Chapter 38
Blakely
The past few weeks have been hell for me. Since Nicholas left I’ve been falling deeper and deeper into my funk. I haven’t been taking care of myself, I’ve been eating pure junk, I haven’t been in touch with my friends.
It hurts so bad that the man who holds all of my secrets, knows all of my weaknesses, he didn’t trust me enough to believe that I could do the same for him.
Yes, there’s a lot of stigma around mental illness. People make lots of inaccurate judgments about someone when they reveal that they’re suffering from a disease of the mind. But I thought that Nicholas knew me better than to think that I was that superficial.
I take a greedy swallow of wine as thunder rolls in the distance and raindrops beat against the windowpane. A flash of lightning sparks up the sky and I pull my sheets up to my chin. I think I’m getting a headache. Or maybe it’s my anxiety thumping in my body. All I know is that it feels like my heart’s been scooped out and replaced with a hollow drum. My stomach’s upset, too. I really wish hadn’t spent the past few days drinking cheap red wine and watching sappy chick flicks.
I’m startled when I hear the front door open, banging loudly into the wall. I sit up straighter in my bed, clutching the sheets. I’m too hung over to rush to out of bed and inspect the situation.
A shadowy figure appears in the doorway, water dripping from his drenched clothes. Nicholas takes a step forward and light from the streetlamp outside illuminates his face.
Time freezes as we stare at each other.
My heart is beating so hard, it hurts. He’s here. He’s standing right in front of me. I don’t know what it means but I can’t help the hopefulness fluttering in my stomach.
He digs a hand into his bag and pulls out a little clear bottle full of pale green pills. He slaps it onto the dresser. "Sertraline," he says, "it helps with the anxiety but I don't take it everyday because it literally gives me the shakes. And it makes food taste like cardboard." He sets a bottle of white capsules next to it. “Methylphenidate keeps the OCD under control…for the most part.” He sighs. “Then there's desipramine and nortriptyline for the depression." His eyes fill with shame as he gives the bottles a shake. "I should probably be taking these, because giving you up is the most depressing thing I've ever done...” His voice drops to a whisper. “I want you so bad there’s no way to even explain it,” his voice cracks, “but it’s not just Asperger's, Blakely. It's a whole lot of shit."
I climb out of bed, approaching him one tentative step after the other. Standing on my tiptoes, I pull off his glasses and set them next to the pill bottles. I cup my hands on his cheeks and look straight into those dark eyes. "Your flaw isn't that you have Asperger's, Nicholas. Your flaw is that you think your Asperger’s makes you unlovable."
He gives my words a moment to sink in. I don’t break his gaze and when he tries to look away, I redirect his attention to me because I want him to know how much I mean this. “Blakely…” he groans, “I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I’m going to break you.” Seeing his vulnerability tears straight through my heart. But it lets me know that I can be vulnerable with him, too.
“I’m broken without you,” I whisper. “You make me stronger. You make me bold. You make me like who I am. Nicholas, please – I need you to see that. You’ve changed my life in so many ways. All of them good.”
“I’m not like the guys you know, the good regular guys who can give you all the nice, normal things you need.
I smile softly, his words sounding silly to me. “Why would I choose ‘regular’ when I can have you? Okay, I get. Some doctor put a whole bunch of labels on you. But so what? It doesn't change how I feel around you."
"How do you feel around me?" There’s so much pain in his tone.
"When I'm with you, I feel like I've finally busted through my cocoon. I feel like maybe I can fly.”
“You don’t understand–"
I cut him off unapologetically. “I’m not all that different from you. Why can’t you see that? I’m socially awkward, I can’t maintain eye contact, I’d rather hide out with you than be anywhere else."
He exhales a long breath, accepting that he’s not going to change my mind. His thumb trails across my bottom lip. “Fuck, I don’t want to do without you.”
Tears blur my vision. “Well, you don’t have to.”
And just like that, all the passion we’ve been restraining explodes.
Our lips collide with urgency and lust. His hands are in my hair, pulling, tugging, getting lost. He angles my head, fucking my mouth roughly.
He walks me backward until I bump into the bed and fall onto it. He’s on top of me in an instant. His weight crushes me into the mattress. I’m as wet as an umbrella in a rainstorm.
Argh – what a horrible metaphor…
Fuck it. I can't come up with insightful figures of speech when I'm this horny.
We fumble about in the dark, completely unwilling to take our hands off of each other. I peel the wet clothes off of his body. He yanks my t-shirt over my head and smooths his hands down my sides.
He kisses me all over, whispering against my skin, telling me how happy is to have me in his arms. I reach for a condom from my bedside draw, so eager to have him inside. I’ve been away from him for too long. At this point, I don’t want an inch of separation between us. He sheathes himself quickly.
Nicholas grips the sheets beside my head as he fucks me, hard and deep, each stroke bursting with passion. He hits me in all the right places, he says all the right words, he touches me just the way I need it. And when we orgasm together, it’s loud and primal and so, so satisfying.
He collapses next to me and we hold each other, tangled in the bed sheets, listening to the rain and the sound of our synchronous breathing.
“I’d give you anything, Blakely. Anything you want, anything you need…” he whispers and my heart stops.
I roll over in the sheets and he looks afraid.
But hopeful. And open. And genuine. Everything I’ve wanted him to be.
I touch his cheek with my hand, looking deep into his soul. “Oh, Nicholas. You’re everything that I need.” I pull his arms around my waist and place kisses against the humid skin of his chest. I hear his audible sigh of relief as he lets go of the breath he’d be holding onto.
He presses his lips to my scalp, holding me tight. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” I say, “Now that you’re here…” I exhale and settle into his warmth. “But you do owe me a lesson, though.” I look up at him and his eyebrow hitches in the darkness. I giggle into his chest. “Yup – my bonus lesson. Lesson four: Anal.”
His cock gallops between us. “Shit…” he hisses as he flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me. “I won’t keep you waiting…”
I spread my legs for him. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”
I watch as he soaks his index and middle fingers with his tongue. “Lesson four,” he breathes as his fingers stroke my eager asshole before pressing inside, “Anal...”