Chapter 140
898 Words
Jenny felt heat moving through her body. It wasn’t fear or panic, though; this was a sticky heat, a slow, languid wave. It pulsed in her ears, and made her stomach tighten and curl. She was shocked to remember what this was.
Oh, my God. This is arousal. I’m turned on.
“Chris.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Is this OK?”
“For me it is. You?”
She nodded. “Can you… suck on my finger?”
He closed his eyes again, feeling his c**k harden immediately.
OK, stay calm. Careful now. Don’t scare her.
Gently, he closed his lips around her fingertip, his tongue pressing against it slightly. She jolted, but didn’t pull back. He parted his lips, released her finger, then sucked it back in again. His tongue darted out, circled her finger. She gasped.
“Oh, God,” she said. “That feels so good.” She picked up his hand and placed it on her cheek again. “Touch me.”
He stroked her cheek and sucked on her finger, his eyes holding hers. Her face was alight with pleasure, and he felt emotion well up in his chest. She trusted him, and he was moved and amazed at her surrender to him.
She’s so f*****g beautiful. So sweet.
Jenny felt breathless, in a good way for a change. Her body wanted to move closer to Chris’, but she held back, knowing that it was too soon. Instead, she stayed where she was, enjoying his touch. God, his hand was so tender – she couldn’t understand how those huge hands could touch her the way that they did. And his lips were perfect: warm and soft, teasing her and tantalizing her.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips? To be wrapped in those arms?
That was when things changed. Chris knew it before she did – he saw it flash across her face – and he immediately dropped his hand. She yanked her finger out of his mouth and shoved herself back, away from him. He grasped her hands in his and held her in place.
“Jenny. It’s OK, you’re OK.” His voice was low and gentle. “I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let go.”
The panic attack hit then, hard. Her body shook wildly and tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed, trying to twist away from him. He held her tightly, and she fought him, everything in her wanting to get away, off the sofa, up the stairs, behind the locked bedroom door. She panted, unable to get anywhere near enough air.
OK, man. Just make her feel safe. Just show her that you’re not going to hurt her. That’s all you can do; that’s what she needs the most right now.
“Sweetheart, it’s me. You’re safe. Right here, baby. I’m right here.” Over and over again, he murmured comforting words, trying to stay calm himself as she gasped for breath and fell to pieces right in front of him.
Minutes passed and her head started to ache from the lack of oxygen. Her chest hurt, her throat hurt. She hated this, hated being so afraid of a man’s touch, especially this man. But slowly, she regained control: her breath slowed, her shaking stopped. And when she came back to herself, she felt her hands in Chris’ and she almost started crying again at how good it felt.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Never, ever say that to me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She nodded.
“You OK?”
“Yeah.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m just tired now.”
“I can imagine… it must be hard on your body.”
“It is.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s exhausting when I have a panic attack.”
“It’s OK now, Jenny. You got through it. You want to lie down?”
“Yes.”
He stood up then, and she swung her feet onto the sofa. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and he handed it to her. She threw it over her body and curled up, her head on the sofa cushion. She exhaled, and his heart twisted to see how small and vulnerable she looked.
“Sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”
Her eyes were already fluttering shut, but she forced them open again. “Thank you, Chris.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For touching me. For letting me touch you. It felt good… at least for a while.”
“For me too. We’ll work on it, OK?” He sat down in the armchair across from the sofa. “No rush.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes closed. “No rush.”
He sat and watched her as she slept, marvelling at what had just happened between them: he’d looked into those clear blue eyes and he’d seen the fire of arousal. That was when he knew that whatever she’d been through, she could still feel desire, and his relief was huge.
You’re not broken, baby. Damaged, yeah, a bit beaten around. But broken beyond repair? No way. We’ll get there. I know it.
- Writer
