Addicted for Now (13 page)

“Lo?” Ryke’s voice turns serious. “Hey, talk to me.”

 
I let out a breath.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t.” I pinch my eyes. I want this to end. This torment.
These feelings. I want to help Lily without needing something to drown my own
thoughts.

“Because one drink isn’t worth what you’ll feel in the
morning.”

“That’s not good enough.”

 
“You’ll puke,” he
reminds me. That’s right, I’m on Antabuse. One sip of alcohol and I’ll be sick.

I pause, wondering if I still could test it out. Maybe I
could. I grimace. Maybe I couldn’t.

“Because you love Lily more than
that.
”

And it hits me. I’m here. In the fucking car. Debating about
a stupid glass of alcohol when Lily is waiting for me upstairs, fighting her
compulsions, probably seconds from touching herself. And I’m supposed to be
there to help her say no. To stop her. I’m the guy looking out for her the way
Ryke is there for me.

Rose trusted that I would be able to stay sober and help
Lily. And this is the one thing I want to do right.

“I have to go,” I say.

“Wait.” His voice pitches. “Do I need to come over? Are you
okay?”

“Yeah, don’t come over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ryke, unless you want to walk in on me fucking my
girlfriend, you need to stay at home.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” We both hang up.

And I step out of the car.

Ready to help Lily. Ready to be there.

Ready to change.

{ 11 }

LILY CALLOWAY

I pace back and forth in the kitchen. I’m a ball
of string that needs to be unwound, an anxious mess and a compulsive freak. I
didn’t follow
Lo’s
orders to retreat upstairs to our
room and shed my clothes.

I stay right beside the back door, pressing my ear
occasionally to the wood, waiting for him, hoping and praying that he’s not
doing something bad and dangerous. I bite my nails, listening carefully at the
sound of shuffled footsteps.

In the car, he looked like he wanted to sink and drown to
the bottom of a dark, cold ocean. And I can’t let him do that. I can’t let him
go.

The car door slams.

I peel my ear away and scuttle backwards, not quick enough.
The door swings open and Lo catches me right here in the kitchen, disobeying
his orders. A horrible, insane part of me wonders if he’ll hate that I care
about him, if he’ll reprimand me for it.
 

I blurt out, “I’m sorry. I was just worried, and you looked
upset…” I trail off while he stays stationary near the wall, his cheekbones
sharpening. And I imagine what could have happened if he drank, if he did
something worse in that garage. If he left me.

For real this time.

The truest deepest part of me suddenly speaks.

“I don’t know how to live without you.” And I shake my head
quickly as tears pool. “And I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to find
out.”

He is my breath. My soul. My life-force. I have spent
forever with him. Being apart is the most unnatural feeling in the world. Three
months—I could handle that like a bad itch. Forever
without
him?

Just kill me now.

He slowly walks to me, and his hand skims my cheek, his eyes
never softening, his sharp demeanor never changing. He’s Loren Hale. Ice and
whiskey. Powerful and intoxicating.

He’s my very best friend.

His forehead presses to mine, his lips so near. In a low
whisper, he says, “You’ll never have to find out, Lil.”

I ache to kiss him, to solidify those words as truth.

His lips nearly brush mine, but he teases, a sliver of space
tempting me and causing tension to build between us. His amber eyes flicker to
me. “I will never learn how to live without you. I couldn’t fucking bear it.”

I grip his arms, keeping him close. This feels imagined,
like a part my fantasies. But I’m touching him, cut muscles, his legs against
my legs. I let out a breath. “And what if everyone says we shouldn’t be
together—that it’s not right?” Every person has to learn to live alone at some
point in their life.
Why do we?
I
always wonder.
Because it’s right
, my
conscience says.
But I love him.
But
you’re co-dependent.
But I love him.
But
it’s not okay.

I want our love to be right.

Why can’t it be right?

“No,” he immediately says, holding my face in two large
hands. “If the whole world says living without each other is what we should do,
then this will be the last wrong I make.”
 

Yes.

We connect to each other fully, his lips touching mine in
passionate desperation, as though two people are literally trying to pull us
apart, as though we’re giving them the middle finger, telling them to fuck off.

Fuck off.
I love
Loren Hale. I can’t live without him. However silly that may be, it is the
undying truth. Even if he was with another girl. Even if we never could touch.
I could not live without Lo. He is as much a part of me as the sun is a part of
the sky, as the earth is to the universe.

I need him in order to wake up in the morning.

I need him to feel whole.

He clutches my hair, the long kiss stealing my breath. And
without warning, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. Oh God. His
hand grips my ass as he carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

My heart has traveled to my throat.

On the second level, he opens the bedroom door and tosses me
roughly on the mattress.

I struggle to catch the air that escapes my lungs, and when
I do, I prop my body on my elbows and watch him watch me.

He unzips his jeans, never breaking my gaze. His shirt comes
off next, uncovering his defined muscles that beckon me to touch. I undress
with the same mastered efficiency, breathing so heavily that my ribs jut out
and in with quick succession.

In this moment, I have no desire to touch myself. I want him
on me. In me. I can wait for his hands, for his body, for his breath.

So I watch him as he walks to the nightstand, only in black
boxer-briefs while I stay completely bare. He opens the drawer.

I sit on my knees, my eyes widening in delighted
anticipation.

When he shuts it, my mouth drops a little. “I thought…”
you were just getting a condom.
“Are
those…?” I’m imagining them. This has to be a fantasy. “Where’d you find
those?” I would have seen silver handcuffs in our room! I would have jumped for
joy and paraded them around like they were a bag of galleons.

He climbs onto the bed, on his knees in front of me,
towering over my small frame. His lips lift in a devious smile. “A little black
box,” he tells me.

“I need to start opening more boxes,” I say in a breathless
whisper. “Are you going to cuff me to you?”

His grin lights up his whole face. “No, love.” And then he
lifts me by the waist and sets me closer to our pillows. He clips one cuff
around my wrist and then the other to a rung in the headboard.

Ohhh
…my…

“Don’t move,” he instructs as he slips off his boxer-briefs.
When he lowers his body against mine, I instinctively run my free hand across
his shoulder, his bicep, sliding my fingers along his abs towards his cock.

He grabs my hand before I reach the best place. He shakes
his head at me once in disapproval, but his lips betray him, rising as he soaks
in my eager gaze.

“No touching,” he says, his voice forceful. He climbs
off
the bed, leaving me cold and alone
on the mattress.

“Wait, I won’t—I promise.”
Come back.

He disappears into the closet, and I wonder if this is a
test that my therapist concocted. Is he supposed to leave me wanting and
craving? Am I supposed to overpower this compulsive demon while I am in
desperate
need?

I’m going to fail.

I already know it.

I bite my lip, weight crashing into me. I stay entirely
still, expecting Lo to walk out fully dressed, to wave goodbye and go meet
Ryke
somewhere. This was all a game to get me to this
point, imprisoned on my bed with only one hand for use.

And then he exits.

But he’s naked, like before.

He holds a scarf, and I can barely process what this means.
My head floats away as the bed rocks, as he edges near me, lifts my other hand
and ties my free wrist to the headboard.

I am not as excited as before, mainly because I just freaked
out.

When Lo looks back down at me, his smile fades into dark
concern. “Hey, Lil…” His thumb skims my cheek. “You’re okay.” He must recognize
the fear in my eyes. “I won’t ever desert you, love. Not for a goddamn moment.
You’re mine to take care of, you understand?”

His words instantly fill my heart. I nod quickly. “Yes.”

“I’m going to take care of you now. I’m going to fill you so
deep that you’re going to wish you could touch me, but you can’t.”
Yes.
“You’re going to come each time I
slip in.”
Yes.
“You’re going to ask
me to stop to catch your breath.”
Yes.
“I
won’t.”

Please.

His hand descends to the spot between my legs, wet and
ready. He spreads my legs open with his knees, and his fingers pulse inside of
me. I writhe and buck up to try to meet him. But he contains me on the
mattress; he softens my jagged, impatient movements with a hand to my hip.

I try to reach forward and run my fingers through his hair,
but the silky scarf stops me, and the hard cuff digs into my other wrist. He
dictates the position, the speed, the tempo of our love.

He replaces his fingers with his long, thick cock, so big
for me, and I cry out, jerking against the restraint. He keeps my legs spread
open and bends my knees. When he leans forward to kiss me, his whole cock
slowly dives into me, no space to breathe.

I let out a staggered moan that turns sharp and needy. His
lips hover right over my parted ones, and he rubs the sweaty hair out of my
face.

In a low, husky voice, he whispers, “Every inch of me is
inside of you.”

“Lo,” I cry. I want to touch him. I want to wrap my arms
around his shoulders and never let go.

He doesn’t pull out or rock just yet. He stays deep, my need
building fiercely. He breathes just as heavily as me, nearly kissing, nearly
shifting, but he remains in this single, taunting position that has my nerves
singing.

“Tell me the first thing that comes to your head,” he says.

In an aching whisper, I say, “I love you.”

His eyes graze me with sheer want. “How much do you love
me?”

“So much.”

“How badly do you want me?”

“So badly,” I say with a short gasp. “Please.”

“How do I feel inside of you?”

I struggle to form words, my toes beginning to curl, my
muscles spindling.

“Lily?” he says forcefully.

“…Good.” I manage to sputter.

“How good?”

I shake my head. I can’t describe. “You’re unlike anyone…”
He’s my best friend. My best friend is all the way inside of me. If I think
back years ago, when I wouldn’t allow myself to even fantasize about this
moment, I would have died and come right there.

 
He slowly slips back
and then slowly slips in. I shudder as soon as he fills me again. “How was
that?” he asks with a growing smile. He knows
exactly
how that was.

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

“Breathe.” I can breathe, of course—I’m talking. But it
feels like my lungs are about to explode.

“I’m not stopping,” he reminds me.
Please don’t ever.
He slips out the same way for the second time,
and when he eases himself completely inside of me, my cries must breach the
walls of our bedroom.

“Lo, Lo, Lo!” I repeat in hurried succession. I constrict
around him once and then twice.

He lets out a deep groan, his mouth parting like mine,
unable to tease me with a lingering kiss any longer. “Lil,” he says, sitting up
off my body to see the way he disappears between my legs. I want to see that
too, but Lo shifts even further forward, and I constrict again. Holy…

My back arches, and I tug against the cuff and the scarf,
the metal digging into my skin, the sharpness reminding me of Lo, igniting
something intense within me.

Even as I come, I prepare for him to pull out and say
enough is enough
. One peak is all you
get, Lily.

But he continues that mocking routine. Slipping out so very
slowly. Slipping in so very slowly. Stopping, waiting, watching me.

And I come again.

He’s bursting every nerve in my body. He’s causing my world
to spin.

And I can see how much he’s waiting for his release, how his
own peak closes in, and how he restrains himself from coming, from ending this.
Each time I tighten around his cock, he groans and finds a way to stay sane, to
stay back in order to help me. In order to allow me to reach this place many,
many times.

He’s filling my every single need.

He’s taking care of me.

Only Lo can satisfy every part of my all-consuming soul.

He is truly my everything.

{ 12 }

LOREN HALE

The therapist’s office rests in the heart of New
York City, and on the ride here, Lily can’t keep her legs from bouncing. I’ve
spent three months spilling my guts to doctors and psychologists; one sex
therapist isn’t going to scare me off. I just wish I could take away Lily’s
nerves. I told her it won’t be weird—that this lady has probably heard some
wild things—but it wasn’t enough to stop her head from whipping towards the door
like she was ready to fling herself out.

I take her hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. Her
shoulders slacken and she turns to look at me, releasing a giant breath at the
same time. I can’t help but smile. She’s cute, even when she doesn’t mean to
be.

After paying the cab, a tense elevator ride, and a short
walk down the hall, we wait in a small area that looks more like a modern
living room: glass bookshelves and light streaming through long windows. The
office door swings open, and the therapist motions us inside. A leather couch
sits along the coffee-colored wall. And a robust black leather chair lies
directly across.

As she takes a seat with a little notebook in hand, I embed
her looks in my mind. I’m not sure how I pictured Lily’s sex therapist, but she
definitely wasn’t middle-aged with a short black bob. The woman is even tinier
than Lily, probably no taller than five feet.

“You must be Loren.” She extends her hand before I sit on
the couch. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I shake hers and then settle beside Lily, my arm curving
around her waist. And I watch the therapist, seeing if she notices the touch
and if she’s going to criticize me for it. She doesn’t say a word, but her eyes
do catch our embrace.

“It’s actually Lo,” I correct her. “Obviously Lily didn’t
tell you everything.” My words taste nasty in my mouth, and they sound even
worse.

And yet, the therapist smiles good-naturedly.

I don’t know why this irritates me. I wish she’d snap at me
like Rose does for being rude and insolent.

I glance out the window. Her vast view of the city probably costs
a shit ton—especially with a park directly in sight.

Of course Rose picked out the most expensive therapist in a
hundred-mile radius. Not that money means anything to Lily. But I wouldn’t be
able to afford having a cracker with… I read her name on the plaque of the oak
desk.
Dr. Allison Banning.

Lily never mentions her by first name, always referring to
her as “Dr. Banning” but if I have to expose my personal feelings to someone, I
don’t want to act like she’s a complete stranger.

“So Allison…” I watch her cross her ankles and focus her
whole attention on me. No wonder Rose liked her. “Do you get many sex addict,
alcoholic couples?”

“You’re my first.”

“Shocking.”

Lily elbows me in the side, and I can’t tell if it’s because
of my sarcasm or because I called her Allison. The therapist stays unblinking,
already mastering that complacent face and cool exterior. She could give Connor
Cobalt a run for his money.

“Why don’t you tell me how it’s been since you moved home?”
Allison asks me.

“About sex or in general?”

Lily turns a bright shade of red and slumps in her seat. I’m
more comfortable talking about fucking, not because I have a dick or because
she’s shy—even though she kind of is—but because I’m not the sex addict. I
don’t feel ashamed about sex. She does.

I raise my arm to her shoulders, and she eases into my body
a little, relaxing more.

“Either one,” Allison tells me. Her eyes flicker between
Lily and me with rapt attention now. She’s definitely going to pick apart every
single movement we make. “You decide.”

Lily opens her mouth, but I cut her off on purpose. I don’t
want her to dodge the subject. “We had sex a few days ago,” I confess.
Explaining my inability to be with Lily without arousing her—well, it feels
like walking through quicksand. And so I purposefully keep it short, direct, to
the point. She doesn’t need to know the messy details.

Like how she couldn’t wait until the night. How, after an
hour, I had to pry myself off her to stop. She was satisfied, but with Lily,
it’s a momentary fulfillment. It leaves the second she wishes to feel a climax
again. I wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to be fucked, but I had to
watch her face crumble as she realized that was it.

For the first time, I’m looking at the bigger picture—the
future—but Christ, no one ever mentioned how I’d have to endure preliminary
pain to get there.

“You had sex a few days ago,” Allison repeats. “What exactly
happened?”

“I put my penis in her vagina.” Embarrassment and remorse
swim with the black tar in my chest. My filter—it’s permanently on the fritz. I
think my father must have busted it one night. But not with his fists. He’s too
civilized for that.

Lily lets out a laugh, which makes me feel a little better.

“Not anatomically,” Allison clarifies. “Did you only have
missionary? How long did it last? What time of day? And how did it end? What
were your feelings afterwards?”

So many fucking questions, but I take them one at a time.
“Only missionary. It was about seven o’clock.”

Lily immediately reddens at the time of day.

My eyes narrow, knowing full well that I just got caught by
Lil’s ability to turn into a cherry.

“It’s best if you don’t lie,” Allison tells me.

“It was around three,” I say with a shrug. “She couldn’t
wait until later, but she did hold out until we got home.”

Allison nods. “That’s really good, Lily.”

She brightens a little at the compliment, and I squeeze her
shoulder, realizing that my words don’t hold the same power as her therapist. To
hear a professional say, “You’re doing good,” must be a relief.

I wouldn’t know, really. Even though I learned a lot, most
of the people at rehab wanted me out of there. And my therapist stares at me
like I’m a world-class fuck up. And Ryke—well, compliments from him aren’t
worth much. He’s trying to make amends for being absent in my life, for leaving
me alone with a father that he knew ranked low on the World’s Best Dad chart.

“And what happened afterwards?” Allison asks.

“I pulled away from her,” I say, “but she tried to keep
going. I ended up just holding her in my arms until she fell asleep.”

The brief happiness in Lily’s eyes begins to flicker out,
replaced by silent humiliation once more.

“You didn’t fall asleep with her?”

I frown. “What does it matter if I did or didn’t?” I don’t
understand how this pertains to Lily. I shift on my seat, and Lily turns her
attention to me. I don’t like that at all.

“You have a problem too,” Allison says, “and your addiction
will affect her. It already has.”

I cut her off. “I get it. I should stay away from her. I
should say goodbye and let her have a fighting chance.”

Lily’s eyes widen, and she clenches my shirt between pallid
fingers.

Even thinking about letting her go puts a pain so deep in my
gut. No one knows me like Lily Calloway. She’s my best friend, and without
her—God, what’s the point?

“No,” Allison says flatly. “I was going to say that I’m here
for you too, Lo. Your recovery is congruent with Lily’s. In order for her to be
healthy, you need to be as well.” She pauses, glancing only once at her
notebook. “I don’t think separation is the right action here. Without a
monogamous relationship, Lily may fall back into her old routine, and it’s best
to strengthen the one that’s already in place, not destroy it.”

I nod, her words slowly sinking in. I wait for the relief,
but it barely hits me. I think all my happiness is buried beneath the torment
of what’s to come.

 
“So,” she begins
again, “why didn’t you fall asleep with her?”

I lick my lips, more willing to clear my thoughts now that I
know she’s on our side. “Sleep has been really difficult for me lately. It
takes me longer than Lily.” My leg jostles a little, and Lily is the one to
press her hand to my knee, to give me much needed comfort, even though I’d
rather be her rock right now. “Every night for years,” I say, “I’d drink until
I passed out. Alcohol—that was my sleeping pill.” It was the very thing that
stopped my restless thoughts and tucked me into bed. Without it, I’m constantly
exhausted.

Allison asks me why that is, and I explain my alcohol
dependency. Though I give her brief details, not wanting to focus the whole
session on me. So I’m glad when Allison directs her next question to Lil.

“How did it make you feel when he told you to stop?”

A long pause strains the air.

Lily is weighing the truth with a lie. It’s what we do. We
construct a pleasant story to mask the pain, to soften the hurt. We’re both so
good at it that sometimes we even begin to believe the lies. I am terrified to
travel down that road again, but it’s an easy one to take.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure.

“It’s okay,” I prod. Even if the truth is ugly and cold, I
want to hear it. I’m ready for us to lay everything out until we’re completely
bare and exposed. I don’t know how else to make this work.

Allison rewords the question, softening its existence. “It
won’t be the first or last time he’s going to tell you to stop. Now is a good
time to talk about your reaction to the situation. So how did it make you feel,
Lily?”

She only hesitates a second. “Not good.” Her eyes land on
her knees, and her shoulders curve forward. She looks small and sad and very,
very heartbroken.

A wave of emotions slams into me, and I have trouble picking
each one apart.

“And I just…” she stammers. “…I don’t want to be
that
girl. The one who begs for
something she knows she can’t get. It’s like I’m asking a boy I like on a date
and he says no, but I don’t listen, and I just keep asking and asking like the
answer will be different. I feel…pathetic.”

I don’t ever want to make her feel like that.

“You’re not pathetic, Lil,” I manage to say, my throat
swollen. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. I want to take
her pain away, but the irony is that I’ve caused it.

“I think, Lily,” Allison says, “you’re going to have to
start understanding that when Lo tells you to stop, it’s not rejection. It’s a
form of love. I know that’s hard to grasp, especially since you both have done
things completely opposite.”

Lily lets out a short nod. It won’t be easy for her to just
believe Dr. Banning’s advice. I have the same problem. Our brains are wired a
little differently than everyone else. But I’m willing to ride out this rollercoaster
with her—until we’re both free from misery.

“Now let’s talk about your restrictions and the letter I
sent home with you,” Allison says.

“We call it the blacklist,” Lily tells her. “But I didn’t
read it. I gave it to my sister to give to Lo, and we agreed that it’s better
if I don’t know. Now…I’m kind of starting to regret that.” She turns to me. “Do
you think I should read it?”

Allison beats me to it. “Actually, Lily, I think it’s a
great idea that you haven’t read it. It shows support on Lo’s end and trust on
yours. It also gives you a chance to relax about limitations.”

“How am I supposed to relax when all I can think about is
what’s been blacklisted?”

“If you do read it, wouldn’t you still be thinking about
what sexual activities have been banned?”

Lily’s face falls. “I guess.”

“Why don’t you try this way for a while then,” Allison
suggests. She looks to her clock. “The last thing I want to discuss are fears.
This relationship is new for the both of you, and I think it would be helpful
if you told each other one of your fears by it.”

Lily’s lips snap closed, so I take the opportunity to go
first. For her.

“Well…” I say and quickly realize I haven’t thought this
through. My fears? I have plenty. Lily cheating. Me, drinking. Both of us fucking
up until we can’t see straight. “I’m scared that…”

Lily turns to face me, and I am lost for a minute in her
eyes. I suddenly realize that I’m scared of everything. Of losing the only girl
I’ve ever loved. Of having her secret voiced to the whole world and watching
her disintegrate from the repercussions. She’s already so small and fragile,
something like that will kill her, I think.

But Lily and I made a decision not to tell Allison about the
threatening texts. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know who’s sending them.
And partly, the situation feels new and raw, and talking about it is like
pressing on an infected wound.

“Lo,” Allison urges at my silence.

“I’m scared,” I start again, “that there’s going to be a
point where you become angry and bitter and resentful every time I tell you to
stop, that you realize someone else can give you what you want.”

Lily’s head whips from side to side, like I’m so wrong. That
kind of reaction feels good.

“No one else could ever give me what I want,” she breathes.
“I only want you.”

I hold onto the words, even if we both know they’re not
completely true. She wants to fuck. She wants the high of a climax the same way
I want to drown in a bottle of bourbon. I want the rush, the flush and the ride
to purgatory and back. We are not each other’s first wants and needs. I am
second to her. And she is second to me.

I want that to change.

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she doesn’t smile
because she knows it’s her turn.

“Lily?” Allison asks.

Lil keeps her eyes on me, and I give her an encouraging
smile. “I’m scared,” she says, “that you’re going to hate being on some sort of
sex schedule and hate being barred from your own pleasure. It’s not fair to
you, and you’ll find someone who will make you feel better than I can.”