Bad Girls (34 page)

The kiss was better than any drug Amber had ever taken. They were wrapped in a cloud now; heavy and dark, enveloping them so closely that their movements were long and slow and languorous, as if in a dream. Dr Raf’s hands slid up Amber’s arms, lingering on her bare skin, wrapping round her back, tangling into her hair, pulling her close, their mouths never leaving each other’s. His tongue slid past her lips, and her whole body trembled with incredulity at how wonderful it felt; Dr Raf inside her, wanting her, his scent all around her, his hands on her body. She closed her hands over his arms, tracing his muscles, hearing him groan deep in his throat at the feel of her fingers against him, and she couldn’t believe this was happening, that the world had spun so out of kilter that she was able to touch Dr Raf as she had yearned to ever since she’d first seen him, press herself against him, slide her fingers against his scalp, feeling the tight curls of his dark hair springing against her palms, absorbing every sensation as slowly as she could, not wanting to rush a second.

It felt like they never stopped kissing. Dr Raf was pulling her pashima off her shoulders now, the feel of his hands on her bare skin so wonderful that Amber heard herself moaning as if from a long way away. He had found the zip in the back of her dress and was sliding it down. She pressed herself against his chest, making it easier for him, helpless to do anything but wrap herself closer against him, and tilt her mouth up to his, so that they could keep kissing as her dress fell to her waist. And as his mouth left hers for a moment, so he could look down and see her, she started to unbutton his shirt, sliding one button and then the next out of their holes with ease, taking it as slowly as she could, unwrapping the best present she would ever have in her life, making each moment last as long as she possibly could.

Slava’s rules for Amber’s appearance had always been strict. Not only was her makeup to be perfect, her nails shiny and polished, she was never to wear lingerie that didn’t match. Amber had never been more grateful than now for that rule; her pale green lacy Chantelle bra and knicker set was exquisite, and she knew it. Dr Raf sighed in sheer delight at the sight of her breasts in the strapless bra, his palms caressing her nipples through the lace till they stood up hard and eager against him. Amber was sighing too as she dragged the cotton of his shirt off his shoulders, baring his smooth warm tawny skin, running her hands over his toned pectorals, making his nipples as hard as hers.

They looked up at the same time. Their lips met again at the same time. It was as if they were choreographed, every movement paralleling the other one’s, never needing to ask, because they already knew what their lover wanted. Amber slid off her chair just as Dr Raf pulled her towards him, and they tumbled to the carpet, pushing the chair back till they were lying in each other’s arms. Dr Raf unclipped her bra, and the sensation of her breasts pressing against his naked chest sent them both to a new height of sensation. She writhed against him, their tongues twining so neither of them could have said where one began and the other ended.

He was pulling up the silk folds of her skirt; she was unbuttoning his trousers, his hips already rotating against hers, his cock hard. It pressed against her through the soft cotton fabric of his boxers, grinding the lace of her French knickers into her, an exquisite, delicately scratching sensation that stimulated her so much that she realized she was gripping onto his shoulders now, pushing herself down on him, working the lace of her knickers against her clitoris, feeling the swollen tip of his cock exactly where she wanted it, taking her pleasure in a way she never had before, his tongue filling her mouth, and before she knew it, she was coming, sighing and moaning her pleasure into his mouth, spasming again and again in a long slow series of orgasms that left her as dizzy as if she were blissfully high on vodka and Vicodin.

Better, so much better
. . .
Oh God, I’ve never felt anything like this in my life
. . .

The cloud was lifting her up now; she was lying on it, floating, her limbs sprawled out in release, so completely relaxed that when Dr Raf’s body pulled away, his heat fading, she didn’t protest. Even though she was naked from the waist up, her dress pulled up to her hips, the sandals still on her feet, Amber didn’t feel vulnerable in the slightest. Somehow, she knew he was coming back to lie beside her.

And she couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to. Every muscle in her body was limp, every nerve overloaded. So she simply lay there, the afterglow of her orgasms still washing gently through her, keeping her aloft on the cloud, until a drawer slammed and a few quick footsteps brought Dr Raf back to her, kicking off his shoes, dragging down his boxers, dropping to his knees beside her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in the sight of him with awe. His shirt was hanging open, off his muscled shoulders and bare chest; he was naked to his knees, where his trousers and boxers were caught, and his thighs were just as strong, his quads just as defined, as they had looked through the material of his trousers. And his penis, rosy and full and stretching out towards her . . .

Dr Raf paused, looking down at her. In one hand was a condom packet which he had been about to tear open; at the sight of it she moaned in excitement, knowing it meant he would soon be inside her. But the reality of what they were about to do had just hit him the moment he ripped at the foil. In his eyes she read doubt, hesitation, and the beginnings of guilt.

And then she reached her arms up to him imploringly, and the look in her eyes overrode everything else. He dragged the condom on as she grabbed the lacy knickers and pulled them off, wriggling her hips to get them as far down as she could before Dr Raf dropped to the carpet, his hand around his cock, guiding it up inside her as her mouth dropped open in a silent scream of ecstasy. She was so wet that his cock drove up inside her easily, filling her at the first thrust. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly as their bodies pressed together, Dr Raf finding her mouth and kissing her again.

It was perfect. It was like coming home. It was as if their bodies had been made to fit together. Dr Raf rocked against her slowly, his cock scarcely moving in and out of her, but pressing inexorably against her clitoris, rubbing her G-spot, with such exquisitely gradual stimulation that she sobbed and bucked against him, begging him to go faster.

His elbows propped on either side of her head, his hands cradling her face, he whispered against her mouth, shushing her, kissing her, refusing to speed up his pace, building the fire between them with every slow stroke of his hips. Amber tilted her hips to meet him, pushing down against him every time he drove fully into her, making him groan against her mouth with pleasure, sending herself into a trance of delight. Her eyes closed, her head fell back. Waves of stronger and stronger excitement were rushing up her body, taking it over. She had stopped trying to rush, to force Dr Raf to go faster; she had surrendered completely to the rhythm, and now it was all she could feel.

She was going to come. Nothing could stop it. She was going to come just from having sex, and she was going to come stone-cold sober, without any drink or drugs to blur her sensations.

My God, she thought. If everyone could get this rehab treatment there’d be no addicts left in the world . . .

That reflection was so funny, and she felt so lucky, so happy, that she realized she was laughing, a laugh that started deep in her belly and sent ripples up through her body, rocking her against Dr Raf even more; she reached up and dragged his mouth against hers, kissing him with the laughter still on her lips, grinding her hips up against him, taking him so deeply inside her that he couldn’t hold out any longer and started to come.

The sight of his face in ecstasy as he came, the feel of his cock spasming inside her, tipped Amber over the knife-edge on which she’d been balancing, and her body surrendered completely as she felt herself coming with him. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before; it took her over, flooding over and through her, scalding hot, sweeping her up and holding her in its grip as she orgasmed over and over again, waves of electricity running from her fingertips to her toes.

Amber couldn’t have said how long it lasted. She might have lost consciousness at some stage. Eventually, her body still throbbing with the aftershocks, she came back to awareness enough to realize that Dr Raf was lying on top of her, his head on her shoulder, his breath panting out against her bare skin. She honestly thought she might never be able to move again; every nerve in her body was limp. She was flung out like a starfish underneath him, left there by the tide.

Opening her eyes was like lifting a hundred-pound weight. Dragging her hand along the carpet, pulling it up enough to rest it in his hair, was titanic. But she had to be able to look at him, to touch him. His eyelashes were thick and dark on his cheeks; he had pulled off his glasses, and he looked touchingly vulnerable without them, very boyish.

He stirred, his lashes fluttering open, and looked back at her. Then she bit back a wail of protest, because he shifted, getting his hands under him, pushing back, coming out of her, one hand on his cock to catch the condom, rubbing briefly against her as he pulled out and sending a last little shockwave of pleasure through her body.

‘We should . . .’ he mumbled, stumbling awkwardly as he tried to get to his feet, hoicking up the trousers and boxers that had caught around his calves.

‘Yes, I know,’ Amber said, sitting up, pulling down her skirt, looking around for her bra. For some reason, she wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. She fastened her bra and pulled her knickers up from her ankle, where they had ended up, and pulled the bodice of her dress up from her waist, smoothing everything out, her expression as serene as Dr Raf’s was agonized.

Though she couldn’t help smiling as she noticed his efforts to get rid of the condom. He’d grabbed a whole handful of tissues from the new box and bundled it up in that; but then he’d gone over to his wastepaper basket and was standing there, looking down at it, clearly debating whether or not he could throw a tissue-wrapped condom away in there for the cleaners, possibly, to find.

Amber stood up, retrieved her pashmina, and wrapped it around her shoulders, rearranging her hair with the skill of long practice.

‘I’ll go now,’ she said simply, putting the final curl into place.

‘Amber . . .’

Still standing over the wastebasket, Dr Raf looked back at Amber with dark, haunted eyes. His lips remained open as he struggled to find any more words, and failed.

But Amber didn’t need him to say anything at all. With a last, beautiful smile, she turned and went towards the door.

Today, I’ve actually managed to make
two
psychiatrists lost for words, she thought, the smile deepening. I’m discovering I have a good sense of humour, I’m standing up for myself, and I just had the most amazing sex with the man I love. Rehab really is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Coming down the corridor were Joe and Brian, talking to each other about baseball: at the sight of Amber emerging from Dr Raf’s office, however, they stopped dead in their tracks.

‘Amber,’ Joe said eventually. ‘Jesus, you look amazing.’

‘Thank you,’ Amber said sweetly, flashing him a smile that rocked his and Brian’s heads back.

‘What the hell kind of session did you just have?’ Joe said, grinning. ‘Dr Raf handing out happy pills now?’

‘Oh, I’m just high on therapy,’ Amber said, turning on her heel with a swish of her skirt and strolling off, her curls bouncing over her shoulders.

‘
Love
to watch that girl walking away,’ Joe sighed to Brian. ‘God, I could look at her walking away all damn day.’

‘Did she ever do any posters?’ Brian said hopefully. ‘I’d really like to get a poster of her. In a bikini. She ever do anything like that?’

‘I tell you, there’s something magic about her,’ Joe said in heartfelt tones, ignoring Brian. ‘She’s a goddamn angel come down from heaven.

Skye, who had been sneaking up behind them, meaning to surprise Joe with a surreptitious pinch on his tight ass, froze dead at hearing this.

Again with the angel stuff! she thought furiously. I could have mind-blowing sex with him all day and he’d still be obsessed with Amber! She bit her lip.

It doesn’t matter what Amber says to me about not being interested in Joe. I honestly think she means it. But as long as Joe’s hung up on her, there’s no real chance for me with him.

Shit, I’m an idiot. I should just get out of here and take that recording to the
Investigator.

But as Skye stood there, watching Joe and Brian stroll away, she knew she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet.

The damn truth of it is, I really like him. And if I go to the
Investigator
, I’ll never see him again.

She had fallen, utterly and completely, for Joe Jeffreys. Which was a really bad idea. Because he couldn’t stop mooning after a girl who was obviously hooked on her psychiatrist.

Give it up, Skye, she told herself.

She knew it was the only thing that made sense. But she just couldn’t bring herself to walk away from Joe Jeffreys for ever.

S
kye wrestled with her dilemma for hours. Joe, the
National Investigator
, and Amber tumbled and danced through her head in an endless series of different permutations, like puzzle pieces she needed to slot together.

Only she was failing. As they all filed into their early evening group session and took their seats, she was on autopilot at first, barely concentrating on a word anyone was saying. It was only gradually that she became aware that the vibe in the room was weird. It was often intense as the clients divulged embarrassing facts about themselves, or broke down in tears, or snapped at each other; but you knew that Dr Raf and Dr Lucy had seen it all before. Their trained, poised expressions showed no surprise, no distress at any revelations that might pop out, and they knew just how to work with or defuse any tension between clients.