TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (12 page)

couple of feet away.

“Where’s my water?” He nods his head to my right where a tall glass of water has been the entire

time. I take a sip. When I turn back to him, expecting to see a naked Adonis, he’s still wearing his

trousers, although the top is turned down and his boxers are showing. He’s flirting with me.

Taking his time, he removes his trousers and allows me to simply look at him, this man of mine. I

know he’s reading my thoughts. Watching him become physically aroused is totally hypnotic. The

cold water finds its way to my stomach via some hard swallowing and I wipe the liquid across my lips

to ease the sensation of dryness. I watch him shift from left to right; he’s mirroring me and licking his

delicious lips while his hands are closing into fists against his cotton briefs. This is sensual torture at

its best; who knew punishment sex could be so erotic?

When I call his name, his eyes flicker to attention and he seeks me out. “Take off everything.” I

give my order quietly, and he obliges by looping his thumbs into his Calvin Kleins and pushing them

down a millimetre at a time. At the sight of his pubic hair and the descending V shape that points to

that
place, I feel my body rise a couple of inches off the bed. I gasp at the sight of him and gulp down

another mouthful, taking care not to choke between breaths.

I reach over to pull back the duvet for him but my back hurts, making me call out and pull back. He

darts over, lifts the cover and climbs in. We are face to face. He lifts the glass from my hand, takes a

sip and puts it down on his bedside cabinet. I want to be close to him and try to crawl across his body,

but so intense is the pain I have to rethink my plan. I push with my feet but even that is painful. Unless

I make a miracle recovery, I fear the punishment sex might be more punishing for me than my naked

reprobate.

Sensing my awkwardness and inability to actually move, let alone initiate sex, he comes to the

rescue. With casual nakedness, he kneels up, throws off my cover and slides his hands underneath me.

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on. He carries me over to the high backed

chair by the desk, sits down and gently manoeuvres my right leg so I’m straddling him. He bends back

my legs, just below the knee and keeps my bandaged feet off the floor. He’s restraining himself and

giving me a comfortable and painless experience.

“Better?”

“Better.” I smile, literally swept off my feet by his selflessness. “Do you feel punished yet?” I

watch a smile flicker across his lips. He’s so turned-on, I can feel his erection pressing into my crutch

and yet he’s not doing a thing to ease his discomfort. He has gifted himself to me.

Pushing against his strong hands I lift myself and bundle up my nightie around my thighs. With less

material between us, I feel his flexing cock against my saturated skin. I pull at my panties, moving

them aside, giving him access to my sex. Using his upper body strength and his biceps, he elevates my

knees, giving me the height I need to take him inside me. This is exactly what I asked for: hot, wet,

gentle sex.

In one slow, slick glide he’s inside, lowering me slowly until our bodies are touching. I feel the full

length of him from shaft to tip. I watch his lips twitch and part, and his breath catch. Then he settles.

“Let’s take this slow Elizabeth,” he whispers, sending a wave of hot breath across my eyelids.

“I’ve missed you Ayden.” I stroke his cheekbones with my fingertips. “I’ve missed having your

mouth and your hands on me.” He listens attentively and I see tiny droplets of perspiration forming on

his brow. “Talk to
me
. Elizabeth won’t be doing any punishing today.”

He’s smiling devotedly and the skin around his eyes is forming into shallow lines. “She won’t?”

“No. It’s just you and me. It’s always been you and me.”

“I know Beth. But I’m not wearing any protection. I can’t come inside you.”

“I don’t care. I need you. I belong to you.” I kiss him passionately. He kisses me back and his

voracious tongue does what it does best, fucks me. It swallows me up, wraps itself around my heart

and makes me ache for him. I need to come. “I can’t stop Ayden.” I pull away, gasping, fisting his

hair.

“Then come. I’m here for you, inside you the way you live inside me Beth. I belong to you. Do you

hear me?”

I’m kissing his chin and sucking on his bottom lip, nibbling moist flesh. “Yes, yes, I hear you.”

“If that fucker had got to you it would have killed me!” He’s shaking his head and struggling to

deal with the thought. The night sky in his eyes has lost some of its sparkle and misty clouds are

forming an opaque film, dousing some of the fire.

“Poor baby.” I kiss away the approaching storm. “Nothing will come between us Ayden. You can

take me back to bed, you don’t have to hold me like this.” I run my hands down his flexing arms,

feeling his muscular strength under my fingers.

“I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

I can do no more than wrap my arms around his neck and cry. All the fear and pain of the previous

night swallows me up and I sob until every last drop of fear has dissolved. He’s rocking me, and I feel

his erection clinging to the walls of my vagina. Between sobs I pull him deeper into me, hold onto

him, feeling safe and loved.

Our harmonious union ends with a cathartic crescendo of emotion, fuelled by passion and the

realisation of what could have happened. Ayden looks mournful and guilty and I see a plea for

forgiveness still lingering in his eyes. He cannot face me.

“Look at me.” He returns his eyes to mine. “I forgive you Ayden for leaving me. I forgive you for

forgetting to tell the security guys to watch over me. I’ll forgive you anything but not this. Stop being

so hard on yourself!” I shrug away any remaining doubts. “See, now there’s nothing to forgive.”

His nod and soft smile says it all.

I glance around the room for the first time. “Being here with you is the best medicine.”

He kisses my mouth and rubs my nose with his. “Let’s get you back to bed. Doctor’s orders.”

I slide into bed and he disappears into the bathroom. With time to myself, I reflect on what just

happened and realise; he’d denied himself an orgasm. His punishment was self-inflicted.

Feeling fatigued, I turn on my side and wait until my carer tucks me in and kisses my hair, leaving

me to sail away to a dream world where there are cotton wool clouds with glorious silver linings.

With a pair of tweezers, Dan Rizler is removing pieces of glass from his left hand. The razor sharp

shards fall into a pool of red in the basin, sink to the bottom and rattle around on the porcelain. The

cold water splashes over his shredded skin on the top and on the fleshy part of his palm, causing the

blood to trickle and drip onto the towel on his knee.

“What a fucking mess. I’ll make you pay for this princess.” He winces and tosses another sliver of

glass into the puddle of red.

“Argh. You fucking bitch!” He rips a small towel into bandages and wraps them tightly around his

mutilated left hand, making a knot and pulling it together with his other hand and his teeth. “I was

going to treat you real nice but no more Mr. Nice Guy. I’m going to make you suffer; make you

fucking
bleed.”

My heart is racing. I can see a bloodied hand tearing at my curtains and I step backwards into the

shadows, hiding, trembling
…

“Beth, wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s okay …”

A hand brushes my hair. It’s his hand. He’s calling me …

“Princess …”

I have to fight him off …

I am woken by the sound of my own screaming.

“You’re safe Beth. I’m here. It’s only a nightmare.”

When I raise my head from my sodden pillow, I become aware of my surroundings. Ayden is

comforting me with soft words and soothing my night terror with compassionate kisses. My panic

subsides at the sight of him.

“It was happening all over again. He was at the window calling to me. Oh Ayden.” Feeling suddenly

in need of protection I pull myself onto him while he sits, perched on the side of the bed like an

attentive nurse.

“It’s all over now.” He brushes back my bedraggled hair. “You’re wet through. Lie back while I get

you some fresh night clothes.” He disappears into the bathroom.

When he returns he has a fluffy white towel and a soft flannel that smells of him. “Come on, let’s

get this nightdress off you.”

Like an ailing child, I slowly lift my arms and watch him lift the saturated nighty off my clinging

skin, thankful for his attention and his love. There I sit, bare breasted and exposed but it feels

perfectly natural. I’m not embarrassed or self-conscious anymore; he’s seen me at my best and my

worst.

“That’s better.” He turns on the bedside lamp and alters the dimmer so we’re swathed in twilight.

With total devotion, he lifts my right hand and starts to wash away the perspiration from my clammy

skin; it feels luxurious.

“How does that feel?”

“Soothing.” For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off his face. I suspect he’s never done anything

like this before and yet, he appears to be relishing his role as carer. It’s a new experience for both of

us and it’s as intimate as it gets.

He swaps hands, repeats the process and, when my arms are towelled dry, he leaves me. In a flash,

he’s back, reseating himself on the edge of the bed, brandishing a freshly moistened flannel. My neck

and my breasts become the focus of his attention and, I know I’m supposed to be an invalid, but how

sensual is this? It’s not the wash-down, per se that’s affecting my libido, it’s the fact he’s the one

giving me the bed bath. Even in twilight, even with his tired eyes, and even though he’s not intending

for this to be sexual, it is. I close my eyes and moan, savouring his touch.

“You’re a wonderful nurse Ayden,” I acknowledge, keeping my eyes closed, lost in my daydream.

“Now there’s a sentence I thought I’d never hear.”

When I open my eyes, he’s grinning. “What about the rest of my body, I’m ... moist there too.”

He’s shaking his head from left to right. “Behave! If you keep making rude suggestions like that

you’ll get me fired.”

“Oh! We don’t want that. I’m going to need lots and lots of bed baths.”

“Well, then, be quiet and let me work.”

I reach out my hand and he gives it a token wash. Then pulls it to his mouth and kisses it like the

Prince he is.

“Can you lean forward?” I pull my arms to my breast to hold a little of my weight, giving him the

space he needs to wash my back. “Fuck!”

I can imagine what he’s seeing.

“That bastard! Look what he’s done to you.”

“I’m alright Ayden, it looks worse than it feels,” I lie, trying not to move or wince as he strokes the

blue and green patches running the length of my spine.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t start that again. Just wipe.” I’m in no mood for his self-deprecation. He pats the affected

area dry and, even though it hurts like hell and I have to grip the sheets to absorb the pain, I pretend

I’m fine.

“There. All done.” He smiles, proud of his handy work.

“Good job Nurse Stone. What other services are you providing tonight?”

“What do you need?” There he stands, simply waiting for me to come up with something vaguely

sexual.

“Food! Here I am, bed-bound and you’re starving me to death.” I laugh and he’s suddenly awkward.

The thought of food preparation has him wishing he hadn’t asked.

“Right. I’d forgotten. You must be hungry.” He throws the towel and the flannel into the bathroom

somewhere, suddenly animated. I take a long, hard look at my handsome nurse. Whilst I’ve slept, he’s

showered and his hair is roughly dried. He’s wearing light blue cut-off jeans and a white V neck T-

shirt that clings to his muscular frame. I’m bolt upright, naked from the waist up with bandaged feet

and bruises yet still experiencing physical arousal at the sight of him. I pull up the duvet and try to

hold onto a little of my modesty.

With a heavy thud, he’s back and sitting by my side. “What would you like to eat?”

“What can you do?”

“Not much, but I can order anything. Just tell me what you want.”

I look around my multi-million pound hospital bedroom and give him my thinking face. “What

time is it?”

He checks his watch. “It’s just gone four thirty in the afternoon.”

“It’s Monday, right?”

“Yes, it’s Monday, and …” He’s becoming impatient.

“What about roast beef sandwiches with watercress and horseradish dressing?”

With my order placed, he stands. “We can do that. Anything else?”

“Wine.”

“No … you can’t have wine.” He’s adamant.

“I can’t? Why not?” I can’t help but pout.

“Because … because of the meds. The wine will make you vomit.”

“Vomit! That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“They’re extreme meds. You were in shock Beth.”

“But I’m not in shock now… just hungry and thirsty.”