Page 20 of Blossoming Dahlia

I groaned, my hand dropping to my dick, which was painfully hard and straining against the fabric of my sweatpants. I double-checked that both bedroom doors were closed, and tugged my pants down just enough so that it could spring free, and I gripped it tightly, trying to ease the pressure that was building. I thought about how her skirt had gathered up high on her hips as she had straddled me on my office chair, leaving only a couple thin layers of fabric between us. It had taken every ounce of my self-control to not react to her, even when her hips had clenched against my thighs to hold herself steady. I stroked myself, biting my lip to stay quiet, imagining what it would be like to let her use me anyway she wanted, anything to make her happy.

Tonight, after she had punched me for startling her, I could see that her nipples were hard underneath her thin tank top. My hips bucked as my grip tightened, my strokes becoming faster as I imagined teasing those nipples, wondering what noises she would make if I took one into my mouth. I wanted to worship her with my tongue, make her feel satiated and safe and desired, just like she deserved. My hips stuttered, and I clenched my jaw as I came, shooting hot spurts over my hand and my stomach. Breathing hard, I laid still on the couch for a moment, shame rolling through my stomach. I finally forced myself to get up and wandered over to the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels to clean myself up.

Cleaned up but still feeling dirty, I walked over to the couch, settling back down to sleep. My eyes finally drifted close as I let my exhaustion overpower the thoughts swarming around my brain.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.

I jolted awake violently, nearly falling off the couch in my panic. My brain was fighting off the last dregs of sleep as I tried to get my bearings and figure out what woke me. Hunter’s door flew open as he ran out, his gun drawn and looking just as confused as I was. His eyes met mine but there was no surprise in them, so he must’ve seen my text. Another scream pierced the air, and I jerked my head over to Dahlia’s room. That was what must’ve woken me up. Hunter raised his gun, advancing on the door, as Dahlia screamed again, but this time it almost sounded like my name.

“Hold on,” I told Hunter, lunging for the door before he could reach it first. “She has pretty bad nightmares, just hang back a bit okay?” I warned him, and he lowered his gun a little, nodding at me. I opened her door, and sure enough, she was alone, thrashing violently in bed, her hands clawing at her throat.

“Dahlia, wake up, it’s just a dream,” I called out, approaching slowly. She’d scratched her neck already, half-ripping off the bandage protecting the damage from the taser collar. Fuck, she was going to hurt herself if she continued on this way. “Dahlia, stop! You’re okay, you’re safe,” I insisted, and moved closer, grabbing her hand before she could do any more damage. Her eyes flew open, unseeing and terrified, and I braced myself as she lunged at me, her free hand wrapping around my throat as we both toppled backward onto the floor. I landed hard on myback, and Dahlia crashed against my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. Her hand tightened on my throat, and I let go of her other hand quickly, dropping my arm to my side and letting her feel that she won the fight. I could see the moment when she woke up fully, her hand relaxing its grip enough so I could suck in a breath.

“Oh, Ash,” she breathed, her brows creasing with a frown. Her eyes shot up to Hunter, who was standing slack-jawed in the doorway, gun at his side, and I felt her tense on top of me, her thighs gripping my waist in a way that forced me to try and do long division in my head. Her hand still hadn’t left my throat, her fingers tensing against my pulse point.

“Jesus Christ, remind me to never volunteer for wake up duty,” Hunter muttered, and Dahlia blushed, finally letting go of my neck and standing up shakily.

“I told you, just use a glass of water next time,” Dahlia rasped, her throat strained from screaming. I pushed myself up and glared at Hunter, who was clearly making her feel uncomfortable.

“And I told you that I wasn’t going to just throw water on you,” I replied evenly. I checked the time, and it was early, but not unreasonably so, so more sleep was out of the question, for me at least. “Want some coffee?” I asked, and she rubbed her arms and nodded, following me silently as I walked back out into the kitchen.

I busied myself with the little coffee maker as she sat down at the table, and I heard Hunter wander off. He returned as I’d gotten the coffee brewing, his gun stored safely back in its holster. I looked over where Dahlia was sitting at the table, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes staring unseeing at the fridge in front of her. I went over to my duffle bag which was sitting underneath the conference table and pulled out my hoodie that I’d gotten from the FBI academy. It was big, even for me, butit would do for now. I brought it over to Dahlia and helped her pull it on, then I went and filled a mug full of coffee and set it down in front of her, grabbing another for myself before I sat down. Hunter joined us, but I knew better than to offer him any. “Tell me about it,” I prompted her softly, and her hands clenched against the mug. She looked so damn small right now, especially when she was enveloped in the oversized hoodie, and it made me angry to see her this way.

Hunter was unnaturally quiet, observing us both, his mouth set in a grim line. His hair, normally neat and styled, was rumpled and sticking up from sleep, his jaw covered in black and white stubble. He always reminded me of my eccentric Uncle Tom when he looked like this, it made him softer somehow.

“He... had me again,” Dahlia murmured, staring directly into her mug. “I was awake but couldn’t move. I could feel him… touching me.” Her knuckles were white as she gripped her coffee, and I resisted the urge to reach out and soothe her. “You... came and found me. But he was still there, and you didn’t see him,” she explained hoarsely, her gaze shifting abruptly to meet mine. “I tried to warn you, but I couldn’t make a sound because of the collar. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she started to shake, coffee spilling over the rim of her mug. Hunter jumped up to grab some paper towels as I quickly took the mug from her hands so she didn’t burn herself. “I watched him stab you, over and over, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. There was blood everywhere, it just wouldn’t stop.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and I rose immediately, shifting to kneel down beside her.

“Hey, it was just a dream, okay? I’m here, I’m right here.” I took her hand and put it over my heart. “See? All my blood is still right where it’s supposed to be, pumping through my heart.” Dahlia took a shuddered breath, her hand staying pressed against my chest. She used the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe awaythe tears coating her face, and I waited until she took another, steadier breath before I released her hand. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? It’s my job to worry about you, and it’s Hunter’s job to worry about me. He wouldn’t let anyone stab me, right?” I looked up at him, and he forced a laugh, shaking his head.

“No, I couldn’t suffer the paperwork if I did,” he replied casually, but I could hear it was strained. I didn’t want him reading more into this then he needed to. At least, it had seemed to help reassure Dahlia somewhat, and I handed her back her coffee once her hands stopped shaking as hard. I rose and sat down in my chair, taking a sip from my own abandoned mug. It was quiet for a little while, until Hunter’s phone began to ring. He jogged back to his room to retrieve it, and I half listened to the muffled conversation as I drank my coffee. I was surprised when I heard him raise his voice, and we both turned when he began shouting.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Dahlia murmured, setting down her mug. I agreed with her on that front. Hunter stormed back into the room, looking furious.

“Some idiot leaked your location to the press. We’ve got reporters converging on the hotel as we speak.”

I swore under my breath, grabbing my duffel bag and hunting for a clean shirt. I borrowed Hunter’s bathroom and changed quickly, shoving the rest of my clothes in the bag. Once I came back out, Hunter headed in to do the same. Dahlia was standing in the kitchen, looking unsure of what to do.

“We need to get your things packed up and get out of here right away,” I told her, hating how she paled at the thought. “Come on, you get dressed and I can help you gather up your things.”

She led the way to her room, heading straight for the bag Amanda had brought for her. She rooted through it quickly, grabbing a few things before moving to the bathroom. I huntedaround the room, gathering up every article of clothing I could find and shoving it haphazardly in the bag. We could sort out the laundry situation later. I checked the drawers and under the bed to make sure nothing was getting forgotten, and I just finished my sweep as Dahlia came back out, holding her pajamas in her arms. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and I assumed a shirt, but she was still wearing my giant hoodie overtop. I held out the bag for her clothes and zipped it up once she dumped them inside.

“Where will we go now?” she asked, following me back outside. That was a good question, we didn’t have a back-up site right now, this wasn’t a problem we’d ever run into before. That fucking asshole of a mayor had made her into a bit of a celebrity, working the media up into a veritable frenzy. I looked at Hunter, who looked just as clueless as I was.

“My place is close by. Let’s go there for now, we’ll figure out the rest later,” I suggested, and Hunter nodded.

“I’ll go and distract them, you and Dahlia go out the back and take your car,” Hunter instructed. I shrugged our bags over my shoulder, keeping one arm free just in case, and gestured for Dahlia to follow me. She tugged her hood over her head, obscuring her profile, which was smart. Hunter headed toward the main elevators while we went in the opposite direction to the stairwell. I checked quickly before we ducked inside and went down until we reached the parking garage. Scanning the garage, I didn’t see too much movement, which was fortunate. I led Dahlia to my car and helped her inside before stowing the bags in the trunk, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.

We managed to exit the garage without any incidents, but I wasn’t sure how we got that lucky. As we pulled out, I could see the absolute circus out front, media vans covering the length of the street, with reporters camping out on the front steps. Iturned us away from the fray, driving in the opposite direction toward my building.

Dahlia was quiet as she stared out the window, and I wondered what was going through her head. It wasn’t even the afternoon yet, and she’d already had one hell of a day. Pulling up to the old apartment building I lived in, I realized that I was in no way prepared to have guests. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had someone over. Apprehension brewed in my stomach as I parked and grabbed our bags, ushering Dahlia inside.

“I, um… I’m sorry about the mess,” I warned her, fumbling to get my keys out. “I don’t usually have company, and I haven’t been home much in the last couple of weeks.” I dropped our bags inside the door and flicked on the light, watching her face anxiously. Her eyes widened, taking in the rather chaotic state of things.

Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked to overflowing, and every available surface had more books stacked on top of it. I had left one wall with some free space, and that one was covered in several peg boards where I could hang up my notes for cases or my personal research. It was an open space studio, so my bed was visible in the far corner, with my dresser and my clothes hamper sitting nearby. My kitchen table was buried under more papers and books since I normally would eat my meals at the coffee table in front of the TV. Dahlia drifted over to the nearest stack of books, crouching down to read the spines. I hovered awkwardly, feeling out of place in my own apartment. I could see the dust had gathered in my absence, and god, the state of my fridge must’ve been horrible.

“The Art of Slight of Hand?” Dahlia asked, pulling a book closer to the top. “Do you like magic?” I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Sort of, I like card tricks,” I told her with a smile. She put it back carefully and stood up, walking over to the nearest bookshelf, continuing to browse through my collection.

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