CHAPTER 20 – Hold Me Tight

[M Content] I loved writing this one - Alan, the protector.

Enjoy! I'll update again next week.

Isabelle's face drops heavily, pale like flour laying eyes on my swollen battered self at her apartment door. I run away with myself explaining, until somewhere I realise time is precious and I come to a halt, begging her to drive me to Alan's. She is insistent that I head straight to hospital, but I refuse.

The thirty minutes it takes to drive from Isabelle's to Alan's is spent spewing my hatred toward Scott, howling in anger for the loss of my playscript, my phone – my property – my life. I can not go back there now. It's only when we approach Alan's road that I attempt to consciously breathe and calm myself. As we pull up to his house, my eyes draw immediately to the warm glow emitting from the gap in the curtains. It greets me like a beacon of hope. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. This is it.

"What if he hates me, what if he doesn't wa-"

"Rebecca, he's not going to, but if you want me to wait, I'll wait."

Lugging my bag from the foot well, I open the car door. My foot hits the concrete with uncertainty. One step seems to form in front the other approaching his door, though I do not feel it for the take over of nausea and apprehension. My trembling hand presses the bell and I wait in darkness, wrapping Isabelle's jacket round my shaking body, turning back just to see if she's still there. My eyes waver to the ground, victim to the porch light that is no doubt casting an awful spotlight upon my battered face of blue and purple bruising. My stomach hits the ground like a tonne weight the moment the hall light switches on, then he opens the door.

"Alan..." I sob instantly.

His neutral expression turns to horror in a split second and I'm pulled into his arms, tears falling in abundance. My heart pounds mightily against his warm chest, his comforting arms spanning my back, coiling tighter. Nothing mattered more to me than his acceptance and to receive it had me choking on my tears.

"Shh-sh it's ok," he comforts me, "Inside."

I enter before him as he gestures to Isabelle, who I see standing outside, her car door open, looking emotional herself.

And then, behind his closed door, we are alone.

Alan leads me through to the living room and stands before me, placing his thumb and fore finger to my chin, gently turning my face in examination.

"What the hell has he done to you? Come on, we need to get you to a hospital."

Three large steps and his car keys are jangling in his hand.

"No. No, I can't," my voice shakes. "I promise, I'm fine, just maybe some ice…I don't want to go back out there and I think…I think he may know what kind of car you drive."

Alan takes the hand that pushes through my hair and leads me to the kitchen where he places me upon a bar stool, opens the freezer and takes out a bag of something.

"How's the pain? Have you taken anything?"

"Not since this morning. It's..."

"Above your eye ok," he pre-warns and cradling the back of my head in his hand, he gently places the bag to my brow.

"Ahh. Still sore." Wincing, my eyes press close at the unpleasant bolt of pain around my socket and temple, but terribly thankful of Alan's aid nonetheless.

"You should really see a doctor. I think this is beyond a bag of peas. When did it happen?"

"Yesterday night. I just…I…" my face contorts threatening to spill tears. "I don't even know where to begin."

Alan's hand rubs the back of my neck. "Take your time."

"I didn't send that text."

"…and I didn't reply to it."

The eye that isn't covered looks up to him. Alan told me the text didn't sound at all like me and that he sensed something was off.

"I've been the worst person." A tear runs down my cheek. However do I begin?

"Judging by your injuries I have a hard time believing that."

"Those are just the ones on my face," I mutter.

The frown between Alan's brow deepens in inquiry. He removes the cold bag and slowly my jacket. Just to twist and remove my arms from the sleeves hurts like hell. In ways, it hurts even more so the day after the infliction. He takes one look at the bruising on my collar-bone and arms and questions why I didn't call the police. He said nothing when I told him Scott had destroyed my phone, but I could sense all the time he was thinking, analysing.

"Darling let me get you to a doctor."

"No. Alan please, I'm not going to hospital..."

Alan takes his phone from the counter top. "Then I'll phone for an on-call doctor. Look at your bloody collarbone. I can't ignore that. Could be a small fracture."

The doctor is due at 10:30pm, in the meantime, Alan runs me a bath.

With my aching limbs soothed in a full tub of scented bubbles, I break down in silent tears, smoothing my wet hands to my face and back through my hair. I feel undeserving of such kindness. Laying there with my eyes closed, I thank the heavens Alan didn't fall for Scott's text. Though I hadn't told Alan the extent of everything - barely anything - his calm, collected demeanour seems to help uncoil the tightness I feel in the pit of my stomach and prepare myself to explain the messy situation.

There is a gentle tap on the door that makes me open my eyes.

"Rebecca, are you ok? Can I come in?"

"Uh-huh."

"How are you feeling?" Alan asks, bringing in a bathrobe and one of his shirts. "I don't know what you have with you, but here…" he hangs them on the towel rack.

"Thank you. I'm feeling a little better."

So much better.

Now is not the time to be smitten over his good looks, but I cannot help it as he crouches to my side coming face to face with me to take another look at my bruising. I realise at that moment we hadn't kissed since I arrived. I'm hardly tempting with my puffy cut lip, but his mouth is terribly distracting. It wouldn't be fair to kiss him when I hadn't yet explained this whole mess.

"Alan, I…"

"Finish up, then we can talk. Take your time."

The corner of his mouth forms into a small pressed smile. I'm unsure if it's sympathy or a way to conceal disappointment as if he knows what I plan to say.

Though the bath had helped, my stomach never settled knowing what would follow. The living room is quiet when I return. Now approaching New Year, the Christmas tree glitters in the far corner. If it wasn't for the circumstances, it would have made for a romantic setting. Alan, who is reading, places the book on the arm of the sofa and pats the space next to him.

"Come on then, out with it," he says, less harsher than it sounds, as he pulls me close under his arm, but I pull back wanting to look him in the eye, and after Alan helps me over the first hurdle, everything comes out. Emotions overflow along with my tears. He had suspected. His brow furrows with concern.

"Why didn't you tell me? There'd have been none of this."

"I wanted to. I had every intention, but I was frightened…scared I'd loose you, especially after that drama I caused at that house party. That was bad enough. I was so glad to have you back, and then…well it was Christmas and then what with us being in Barcelona…I just couldn't. There was never a right time. I thought I would be able to handle it on my own. I was wrong and I feel so…so…" a thousand curse words could fill the blank, but my tears return. "You must hate me. I feel awful, and I had the audacity to get mad that another woman was all over you at that party. I've been cheating this whole time."

Alan's silence makes me nervous, but I know him well enough to know that he is a man who listens, carefully constructing his response before it leaves his lips.

"I don't hate you, not at all, don't be daft. I only wish you'd have had the confidence to come out with it, then you wouldn't be sat here like this with a doctor on the way. How ever did you get away?"

Sniffing back my tears, I'm unable to look at him, shaking my head, ashamed.

"I gave him an overdose of my sleeping pills. Crushed them up into food."

Oh God. My hand presses to my forehead whilst sobbing profusely. I was desperate and fearful Scott would beat me to a pulp if I stayed there for much longer. Alan never judged, just sat there listening intently. He could have freaked out, asked me to leave, labelled me a cheat or worse, but he did none of those things; quite the opposite and pulled me into his arms.

"You were going through all of that when you could have told me. Darling, I would have been here for you."

"I wish I had of done, believe me. I'm so sorry, Alan; you don't know how much I regret not telling you. I lied, I was weak"

"Anything but."

"How can you be so good to me after I…"

"Because you're not to blame. I know what these types of people are capable of." He avoided the title 'men.' "They get into your head, claim they do everything out of love. Their only love is the love of control. He needs fucking locking up. What is he trying to compensate for?"

"I don't know. I thought it was his job at first, but he just recently got promoted. He's always strived so hard to achieve. He had a rocky childhood, his father pressured him and beat him down and I guess he just…"

"History repeating itself…" Alan concludes.

"It seems so. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out. I didn't know what else to do. He locked me inside, took my key to work, destroyed my phone, my laptop…" my voice cracks, "my play script. It's completely gone. All of it. Everything I've been working on."

"Ohh darling…" his embrace tightens, but bounces back when I wince at the pressure on my collarbone. "ooh I'm sorry, did that hurt? The doctor should be here in about…" he checks his watch, "twenty minutes. I know you don't want to talk about this, but for the sake of a correct diagnosis, you're going to have to tell him how it happened."

I nod slowly. Besides the doctor, I express my need to keep this solely between us.

"Darling, you should talk to the police. There are people that can help you. You have rights."

"No. I just…leave it. I don't want to think about it."

Alan sits forward, adamantly firm.

"But this is bloody long term domestic abuse. Look at you; you can't let him get away with that and allow him to silence you."

"I don't want help, I don't want to talk to anyone. That's my choice. I just want this behind me. Besides, whoever I speak to will inquire how I ended up like this…I'll have to tell them the whole story, which will bring you into it and I won't have it. I don't want you involved. You didn't ask for this. None of it. It's my fault. I lied. I lied to you and now…"

"Darling, none of this is your fault. The police have a duty to respect confidentiality, name or no name. If you have to mention me, then so be it."

"No. I don't want to speak to anyone."

I can only hope and pray that Scott doesn't know where Alan lives. The thought turns my blood cold. I never thought that Scott would be capable of arranging someone to stalk my whereabouts. Who knows what else he was capable of.

"He has pictures, he knows who you are."

"So do a lot of people," Alan answers dryly.

"You're not scared?"

"Scared of someone who gets others to do their dirty work? Am I bollocks."

The sound of my sniffling tears fills the silence between us.

"What if there's someone watching us? I can't believe he would do what he did and hire someone to follow us. The pictures – right there outside Segrada Familia. I fucking knew that guy was up to something." My anxiety is through the roof. "Alan I'm so sorry, I never meant for any of this. You mean so much to me. When he text you saying it was over I was so scared that you would ju-"

"Rebecca…" he interjects. "I'm not going anywhere."

He squeezes my hand, equally mine tightens and I close my eyes, taking a moment to breath, thankful beyond measure that this man is still by my side; more so when he presses a single kiss to my forehead. I gaze at him, long and heart-felt. Maybe it's the way he's running his thumb along my cheek looking over my markings, the manner in which he gazes at my lips – of concern, sadness, quite the contrast to the way I'm looking at his, wanting to kiss him.

My thoughts run away, interrupted only when the doorbell rings. The doctor.

Alan stands with his arms folded across his chest, whilst the doctor takes a look at me. He confirms after a rather painful examination that the sensation in my collarbone was not due to a minor fracture, but extremely bruised and therefore naturally would appear swollen and tender. After administering some strong pain medication and giving advice on caring for my injuries, he was on his way.

After everything, to climb into bed next to Alan fills me with immense warmth. He switches the lamp off by his side and pulls me close but gently to his chest. Cocooned in his arms feels like home, warm, safe, his scent both familiar and intoxicating.

I can no longer resist, avoiding the part of my bruised lip, I softly kiss the corner of his mouth.

"You are an amazing (kiss) kind (kiss) wonderful man (kiss) and I'm so grateful."

Under the covers our hands roam affectionately.

"How's your head?" he asks.

"Dosed up. I'm ok."

Alan's hand rests at my thigh, his thumb coaxing inward, not meant sexually, but I find it difficult to deter my thoughts as the soft stroke becomes every part sexual.

"Get some sleep darling. Try and empty your thoughts, relax."

All is quiet in the dark room but our voices that fill the space between our lips.

"Will you help me relax?" I whisper. "Make me feel good…"

"Are you sure?"

After the night I'd had, so sure.

I simply nod before Alan's kisses meet my cheek, my ear. He slips off my little black knickers and I undo the buttons of his shirt I'm wearing.

"You don't have to take your clothes off."

But I want to, to be near him, to feel him against me, arms and legs, wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Just to feel his hand slip into the loose shirt and cup my breast feels heavenly, the slow but deep rub of my pink nipple under his thumb, sublime. My eyes close with Alan's kisses lightly peppering my face, my cheeks, nuzzling at my ear.

"Tell me what you want darling. I don't want to overstep."

"Just…make love to me," I whisper, softly brushing his face.

Love. It's the first time I've ever used the word, only realizing what I said after I said it. Burying myself into the snug part of his chest, this wonderful man pleases me beyond measure, tongue trailing my breast, kisses so passionate, sucking on my nipple. Perhaps all pleasure is heightened due to the night I had, perhaps it's the sweet relief of a gentle touch, the arms of a man who cares, but when he raises my thigh over his hip and fills me deeply, tears fill my eyes.

I bury myself into the snug part of Alan's chest, disguising my tears, inhaling the patchouli and sandlewood scent lingering there. There was something so potent about it, masculine, sexy, and that's exactly what he was – all man. From the day I met him, he has been nothing short of wonderful, and my silent tears continue. Nuzzling his chest, his neck, my eyes fall close focussing on the slow, steady pump of his perfect length. His gentle intention ignites me with love, the way he smooths back my hair with the arm I'm resting against, cuddled into him, the way his lips graze against my face, it's as though we have both ignited something within each other. There is something about our sex, the vast spread of our arms and the closeness of our bodies that relishes our moment, relieved to be in each other's arms.

Broken though I am, there is something in the way Alan makes love to me that breaks down barriers, heals wounds, his voice soothing my anxiety. My arms and legs wrap around him, now on my back, lost in the hypnosis of his sex, his glorious slick cock filling my walls in long motions so I can feel every delicious inch. My hips tilt to accommodate the base of him, feeling the rounded head of his cock pang against the deepest part of my wet passage. My mouth falls releasing a stream of continuous moans into his bedroom.

He is perfect, sending a travelling sensation throughout my body, rippling in hot pulses. I feel myself about to come.

"Ughhh-Alan-staydeep-please-please…there…" my toes curl pointing into his back, grabbing his wrists by my side.

I can feel his cock swelling with each thrust, his breathing growing more laboured on all fours above me, watching my breasts bounce in his open shirt.

He reaches down and aptly rubs my clit causing a convulsion of muscles around his cock, preparing to milk him.

"Darling…ughh…!" he rubs ardently faster and in seconds my body is sent into a tense shake of built up pressure. Heat fills my lower belly until my sped up breathing resorts to continuous gasps of joyous release.

Alan exhales, a look of pure exhilaration when I come hotly around him. I will never get over how this wonderful selfless man insists on putting my pleasure before his own, or maybe it's just me coming stupidly quickly over the kind of cock every girl dreams of.

Somewhere in my twisted fantasies I imagine Scott can see us, watching his girl "getting her cunt filled," as he so put it, by a real man. Fuck him. The thought only makes me pull Alan tighter, deeper, more of him, my inner muscles pulsing his slick shaft. Though I've already come, watching and listening to him moan makes me whine helplessly, grinding my hips to his cock, panting.

"Alan, fill me…!"

"Ugghhh-Rebecca-I'm…I'm…c-" Alan's eyes eyes roll close, "Uggghhh…UH!"

Listening to him come makes my orgasm ride out for longer.

I drink him in like sweet elixir, then, ever the gentleman, Alan places a single kiss to my forehead. He's hovered above me this whole time, not wanting to put any weight on my bruises. This magnificent man. I hold his face in my hands.

"Alan…"

His eyes are still closed enraptured in his come down, controlling his breathing.

"I…"

(love you)

"…You're the most wonderful man I've ever met."

"You're not too bad yourself, darling," he smirks.

To be falling asleep in the warmth of this man's protective arms, snug against his chest after all I'd endured the days previous is utterly indescribable.