Butterfly (19 page)

‘I’m fine.’

‘Good, I thought you might’ve
been having another panic attack.’

‘I have an idea,’ I blurt out,
because if I don’t say it now, I’ll lose my nerve.

‘What sort of idea.’

‘What you mentioned
earlier…’

‘Yes?’

‘I want to feel like you’re with
me when I masturbate.’

He takes in a sharp breath.

‘Does that sound crazy?’ I
suddenly question what I’m doing. ‘It’s just that I want it to seem
like you’re here, but I’ll be more in control because you’re not.
We can be intimate without really being intimate, and I think it’ll
take the pressure off me a bit.’

‘No. That doesn’t sound crazy. I
think it’s healthy that you want to take control so you can feel
comfortable.’

I smile, even though he can’t
see me.

‘It also sounds incredibly
sexy,’ he says, his voice low and husky. ‘What are you doing right
now?’

I slide my hands down my neck,
tracing the curve of my breasts, down my stomach. Back to my
straining breasts begging to be touched. ‘I’m stroking my
nipples.’

‘How do they feel?’

‘Hard.’

He groans. ‘God, that’s exactly
what I am for you right now.’

‘Are you thinking about me?’ I
ask brazenly, the distance between us making me bolder, despite the
intimacy of the moment.

‘Always,’ he says
breathlessly.

My eyes close as I play with the
puckered buds. In my head, I see Ben’s face, his dark gaze sweeping
over me.

‘What else do you like,
Grace?’

‘I want my nipples licked and
teased.’

‘Do it.’

His gruff voice is a huge
turn-on, melting away any embarrassment or shame about what we’re
doing and turning it into something so erotic and exciting, I can’t
help myself from doing what he says.

I sit up, lift my breast to my
mouth with one hand, and suck my nipple, swirling my tongue around
its tip. I moan for more, imagining it’s Ben’s mouth on me.

‘God, listening to you is so
hot,’ he groans.

It’s hot for me, too. Hearing
his voice turns me on even more, and my core throbs, hot and wet.
The arousal is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. All of my
senses are on high alert.

Slowly one hand drifts
downwards, and I gasp at the first touch.

‘What are you doing now?’ he
asks.

‘Stroking myself.’

‘Where?’

‘Between my legs.’

‘Oh, God, you’re doing me in.
You’re so sexy, Grace. So gorgeous’

I slide my finger up and down,
feather-light strokes in the silky wetness, as my other hand rolls
my pebbled nipple between my fingers.

‘Imagine it’s me, Grace. That’s
my finger on you, sliding along your smooth folds, teasing your
sweet spot. It’s my tongue on your breast, licking and sucking you
into my mouth.’

All I can manage is a groan of
pure pleasure as I think about him doing this to me.

‘I want to hear you come,’ he
says, and I know he’s touching himself as he thinks about me. I can
hear it in his breathlessness.

He coaxes me to pleasure myself,
his words like a caress on my skin, the gentlest touch of a light
summer breeze. I’m so lost in his voice and his sighs and moans
mingling with mine, matching them, that it’s as if he’s really here
with me, doing this to me. I’ve never felt so open and exposed,
even though he can’t actually see me, but I can’t stop myself from
falling into him. My physical reaction to his words is something
I’ve never experienced before. They’re just words, echoing through
the phone lines, but they brush against me, sweep through me, and
the arousal it creates is breathtaking.

The whole universe seems to get
smaller as my whimpers get louder. All that exists is just Ben and
me and layers of intensity building inside, repairing the hollow
cavern left in my heart and my body for so long.

The climax wells up inside me,
climbing to blissfully wonderful heights before I come undone.
Lights flash before my eyes as my orgasm quakes through me, and the
shattering sensations washing over me shock me.

‘Oh my God,’ I say breathlessly
down the phone, my whole body quivering and weak.

A few seconds later, he calls my
name, and his orgasm hits. ‘Wow,’ he pants, and it’s so loud it’s
as if he’s breathing it in my ear.

‘Wow indeed,’ I say, letting out
a nervous laugh,

‘You sound so sexy when you
climax.’

Maybe I should be embarrassed,
self-conscious, but I’m not, and I know the reason why. Because
it’s Ben gently leading me on that first step.

When we hang up the phone, the
force of the experience hits me, and I want to record every thought
and feeling in my journal. It sounds clinical, but this is a huge
breakthrough for me. I’m one step closer to finding the real Grace.
Not just being the Grace left with a gaping hole inside her
spirit.

I turn off the light, and as I
close my eyes, I think about what just happened. How it felt
completely natural, not tainted or soiled in the slightest. How it
was loving, passionate, and sexy. How it made me feel like a proper
woman.

And that’s my new memory
now.

38

BEN

My orgasm explodes as I call out
her name in the darkness, her face imprinted behind my closed
eyelids, her soft voice husky with passion. The whole phone sex
thing is a first for Grace, and it’s a first for me. There hasn’t
been any true love in my life, either. Before prison, I
concentrated on my fighting career. Yeah, I dated, but there was no
one special. And in the two years after prison…well, I couldn’t
bring myself to date anyone.

Until Grace.

I’ve never felt with another
woman even an inch of what I do for her.

I fall into a relaxed sleep, and
when I wake up the next morning, the post’s already sitting on the
mat. I flick through, hoping there’s something from the other
application forms I’ve filled in but dreading it at the same
time.

I wanted that job at The Clover
Project. If I can help Grace, I can help other women, too, can’t
I?

Or am I too close to this? Is it
too personal? I should see a counsellor myself. It’s one of the
things covered during my degree courses. It sounds weird that a
counsellor needs to see a counsellor. We know the tools to use to
heal ourselves, and yet it’s not that easy to apply what you know
when it’s so personal. Plus, listening to all the tragic stories
can get to you after a while, even when you’re trying to be
impartial. And I know what they’ll say to me, because I say it to
other people. I need to get rid of the guilt and forgive myself. I
just don’t know if I’m ready. How can I?

An envelope with the name
Hertfordshire Women’s Centre
franked on it stares back at
me. Another job I’ve applied for in the next county.

I can’t open it. I put it on the
kitchen table and run my hands over my face, preparing myself to
face rejection again.

Finally, I rip it open and read
the letter.

We regret to inform you that
your application has been unsuccessful.

I screw up the letter and lob it
in the bin.

Shit. Fuck. Bollocks!

I don’t know when another
suitable job will come up, and I’m going to hit this brick wall
every single time. I can’t escape my past, even though I’ve done my
time and paid my debt to society. And if I can’t get a good job,
what can I possibly offer Grace? I want to give her the world.
Treat her like a queen. Give her all the things she’s never had
since her mum died. Make her life a living fairy tale.

I’m no good for her. I should
end things. I should stay out of her life; it’s not fair of me.
It’s dangerous. Too risky. But I just don’t seem to have any
control over myself where she’s concerned. Grace makes me feel
again, where I was numb inside. When I’m with her, she chases the
demons away and lets me forget who I really am.

Every disappointment about not
getting the job vanishes the second Grace’s face lights up when she
opens the door to the coffee shop. I want to drown in those eyes
I’m so addicted to. Sink into the depths of her beautiful soul so
some of her goodness rubs off on me.

I don’t know if I was expecting
her to look embarrassed about what happened last night, but I’m
sure as hell not. Judging by the satisfied grin on her face, she’s
not, either, which is a major turning point for her.

‘Hey, you. Sleep well?’ I raise
an eyebrow and circle my arms around her tiny waist.

She runs her hands up the back
of my neck. ‘Yes. The best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.’

‘So, as your counsellor, I
prescribe orgasms every night as an alternative to sleeping
tablets.’ My mouth quirks up at the corners.

‘Well, hopefully you’re not
going to prescribe them with just anybody.’ She smiles coyly.

‘Only you, gorgeous. Only you.’
I reach out and wipe away some icing sugar on her lip with my
thumb. ‘Sugar. Oh, damn, it’s not coming off. I’d better kiss it
off.’ My lips seek hers, sending shivers up and down my spine. My
hands grip her waist, stroking softly with my thumbs. My tongue
circles around the tip of hers before running down first one side
and then the other.

She curls her fingers into my
shirt and drags me closer, pressing herself against me. As the kiss
intensifies, I draw back.

‘We need to stop this. I’m going
to be in serious trouble if we carry on,’ I groan and release
her.

~~~~

The morning’s busy, and it’s not
until eleven-thirty that I get time to tell her about the
letter.

‘God, I’m so sorry, Ben.’ She
shakes her head in sympathy.

I shrug it off, but it hurts,
and I’ve only got myself to blame. ‘Yeah, me too. I don’t know when
another job like those will come up.’

‘Something will come up, I’m
sure of it.’ She squeezes my arm.

At the end of the day, I pull
Grace into my arms. Tonight I have a counselling session at the
Youth Centre, and I don’t finish until late. Maybe it’s a good
thing, anyway. I don’t want her to feel pressured to take things a
step further before she’s completely ready.

‘So…’ She bites her lip. ‘You
could phone me later.’ She tilts her head and gives me a suggestive
smile.

I arch an eyebrow, my body
responding just thinking about it. ‘Ten o’clock?’

She gives me a heated look.
‘Sounds perfect.’

39

GRACE

A few weeks later, after work, I
sit on my sofa and tuck my legs underneath me, waiting for Ben to
arrive from teaching self-defence. The lamp in the corner of the
room gives off a soft glow as I tap my pen on a pad. I’ve been
putting this off since Ben suggested it, but I can’t wait any
longer. I need to do this. Ever since the phone sex, I’ve been
thinking of nothing else.

I draw two columns on the paper
and write the headings ‘How I see sex’ and ‘How I want to see
sex’.

I chew on the end of the pen and
think for a while before the words come into my head and I write
them down. When I’ve finished, I’m left with this:

‘
How I see sex’

Painful

Dirty

Force

Terror

Disgust

Helpless

‘
How I want to see
sex’

Loving

Passionate

Warm

Caring

Soft

Pleasurable

Sensual

Healthy desire

Ben

I rip the piece of paper in
half, screw up the ‘How I see sex’ list and walk into the kitchen
with it. I grab a bowl from the cupboard and a box of matches.
Holding the end of the piece of paper, I set light to it. I don’t
want that list, and I refuse to accept it any longer. I want the
new list. And why don’t I deserve it? I’m not going to be dirty,
tainted Grace anymore. Like Ben told me in the beginning, I
shouldn’t feel ashamed, because that’s the same as admitting it was
my fault. I’ve been there and done that, and I’m so not doing it
again. Ever.

I’m a woman in love for the
first time. A woman in love with a man who’s tender, kind, and
compassionate. A man I
know
loves me, too, because it’s in
every word, every gesture, every look. And sex with him will be all
good things. I
want
to have sex with Ben, because I want him
to take the rape away from Theo. I can’t let Theo own that part of
me anymore. This is all about me now.

Ben and me.

I watch the paper char and burn
with a smile on my face. I’m expunging the last hold Theo has over
me.

I run a bath, pouring in vanilla
essential oil. I light tea lights and place them around the edges
of the room. While the water runs, I turn on Ed Sheeran’s CD.

As I turn off the taps, I stare
at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself from the woman I
was a few months ago. My cheeks are fuller. My eyes aren’t covered
with a mask of makeup; in fact, they sparkle back at me. I look
relaxed. Happy.

I like her, this new Grace
reflecting back at me. For the first time in my life, I love
her.

‘You’re a survivor,’ I say to
the woman in the mirror. ‘
And
you’re sexy.’ I raise an
eyebrow at myself and grin.

I lay in the bath and close my
eyes, the nervous anticipation building inside. I want his skin
against mine so badly.

I
can
do this.

I want his lips to discover
every sensitive part of my body. I want him, and I know it’s
not
wrong, disgusting, or dirty.

It’s right.

Very, very right.

Just as everything’s been since
he came into my life.

I’m still a little afraid about
the thought of having sex with Ben. Who wouldn’t be? But I know I
can get through this. He’s made me realize I can get through
anything.