Lust (7 page)

I finished the book at three in the morning. Even though I was tired, I had the urge to hop in the shower and rub one out. My mind wouldn’t stop and my dick wouldn’t go down until I did just that, all while thinking of Ivy. I imagined having her in the ways Reese had Dylan—yes, a guy with a girl’s name and vice versa. It was different but I didn’t mind—but as I stroked myself in the shower, it was Ivy I envisioned. It was Ivy I was fucking on the vanity in a bathroom. It was Ivy I spread frosting all over and then licked off.

I allowed myself to fantasize about her until I exploded against the tile. As the water washed away the evidence of my vivid encounter, I began to push the thoughts away again. I couldn’t allow myself to go there. She was my patient. I was there to treat her. To cure her. Not to fuck her.

But oh my God, how I wanted to fuck her.

It didn’t matter how little sleep I had the night before, I rushed to the office as soon as I awoke. I needed to examine my calendar and find a time to see Ivy. We still had a treatment plan to come up with, and I was desperate to figure out how long it would be before I would be able to see her again.

Sex didn’t happen too often with my patients. Some of them wanted it, but if I didn’t feel it was a vital process for them to overcome their problems, then we didn’t do it. Sometimes it was vital. And of those times, the sex was slow… painfully slow... and awkward. I had to talk them through it the entire time. Sex with a client wasn’t anything like sex at all. Yes, it was still intimacy, yet it was a working process. It wasn’t something I necessarily enjoyed, nor did I look forward to it.

Yet, with Ivy, I wanted to quickly clear a spot so that I could mark it on my calendar. I wanted the ability to count down the days until I could stick my dick inside of her. I didn’t want to talk her through anything. I simply wanted to talk to her like Reese talked to Dylan. Fuck… I was obsessing over a fucking book. Fucking fiction that was a misrepresentation of real life. I had never experienced fucking as depicted in that book. But this wasn’t just some book. It was what Ivy wanted. It was what led Ivy to me. So to me, it wasn’t just a book. It was a manuscript for what Ivy wanted from me.

No… not from me. Damn it. I needed to calm the fuck down. She didn’t want those things from me. She wanted them from someone. She only wanted me in order to get her past her issues. She only needed me to treat her so that she could find her own Reese to fuck her bareback on a vanity. It wasn’t me at all.

That realization came to me like a fucking freight train running straight through my chest.

It came at the perfect time, though. I realized that right before calling Ivy to set up another appointment. I still made the call, but I did it without enthusiasm. The excited voice in my head that was screaming to see her mere moments before was deflated and silent. The only voices left were the same ones I had heard the day before. The ones warning of how she would destroy me. Of how she would take what she needed in order to be a normal person, while leaving me with nothing but my own dark demons. My own darkness that constantly plagued me while never allowing a breather. My own pathetic existence.

“I can’t afford to meet you again, Cade,” she said into the phone.

“Are you saying you don’t want to work together anymore?” My chest tightened as I thought about her never coming back. She must have discovered that the cost to her emotional psyche was too great to risk.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m only supposed to see you twice a week. I’ve seen you three times so far. I can’t afford to see you every day. I’m a blogger. I don’t have all the money in the world like you. I walk everywhere for crying out loud. You drive around in a hundred thousand dollar car.”

“Listen. The first meeting was just a consultation. A
free
consultation that you won’t be billed for. The second one doesn’t even count. That was not a true session. We didn’t accomplish anything so I can’t charge you for a visit. So that leaves yesterday. You still have one more session this week. Please come in today so we can develop a plan for you. I read the book you recommended. I think we can start planning something now. That way we can start on it next week.” I knew I sounded almost pleading, and I tried to contain it. But I knew I failed miserably. When it came to Ivy, I felt as if I could hide nothing. I felt as if she could see me, the real me. Completely bare of all the walls I had built up around me and kept successfully in place my entire adult life.

“I don’t know, Cade. I can’t come to your office. And you can’t sit in the heat. So what, we’re just going to meet in your car?”

“We can have dinner. My treat. I’ll even pick you up and drop you off.”

“I’ve never been on a date before, but that sounds awfully like one to me.”

I laughed, even though I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t joking. “Sometimes, during this process, we’ll have to go out on dates. It’ll be okay. It’s not a date. It’s killing two birds with one stone while working around our obstacles. You might learn a thing or two by doing it since you seem to have built quite a few of your own obstacles.”

She let out a rush of air into the receiver. “Fine. What time and what should I wear?”

I checked my calendar and nearly cursed to myself when I realized I couldn’t do it any earlier than six. “I’ll pick you up at six fifteen. As for what to wear? Wear something that shows who you are. Even if it’s a pair of sweats. I want to see you as you see yourself in your mind’s eye.”

She hesitantly agreed and then hung up.

I was so royally fucked it wasn’t even funny.

*****

As I was walking out my eleven o’clock, I noticed someone was sitting in the waiting room. I didn’t have anyone on the schedule since it was my lunch break. I turned to look at who it was and felt the air turn cold around me.

Alyssa sat in one of the chairs with her dark hair pulled up in a tight bun on the top of her head. She was wearing glasses, which I never knew she had—probably because she didn’t need them to fuck. It was clear she was on her own lunch break with the business attire she wore.

My anxiety didn’t calm until she smiled at me. I waited until my client was out of the waiting room before inviting her in to my office. She immediately took a seat and I sat nervously on the edge of my desk, waiting for her to speak first.

“Listen, Cade, about the other night—”

“We don’t need to talk about that.” I waved my hand dismissively and searched for something to aid in changing topics.

“You hurt me, Cade. I do think we need to talk about that.”

Damn it. She was right. I was too rough with her and then kicked her out. It didn’t matter that I was lost in the memories of a nightmare that never went away. The only thing that mattered was I hurt her. And then I discarded her like trash. She didn’t deserve that.

“I’m really sorry about that. Something came over me.”

“I realize that. I realized it at the time. You have always been aggressive, and that’s what I enjoy most about you. But you’ve never been that…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the floor. “Listen, I know I’m nothing more to you than a fuck-buddy. And I’m okay with that. But I wanted to tell you that if you needed anyone to talk to, you could talk to me.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to talk to anyone.”

“Cade, I’m saying this because I’m worried about you. You fucked me so hard I was bleeding. The last thing I want is for you to lose it like that again with someone else, someone not as understanding as I am. And the consequences of that could ruin you. It could ruin your career and your reputation.”

I didn’t want to believe what she was saying. Yes, I knew the repercussions of losing it like that again with someone else. But I didn’t want to believe I had been that rough with her. It sickened me to think I had caused her pain, let alone made her bleed.

I took two long strides and fell to the ground in front of her, placing my hands on her knees. “I am so sorry, Alyssa. I never meant to do that to you. I tried to stop. I tried to control it.”

She moved her hand to my cheek and then ran it through my hair. “I know you did. All I’m trying to say is I think you should talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me. It can be anyone. I just really think it would help you out if you opened up to someone instead of keeping whatever it is bottled up inside.

“I never told you this before, but the reason I have no interest in anything other than sex is because of my ex. He was abusive and angry. He served in the war and came home with severe PTSD. No one can witness that much death and suffering without their mind crawling into a black hole and hiding. I know what that looks like. So I know that’s what you’re doing. I couldn’t save him. But I want to help you. I do care for you on some level.”

I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to open up and let someone heal me. But I had done that once before and it didn’t solve jack shit. It didn’t cure me, it didn’t make the voices go away, and it definitely hadn’t helped me in calming the storm within. In fact, it had done the exact opposite. I found that I was exactly the same person I was before I opened up. The only difference was there was another person to look at me with pity in their eyes. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want anyone’s fucking sympathy.

“Without going into details, I can say that I empathize with your ex. You’re right; people cannot witness that kind of violence and hatred without somehow being affected. But you can’t save me. I’ve dealt with this… darkness inside of me for twenty-six years. I fucked up the other night; I can admit that. But that was the only time I’ve ever done something like that. I know that’s no consolation to you, and I know it doesn’t take back what was done, but it’s the truth. I understand your worry of what might happen to me if it happens again, but it won’t. I should have never called you that night. I knew I was beyond consolation. I only needed something to take my mind away from the proverbial black hole. And it should have never been you. I’m truly sorry for that.”

Her fingernails traced the edge of my jaw and a sad smile formed on her lips.

“I understand if you won’t accept my phone call next time. It’s my fault.”

She placed her finger over my lip to quiet me. “I’m not saying goodbye, Cade. That’s not why I came here today. I also had no intentions of telling you how badly you hurt me; I could see it on your face that night how much it bothered you. I knew it wasn’t intentional and you aren’t that kind of person. My ex had nothing left in his eyes when he had gotten to that point. I still see something in yours. There’s still life in there. The only thing I care about is making sure that life doesn’t burn out. So, if you decide to call me the next time you need me, when you’re not angry, I will answer. I’m not giving up on you. Not to mention, the sex is really good. I don’t want to have to go looking for someone who can give it as good as you do. Just promise me that if you feel that cornered again, you’ll call me to talk. Nothing else. Only to talk.”

I nodded in agreement, even though I did not intend to keep that promise. However, I was extremely thankful she wasn’t kicking me to the curb. I had a feeling I would need her more than ever since I was about to see Ivy for the fourth time in one week. I needed to get laid, and hopefully Alyssa would help me out with that.

*****

When I told Ivy to dress as she saw herself, I was not expecting to see her wearing what she was. Her jeans were tight, much like the pants I had seen her in every other time, but they were jeans with rips and tears in the thighs and knees. Her tank top was much like the others, baggy, but it was dressier than the casual ones she had worn before. Her long blond hair was down and straight, tucked neatly behind her ears. As she stepped into the car, I noticed she was even wearing heels. I certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“For someone who never goes out, you don’t dress like it,” I said as I backed out of her parking lot. Again, as I pulled in to pick her up, she was already outside waiting. It brought up the same question I had before, if she really lived there or not.

I finally looked over at her after she never responded. Her cheeks were red, but I couldn’t tell if that was makeup or embarrassment. It made me notice her eyes, and for the first time since meeting her, she was actually wearing real makeup. Not the kind girls put on to go clubbing, but the kind they wear when going on a date. The kind that enhances their features.

“I just bought the outfit today,” she admitted while looking down at her hands. She was shifting nervously in her seat.

“Why? I told you to wear something that showed who you are.”

“No, you told me to look as I do in my mind. If I close my eyes and picture what I would look like if I had a life, this is how I’d look. I just don’t wear these kinds of clothes normally because I have no place to wear them.”

Her words produced a need to find more reasons to take her out. If she needed a reason to look like that, then I’d find many reasons. It was just going to be one more vision I’d see as I showered—Ivy looking like a rock-goddess in ripped jeans and heels.

“Well, you look very nice.”

“Thank you.” She blushed and I knew it wasn’t the makeup that time.

“But before we get there, we need to talk about something. You told me yesterday that you paid for sex both times. I not only need to know why, but I need to know you won’t do that again. I need for you to realize how dangerous that is.” It had been something that I had been worrying about. What if she tried that again and something happened to her? Hadn’t she heard about the Craig’s List Killer?