Three days later...
The morning after the San Diego concert, I was back at the hospital with Mary. She was on the mend and we had gotten some fairly good news from the doctor. I'd learned a lot of things since finding her scared and bloody at her home.
Mary's stepfather was a closet drunk. When he was in public, the man was a charmer. Always the center of attention, but the man would come home and drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. The week that she'd found out that a record producer was interested in hearing more of her music, Steve Parnell lost all control.
Mary woke to hands around her neck. Not only did he squeeze her throat, but he would kick her, knee her, scratch her, punch her until she was nothing but a ball of bruised and battered young girl lying on the floor of her room. She'd screamed for help for hours, because he'd locked her in the room and left the house for the day.
By the time a neighbor had heard her and the police arrived, Mary was a broken, bloody shell. The damage to her throat was severe.
The doctor took in all of her testimony and after what felt like hundreds of test, he came back Friday with some news.
"I can tell you that your damage is some of the worst I've seen," he paused. "I've had a team going over your test and the footage from the camera we looked into your throat with. Ms. Montclair, science and medicine has progressed so much in the last five years. I'm pretty sure we can fix most of the damage to your vocal cords."
We both sat forward, and Mary started to cry. I wrapped my arms around her and turned toward the doctor, "Thank you."
"Now, you need to understand that this surgery will not make you one hundred percent over night," he paused to place a hand on the top of Mary's. "You're going to have a long road ahead of you. After the surgery you will need months of therapy. You probably will not gain back your original voice, but it will be less scratchy, and there should be no other episodes."
Mary scooped up her notepad and began writing, "Thank you so much. When can we do the surgery?"
"We are shooting for Saturday morning."
Mary nodded and continued to cry happy tears. The doctor said he'd be back in that evening to check on her before the surgery Saturday.
Saturday night was the last show in the tour and I'd hoped she'd be well enough to attend, but this news was better than anything I could ever give her.
She'd need therapy. We would have to be back in the studio in just over two weeks. I'd planned on asking Mary to come with me to my home and hang with us while we recorded. Why couldn't I do her therapy? I'm a singer. It only took a few minutes of convincing myself that I could do it before I turned to her and said, "I'm going to do your therapy." It wasn't a question.
She stared at me, a little shocked, before scrunching her forehead. Grabbing her pen and paper she scribbled, "You have an album to record."
"And?" I shrugged. "What better therapy than to help me write songs? We can work on vocal exercises together. If you feel like singing scales then that's what we will do. Hell, I can play Mary Had A Little Lamb on my guitar if that's what it takes."
Mary smiled widely and turned the pad toward me, "I'd love that!" Then she scribbled down something else, "The voice therapy...not the song."
"Then it's settled," I laughed. "You know, I'm going to require you to call me Dr. Martin, right?"
She broke out in a silent laugh and grabbed me by the collar. My lips slammed down on hers. Pressing my tongue to her bottom lip, she opened for me. I slipped inside and devoured my angel. Things were looking up. Mary was going to be fine.
Kissing Ash Martin rated right up there with winning the lottery. My lips were swollen from his kisses and even though I was in the hospital bed wearing a hideous gown, my thighs were soaked with my need for him.
Knowing that the nurse wouldn't be back for a while, I pressed my body closer to him, since he was now in the bed with me. My hand slid down his muscular arms, I absently traced his beautiful tattoo and I felt goose bumps raise on his skin in response.
He fisted his hands in my gown and growled, "Are you trying to kill me, angel?"
He returned to my lips and I moved my hand to the hem of his shirt. The tips of my finger traced the dark hair that trailed from his belly button to the waistband of his jeans. When my hands grazed his heavy erection, Ash carefully rolled me over. He pulled back, his breathing heavy, and looked me over. Emerald eyes darkened to tell me that he too was in need of what we were doing.
"You are a little minx. Are you sure you want to continue this? All I have to do is slip this gown up and have my wicked way with you." He mimicked the words with actions. The gown was pushed up to my hips and one calloused finger traced the lips of my sex. I don't know what came over me, other than my horribly impatient hormones.
Grabbing his wrist, I silently begged him to take me. My sex was parted and I felt him press one finger inside. My hips rose off the bed on their own accord. I needed his touch, his control. I slid one hand behind his back and into his pants, cupping his ass. It was soft and rock hard as he clinched them to move closer to me. I could feel the full effect of what I was doing to him and with his hand between my thighs I knew he knew that my desire for him was just as intense.
I wanted to tell him to get inside me, like now. I moaned and the sound almost shattered his ministrations between my legs. "No sounds," he growled into my mouth.
I nodded and reached around to unbutton his jeans. His fly was down and he was hovering over me before I could blink. He thrust inside and kept himself raised on his forearms so that he wouldn't lay on me or my exposed tubes and wires.
Feeling him inside was like being home; he fit me like a glove. I tilted my head back on the pillow and just took the pleasure he gave. We didn't speak. We just made love.
Once the thrusting became punishing, Ash grunted and begged, "Come for me angel."
He didn't have to tell me twice. A million fireworks shot across my vision and I opened my mouth on a silent scream. My sex clinched down on his cock and I felt myself milking him, taking all he could give.
Ash pulled out and adjusted himself back into his pants. He spooned up behind me and my head rested on his bicep. He kissed the top my hair and said, "Sleep Mary, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow." And with that I fell asleep in the arms of a rock star.
.
Coming out of surgery was horrible. I'd open my eyes and then they would fall. I was confused and disorientated. Ash was there every time and for that I was thankful. He was like a worried mother hen those first couple of hours. He'd fuss over me, held my hair if I threw up (apparently anesthesia didn't like me much), and when they brought food he fed me by his own hand. Of course, I got more of the broth on me than in me, but Ash just laughed and cleaned me up. My throat was on fire despite the warmth of the broth. I was tired and the nurse didn't want me to go to sleep just yet, so Ash talked and would shake me when all I wanted to do was just close my eyes....for like two seconds. That's all I needed was two seconds to close my eyes.
We did this for almost an hour when Liana showed up with Gabe, Reed, and Kane. My eyes flew open and I sat up in the bed. They were all here.
"Oh, so you wake up for them, but not me," he teased. I punched him in the side and held my arms out for hugs. Kane was there first and whispered, "Hey beautiful" in my ear. Reed was next and said, "You look good, doll". Gabe was next and he hugged me for a bit longer than necessary, but he had more to say, "Mary, you scared all of us. Liana has been beside herself with worry. I'm so glad you're okay. Ash needs someone like you, so you can't do anything to take that away from him, us. You're our family now."
He pulled back and wiped a stray tear that had fallen down my cheek. Liana was last and she launched her tiny self, up and onto my bed. She kissed my cheek and told me how much she loved me.
"So," Reed began. "When do we get to hear that new voice of yours?" I shrugged because I wasn't sure as to when they'd let me talk again.
As if on cue, Dr. Starlington walked in the door and paused when he took in all of the people in the room. He didn't look the least bit star struck. "I see you have a big fan club, Ms. Montclair." I smiled and nodded. "Well, the surgery went very well. There will be some swelling for the first day or two and I'd like to keep you during that time. If all goes well, we will try your voice out tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping you can go home Monday."
Ash hugged me and I could only smile. The doctor turned to Ash, "Look, I'm too old to be a fan of your music, but my granddaughter is head over heels for your screaming. She'd disown me if I didn't ask for an autograph."
"Doc, you tell your granddaughter to present herself at the back entrance to the arena tonight. She can have backstage passes and I'll have security park her center stage. It would be my pleasure to have her as our guest." I looked up at Ash with wide eyes. "It's the least I can do for what you've done for my girl."
After a round of handshakes, the doctor left us alone. The guys cut up and laughed for about an hour. I was honestly a little bored. When I reached for the remote, Ash grabbed my hand halting me, "Angel, I wouldn't."
I raised my brows in question. Gabe stepped forward blocking my view of the television. "Your kind of first page news," he paused. "The paparazzi have been camped out here at the hospital. Speculation behind your visit is on every news media outlet in the country."
I reached for the pad, "What are they saying?"
"Does it really matter?" Ash asked. I squeezed his hand and shook my head.
After that Ash had to leave for the concert. He'd be back in about four hours. I used that time to get some much needed sleep. I wanted to be healed and out of this place as soon as possible.