”
She purses her lips. “Is that what you believe?”
The question punches me in the gut. My throat tightens as I lean forward, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to fucking cry,” I manage, my voice hoarse.
“Why?”
My knee bounces up and down rapidly.
“Have you cried since Sasha passed away, Parker?” she presses.
When I open my eyes, the first tear slips free. “Not much, no. A little at her funeral, but then her parents started screaming at me, so I left. Then I drank until I couldn’t see straight.”
“I see.” She writes a few more notes on her paper. “So, here’s how I see it. You never grieved the woman you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and you blame yourself for her death. Does that sound about right?”
“Aren’t I paying you to tell me that, Dr. Jensen?”
She smirks at me. “Just answer the question, Parker.”
“Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“And how has it felt carrying around all that guilt?”
“Uh, not fucking great. Hence why I’m here, Doc.” It’s this kind of questioning that irritated me about therapy in the first place.
“And who is the one in control of carrying around the guilt, Parker?”
I tilt my head at her. “Let me guess…me?”
She chuckles. “Very good.”
“Okay, so how do I let go of it?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “There’s no magic solution, Parker.
But there’s usually a moment when you realize it’s time to let it go.
Until then, lean into the discomfort. Push yourself to do the things that scare you.
” I look down at the floor. “I, uh…Cashlynn’s been sleeping next to me for the past week. ”
Dr. Jensen’s eyebrows lift. “That’s a big step. How does it make you feel?”
“Not so alone,” I admit.
She nods, setting her notepad to the side. “Sometimes we think that isolating ourselves will prevent us from hurting, but it can actually do the opposite and leave us alone with all of the pain we are holding onto.”
I lift my eyes and find hers again. “When I’m with her, my chest feels lighter. There’s something about this woman that pulled at me from the moment I met her. But…”
“But what?”
I let out a long sigh. “It’s always so easy in the beginning of a relationship, right?
Like, I never thought Sasha was an alcoholic when we first started dating.
Is that because I was na?ve about it and didn’t want to see it?
Or can people really change on you like that?
” I snap my fingers. “What if I’m blinded by Cashlynn right now and I repeat the same mistakes?
What if I ignore her, don’t give her the time she deserves, or… ”
“Let me stop you right there,” Dr. Jensen says. “That’s a lot of ‘what ifs.’”
“You should hear what goes on in my head most days, Doc.”
She smiles and then continues. “When you say you didn’t see who Sasha was, did she ever share her struggles with you?”
“No. She actually hid it from me.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “And when you say that she changed, did you change as well?”
“I mean, yeah. Things shifted when she moved to Carrington Cove with me.”
“So would you say that your relationship was strong from the beginning, Parker? Did you two communicate effectively, grow and change together, and speak honestly with each other? Or not?”
A million memories slam into me all at once. “Fuck,” I mutter as I lock eyes with Dr. Jensen.
She scribbles something on her notepad with a grin. “I think we’re done for today.”
***
“Cashlynn?”
It’s Wednesday night and I’m getting home just after nine, but I made sure to text Cashlynn this time.
See? I’m fucking learning.
The practice was insanely busy today and an emergency surgery kept me there late. Seth stayed late too, like he was afraid to leave before me. Jackass. I seriously can’t wait until Robert makes his decision and I can put this whole thing behind me.
“I’m in my room!” Cashlynn calls out, instantly making me feel more at ease.
I set my stuff on the kitchen counter and start unbuttoning my shirt as I make my way down the hall.
The tie comes off too, and as I step into her room, my shirt already hanging open, I’m ready for her to rip it off since that’s been the routine the past few days.
But what I see stops me in my tracks.
She’s painting.
Holy shit.
Sitting on a stool in nothing but her underwear and an over-sized T-shirt, she’s completely focused on the canvas.
Her hands move expertly, blending strokes of dark blue and white, accented by a few hints of yellow.
Her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and she’s biting her bottom lip as she assesses each stroke of her brush, contemplating where the next will go.
She’s so consumed by what she’s doing that she doesn’t register I’m behind her until I wrap my arms around her waist. I plant kisses on her exposed neck and collar bone, watching her skin pebble right before my eyes. “You’re painting…”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “I am. Why are you so surprised?”
I brush her hair back, studying her work. “You haven’t painted since you moved in. I was wondering if I was ever going to see you in action.”
She nods, staring back at her canvas. “Honestly, I’ve been so busy getting ready for the gallery to open and figuring out how to get you to admit that you wanted me, I haven’t had the energy.
But today, this image came to mind and I got the strongest urge to mess around with some paint, so I did. ” She shrugs.
“It’s beautiful. What inspired it?”
“It was just the colors that kept coming to me.”
“Blue and yellow?”
“A mix of calmness and optimism.”
I stare at the canvas. “I guess I can see that.”
“Each color symbolizes different emotions, and I think those two are the most dominant in my life right now.”
I point at the single streak of black in the corner. “And that?”
Cashlynn tilts her head as she stares at the spot in question. “Fear.”
My stomach lurches as I clear my throat. “Yeah, I get that too.”
She turns her head to look at me. “A little fear is okay, Parker. It means you have something to lose, remember? But see how the other colors are more prominent?” I nod. “Those are the ones you tend to focus on, right?”
I stand back and push a hand through my hair, but Cashlynn doesn’t let me get too far.
When she reaches out to pull me back into her, her fingers graze my chest and leave a trail of blue paint in their wake.
We both stare at the streak of color on my bare chest, my shirt still hanging open.
And then I see the hint of mischief in her eyes.
“What’s that look for?”
She licks her lips and then dips her finger into the light blue paint this time, rubbing it on her palms and then slapping them to my chest, running them down my stomach, her nails scraping lightly as she does.
“Fuck, Cashlynn. Seriously?”
She nods, pushing my shirt off my shoulders. “God, I love your body, Parker. It’s like its own work of art.”
My stomach tightens as she backs me up against the wall, running her fingers through the divots in my abs and then traveling up my pecs and over my shoulders, dragging the paint with her as she moves her hands all over my body.
And even though this woman is making a mess, turning me into her own human art project, her touch ignites desire in my veins like it always does.
Before I can contemplate her next move, she drops to her knees, placing her palms on her thighs. Looking up at me, she says, “Drop your pants, Dr. Sheppard.”
My cock grows even harder in an instant as I obey. I pop the clasp on my slacks and shove them and my underwear down my legs, leaving me standing there in nothing but my socks—my ironed socks, that is.
“Dr. Sheppard, huh?” I ask as I reach down and stroke myself, using the precum leaking from my tip to coat my length.
She smirks, dipping her hands into red paint this time. “It’s like a naughty Grey’s Anatomy fantasy come to life.”
I laugh, but it quickly turns into a groan as Cashlynn presses her painted hands against my thighs, making me tighten all over again just as her mouth closes over the tip of my cock.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Were you thinking about my cock while I was gone today?” I ask her as she hums around my length.
Her eyes flutter closed as she nods, taking me as deep as she can before gagging and repeating the process.
When she reaches up to cup my balls, I don’t even think about the fact that she’s marking me with her paint.
In fact, I fucking love it. Me—the guy that hates messes—is so fucking turned on right now as I watch Cashlynn leave her mark all over my body.
“Your greedy pussy needs this cock too, huh?” This time she nods and sucks me harder, swirling her tongue along the underside of my dick while gently rolling my balls in her hands. She slaps one hand on my stomach as she bobs up and down, faster and faster, making my orgasm rush forward.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come, Cashlynn.”
She nods again, looking me in the eyes and telling me without words that she’s ready to take my release down her throat.
“Jesus. Fuck, yes. Like that.” She moves faster, tugging on my balls this time and pressing against the skin just behind them, and that’s what sets me off. “Fuck!”
I watch her intently as she swallows every drop of me down her throat, and when the last drop leaves me, she licks me clean, swirling her tongue around my tip one more time for good measure.
The smile she has on her lips as she stares up at me from the floor, the pure look of pleasure on her face from making me come undone has me eager to return the favor.
I lift her from the floor, tear her shirt over her head, and crash into her, covering her mouth with my own, paint going everywhere.
But I don’t fucking care. I need this woman. I need to bury myself inside her so deep that she never wants another man to fuck her—because I’ll be damned if that thought ever crosses her mind again.
With our mouths still connected, I lead Cashlynn into my bathroom, turning on the shower as we continue to run our hands all over each other. She breaks the kiss for just a moment, long enough to look at us in the mirror, our bodies smeared with blue and red paint.
“What does red represent, Cashlynn?”
She turns back to me. “Passion. Desire. And love.”
Our eyes bounce back and forth between one another, but I don’t say a word.
I push her underwear down her legs, walk her into the shower, and run my hands all over us, cleaning the paint from our skin, and then fuck the woman who has taken ownership of me in a matter of six weeks—because let’s be honest, I want her to own me too.
***
“Good thing you had a tarp down in your room, otherwise there would have been paint in the carpet.”
Cashlynn laughs as she lies next to me in my bed. We’re freshly showered, she’s freshly fucked, and now we’re talking a bit before we go to sleep. “I’m very surprised you let me do that. I was waiting for you to freak out.”
“Not gonna lie, my anxiety flared for a minute, but then you told me to drop my pants, and, well…” I shrug and she laughs, nestling in closer to me.
Then I think of a question I had earlier but never got to ask because nakedness took over. “Do you ever paint people? I know you said you paint mostly scenery and abstracts on the plane, but I was wondering if you ever tried people?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
She sighs. “It’s so hard to get the shadows right. I feel like my mind just can’t pay tribute to the lines of the body the way they deserve to be seen.”
“Funny. You were paying tribute to the lines on my body just fine.”
She smacks my chest and then lays her head back down on it. “That was cheesy.”
“Sorry if I’m lacking sophistication right now. I’m exhausted.”
Trailing her fingers through the short hair on my chest, she hums. “Was the practice crazy today?”
“Yeah. Your father and Beth were gone, so everyone had to step up a bit. I swear, when Beth retires, the whole place might burn to the ground.”
“Do you think she might when my father does?”
I think back to the conversation I overheard between the two of them, still not sure of what I heard, so I keep it to myself for now. “I don’t know, honestly. I know she’s worked there for almost thirty years so I can’t imagine her staying for much longer.”
“My father had to reschedule our lunch date for next week. Something about an appointment that he was able to get because of a cancellation.”
“An appointment for what?” I ask, my nerves activating from this information.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.
Sounds like someone else I know,” she teases, but my pulse spikes.
I still haven’t told Cashlynn about my therapy appointments.
It’s only been two weeks, and I know I have a ton of shit to work through.
I want to wait until there’s something more productive to tell her, or at least until I’m sure this is going to stick.
“But he’s good about going to his regular checkups and stuff, so it’s probably something like that. If it was something serious, I’m sure he’d tell me,” she continues, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nod, but don’t say anything in response. Instead, I decide to change the subject. “What’s your favorite color?”
She chuckles, looking up at me again. “Where did that come from?”
“I’m just trying to learn more about you, and that’s one of the basic questions I think I should know the answer to.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “That question is impossible to answer because it changes for me. I go through moods.” She glances down at my now clean chest, dancing her fingers along my skin again. “But after tonight? I think blue is definitely my favorite right now.”
I roll on top of her, cupping her jaw in my hand, and get lost in her amber eyes—a place I would be happy staying lost indefinitely. “Yeah, I think blue just moved to the top of the list for me too.”