Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) (8 page)

Maybe it was just because he was so damaged. So broken
from a hard life that gave him nothing but memories he wanted to
drown in bottles or in needles. Guilt because I had gotten out, made
a good life for myself while my savior from when I was eight and
helpless had turned out to be someone who so completely needed saving
himself.

“Sure, man,” I said, letting him into my
apartment, but took his flask. It was

something that was so common between us that he didn't
even bother to fight it anymore. He knew he wouldn't win, not if he
wanted a place to crash. “Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry,” he said, shrugging out of his
jacket. It took him three tries to get it on the hook by the door.

Eddie worked construction. Mostly it paid well enough.
It didn't require education. The foreman didn't have much to say when
he showed up hungover every morning. He was, therefore, built like a
construction worker- tall, broad, strong. Shaggy blonde hair and tan
with almost unsettling hazel eyes.

“How have you been?” I asked, shrugging out
of my jacket and watching him walk over to my windows and look out.

“Same ole',” he said, shrugging.

“You need a place to stay for a few days?”

“Yeah. Just 'till Monday or Tuesday. I have a
place lined up.” He paused, moving toward the stereo and
clicking through the playlists. “Want to go to a gig on
Saturday?” he asked, meaning there was one of his local bands
playing. Music, the only thing that kept him halfway sane. He was the
one who created all the play lists on my stereo at the office.

“I have to go to the group home,” I
reminded him, like I always had to remind him. He winced at the
mention of that place. Like he always did. Like I always used to.
Until I got my degree and decided to use it to turn an awful memory
into one I could live with- working there on Saturdays offering up my
time for any of the kids who wanted someone to talk to. Someone who
had been where they were. “But if it's after six, sure.”

“Knew I could count on you, brother,” he
said, lowering himself onto the couch. Before the first song could
come to an end, he was asleep.

I sighed, grabbing the alcohol off the sidebar and
locking it up. He would respect my wishes when I was around to see
him. But all bets were off if he found himself alone with a bottle.
And I wanted a morning with him where he wasn't drunk off his ass.

When he was clean, he was one of the best guys around.
Unfortunately, no matter how many treatment programs I got him into,
Eddie was never clean for more than two weeks at a time after he got
out.

I gave him a blanket and went to my room, lying down
and trying to think of anything other than Ava perfect freaking
Davis.

Obviously, I failed.

Third Session

I still had Eddie on my couch.

And as much as it bothered me to see him stumble around
drunk or high, I liked having him around. I guess that made me an
enabler. His stay would end like all previous ones had- with me
trying to convince him to go back into detox and rehab, reminding him
he had my support, often going with him on the group therapy days.

But I owed it to him.

He saved me and I was never going to stop trying to
save him.

Besides, it was nice to not go home to an empty
apartment every night. Hell, the guy even cooked when he was
clear-headed enough to remember how to use the stove.

So he was on my mind as I shuffled though paperwork I
had my receptionist print out for various clinics for him. After all
the years, he had cornered the market on most of the close ones and I
was having to branch out. That was where my head was when the door
open, slammed, and I heard someone fall back against it.

My head snapped up to find Ava collapsed against the
door, dressed in black leggings and a sand-colored sweater that was
so large it completely swallowed her body up.

But that wasn't what got me. What got me was she was
completely and utterly wrecked. Anxious. Pale. She had huge bags
under her eyes from sleeplessness.

“Ava...”

“Please please,” she started, holding up a
hand to silence me. “Please just tell me what this session is.”

Fuck.

I felt my shoulders fall as I tilted my head. “Oh,
baby,” I said, already crossing the floor toward her, pulling
her away from the door and wrapping my arms around her. Unable to
stop myself, I kissed the top of her hair. “Next time you're
this anxious about needing to know something, you call me. I don't
want you stressing over something I can easily fix. Actually,”
I said, reaching for her hand and prying her phone from between her
fingers, “I will give you my cell so that, no matter what time
it is, you can call me and I can talk you down. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice hollow. “You
still haven't answered me.”

“I know,” I said, half untangling myself
from her body, wrapping my arm around her waist and guiding her
through my office and into the bedroom. She refused drinks and put on
another safe playlist. “Babe, how long has it been since you've
slept?”

There was a weird shaky laugh before, “For how
long?”

I felt my eyes rolling. “For more than an hour at
a time.”

“Wednesday.”

Jesus Christ.

“Next time, you call me,” I told her,
putting her phone down on the sidebar, taking her hand, and leading
her over to the bed. I kicked out of my shoes and took off my jacket
before moving into the bed. There was a moment of hesitation before
she was out of her shoes and beside me. Not touching, just both of us
lying there side by side.

I wasn't going to reach for her, to possibly freak her
out more than she already was. So I waited.

In the end, I didn't even have to wait long. Her body
shifted, curling into my side. Then, to my complete and utter shock,
she unbuttoned my shirt. Quickly. Efficiently. With sure fingers.
Then she moved the sides apart and laid her head down on my chest. My
arm went around her, squeezing her a bit too hard, like I wanted to
anchor her to me for what I was about to say.

“Tonight's session is about masturbation.”

She stiffened and choked out, “What about it?”

“Everything about it. We will talk about it. Then
we will undress. And then we will do it.”

“Wait. What?” she asked, her voice a
strange high-pitched squeak. Every cell in her body on edge.

“Ava, calm down. I know it's an uncomfortable
topic for a lot of people. Actually, this might be one of the hardest
lessons. It's understandable that you feel awkward or embarrassed.
That's totally normal.”

Most people, average well adjusted people didn't
masturbate in front of their partners. It was somehow an ingrained
embarrassment. For both sexes.

“Do you?” she asked.

“No baby,”
I answered carefully. While there may have been a time when that was
the case, it was long gone. Both personally and professionally. “But
listen, there is nothing at all to feel embarrassed about. A woman
making herself feel good is amazing.
You
making yourself feel good? That is going to be fucking beautiful. And
I can't wait to see it.” I paused, letting my mind wander for
the barest of moments. “Are you more uncomfortable with
watching me masturbate or having me watch you?” I asked,
already pretty sure of the answer.

“You watching me,” she admitted, the sound
muffled and I looked down to see she had her face buried in her
hands.

“Okay. Then I will start first.” I pressed
her back onto the mattress and stood beside the bed, slipping out of
my shirt and moving to the zipper of my pants. “Don't be shy in
front of me baby,” I said, wanting her to get up and start
stripping as well. She didn't fight. She didn't even stall. She
simply sat up, pushed down her leggings, and pulled off her sweater,
leaving her sitting there in simple black panties and a black bra.
“And the rest?” I asked, hearing my voice get husky. She
was somehow sexier in in plain cotton panties than most women were in
three hundred dollar lingerie. She reached behind her back for the
clasp of her bra and quickly discarded it away, then laid back to
shimmy out of her panties. “Beautiful,” I said, just as
naked as her as I climbed into the bed. “Come here,” I
said as I lay back.

Then she simply... flew at me. Like the only thing that
could make her feel better was being as close to me as possible. Fuck
if that didn't feel good. It shouldn't have, because she was just a
client. But it did. I stifled the suspicion that that was because I
wanted her to be more than that.

To distract myself, my hand slid confidently down my
body, grabbing my cock and starting to stroke. “Are you
watching?” I asked, though her head had already shifted and I
knew she was.

“Yes,” she said almost too quietly to be
heard.

“I want to watch you baby,” I said, letting
my arm release her. “Please.”

She was turned on. There was no mistaking it. It was in
her shallow, quick breathing. It was in the flush on her cheeks and
chest. It was in the way her legs kept shifting against the raging
desire between them.

She took a deep breath and her hand started trailing
down her body. Her legs parted just wide enough for her hand to slip
in and her fingers slipped between them, stroking up her pussy and
making a surprised whimper escape her lips.

I almost fucking came right then and there.

It was the hottest thing I had ever witnessed before.

“Don't stop, Ava,” I said and her eyes
moved to find mine. “Please don't stop.” Her hand shifted
upward on her pussy, finding her clit, and circling it. “There
you go. Just like I said... fucking beautiful.”

And it was.

Her eyes fell from mine and moved down my body,
watching as I stroked my cock as she worked her fingers over herself.

Not a minute later, I lost her. Her body got stiff. Her
hand went lax between her thighs. She was lost somewhere inside.

My hand dropped my cock. “Ava,” I said and
her eyes rose to me. “There you are,” I said, giving her
a small smile before my lips crushed down on hers. Hard. Passionate.
Full of all the longing I was feeling in that moment. I wanted to
show it to her. I wanted her to take it on as her own. It wasn't long
before her body came alive again, a low whimpering from her lips, a
writhing. Then a jolt through her whole body. My touch. My touch was
what got her out of her head.
Fuck me.

“Touch yourself, baby. Think of me doing it.”

And, fuck, how I wanted to be the one doing it.

But it had to be her. This time it had to be her.

Her fingers started moving across her clit again, her
lips falling slightly apart, her back arching off of the bed.

I stroked my cock again, alternating between watching
her face as it twisted in desire and watching her hand between her
legs.

She was getting close.

Then she was gone
again. This time she was not just distant, but completely pale with
some memory. I found myself wishing I could wipe those from her
psyche, give her
a
fresh
start. Nothing should have been able to stop her from enjoying her
own touch. Nothing. But something was.

My hand moved from her shoulder and, while I knew I
shouldn't, I put my hand down on top her hers between her legs. She
needed it. She needed me. It was the only thing that was going to
pull her back.

“Be here. With me,” I said, my fingers
crooking inward and pressing hers harder against her clit and she
gasped. “Yeah, like that. Keep your eyes on me.”

So she did. Her eyes held mine as her fingers went to
work between her thighs. My hand stayed there, but didn't assist. I
just kept her grounded to me as she drove herself up. Moaning. Back
arching. Legs moving across the mattress. Hips rising to meet her
strokes.

Fuck.

We were both close.

“So sexy,” I said, feeling my body get
tense as my orgasm threatened.

Her head tilted up and my lips pressed into hers,
wanting the intimacy, wanting to share the moment.

Then she pulled suddenly back. Her breath caught. Her
eyes got wide.

“That's it. Come for me, baby.”

Then she did.

And it was
hard
.

Her body went taut. A loud cry escaped her lips as she
shook through her orgasm, her hand slamming down on my chest.

Fucking beautiful.

Nothing came close.

Spent, she shifted closer, curling into me. Her hand
pulled away and I moved mine. Not away. Just nestled between her
closed thighs, feeling her heat and wetness there and it was my
undoing.

I came hard, my body jerking, my hand digging into her
inner thigh. “Fuck, Ava,” I growled, stroking a few more
times until I was completely spent.