thirteen: in which she's not alone

“I pride myself, not needing anyone else; I suppose I was wrong” –The Rescues, Be My Cure

********************************

“How was your Easter weekend, people?” Sister Brady asked, on our first Monday back.

I missed Easter? I mentally asked myself, hearing without really listening to everyone discuss their various denominational church services and chocolate-bingeing.

I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten Easter. If my aunt were alive, I knew exactly what she’d say: What if the good Lord forgot to die for your sins, Maya? Huh? What then?

Shame shrouded me. I’d spent the whole weekend fixating on how good ѕex with Jake had been. Spent the whole weekend recovering from said good sex. And because I was so stupid, I’d had to endure the awkward morning-after when I’d tried to slip out of Jake’s bed without waking him.

He’d been lying in the rumpled sheets, hair tousled and eyes sleepy, and yep, there was a puddle of moisture glistening on his left pec where I’d drooled the entire night. Adorable.

“Running out on me, Maya?” he’d said, in what I could only describe as his bedroom voice. “Huh. No one’s ever done that.”

I’d snorted, pulling on my clothes with my back turned away from him. As if I was going to dress up with my backside to him. “First time for everything, I guess.”

“Damn straight. Now come back to bed and let me give you your first morning orgaѕm.”

I’d shuddered just thinking about it. The throbbing between my legs… It had made me want more. “I’d better go,” I’d forced myself to say, “but thanks. For the sex…things. They were good. You were good. Great. Great, I mean. You were great.”

And then, because I’d realized how incredibly stupid I just sounded, I’d hightailed it out of Jake’s room so fast you could swear the devil was after me. I might’ve heard Jake yell that he’d spank me if I thanked him again. Then again, I was breathing so hard it might’ve just been my imagination.

The moment Brady finished briefing us on our patients’ respective nights, I scampered out of the office and went to the tea room. Moira followed behind me.

“Bad weekend?” was her first question.

“You could say that,” I replied, wanting to be as vague as possible. I went for the coffee.

“You’re not going to tell me what happened to your apartment?”

I whirled around to look at her with wide eyes. “How’d you find out about that?”

“I have a friend in your building, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I let out a sigh, returning to my task of spooning sugar into my cup. “I got robbed.”

“My God, are you OK?”

“Yeah. I mean, my laptop’s gone and that sucks, but at least I wasn’t there.”

“Was it insured? Your laptop, I mean.”

I had to laugh at that. “Sure.” Just thinking about how I was going to replace the things I’d lost was giving me a headache. It had weighed heavy on my mind the whole weekend, but truthfully, I was really grateful that I was unharmed. Inanimate objects were easy to replace – even if it would take forever and a day to replace them.

“So where are you staying now?” Moira wanted to know. “Rob – that’s my friend – said your place is empty.”

“Wow, Rob sure is nosy.”

“I’m being serious, Maya.”

I contemplated lying to her but decided that the McNally brothers probably already knew where I was staying now. “With Jacob Ford,” I mumbled, eyeing the doorway. Where was everyone else? Where were my freaking morning pastries?

Moira’s eyes, rimmed with eyeliner, bugged out. “Mrs. Ford’s son? Sharon Ford’s son? Rest her beautiful soul.”

I nodded, smiling slightly at the sound of Sharon’s name. “Yeah. Him. He’s a friend from long ago.”

“He’s the deranged biker Joel was talking about weeks ago, right? The one you were, quote, all over?”

I was getting pretty damn tired of my face heating up at the drop of a hat. “Joel was exaggerating.”

Moira snorted like she didn’t believe me. “I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve seen him a few times and…I’ll just keep my depravity to myself.”

Depravity. I knew a whole lot about that now. I’d only had ѕex one time and it was practically all I could think about. I felt like I was stuck in the body of a sixteen-year-old boy.

“You know what I find hot? Guys who have questionable heritage,” Moira continued, fanning herself dramatically. “Wasn’t Sharon Israeli? And Jacob’s dad was Italian. It’s a beautiful thing when two people from different places come together to create the Jacob Fords of this world.”

“Moira, his parents are dead. Have some respect,” I muttered, taking a big gulp of much-needed caffeine.

“I’m being respectful!” she protested, pouring herself some tea. “My last ex was Mexican-Greek and his dirty talk was trilingual. I thanked God everyday just for that – in Spanish, Greek and English, of course.”

I rolled my eyes at this woman, smiling despite myself. Moira soon changed the subject to something more trivial – her new hairstyle – and for that, I was grateful. Every week I saw her, she did something new to her. Her hair was a mass of raven-black curls that framed her heart-shaped face. Last week, she’d done cornrows. This week, she’d braided the front into some complicated design and left the back loose.

“You know, if I ever got my hands on your hair…” she began, looking like a little girl panting to do Barbie’s hair.

“Not gonna happen.” The most effort I put in was to go to the hairdresser’s for a trim and a proper wash. My hair actually fell somewhere at the middle of my back, but since I kept it straightened – I was way too lazy to go natural – it seemed longer.

“What’s not going to happen?” Iris’ voice sang from the doorway. She had the box of croissants in hand, my savior. Finally.

“Maya here doesn’t want me to do magical things with her hair,” Moira replied, pouting.

“No offence, M, but don’t you get tired of the same Pocahontas braid down your back?” Iris set the box on the table and pulled out a huge pastry, biting into it with a sigh.

“No, actually. It’s convenient,” I said, on the defensive. I took a croissant out of the box.

“She probably means during sex,” Moira said with a grin. “Does your boyfriend like to pull at it from behind or something? And also, why aren’t you staying with him?”

I flushed. My brain had instantly pulled up an image of Jake taking me from behind, his hand wrapped around my braid as he pulled. Hard. “Does everything have to revolve around sex? Anyway, we broke up.”

Cue the “Aw, Maya. We’re so sorry” spiel. I didn’t want to hear it but I didn’t want to tell them that I couldn’t have cared less that I’d broken up with a man I’d been with for over seven years.

Eventually, they stopped talking about exes and crying and let me get to my ward. Like always, my patients were happy to see me. Those that remembered what decade we were in asked me about my week at home, and those that couldn’t remember their own names made the most arbitrary of conversations with me. Being here made me forget all the crap in my life, even if it was just for twelve exhausting hours.

***

Jake’s house was blessedly empty when I got back from work and soaked myself in the bathtub. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or simple human contact.

In my line of work, death is inevitable, but still, I cried because I’d lost Mrs. Chen that afternoon. Sister Brady had called her granddaughter and only living relative, Sara, in and I’d been completely gutted by Sara’s obvious grief when she came to the Haven. The last time I’d seen Sara, she’d been one-third of a threesome with Jake and had paraded her naked body on her way to wash him off of her. That had been the furthest thing on my mind when she’d asked me what her grandmother’s final day had been like. Had she eaten? Did she remember her family? Had she been in pain? Had she been happy?

I answered her questions as best as I could, like they’d taught me to at school, but my voice shook a little when I told Sara that her grandmother hadn’t eaten much that day. It bothered me as I’d cleaned the body before Sara showed up. Perhaps Mrs. Chen had been slowly deteriorating. Perhaps she’d known that she was going to die soon. The woman had been ninety-eight, after all.

“Thank you, Maya,” Sara had said sincerely, squeezing my hand in hers. “Thank you for taking good care of my granny.”

“She was quite a woman,” I had told her, remembering the time when Mrs. Chen freaked out when I wanted to take her dentures out. She’d bit me. “I liked her a lot.”

Sara had smiled at me then. She’d been wearing some kind of top with holes cut out in the back and I could see her neon yellow bra straps. For some odd reason, I’d wanted to hug her again. She’d left before the undertaker came.

I sat in the tub for a long time until I figured if my skin got any more pruned, someone would throw me into a bag of nuts. Despite not wanting to talk to someone, the house was too silent to be comfortable, so I ordered Chinese before settling in front of the TV in my flannel pajamas.

By the time my dinner came, Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill were on spring break and I had no appetite. Jake’s truck swerved into the driveway just as the delivery man was leaving.

I wanted to say that my stomach didn’t flip when I saw him, looking pissed off at the world as usual and wearing black jeans like they were poured over the thick muscles of his legs.

“Hey,” I said, holding my bag of Chinese to my chest. It was hot against my chest but that oddly didn’t affect me.

“Don’t you check your goddamn phone?” was his greeting.

“Excuse me?” I backed into the house as he came in, slamming the door behind him.

“I was trying to call you. You weren’t answering.”

“Oh. It’s probably still on silent.”

He gave me a hard stare. That look had probably brought men far stronger than me down to their knees apologizing, but I wasn’t in the mood for his drama. Not tonight, when I was feeling emotional about a patient’s death.

“Was there an emergency?” I asked, heading to the kitchen. I grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “Want some?”

“You’re ѕhitting me.”

“I’m not,” I said, sounding grave.

“I don’t want fuсking takeout. I want to know what the hell goes on in your goddamn head, Maya. Did it not occur to you that I’d want to check up on you?”

It was my turn to glare. “What is your problem tonight?”

“I’m still looking for your fuсkwad of an ex and there’re still crazy fuсks out there who aren’t opposed to cutting your tits off to draw him out,” he bit out, “so answer your goddamn phone next time.”

“And you don’t think I know that?” I retorted. “You don’t think I know how serious this situation is? I have a functioning brain, Jacob. I’m not as stupid as you obviously think I am. This isn’t a fun-filled sleepover for me; this is me being uprooted from my life because of someone else’s idiocy. So you can chew me out all you want for taking a bath without my phone, but don’t you dare patronize me.”

I was oddly composed when I was done speaking, while Jake looked like I’d slapped him across the face.

“You’re not stupid, Maya,” was all he said. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Whatever.” I hadn’t missed the bloodstains on the bottom of his grey T-shirt. I definitely didn’t want to know anything about them.

So he went upstairs and I ate alone in the kitchen, mentally going over the conversation I was going to have with Iris about her roommate, Jana. I’d sleep on the couch if they’d let me. I’d make sure no one knew where I was, make sure I didn’t put Iris in danger. The couch would be better than this father-daughter bullshit Jake did whenever he was scolding me.

I was washing the few dishes from breakfast when I felt his presence behind me. The tumbler I was rinsing fell from my hands and into the warm water when he placed his hands at my waist, his fingers splaying across my stomach.

“Sorry,” he said, his mouth at my right ear. “I’m an aѕshole.”

“Jake---”

“No, sweetheart. Let me apologize.” He kissed the shell of my ear, pulling my ear lobe into his mouth and sucking. His hand slid into the waistband of my pajama pants and into my panties; cupping my puѕsy, middle finger easing inside me.

Gasping, I jerked backwards, my backside hitting into Jake’s pelvis and staying there. “Oh, God,” I said on an exhale.

“Oh, Jake,” he grunted, thumbing my сlit. Slick with my wetness, he trailed a finger down my slit, massaging my inner walls as he went along.

My hands were on the edge of the sink now, locked tight. His other hand had slithered up my shirt, firmly grasping my breast and pulling at the beaded nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath, sticking my own hand down my pants to keep Jake’s there. He made a soft sound in his throat, burying his fingers to the knuckles deep within me and pulling them out, repeating the motion. Spread the lips of my pusѕy wide open and fuсked me this way. He set a slow rhythm like that and it was quickly driving me out of my mind.

“Fuсk my fingers, sweetheart,” he rasped against the side of my neck. “Come on my hand.”

The sound of my heavy breathing filled my ears even as my blood rushed to them, drowning everything out. I was writhing against his hand, drawing him even further into me. Desperate. I could smell myself in the air, the kind of smell that screamed of lust and satisfaction and all things pleasurable. My eyes were closed, shutting out the sight of the sink filled with water, shutting out my debauched reflection in the bare windows…and then I was shuddering through my orgaѕm, biting on my lip to keep from screaming. The warm liquid of my release trailed down my thighs. Panting, I crumpled in half over the sink, desire licking its way along my body when Jake wrenched my pants down. He paused at the lace waistband of my underwear, tracing it with his fingers. I wanted to tell him to hurry but my mouth wouldn’t work.

Instead, I made a sound of surprise when he tore at my panties, pulling them at my hipbones.

“Jesus,” I breathed.

“Jake,” he growled, kicking my legs apart at the ankles with his toes. I didn’t want to fixate over what I looked like bent over like this. He was busy ripping at something again, something I could only imagine was a square foil packet.

“Jake.” I moaned at the first feel of his peniѕ against me. So big. I hadn’t imagined it the last time. Only, like this? From this angle? Incredible.

“I’m an asshole,” he rumbled, pressing forward all the way to the hilt. His hands were on my hips, pulling me back to meet him, so that his groin was pressed flush against my ass.

He didn’t give me any time to adjust to his size before he drew back and thrust back into me. “I’m so” – thrust – “fuсking” – thrust – “sorry.”

I moaned again. Loudly. It was too much, just too much. I was still too tight and he was still too big and when he gained momentum, his skin slapping against mine, I realized that passing out from pleasure could actually be a reality. I could hardly stand on my own, he was holding me up, and yet I managed to push back against him, meeting his every thrust.

What was he even apologizing for again? Yelling at me? Who the hell even cared?

And still, with every thrust of his coсk into me, he said he was sorry. Said he was an asѕhole. Said I should forgive him.

I felt filled by him, surrounded entirely by him. He was a savage force, a dangerous presence. He set a lightning pace, driving himself in and out, in and out of me. Driving me delirious with pleasure.

“Yes,” I was gasping, over and over and over, like a chant.

Yes to what? Yes, he was an asshole? Yes, I forgave him? Didn’t know. Didn’t care.

In this moment between us, the only thing I cared about was the exhilarating feeling of losing myself in orgaѕm. It was fast approaching again, I could tell. The now-familiar heat in my belly, warming my insides and singeing my skin... It was intensifying, growing to a raging inferno…

Jake roared something loud and unintelligible, and slammed himself deep into me, so hard it was painful. He’d hit something, likely my cervix, and I cried out. He was coming, his coсk throbbing inside me as he released himself. Feeling him so deep inside me, hearing him lose control – it threw me over. I cried when I came; actual tears that pooled at the corners of my eyes. Jake’s climax became mine, until I was exhausted from feeling too much, from the sheer agony of being so greatly satisfied.

I felt sucker-punched when it was over, when I could collapse over the sink and recover. My pulse was too quick and my skin felt clammy. Jake’s body covered mine, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He was still inside me, still part of me.

“I hate it when you look at me like you hate me,” he said after a while, his voice husky. “Don’t look at me like that again.”

“You infuriate me, but I don’t hate you.”

“You’re pretty infuriating yourself, you know.”

“Yeah. I know,” I said with a laugh. It died down just as quickly. “I lost a patient today. It happens all the time – they’re old people – but I guess I just feel too much.”

Jake soft kiss on my neck made me feel like crying again. He didn’t say anything, just continued pressing light kisses to my skin until my mood gradually shifted and I felt better.

“Thank you.” I spoke softly, releasing a sigh when he slowly pulled out from me. Breathing deeply, I forced my brain and legs to work together so that I could turn around. Pulling my pants back up was optional at this point.

Jake was completely naked. I struggled to breathe again.

“Where…where are your clothes?”

“Babe, you’ve seen it all before,” he pronounced with a leer, reaching for my pajama top. He popped the first button down the front, then the second, and so on. I watched his fingers work, until he’d unbuttoned every tiny button and was pulling my shirt down the curves of my shoulders and throwing it to the kitchen floor.

“That’s better,” he said, tipping my chin upwards. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

His lips collided against mine, soft and hard. A soft moan left my lips and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with mine. He kissed me until I forgot everything but his name. Jake’s hard body was pressed against mine, my breasts crushed against him. It felt like every inch of him was touching me – including the wet, latex-encased erection he was currently poking against my belly. Eventually, we pulled apart, our heavy breathing filling the silence. He had a soft look in his eyes, and it quickly disappeared, replaced by something else. Something darker. Something sinful.

I shook my head, as if refusing it. “Bed. I’m going to bed,” I said under my breath, stooping to gather up my PJs. My eyes skated down to Jake’s diсk. “I, uh, think you should throw that away. The сondom; not your, um, peniѕ.”

“Come to my bed,” Jake suddenly uttered, snatching my ruined panties from the floor. He put them to his nose, inhaling loudly.

Horrified, I tried to rip them from his hands. “Jacob, stop doing that,” I hissed. “Give them to me.”

He gave me a sly grin, holding them out of my reach. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I’m going to bed alone, Jacob.”

“Your loss. I can fuсk all night.”

I gulped. “Pretty sure overdosing on Viagra can have a negative outcome on your peniѕ.”

“Sticks and stones, baby. Sticks and stones,” he said, chuckling.

I let him go upstairs first, realizing not for the first time that Jacob Ford was beginning to grow on me.

Kind of like a pimple.