William took two fingers and, like he was searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jacks box, dove into her. He watched as she bit at her lip trying to contain herself. "You like that, don't you Vicki? Tell me." He stared at her face, knowing that she adored his plunder of her but wanting to hear her say it. He moved his fingers faster in and out of her small opening and rubbed her clit more fervently. "Tell me, Vicki, or I'll stop altogether."
She knew he was lying. She knew he wouldn't stop even if Gabriel came down from Heaven and told him to. And one thing Vicki loved was the feeling of subservience; however, it was something she would never in a million years dream of telling William about. No way.
She had mentioned it to her last boyfriend and while he thought it fun and novel for a while, he soon bored of it and they eventually broke up. All because he didn't want to play her 'treat me like a bad girl' reindeer games. And there was no way in Hell she'd mention it to her soon to be husband...at least not until they'd been married for a while.
William could practically see her thinking, "Come on Vicki. You know you like it. Now tell me."
"Yes, William, I love it."
"See that wasn't too difficult, was it?" He watched as she shook her head to his words and grinned knowing he had total control of her. Why if he really wanted to, he probably could have picked her up and carried her, his fingers were so deep in her. He could also see that she wanted more and, quite frankly, nothing made him feel more masculine than to make a woman have multiple orgasms.
William slipped his fingers out of her and slid down between her waiting legs. He dipped his head down to inhale her. {Beautiful} And, like a person sampling a piece of chocolate from a box to make sure it was the one that they wanted, he took a quick little taste of her. {God, yes.} That was all the sampling he needed to do.
She was much tastier than caramels. But as with all fine candies, it is often difficult to keep from gorging oneself. He started to lick her and suckle her madly. Besides, she'd gone after him with such ferocity so he figured that what was good for the goose was good for the gander, or rather, the other way around. He relentlessly went after her, torturing her with his tongue to the point where he could feel the sweet nectar within her start to trickle and he knew she was ready.
He held her hips, pulling her closer, as she pushed herself down onto his greedy mouth. William loved that and when she put her hands on his head, urging him to go on...to not stop, he complied. He heard her start to squeal like a little mouse and felt her hips begin to shake and push violently against him. And then the flood of her hit him. It was wonderful. But more exciting than the taste of her on him was the throbbing that had been growing in intensity between his legs.
William didn't want to wait for her to come back down to earth. No. He wanted inside her right then. She was ripe for the picking so to say. He climbed on top of her and slid inside. William could feel her muscles as they contracted and relaxed around him while he pushed into her. And she was still coming down from her orgasm when he started to move frantically in her.
Vicki wrapped her legs around him and spoke not one word. She couldn't. She was so swept away with him that she couldn't even form words. He saw the expression on Vicki's face and couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit smug. And from the increasing tightness around his cock, he knew she was in the middle of another orgasm.
But he didn't let up. He wasn't about to stop because at that particular moment he had neither the desire nor the inclination to 'ease up' on her. He didn't really care if she stopped breathing at that juncture in there wild romp. It felt too good. William pounded her and thought of how she'd been so uncaring about his feelings about the baby and how she'd denied him the one thing that brought them together like two people in love should be together.
He continued, faster, harder, deeper until an overwhelming darkness enveloped him. And just when he thought he'd be lost forever in a sea of unrelenting night, he saw a brilliant flash of light and felt as if he was falling without a net to stop him. But even if he slammed into the earth at the speed of light, it was well worth it.
William woke up the next morning to the smell of freshly ground coffee and cinnamon and saw that he was still beside the couch only now he had a blanket strewn across him. The wine and the sex wore him out. And he hadn't slept so well in weeks. William grinned at Vicki as he watched her move in the kitchen. {That was a 12...bordering on 13. Damn.}
Vicki brought him a cup of the fresh brew and a toasty cinnamon bagel. She kissed his cheek and smiled, "I'm glad we made up."
He bit into the bagel and nodded. {Me, too.} William sipped his coffee, happy in the knowledge that everything was 'okay' once again between him and Vicki.
And it really was, for a while. Vicki became moody again and, it seemed to William, that she was avoiding him. Sort of like when she was mad at him. What was stranger still was that she didn't act mad. Not in the slightest. Rather, she seemed indifferent towards him. {Maybe she's getting nervous about the wedding. God, five months from now and I'll be married.}
******
"Erin Durant?" William walked into the physical therapy waiting area carrying a patient chart and saw a beautiful but sad young woman sitting in a wheelchair by the huge picture window that looked out onto the reflecting pond at the back of the Grayson Center.
An older woman, obviously her mother, as the younger woman looked to be a near perfect copy of her, stood and turned, "Yes, this is Erin. I'm her mother, Chaselyn Durant." She extended her hand to William.
"Hello, Mrs. Durant, I'm William Fitzpatrick, I'll be Erin's PT for the next few weeks." He turned toward Erin, noting that she'd not even made and attempt to acknowledge him. "Erin?" He shrugged his shoulders slightly and scribbled something down on her chart.
Chaselyn wrung her hands together and watched as the pen moved across the paper. "I'm sorry. She's a bit a...umm...this is quite difficult for her." Chaselyn turned and smiled at her daughter hoping to alleviate the tension.
"Mother, you do NOT need to speak for me. My legs are fucked up, not my mouth." Even though Erin never turned her head, William could see the sour look her face held.
"Erin!" Chaselyn started to apologize once again for her daughter, "I'm so sorry..."
William put up his hand, "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it. I've got very thick skin, honest." He smiled at Erin's haggard mother as though to show her he was serious. Then he walked in front of his new 'patient' and smiled, "Erin, you might as well get used to me. You're gonna be stuck with me for a while."
"Great." Erin rolled her eyes and looked up at him with such vehemence the temperature probably dropped ten degrees. "Just what I've always wanted, my own personal pest."
William glanced at Chaselyn and could see tears forming in her weary eyes. He'd seen that same look in his sister's eyes when she took him to PT for the first time. And he knew exactly what Erin was feeling, too. They had so much in common. She was a dancer. He was a runner. Both of them were at the top of their game only to be knocked backwards by some cruel twist of fate.
He knew she was so mad at the world and that she wouldn't care if a truck hit her and ended her mental anguish. William remembered wishing the same thing. And that's why he specifically asked Trey Wells, the director of the PT department, for her case.
There was something so familiar about her case it moved him. But he couldn't let her know that. He leaned close to Erin and whispered in her ear as he smiled pleasantly so as to fool her mother, "Erin, you can get as pissed as you want to and be as bitchy as you like. I don't really give a shit. Got it?"
Erin kept her eyes forward, trying to avoid his. But as he leaned toward her and the sun came in, hitting the tiny golden crucifix around William Fitzpatrick's neck, her eyes were drawn to the tiny icon. She was really pissed with Mr. Almighty and had been so for several months. And it galled her to think that her new 'PT coach' or whatever he was called, was probably some arrogant 'holier than thou' asshole.
When he finished, William stood tall and saw her unphased expression. {Jesus, she is going to be a tough one.} He was taken aback by Erin's angry stare. Her eyes were hauntingly beautiful. They were golden and reminded him of summer. Then a thought raced through his head and he glanced Heavenward, {Is she Your way of reminding me just how much of a shit I was? Great.}
Erin acted as though she didn't care what he had to say to her. But, truth be told, his words ripped through her. And she wasn't sure if she was because she was mad or scared. However, being 'mad' was much easier to deal with than being terrified. {Asshole! What are you smiling about?} Unable to think of anything utterly derogatory she said the first thing that popped into her head, "Fuck you."
"ERIN!" Chaselyn's jaw dropped. "Oh my God! I am so..." But before she could continue to offer her apologies for her daughter's blatant rudeness, William grabbed the wheelchair hand grips and turned the rolling seat toward the double doors of the PT room.
"We'll see you in about ninety minutes, Mrs. Durant. Why don't you grab a soda? Or go outside, it's a lovely day." William was so calm but beneath his façade, he knew he needed to get Erin away from her mother. He knew that Erin was feeding off of her mother's sorrow and that her mother would hover over her like an eagle guarding its egg.
Before either Erin or Chaselyn could respond, he'd pushed the metal 'open' plate on the wall and the double doors to the main PT room spread wide, like a pair of inviting arms. He stopped outside one of the small exam bays, "Okay, Erin, we'll just have a quick 'look see' before we go any further." He locked the wheels of the chair and held out his hands, "Upsie daisy, Erin."
Erin rolled her eyes, "I'm not three, you dip-shit. And I can't exactly hop up you know or didn't you read that fucking chart you keep writing on?" She looked up into his blue-green eyes hoping to see that she'd pissed him off enough to let her have her way and leave. Instead she was struck by how confident and determined his eyes were.
She remembered looking at people that way. Her dance teacher told her long ago that confidence was the one thing that separated good dancers from prima ballerinas. And she did it so well, too. Like she was the 'queen bee' and everyone around her was a worker bee. Not like she was a 'better' dance...but rather, the 'best' dancer. Suddenly Erin felt very small and weak and useless under his strong gaze.
For a brief instant, William saw the delicate features of her face appear from behind her stony mask and for some inane reason, he wanted to give her a hug. She just looked so sad. But he wasn't here to give her hugs or to be 'sweet' and 'understanding'. So, he sighed and said, "Yes, I know that Erin. I've read your file. I know you were a dancer. I know you were in a terrible car wreck. And I know that you have limited sensation in your legs. Now, shut up and take my hands and I'll pick you up."
He held out his hands in front of her for a minute with no response. He sighed deeply and glanced at the clock, "Look Erin, I can do this for another eighty three minutes if you like, but I promise you're going to get really fucking tired of looking at me and my hands after a while."
{No I won't. You'd be pretty nice to stare at. What the...? Erin? What are you thinking?} She shook the thought from her head. "Fine! God, Jesus!"
William laughed, "I'm sure they'd be pleased to know that you're thinking of them. Now, put your arms around my neck." He leaned in closer to her and was struck by a soft smell of baby powder and roses as she wrapped her arms around his neck. {Damn! She smells like an angel.} "There you go, that's it." He put his hands on her waist to lift her and was shocked at how tiny she was beneath her large sweat shirt. {Christ, I could break her in two.}
Erin felt herself rising up from the chair and immediately noted how large his hands were. His swift, fluid movement reminded her of being lifted by Kieran Belzer, the principle male dancer at the company. Only William Fitzpatrick was a good two maybe three inches taller than Kieran, probably fifty pounds heavier, much more handsome, and much less effeminate.
And while her own body hadn't moved with blithe grace for months, she could not help but notice the slightly off-balance gait, subtle though it was, of her 'gallant' therapist as he carried her. {That's weird. Well, Kieran's got him there. This guy moves like a moose in a tiptoeing contest.} Yes, Kieran was a better dancer than most people, men and women alike, dreamed of being. And the thought of seeing her new PT guy chasseing around a dance floor struck her as funny.
William noted that beneath her heavy sweatshirt was a pair of blue shorts. And as he lifted her, one hand slid beneath her knees, "Here we go." William confidently carried her as he walked toward the table. "This shouldn't take long."
While he carried her into the 'exam bay' she pulled one hand from around his neck and placed it on his chest. {My God.} She could feel all the muscles in his chest. Even though she couldn't 'see' his chest, she knew that he was so much more developed than James. {James. I miss you.} And that brief thought of James was enough to make her want to cry. {Suck it up, Durant. No one cares if you're 'sad', least of all this guy.} Thinking of James always made her so sad.
Yes, anger was so much easier to deal with than sadness. All she wanted to do was to go home and go to bed. If she slept the day away, she wouldn't have to deal with physical therapy, or her parents or the few trickles of people who still occasionally dropped by her house to see her. "Look, is this really necessary? I can't fucking walk, okay, Genius. There you go. Exam done." {Ha! Asshole! You'll fucking hate me by twelve thirty.}
True, he was exasperated with her attitude. But he could get over that. He'd done it several times whenever he got a challenging patient. However, what he couldn't get over was how shocked he was over how very light she was and how soft her skin was and how utterly feminine she smelled that he didn't really hear her. He looked down at her long legs and got another whiff of her roses and baby powder.
William took a deep breath, which Erin assumed was because she was getting to him. She was. But it wasn't because he was angry with her. Quite the contrary, how could he be angry with someone who smelled so beautiful and soft? He recognized a familiar, rather nice, warm sensation shoot through his body.
He shook his head. {No fucking way. Damn, William, you gotta chill out. Shit! Vicki better get home on time today.} She'd been away for a week with some of the other PT personnel at a training seminar and he couldn't believe he wanted to have sex so badly. It was more of a feeling of need. {That's it Will. It's because Vicki's been gone and you're hard up. Yeah, that's gotta be it.}
William gently set Erin on the table, "Okay, lie back."
Erin smugly asked, "Why? You gonna feel me up or something? Hmmm?"
William ever the consummate professional when it came to his job sighed, "No." Oh, he'd had tiny crushes on some of his patients. No. Not crushes exactly. He likened it to an extreme sense of compassion. A feeling that would 'turn on' at the start of a PT session and end as soon as the person was gone from sight. And those weird attachments usually didn't form until a few weeks after he knew the patients.
However, his body was telling him that his attraction to Erin Durant was more than sympathetic. {Not that I wouldn't like to feel you up. Damn, William, maybe you can pick Vicki up at the airport.} "I want you to tell me what you feel. Your chart says you've got some sensation. I need to know how much and exactly where."
"Fine, whatever." Erin laid back and watched him place his hands on her left leg. "Nope can't feel it." She lied. Erin could feel things in her upper left thigh. In fact, she had noticed a tingling sensation just a few days earlier but refused to believe it was anything. And, in keeping with her 'I don't want your help' persona, she rolled her eyes.
"Erin," he started, "close your eyes please." He watched as she rolled them once more and complied with his request. "Thank you. Now...tell me what you feel. Keep your eyes closed and point or tell me where you think I'm touching." William watched her face for any expression changes as his hand slowly made its way down her leg. "Tell me Erin."
With her eyes closed, Erin tried to focus on his hands. She felt the warmth and pressure of his hand on her thigh. She sat straight up, "Okay, I know you're touching me about half way down my thigh." She placed her hand directly on top of his.
The touch of her hand on his, shocked him. He stared at her for a second. If Erin felt the same sensation that William did, she certainly didn't show it. He cleared his throat, "Good. Now keep your eyes closed." William slowly slid his hands down her leg, to her knee.
As he waited for her response, if any, he noted how smooth her legs were. Much smoother than if they had been recently shaved or even waxed. {Dancer...probably had electrolysis.} He smirked as he thought about how some of his friends on the track team had considered 'permanent hair removal' in an effort to gain one one-hundredth of second in speed.
Erin, her eyes still closed thought she could feel his hands near her knee. "There. My knee, I think." She slowly lifted her hand and touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. When her fingers made contact with his skin, Erin was beside herself with...joy...yes, joy. She'd spent so many weeks harping on what she couldn't feel, that she neglected to focus on what she could feel. Without realizing what she was doing, a smile, a real smile grew on her face, brightening and softening it all at once.
That smile was not lost on William. When he saw it and noted that her eyes were still closed, relishing the sensation, no doubt, he felt his own face grow flush. "Good, good." {Jesus Christ, you are beautiful.} He slid his hands down her to her calf and said nothing.
Erin could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. {Calm down, you idiot. It doesn't mean anything.} But still, she refused to open her eyes. She was afraid the feel of his hands would fade away if she did. And though the sensation wasn't as pronounced as when he first touched her thigh, she knew he was touching her calf. {Wait? Is he massaging my calf?} She opened her eyes and saw that, yes, indeed he was.
"What are you doing?" She tried to sound angry or maybe highly annoyed but watching his hands move and, moreover, feeling them was highly...stimulating. {Ok, Erin, what is going on with you?} What was going on? Who knows. Was it the fact that she was 'feeling' something other than weird tingling sensations? Was it seeing his hands? Was it knowing that no one had touched her or had come anywhere near caressing her in months? She didn't know.
But she was certain of one thing. 'William Fitzpatrick, Certified PT' was very handsome, very gentle, and seemed to have the temperament of the proverbial duck who let water simply roll off his back as opposed to fighting against it. "Excuse me? I said, what do you think you're doing?"
William stopped and smiled, "Well, I know that I've been pinching this muscle for the past ten seconds. It took you a few moments to feel it, right?"
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