Touched

By Eden Elgabri

I don’t think much of men. I never have. They have one purpose - to satisfy my sexual needs. I take what I want when I want it. Only when I want it. My therapist says, “Val, you’re self-destructive and have low self-esteem.” I don’t see it that way. I see it as control. Most women
live under the guise of illusion. They never understand pretty-perfect is only façade.

As a pediatric oncology nurse, I see ugly on a daily basis. So I don’t believe in pretty or happy. There’s only real. Then I met Max McKenna. He opened old wounds and made me an offer too good to pass up. If I could only
remain sane through the process. Okay, so maybe he’s just the first man I couldn’t bring to his knees. Maybe that’s all it is, this burning desire to wear him down and have my way with him. Maybe then I could get him out of my head. I never lied to myself before Max or had
such a burning desire to be... TOUCHED.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eden Elgabri
• Release date: Jul 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476278582

Book preview

Touched

By Eden Elgabri

Copyright © 2012 Eden Elgabri

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To R.K.

who never escaped

R.I.P.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank clinical social worker, J. Baxendale, for her knowledge and understanding of young victims of molestation. Victims often blame themselves, have low self-esteem, and engage in self-destructive behavior. If you or anyone you know has been a victim of child molestation, please seek help. Although the damage can never be undone, there are ways to cope, stop being a victim, and lead a normal life.

Chapter One

I never have sex on Wednesday.

That was one self-imposed rule I never thought I’d break. Not for any reason. But I’d have to tonight. That’s what brought me to Ludwig’s at the edge of town. A place where I’d be less likely to run into anyone I knew.

Then again, most people would never recognize me. No bra. Slinky little black dress, and let me emphasize the ‘little’ part. It just about covered my ass and featured a plunging neckline so I didn’t worry much about anyone zeroing in on my face. But if any eyes strayed, my dark hair completed the transformation.

On weekends Ludwig’s catered to career minded people. Most had a decent income, if not a decent mind, and enjoyed flashing their Ben Franklins. They drank Stoli-dolies and Grey Goose Martinis to prove they could hold their liquor. Some of the guys drank imported beer. That way they could appear masculine and still flash the greens. Having money ranked high at Ludwig’s. People were identified by their occupations, their friends, and of course, their lineage. All the right people flooded this place on the weekends. But on Wednesday the upscale piano bar was dead. Dead like...but I couldn’t think of that.

With measured steps I walked to the bar, ordered a Blueberry Passiontini, and eyed the few possibilities on the way. On weekends the crowd tended to be may age. Twenty-something females looking for love and commitment. Twenty-something males hunting temporary relationships. No wonder women my age were always disappointed.

Not me. I knew better.

Tonight they out-aged me by five to ten years. This didn’t work for me. Not because I had anything against older men, except they tended to want lengthier relationships. Me? I have a limited attention span.

I was about to leave and search for another venue when I noticed a guy standing at the other end of the bar wearing a red and blue polo shirt. Around my age, yet so not my type. Too uptight. Mr. Ivy League swilled the last of his drink, slapped his buddy on the arm, and strolled toward the men’s room. Long legs with long strides. Jeans not to tight and not to loose. Just right enough to accentuate a nice set of glutes. Come to think of it, the polo stretched nicely over an upper body that was no stranger to exercise.

My mouth turned up in an appreciative smile. Oh yeah, he’d do.

My heart raced and I knocked back the rest of my drink in one swallow. The liquid burned its way down my throat. Like a dormant furnace late in the fall, the drink, along with my intentions, ignited an inner heat. I shivered, placed the glass down on the bar, and followed my prey. Pretending to head for the ladies’ room, I veered at the last moment and dashed into the men’s.

Polo guy stood at a urinal facing away from me whistling a familiar top forty hit. I took a long coveting look. Broad shoulders, nice ass, and from what I could see in the space between his legs, a nice piece of machinery. Imagine that pumping between my legs.

He tapped off and turned his head, probably sensing that someone watched. I smiled, inching the edge of my dress to reveal my lack of underwear. Bare skin winked at him, inviting his caress.

He gasped and I slipped a condom from my purse and wiggled it at him.

His eyes darkened with desire and his cock, grew long and thick in response. It never failed to amaze me how my body and the offer of it affected men. I found the instant lust he displayed empowering, an aphrodisiac, intoxicating and addicting as any drug.

How much? he asked, voice thick with want.

Leave it to a man to assume a woman wanted either money or strings. The idiots. No money. No talk.

For a second he stared blankly, bewildered by my offer, but he didn’t hesitate long. He glanced at the door. What if someone comes in?

I raised one eyebrow. I could tell by the lust in his eyes, he’d fuck me in front of an audience if he had to, so there was no point wasting any more time. No talk, I repeated and wiggled the condom again.

He stepped closer and bent forward to kiss me. I shook my head, and turned around, haughty, superior, and in control. Reaching back with the condom, my fingertips grazed his as he pulled at the package. Holding it firmly for a moment, I let him tug on it before releasing it. Let there be no question who held the upper hand. For me, passion followed control and power. It had to do with a lack of respect for most of the men I selected to fuck. No doubt this one was as narcissistic as the rest. What did I care? I needed release. I bent forward over the sink and lifted the dress over my ass.

Now most women wouldn’t want to have sex clutching porcelain in a men’s room. They’d find it dirty and distasteful. I found it real. Raw. Primal. After all, humans are animals in the most primitive sense of the word. I learned that the hard way.

His intake of breath, an echoing hiss like music to my ears, increased my anticipation as the foil wrapper tore. I braced myself, gripping the sink with both hands, and watched in the mirror.

He reached between my legs and explored. Jesus, he said sliding a finger inside me.

Not enough. I was slick as an oil spill and needed his hot cock buried there. Let’s go. Now.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He slid his finger out and thrust his cock into me so hard and deep, I had to stand tiptoe to avoid being lifted off the ground by his thrusts.

But that’s the way I wanted it. Hard. Filling me. Taking up the empty space. The space I tended to drown in. The place where Little Girl Past would try to hide.

You’re so hot and tight.

Sshh. His voice would break the mood. I didn’t dare think or I might be forced to acknowledge that buried in my chest my heart bled.

He tore into me harder and faster. I focused on the mirror, and watched his lust until a flush spread over my cool skin. But at his frenzied pace he wouldn’t last long enough. I forced my gaze back to his face, which began to contort. Damn.

He yelled out and thrust, lifting me right off the floor. His body shuddered and he breathed harder than if he’d run from Providence to the state line.

He glanced at me in the mirror, at first hopeful and then apologetic. Of course, I hadn’t reached the same heights. But I didn’t mind. Even with my dress still on, the sight of my bare ass had been enough to make him hard. Sex personified, I made him embarrass himself by coming in record time.

Now he’d feel inadequate and have something to prove. This spelled orgasm with a capital O. Power surged through me. Not important how he got me off, as long as he did.

On your knees, I commanded.

He dropped like he’d been shot. As his cock slid out of me, loneliness and fear gripped me. I hated that. Turning fast to be rid of the emotions, the bottom of my dress twirled ironically as if in dance. Grabbing the back of his head I pushed his mouth at my weeping sex. Finish me.

Eager to oblige, greedy lips licked around my wet folds. He lapped up my juices, as if he couldn’t get enough to satisfy his thirst. He licked around the edges, and circled my clit. Finally, I felt the tightening build like a blood pressure cuff.

Damn, I needed this. Deserved it after the day I’d endured.

His tongue flicked faster and with consistency until I began to pant. My fingers tightened in his hair and I held his head like an anchor. But my legs wouldn’t hold me much longer. I pushed his head away. Hold on one second. Even to me, my voice seemed breathy, foreign, and too damned needy.

I braced my hands on the edge of the sink and pulled my butt on top of the rim. The cold porcelain stung my ass as if I’d been slapped. Leaning back against the mirror, I opened my legs, one dangling off each edge. My slick pussy lay open for the big finish. Now!

With permission to continue, he stuck three fingers inside me as a replacement for his cock, and pumped with a steady rhythm while his tongue found its way back to my clit.

Faster. Do it faster, my voice squeaked. Damn it, the command sounded more like a plea. Weak. How I hated being weak. Somehow he didn’t seem to notice my slipping control. He began to flick double time and the hard world dissolved. I fled to that place of pure pleasure, shaking off ugly reality as my body quaked with orgasm.

I groaned and my dress dropped into place as he pulled away from me, licked his lips, and grinned with pride. For a few seconds I couldn’t move or think and sank to that limbo land where physical sensation trumps everything else. I leaned my head and shoulders against the mirror for support, and my heart rate eventually began to slow down. I smiled, closed my eyes, and shut out the sight of him still kneeling there obediently. Get rid of the condom. I’ll go out first. You follow in a few seconds.

Sure. He hesitated like he was going to say my name and realized he didn’t know it.

I heard his footsteps and opened my eyes. On wobbly legs I tottered out, careful not to make eye contact on the way. No impediments to delay my escape. I kept on going until I reached the front door and shoved at it. Cool air hit me, and jogged my senses. I looked both ways and sprinted across the street to my car as my own juices dripped down my legs. By the time the red and blue polo emerged from the bar, my vehicle blasted through the yellow light half way down the street. I could see him in the rear view mirror, focusing on the car as I sped further and further away. He’d never find me, never see me again, and never know what he did wrong.

What’d I care if he felt rejected? The asshole fucked a nameless woman in the men’s room. He didn’t deserve my pity. I yanked the short, ink black wig off my head and stuffed it in the glove compartment.

Fifteen minutes later, more relaxed and polo guy all but forgotten, I pulled into the driveway at my condo, hit the button on the garage door opener, and entered my haven. The door shut and the evil world slid away. Sheltered, I grabbed my discarded scrubs from the passenger side seat. I exited the car holding my work clothes and my underwear in one hand, and my keys in the other.

I bought the condo because it didn’t have a basement. Crazy, but then I never said I was sane. Don’t ask, because I don’t have a clue. Some people fear thunderstorms, others are afraid of heights. Basements freak me out. Go figure.

The washer and dryer sat in the garage like guardians. I deposited my work scrubs into the hamper. The scrubs came into the house only when clean. No residue from the hospital. No sickness. No death. No pain allowed through the portal, separating me from the harsh realities of the outside world.

A loud click opened the inner sanctum. I entered, threw my keys and purse on the counter, and bolted the door to banish the sediments of society. I paused a moment on the way to the bathroom. The light on the answering machine flashed like a beacon. It could wait. But then again why put it off and let the unknown needle at my head. Better to get it over with.

Face life head on. Besides, it might be the hospital looking for me to cover someone’s shift. My shoulders sagged as if carrying too much weight. I hoped not. Another shift would do me in. I needed to relax, but I’d go if necessary. In that way, I could always be counted on.

Sighing, I hit the button. An unfamiliar masculine voice invaded my space. Ms. Carrington, this is Max McKenna from Dawson, Greene, and McKenna. I have a rather delicate matter to discuss with you and wondered if you could call the office to set up an appointment at your earliest convenience.

The timbre of his voice went right to my crotch. He sounded sexy. Audibly sexy. I sighed again; evidently the orgasm in the men’s room hadn’t been strong enough to take the edge off. The rest of the message was a blur. Why would a lawyer want to see me?

I didn’t have the energy to think about it tonight. I needed to stay relaxed, if I let myself get tense...no, don’t go there. Blocking the entire night from my head, I walked to the bathroom and ran the hot water in my Grecian tub twice. Unzipping my dress, I let it fall to the tile floor, stepped out of it, and into the steaming water.

Sinking down so it enveloped me, I hit the button on the side of the tub to start the jets and prayed I’d float away into oblivion. The jets pulsed, easing muscles while the room’s pastel blues and yellows calmed my soul.

Please, I begged. Make my body relax enough to sleep. Don’t plague me tonight. Please, not tonight.

***

The lawyer’s office oozed testosterone. Sparse, rugged, powerful – professionally decorated for alpha males. Mmm, nothing like a manly room to get the juices going.

Valencia Carrington? Mr. McKenna will see you now.

I looked up when the secretary called me and instantly rose to my feet. Her warm smile sat in opposition to her body. Stick-thin and frail, she looked like she lived on a perpetual diet. Or was ill. I eyed her carefully. No other tell-tale signs of illness. And the smile, too genuine and happy to be hiding anything terminal, meant she most likely starved herself for a man. I wanted to give her a pat on the back and a candy bar.

I waltzed into McKenna’s office conveniently pissed off and sat on one of the burgundy leather chairs facing his desk. I’d dressed for the occasion in a coco colored tailored suit from a designer outlet in Wrentham. The short skirt sported a slit up the side. I leaned back, crossed my long legs and let the skirt hike, exposing a large amount of leg. Feigning heat, I unbuttoned the jacket and tossed it over the chair next to me. Without a bra the tight taupe fabric of the cotton Cammy rubbed against my nipples.

If I had to be uncomfortable, so would he. As a matter of fact, I’d enjoy making this one squirm. His tailored suit screamed expensive. He was the type of guy that even splattered in mud would still look superior and unaffected. Clean cut. Business-like. Stuffy. But what could I expect from an attorney?

Although he’d been looking at some papers when I walked in, he raised his head in a quick attempt to size me up. His mistake? Allowing his eyes to linger when I disposed of my jacket. His deep set baby blues, surrounded by ink black lashes, even looking down, had shock effect. No doubt every female judge he went in front of ruled in his favor. Those eyes could melt even the frostiest bitch.

But I was arctic ice. A nuclear reactor couldn’t melt my core. The poor bastard was nowhere near my league. Men rarely were. My flesh-toned Cammy left little to the imagination. Breasts as large as mine could turn a man’s head even when covered by a bra and heavier material. Braless, against the thin material, they invited – touch me, taste me.

His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. I would’ve been willing to bet the ranch he sported a major woody. I glanced at his large hands and long fingers, wondering what they were capable of. I raised my arms to smooth my shoulder length blonde hair, and as they did, my breasts thrust forward.

He swallowed hard enough for me to hear. My cue to misbehave. I raised one shoe to the tip of his desk and adjusted the clasp on my stilettos, allowing my legs to open so my Brazilian waxed lips could smile a greeting. He tried but didn’t manage to stifle his gasp.

Nothing I liked better than shock value. I placed my foot down, legs parted, knees resting on the sides on the chair. The correct tilt of the head, and he’d have a bird’s eye view. I smirked knowing he’d have to fight for composure and lose the upper hand he might have hoped for.

No friggin’ way would Mr. High and Mighty dictate shit to me. It’d been years since I’d allowed a man to intimidate me, and I wasn’t about to regress with McKenna.

So now tell me, why am I really here? I found it odd when I returned your call, that you’d mention an inheritance without giving me any details. So who died? I asked, pretending indifference.

He leaned back in his chair and tried his damndest to remain focused on my eyes, but I saw his struggle. "No one, yet. There’s a cancer patient, with about a month, maybe two left. He’s leaving you all his assets."

My turn to squirm. God knows how many men I’d fucked and cast off. Guilt niggled at my conscience. No more than a month, maybe two. That’s all I’d allow any man. Don’t let them get too close. Why me? Doesn’t this guy have anyone else to leave his money to? No family?

Looks like you’re it.

My head jerked up and my eyes opened to the point of hurting. Bullshit. Not some former lover. But family. A fucking former nightmare. Leaping to my feet I grabbed my jacket. Before I could escape, McKenna blocked me, his hand firmly holding the door shut.

Sit down. I knew the tone. An order. His other hand locked the door with a key and pocketed it. He strode back behind his desk and sat as I stood there glaring at him.

The sexual power I’d hoped to use against him dissipated. Much more of a worthy opponent than I anticipated, I frowned. A master at reading people, I rarely miscalculated a man’s power. I’d have to watch out for McKenna. He’s not my family. He just married into it. Then he killed it off piece by piece.

I’m not here to discuss your past or your relationship with my client. I was told you’d be a problem if you knew who I represented. That’s why I went about this the way I did. The point is Mr. Jesmani made you the sole beneficiary and at some point in the next few months you will inherit.

My limbs shook and my muscles knotted. It’d take more than a full body massage to ease the stress building. So why tell me now? Why not just wait until the old bastard kicks off?

He blinked at my rudeness, but to give him credit, he didn’t wince. Now whether that was because he didn’t care or because he expected that kind of comment from a woman like me, I couldn’t be sure.

There’s a stipulation. He stared me down in no apparent rush to divulge the information.

Rage heaved from deep in my gut like acid reflux, and I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to temper it. I placed my things on the chair and crossed my arms. The bastard wanted to see me. Hell would freeze over first. As much as I’d like to watch him die, I’d never let him have the opportunity to see my face again. I won’t go to see him, not even for all the money in the world.

McKenna let out a sigh and put down the pen he’d started tapping. He doesn’t want to see you.

That floored me. I knew him better than to think there wouldn’t be a price. It had been years since the old coot had the authority to control my life. I couldn’t let that happen again. Then what’s the stipulation? What does he want from me? If he even hinted at forgiveness I’d leave without a cent. I’d rather be poor and know he went to his grave with my hope he’d rot in hell.

He’s in a rest home now, but he has a house, a rather large Victorian in Barrington. He’d like you to live there until he dies. Once he’s gone you can sell or do whatever you want with it. However, if you don’t agree, the entire estate goes to charity.

Charity? Well lucky them. I spat it out happy I could throw Jesmani’s money back in his face.

It’s almost half a billion dollars in assets.

His words halted me. A lot of money to toss away. And I’m not exactly loaded. I lived paycheck to paycheck in a small condo. I hated Jesmani for this almost as much as for everything else. Why does he want me there? He must have known I’d ask that. Don’t you find this situation rather odd?

I’m a lawyer. I find a lot of things odd. He stared at me as if it wasn’t just the situation he found repugnant. He said he wanted to go to his death knowing you were among his things. That’s the other part. None of the furnishings can be moved or sold until he’s passed.

McKenna held my gaze and I rethought the size of his balls. You realize how fucked up this is?

His eyes blinked once like he was on a thirty second delay and he reminded me of my therapist. I find it distasteful myself. Nothing else about his countenance displayed any emotion. Perfect poker face. Wonder if he learned that in law school? Was there a special class in how to not show your hand?

I changed the subject to try to throw him off course. Have you seen the house?

He shook his head no. If you agree, I’m to take you there myself. I’ve got the keys here somewhere, he said opening his drawer and picking them up right away.