Restless. In need of therapy.
I got out of bed and walked out onto the patio that connected to the bedroom. The weather was mild, but what I enjoyed about being out here was the seclusion. I'd been keeping myself so busy for so many years that I never realized how taxing it all became.
In California, when I stepped out onto the balcony of my high-rise condo, it was all city light, traffic, crowds, and smog. Out here, the house sat on five acres of land. It backed up to a park that had acres of trees with a lake a short hike away. Here, the silence was apparent in the soft sway of the trees, the hoots of the owls, or in the chirp of the early morning birds. Not that we didn't have trees and birds in the city, but the sounds of the city were a white noise cloaking nature's song.
I sat back on the lounge chair and looked at the stars that seemed close enough to touch. This was the kind of peace that should put me to sleep, but it didn't. If anything, it was this kind of peace that ghosts lingered in, whispering in my ear. Those whispered memories were shouts without the city's white noise.
After half an hour of pretending I wasn't glancing at my phone, it lit up and vibrated against the glass patio tabletop.
No coping mechanisms tonight?
I smiled because the first thing that came to Avery's mind was whether or not I was fucking someone else.
Not unless you're willing to come by?
I offer mentally exhausting mind-fucks at an hourly rate. Interested?
Dr. Shaw, I knew u had a dirty side. Let's talk more about you fucking my mind.
Really quite boring. Lots of uncomfortable questions.
I chuckled. I prefer uncomfortable positions.
I knew I shouldn't have responded.
But u did. Will you pick up if I call you?
No.
I expected that answer.
Why not?
She didn't respond, and I thought she'd come to her senses and turned off her phone, but then my phone came back to life.
It's better if I don't hear your voice.
That was the closest she'd come to admitting she was attracted to me.
Does my voice turn you on, Dr. Shaw?
No response.
Because your voice makes me hard as fuck.
My hand had found its way into my boxer briefs. I grabbed my cock, pulling it out because it had become a little too confining in there. She still hadn't responded. This time I was sure she'd cut me off. I tried to lure her in once more.
Would you like to see?
NO! I smirked.
Well, that got her to respond. Now I knew she was still there, and I would've happily sent her the dick pic if she'd agreed. At least my dick would've finally gotten into her bed.
Goodnight, Xander.
Wait. One more question.
What?
Are you wet?
I pulled at my cock, envisioning her slipping her fingers under the sheet and between her legs to check. I was so goddamn hard that when her text came through …
So wet.
Fuck! I stroked my cock harder-faster-hissing as the pleasure began to mount.
Can u touch it for me?
I slid my palm over the pre-cum leaking out my cock and imagined it was her fingers, wet from touching her pussy, wrapped around my cock.
What does it feel like?
I don't know what I did to get treated so well by Avery, but her next text proved to me I had a good chance at getting the real thing.
Soft, hot, SLICK.
I jerked. My hand shook as I stroked myself. My abdominal muscles clenched hard as I came with a surprised howl. The orgasm so powerful it made my head whirl as cum bathed my stomach and coated my fingers. I lay there with my dick in my hand and cool air brushing against my heated skin for several long minutes. I heard my phone buzz somewhere and turned my head to search for it.
I'd dropped it on the floor next to the lounger. I snatched it up and read Avery's last message.
That session was on me.
I dropped the phone to my chest, threw an arm over my eyes, and laughed. She'd purposely coaxed me to that orgasm. I kind of hoped it hadn't all been an act and she'd actually touched herself. If sexting with Avery blew my mind that way, the real thing was going to break me.
It would be difficult manipulating my way into the panties of a woman who spent her days mind-fucking patients. She was smart, so I'd have to make her stop thinking so much and start feeling. One way or another, I needed to get inside her. I let the tugging call of sleep pull me away as I thought of Avery spread out on her bed, wet for me.
Family Matters
Avery
"Ellie, I'm home!" I called out from the doorway as I kicked off my shoes.
"In here," she replied.
I followed the spicy scent of tomato sauce and found Ellie in our state-of-the-art kitchen, dumping pasta into a colander.
"Hey, babe." I slid onto a stool at the huge center island I'd had built before we moved in. "This is different."
"What do you mean?" She smiled at me over her shoulder.
"You being home and having time to cook."
Ellie spent so much time on campus I wasn't sure if she even lived here anymore.
"I know. I've taken after you, doubling up on my course load. I've been crashing in a friend's dorm a couple nights a week."
"A friend?" I arched an eyebrow.
"No, not that kind of friend. Just a girl I have a few classes with." I frowned at her, and she held out her hands and asked, "What?"
"You're twenty-two now, Ellie, and I've never seen you with a boyfriend."
"Hey, pot, I'm kettle," Ellie said sarcastically, holding out her hand, which I shoved away.
"No. You've seen me with Matthew."
She rolled her eyes. "Avery, that was over three years ago, and it was barely considered a real relationship."
"And why's that?" I pulled my eyebrows together.
"Because you two were more like friends who fucked. There was no real … love there."
"I love Matthew!"
"As. A. Friend." She rocked her head from side to side with each word.
She was right, but I wouldn't admit it. It was the reason Matthew and I called it quits, because there was no real passion between us. "Maybe I'm trying to save you from my lonely existence."
"You wouldn't be lonely if you'd just let people in."
I laughed once at the irony. "I guess that's a problem we both have to overcome."
She smiled sadly, then continued to move about the kitchen. Ellie was all I had as family. We'd met in a foster home after my parents died. There'd been no one willing to take me in. The first place I'd been sent to was bad. The woman who ran it was sweet, but her husband was a drug addict who eyed me every time we were in the same room. Fortunately, my parents had one friend who did all she could to make sure I was transferred into a new home once she got a glimpse of what I was up against. I thanked God for her, because the next place was manageable and I'd found Ellie. There, we were ignored and left to fend for ourselves, but that had been way better than being somewhere where you got the kind of attention a little girl shouldn't be aware of.
Ellie, with her long blonde tangled hair, had been five years younger than me, and she'd clung to me from day one. The feeling of being needed became everything to me. I took that little eleven-year-old girl under my wing and never let her feel alone again.
The only problem had been that I aged out of the system way before Ellie. The day I left, she'd broken down. She thought I'd never come back, that she'd never see me again. I made a promise to her that day that I'd always come back for her, and it was exactly what I'd done. By the time Ellie turned eighteen, I had a college diploma and a trust fund that allowed me to keep us together as a family.
Ellie placed a plate of pasta in front of me and sat next to me with hers. She nudged me gently with her elbow to get my attention. "What are you thinking about?"
"How far we've come."
She smiled, one of those faraway smiles that happened when you took a trip down memory lane and were satisfied with where you ended up.
"Yeah, we have." She leaned her head against mine and sighed. "Family matters, right?"
"Yeah, Ellie, it does." Family matters were the words I whispered to her every night, because if I didn't-in our situation-we would've forgotten.
"I love you, Avery."
"Love you too, Ellie." We tuned out the past and talked about her classes while we enjoyed the dinner she'd made us.
Denial
Xander
I thought Avery would cancel on me again. So when I walked in her office and Angela said she was waiting on me, I was surprised and relieved.
"I brought lunch," I announced, holding up the bag of sandwiches I'd picked up at the deli up the street.
"I already ate," she deadpanned, her gaze cold and emotionless.
So that's how she wants to play this. She'd prepared herself with a full-metal armor that consisted of a frosty attitude and clipped responses.