12. CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

ODETTE

Try as I might, I can't get into the story like I normally do.

It's hot.

It's steamy.

But instead of picturing Elodie and her new mate, I keep envisioning Chente and me.

I touch my mouth, the ghost of Chente's tongue still lingering there.

He kissed me.

HE KISSED ME!

Knowing I won't be able to keep reading or even sleep, I decide to call Shai.

It rings and rings before going to voicemail. I hang up, not wanting to bother her.

While I debate if I should just go to bed or maybe work on my puzzle to stop my mind from running away with me, she calls me back.

"What's up?"

"Just seeing if you had a minute to talk, but if you're busy, we can chat tomorrow."

"Pft, I'm not busy. I was just out on a date, but it was doomed from the git-go."

"Yikes. What happened?"

"Well, let's just say he showed his hand when he said ‘I didn't know my sister meant ‘blind date' literally'."

I feel my jaw go slack in shock.

"Excuse me—he said what ?!"

"Oh yeah. Don't worry. I didn't stick around to see what else he thought. But I did bump into the table and spill his drink all over him—ya know, accidentally , cause I can't see an' all."

"You're my favorite person."

"I know. And you're mine. Kinda wish you were here, though, to take pictures. I bet it looked like he pissed himself."

Shai giggles at the thought, but my heart twinges in sadness.

She's one of the sweetest, kindest people on the face of the Earth—albeit a little feisty.

To be cruel to her because of her disability is inexcusable and appalling.

A spilt drink is the barest of minimums that her ‘date' deserves.

"I'm sorry he was such a jerk."

"Eh, better to know sooner than later. The way I see it, I dodged a bullet."

This makes me laugh. "You sure did."

"But enough about me. I know you're calling about Chente."

"We don't have to ta—"

"Spill!"

"He kissed me."

Shai gasps so hard, I'm worried she's fallen over.

"Tell me everything."

It takes a bit, but I don't leave anything out because Shai is as loyal as she is relentless.

If I don't give her what she wants to know now, I'll never hear the end of it.

"So let me get this straight—he kissed you twice, has a forked tongue, massaged a freakin' cramp out of your leg like a heroic prince charming, and you two are going to be together every night until he learns how to read?"

"Um…"

"Yep, you two are banging. He for sure is sliding his snake tongue into your pussy, you lucky bish."

"He is not—"

Shai snickers. "Not right now, but he wants to—and so do you!"

"I…maybe. I keep seeing Chente and I together instead of the characters in my book when I'm reading."

"Oh, that's hot. Those books you read are Grade A filth—and I mean that in the best way."

"So, what should I do?"

"I think you should see where this all goes. Follow your heart, and if the man makes you wet, capitalize on the free lube—although I always recommend using extra of the bottled stuff. I have recommendations if you want."

"That's ok, thank you though."

"Are you sure? Some are flavored!"

"What's the point of flavored lube?"

"Because it tastes good, duh."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be using it to lubricate places. If you lick it all up, then it defeats the purpose."

"Maybe I lick it off after it's served its purpose."

"Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Lube is not a snack."

"And cocks aren't lollipops, but that doesn't stop me from sucking on them."

"That idiot you went on a date with has no idea what he's missing."

"Definitely his loss. So you have two days to sit around and touch yourself thinking about Chente, but don't forget to send me more book recs. Listening to your monster smut gets me through all my chores."

"It's not my monster smut! I didn't write it!"

"Yeah, but we both know you're just as depraved as the dirty souls who did."

"Goodnight, Shai!"

"Night, babe! Call me Monday night. Love you!"

"I will. Love you, too."

We hang up, and I shake my head, trying to dislodge the mental image of Chente licking between my legs.

Except it's not going anywhere—nor is the ache growing deep inside of me.

I've never felt it well up so powerfully inside of me.

Oftentimes, the fatigue and aches from my sickness overtake me mentally and physically.

And while orgasms are great, they often leave me wrung out, or worse, they can lead to a flare up.

It sucks having to choose between my pleasure and my comfort, but I know so many others with MS who experience a complete lack of sex drive.

For this, I'm thankful. It's one of the things that keeps me feeling alive.

It's easy to recede into the darkness of pain and just stop trying.

But I promised myself I would be passionate about every aspect of my life as long as I could be.

I know that I'm only going to get worse. My symptoms will progress until I can't walk at all or even use my hands.

My vision already isn't the best, and I need to drink it all in now before it's gone.

I was prepared to do this on my own, but now I realize how lonely I've been.

Chente has brought color into my life when my world was all gray.

What scares me is I didn't even know how dull everything had become until him.

The only spark in my life were my books and Shai, but Chente awoke something deep within me.

As if a part of me had been slumbering and now demands to be appeased.

Biting my lip, I recline against the mountain of pillows in my room while spreading my legs.

I think about Chente touching me, kissing me, cherishing me.

A ragged sob of need escapes when I imagine him telling me the things the Nakani whispered to Elodie.

What would it feel like to be Chente's mate—to be loved so completely?

The outside world sees me as broken and imperfect.

But then comes along this amazing Chupacabra who embraces me…for me.

He doesn't care that I'm in a wheelchair. He doesn't view me as a burden.

And that both stings and uplifts me. Stings because no one should be viewed as a burden.

Uplifts me because I need someone like him in my life so desperately.

Shai is the bestest friend a person could ask for, but living in different countries makes it hard.

We talk to one another nearly daily via email or phone, but it's not the same.

I can't hug her, hold her hand, cuddle next to her while we watch a movie.

The complete lack of human touch was wearing on me, and I didn't even know the extent of it.

Chente makes me feel seen—desired. And if I'm being honest with myself, I want this.

So tonight, I chose the consequences of having a flare up because I want to bask in the knowledge that Chente likes me—is attracted to me.

When I come, it's to his face, his voice, his smile.

I pretend that he's there with me as my right leg shakes before going numb.

He's rocking me in his arms, kneading my skin and whispering in my ear.

His touch is tender, his words encouraging against the onslaught of pain.

And as I finally drift to sleep, it's the promise that he'll always be here for me.

Because he loves me.