Fuck.This is bad.Thatcouldn't have gone worse, and I still need him.I need him tobelieve her.I need him to believeme.I don't know how to protect herwithout his help.I take several deep, calming breaths.I'm goingto have to call him back at some point and fix it, I know that.ButI've got a couple of weeks before I'm meant to meet him in hisoffice, so I'll just let him stew for now.
And then I hear a soundthat cracks open my chest and freezes my heart.
"Stop," Rory's faint voicemurmurs, and I burst back through the door, frantic.For a moment Iactually believed she could be under attack.She's not of course,she's just dreaming, but that doesn't mean she's not living thatexact terrifying scenario inside her subconscious.
I'm at her side in aninstant, and I'm gutted by the sight in front of me.Her face isscrunched up in fear, her forearm held over it in a defensivemotion.The rest of her is curled up in a fetal position, and she'sstill in a deep sleep.
"No," she squeaks, and ina split second I'm on the bed, rubbing her back, and brushing thehair from her face.
"I'm here, baby girl.Hecan't hurt you.I promise, he can't hurt you," I swear to her overand over.Part of me wishes my father could see this, could seewhatthatmotherfucking bastardhas done toher.Let him witness the symptoms of her very real PTSD and tell meshe made it all up.But Rory would never want that, and truthfully,neither would I.
"I've got you.I won't letanyone hurt you.Ever again.I fucking swear to God, baby girl.You're safe.Just sleep," I plead.
The more I comfort andwhisper to her, the more she relaxes back into a peaceful sleep.Iwatch, riveted, as the lines in her forehead smooth out, hermuscles relax, and that sweet serenity sweeps over herfeatures.
"That's it, Ror, justsleep," I encourage her.
I watch her body settle,and then freeze as her fingers skim over my tee shirt, and thenclutch the back of it, holding herself against me.Her breathingevens out, and I know her nightmare has been chased off.
I feel a heady swell ofpride.Ididthat.I saved her fromthat motherfuckingbastard, even in her dream, and I'movercome with a vague sense of that god-like feeling only she canelicit in me.God, there's no greater gift than when she lets me help her, inwhatever way she allows.
Rory bends her knee,sliding it over my thigh, and I let her weight shift me onto myback so she can get into whatever position she finds comfortable.I'm not complaining that that position happens to lead to her thighhooked over my hip, her cheek pressed into my chest like a pillow,and her arm draped over my abdomen.
She stills again and Isigh at the sweet torture of it.It's heaven, holding her likethis, but my attraction to her is barely controllable when she'sjust near me, or even in my thoughts.Now, laying like this, with acertain part of my body lined up so close toit'sfavorite part of hers, I'mfinding the intensity of my arousal almost painful, and no amountof distracting thoughts seems to help.
Last night's Knicks game,spring training stats, even my Grandma Lena… they don't stay centerstage for more than a few moments each.Instead, I feel everysquare inch of where our bodies align against each other, feel theheat of her skin even through the cotton of herclothing.
Images force their waythrough my mind.Memories.Rory's innocent curiosity at her owndesire.The sweet mortification and the blush that crept over herentire naked body when I'd realized how inexperienced she was withactual pleasure.The honor and humility I felt when I understoodthe opportunity in front of me.That even thoughthat motherfucking bastardhad stolen her virginity, I could still be the one to giveher that very significant first.
I see it happen all overagain in my head.The first time I watched her come.I was fuckingmesmerized.It wasn't the first time I got a girl off, not by along-shot, but it was the first time I cared like that.It wasalways tit for tat before.I enjoyed it, don't get me wrong, it's aproud feeling—good for the ego and a major turn-on, but that wasn'tthe motivation for it.More like a happy side effect on the way togetting what I wanted, which was my own pleasure.
But with Rory… it wassomething different.A transcendent experience in its own right.Feeling her body pulse and contract around my fingers, against mytongue.AndGod,the fucking taste of her.Seeing her body flush, seized bymind-numbing pleasure, and the look on her face—a heady mix ofshock and pure bliss.And her cries.Those fucking whimpers.Andhearing my name in that lust-coated tone of hers.Fuck, she's ruined mefor good.
These insuppressiblememories aren't helping my current situation.I'm quite sure thebulge in my jeans has never been this stiff and swollen in my life.And that's saying something for an eighteen year old guy.If allgoes as planned and Rory gets a good, long nap in, it will be hoursbefore I can get home and relieve some of my owntension.
Rory snuggles into me evenmore, her soft breasts pressed into my side and chest, and I groanto myself at the heavenly torment.At least I'll have some newfantasy material for later.
I listen to the sound ofher breathing, feel the warmth of each exhale through the thincotton of my tee shirt.I slowly slip my fingers into her hair,lightly stroking them through the soft, loose locks, brushing themoff of her face.My other arm slides around her back, holding herin the position she's unconsciously chosen, and I sigh.I'vedreamed of getting her back in my arms countless times, but neverlike this, and it's bittersweet.Because she's here by default, notby choice, and I know it's only temporary.
"I love you," I whisper,only because I know she's a world away, and I let my own eyes fallclosed, and drift off, longing to join her.
Chapter Seven
"Ilove you," Sam whispers, his low timbre rumbling against theskin of my neck.
I want to say it back, totell him I never stopped, but there's a reason I can't—I'm notsupposed to, though I can't recall why.We are outside, on a beachI don't recognize, but it's breathtakingly beautiful, and I halfthink we might be in heaven.I will him to touch me, but hehesitates.Why?
"Touch me," I plead, andSam pulls back, his lips twisting up into a smirk, revealing thedimple I love so much.
"Where?"he asks, tauntingme, still keeping his hands painstakingly to himself.
"Please," I beg, and helicks his lips.
Slowly, painfully slowly,he presses his hand to my waist, lifting the hem of my tee shirt ashe slowly runs the pads of his fingers up, just a fewinches.
"Here?"he asks, his voicethickening with desire.
I let my eyes fall closeand nod,yes.
