I felt DJ growl angrily between my legs, and if his mouth weren’t buried in my pussy, I’m guessing he’d be baring his teeth like a rabid dog. He shot a glare in Dax’s direction over my shoulder before bringing his eyes back to meet mine. I felt the rumble of laughter in Dax’s chest pressed against my back, but I ignored whatever silent bullshit communication was going on between them. DJ agreed to this entire night and handpicked Dax to participate. He should have checked his fucking jealousy at the door.
Dax slid his palm down the front of my body, resting his hand below my stomach, his fingers just barely dipping below my panties, touching my little landing strip of pubic hair. I ignored the warning look DJ sent him and let my head fall back against Dax’s shoulder while I thrust my hips faster, reaching desperately for that moment of bliss that would make me forget everyone and everything around me.
“That’s it, Phina. Just let go,” Dax muttered against my neck.
I’d like to say that it was Dax’s encouraging words that pushed me over the edge one more time, the feel of his muscles tensing against my back and the heat from his arms against my skin as he held me closer to him, but I’d be lying. Staring into DJ’s eyes, seeing them darken with desire as he fucked me with his fingers and sucked my clit into his mouth is what did it. Focusing on DJ and his single-minded intent to bring me to orgasm was what made the tingling between my legs turn into a wave of pleasure that washed over me. I wanted to close my eyes and drown in the release, but I couldn’t look away from his eyes. They held me captive almost as much as the sight of his tongue sliding through the plump, wet lips of my pussy.
I lifted my hips from the bed and held my body suspended against DJ’s mouth, coming harder than any time before. I shouted DJ’s name over and over as the tip of his tongue flicked my clit rapidly, prolonging my orgasm until I was practically sobbing his name. My body jerked against both men as DJ flattened his tongue and languidly licked every inch of my pussy, swallowing every drop of my wetness while he continued to groan and hum his approval against my sensitive skin…
“PHINA!”
The loud bark of my name being shouted pulls me out of my daze. I quickly bring one hand up to my cheek, feeling its warmth, and I know if I look into a mirror right now I’d find my face flushed with desire and possibly embarrassment. Having a daydream about the almost-threesome you had in your bedroom a week ago isn’t really proper workplace etiquette.
I glance up at Suzy, one of my new employees, and take a deep breath, pushing the memories from my mind.
“Sorry, I’ve got a lot of things going on,” I explain to her with a shake of my head as I grab the inventory sheet I had been working on before I zoned out and my thoughts were once again consumed by the events that happened in my bedroom a week earlier.
“I’d say,” Suzy says with a laugh. “I called your name about six times before you finally heard me. I just wanted to let you know I finished refilling the six mobile blood units on the floor. We’re getting low on infant heel lancets and tape.”
Grabbing a pen, I make note of the needed supplies on my chart and send Suzy off to check the mobile units in the outpatient labs. As the phlebotomist manager of the hospital, I’m directly responsible for the twenty-five phlebotomists who work here, including the ones who currently staff the two outpatient labs. It’s a mind-numbing job filled with endless paperwork and staff meetings and when I accepted the management position a few years ago, I thought it would be a nice change of pace.
Being a phlebotomist wasn’t exactly my little girl dream come true. When I thought about my future all those years ago, my dreams only consisted of escaping the nightmare of my reality any way I possibly could. After I graduated high school, I closed my eyes and randomly picked a job that required the least amount of schooling. I didn’t have a penny to my name and there was no way in hell I’d take a handout from anyone, even though Finnley’s family was more than willing to help. I worked full-time as a waitress at a local strip club, pulling in enough tips to go to school part-time until I got my certification. After I was hired at the hospital, I worked my ass off, taking on as many extra shifts as I could, and eventually climbed my way up the hospital’s corporate ladder, going back to school in the evenings to get my bachelor’s degree in medical management.
It might come as a surprise, but I don’t enjoy inflicting pain on other people. The first time I had to stick a needle into the pudgy little arm of a screaming baby, I almost threw up all over the frantic mother pacing back and forth next to me, and it never really got better. I probably should have quit after my third panic attack during my first week of work, but I wasn’t a quitter. I sucked it up and imagined it was my own skin I was piercing time after time. I pretended like the sharp prick of the needle sliding into skin and vein was happening to me instead of my patients. I took their pain and their quick, indrawn breaths and made them my own. I was fast and efficient and never needed more than one try to get the needle where it had to go. Now, my days are filled with staff meetings, making sure all shifts are covered, performance evaluations, continuing education and ordering stock. I rarely interact with patients unless we’re short on staff and there’s an emergency. It’s perfect for me since it seems that over the years, my bedside manner has gotten worse instead of better. I like to think that maybe it’s because I’m a woman in my thirties and age has made me irritable, but I know that’s not it. I’m angry every time I have to inflict pain on someone else. I’m pissed that I’m not on the receiving end of all those needle pokes because more often than not, I’m deserving of the pain, not the patient. Whenever I do something new to fuck up my life, I want to pick up a needle from the mobile unit and slam it into my skin, not smile at the nervous person in front of me and assure them it will just be a tiny pinch and over before they know it.
Pain isn’t just a tiny pinch and it shouldn’t be administered to the innocent. It is a living, breathing thing that latches on and spreads like poison ivy, making you claw at your skin and want to scream at the top of your lungs.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel the ghost of lips and fingers between my thighs and I have to cross my legs under my desk. I fucked everything up the other night. I wanted to push him away, but all I did was light the fire and now it’s raging out of control. My heartbeat quickens and I take a few deep, ragged breaths, squeezing the pen in my hand so hard that it snaps in half. I need to get out of here. I need to go home, to my bedroom, to the drawer in my nightstand and grab the items inside that will bring me the relief I need. I want the pain. I deserve the pain.
I can’t have the pain.
Thoughts of Finnley bombard me and guilt overwhelms me. My best friend, my sister, the woman who has always been there for me even when I didn’t deserve her love and support…the burn scars that take up most of her hips and thighs that make her self-conscious…I can’t do this. I WON’T do this. I refuse to disrespect her like this, but I need to do something to take the edge off.
My hands shake with the need to pick up the phone and call DJ, ask him to come over so I can have another turn, tasting, licking and sucking. I want stroke his cock, feel him thrusting inside of me and see the look on his face when he comes. He only let me have him in my mouth for a few minutes before he dragged me up from the floor and tossed me on the bed.
I stand up from my chair so quickly that it almost topples over. I still have an hour and a half left on my shift, but I don’t care. Suzy can handle things in my absence. If I don’t get out of here now, I’ll make yet another mistake and DJ will see right through me. I can’t let that happen.
Grabbing my purse from the top drawer of my desk, I race out of my office and down the hall, shouting to Suzy as I go that something came up and I have to leave. I barely keep my car under the speed limit as I drive home, swerving around slow drivers and gunning it through yellow lights. I shouldn’t go home, there’s too much temptation in that house. If I look at the bed I’ll remember every bad decision I made that night a
nd every time I shouted his name as I came. If I look at the nightstand, I’ll think about the sweet relief lying right inside the top drawer, calling my name. Home is the last place I should be, but home is the only place I can go right now. I would never burden Finnley with my problems, and even I know that going to a bar alone for a few drinks right now would only end in disaster.
I’ll take a bath. I’ll fill up my Jacuzzi tub with hot water and bubbles and, for a few moments, I’ll pretend that I’m just a normal woman who had a one-night-stand and has a bright future filled with possibilities ahead of her, instead of a fucked-in-the-head person who needs to harm herself simply to feel alive.
I think about the smell of vanilla and lavender bubbles instead of cigarette smoke and burning flesh as I walk up to my front porch. A note taped to the front door gives me pause and I rip it from the wood, tucking it under my arm so I can unlock the front door. Once I’m inside, I toss my purse to the couch and lean back against the door, pulling the note out from under my arm and tearing it open. Finnley sent me a text earlier saying she had a surprise for me and I smile to myself, wondering what she’s up to and when she resorted to leaving me notes like we were still in high school.
Inside the envelope is a small card with the words Thinking of You! printed amongst a bouquet of pink and purple flowers. I shake my head and laugh to myself as I flip open the card. I choke on the laugh and gasp when I see the words printed inside, the messy block lettering nothing like Finnley’s girly script.
My heart starts thundering in my chest and my palms sweat. I read the words over and over until I have them memorized and still, I don’t understand. Someone knows. Someone saw. How in the hell could this have happened? Is this some kind of sick joke? For a second, I wonder if DJ did it to try and be funny, but I immediately dismiss that thought. He wouldn’t do this. As much as he irritates me, he’s not the type of man to sink to this level of cruelty.
The note drops from my hands, fluttering to the floor at my feet. There’s a whooshing sound in my ears that grows louder and louder until I can’t even hear the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall right next to me or the sound of my ragged breaths. My skin itches and I clench my hands into fists at my sides to stop from clawing my fingernails down my arms to give myself some measure of relief. There’s only one thing that will help me now, only one thing that will stop the ringing in my ears and the put an end to the tightness in my skin.
I push myself away from the front door and walk blindly through my living room and down the hall to my bedroom. My senses are overwhelmed the minute I walk in the room, the sights and sounds and smells coming back to me with a force that has my hands shaking so hard by the time I pull open the drawer of my nightstand that I drop the lighter and the package of Marlboro Smooths three times before I get them out.
I hold the cigarette between my lips, flick the lighter and stare mesmerized at the flame as I inhale enough drags to make the tip of the cigarette glow bright orange. As I exhale a lungful of smoke, I quickly strip off my hospital scrubs and underwear with one hand and let my body sink to the edge of the bed.
Closing my eyes, I bring the burning tip to my hip and breathe easy for the first time this afternoon.
I want the pain.
I deserve the pain.
I can’t breathe without the pain.
Thwack-thwack-thwack.
The sound of my fists beating the shit out of the heavy bag is almost louder than the music blaring through the speakers. Nothing like a little Rob Zombie to get me even more fired up than I already am. Sweat drips down my back as I shuffle back and forth on the balls of my feet, delivering one blow after another to the bag until I feel my knuckles start to swell and my arms threaten to fall off my body.
I have no fucking idea why I’m so pissed off, no clue why I’ve been tossing and turning the last week and snapping at everyone I come in contact with. I thought blowing off some steam in the weight room at the station would get me back on track and calm me the fuck down, but I’m pretty sure it just made things worse. With each upper cut to the bag, I see Phina’s neck and chest flushed that gorgeous color of pink after one of her orgasms. I slow down my punches to explore the memory, and then that smug bastard’s face pops into my head. I see her resting against his chest, I see his hands touching her body, I hear him whispering in her ear and my fists collide so hard and fast with the bag that I’m surprised I don’t break my knuckles.
“Motherfucking piece of shit!” I shout as I circle the bag and pound it with everything I’ve got. “Fucking asshole touching MY girl!”
That thought just pisses me off even more, and I stop where I’m at and let my arms fly. I alternate my punches with each hand, over and over until I feel the skin of my knuckles tear and still, I don’t stop. I picture Dax’s face in the middle of the bag and I attack it like a fucking beast¸ blood smearing all over the bag and my taped-up hands in the process. I shout and curse above the thumping bass and screeching guitar, wishing Dax really was standing in front of me right now so I could mess up his pretty fucking face. I’d break his nose, split his lip and knock out a few of those perfect white teeth for putting his hands on her.
I’m a goddamn hypocrite. She asked for something and I happily gave it to her, simply so I could have her. I didn’t care about her rules, I didn’t care about the consequences…I just wanted to taste her.
I’ve never been a jealous person. If I’m dating a chick and some guy makes a pass at her, I smile and wrap my arm around her, perfectly fine with the fact that other men find her attractive. She’s going home with me and that’s all that matters. I’m not even fucking dating Phina. One night, that’s all we had. One fucking night where she set the rules and the boundaries and I did whatever she asked because I couldn’t stand the thought of going one more minute without putting my hands on her. She keeps her underwear on at all times? No problem. It’s weird as shit, but whatever she wants is okay by me. She’s got a little voyeuristic streak and has always wanted another man in the room to watch? Perfect, I know just the guy. I can give her a shit ton of orgasms but I can’t fuck her? Fine, whatever. We never speak of what happened in her bedroom ever again? Well, alrighty then, my lips are sealed.
Except when they were sucking on her clit and devouring every inch of her sweet pussy…while Dax rubbed her shoulders.
“GODDAMMIT!” I shout, throwing one last brutal punch to the middle of the bag. My heart is beating so fast and I’m breathing so hard I almost feel like I’m going to fucking pass out. Bending over at the waist, I rest my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.
The screaming beat of Dragula is immediately cut off and silence fills the room. I blink the burning sweat out of my eyes and turn my head to see Collin standing next to the stereo system.
“Jesus, man. Who the hell pissed YOU off?” he chuckles as he strolls over to the heavy bag and rests his hands on it to get it to stop swaying back and forth.
I probably should’ve gone for a run around my neighborhood or worked out with the equipment in my garage so I wouldn’t have been interrupted. My shift just ended an hour ago, and since the county ambulance transport unit where I’m currently working as a paramedic is connected to the fire station that has a state of the art gym, I figured there was no point in going home to punch my frustrations away. Judging by the look on Collin’s face, I should’ve gotten the fuck out of Dodge. He’s got that we should talk look written all over him. Now that he and Finnley are shacking up, he’s surrounded by estrogen day in and day out and he’s all about discussing his feelings and all that other bullshit.
“I’m not pissed off,” I tell him. “I’m just out of shape.”
Collin shakes his head at me as I push off of my knees and stand up, ripping the tape off of my swollen and bruised hands. “Nice try, asshole. You got blood all over my heavy bag. I hope you’re planning on cleaning that shit up.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, tossing the sweaty, bloody tape into the nearest garba
ge can, trying not to wince when I flex my fingers.
Shit, this is really going to hurt tomorrow.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll stick to fucking the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home,” he laughs.
I shake my head, walking away from him to my duffel bag I tossed on the floor by the door. Grabbing the towel resting on top, I wipe the sweat off of my face and gently blot at my knuckles. “Stop rubbing it in my face. I don’t need to constantly hear about your sex life.”
“Speaking of sex life, what happened the other night between you and Phina at the gallery? You ready to talk about that smack across the face she gave you? Sex is always involved when a woman is pissed enough to smack a guy,” Collin says casually. He’s digging for information without coming right out and asking me if I fucked her. He’s a good guy like that, but I’m not about to discuss what happened with him, even if he is my best friend. He’s engaged to Phina’s best friend. If she finds out I was gossiping like a girl about what went down with us the other night, she’ll have my balls.
With a sigh, I lean my back against the wall and slide down to the floor, giving my legs a break before they give out.
“That woman is fucking insane,” I complain.
“And you were a perfect gentleman, I’m sure.”
All right, so I might have called her a slut right before she cracked me across the face, but give me a break. One minute she was moaning and shouting my name and the next, she was pretending like she barely knew me. I had my fingers buried inside of her, my head rested between her thighs for over an hour and I could still taste her on my tongue. Phina could pretend all she wanted to, but I wasn’t about to put up with that shit. I am man enough to admit that it stung a little when it was all over and she ushered me out of her house like I was a vacuum salesman and she had no use for what I was selling. I can even admit to checking my phone every hour for the next couple of days after that night, wondering why she hadn’t called or sent a text. What I couldn’t stand was her aloof and bitchy attitude at the gallery the other night. She looked at me like I was the dirt on her shoe and didn’t even want to acknowledge what happened.