The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8

... apologetically. I shouldn’t have yelled at him; it’s not his fault. Now I feel bad. I crack my eyes open a little at a time letting them adjust to the light before opening them more. Eric stands next to me looking down with a concerned look on his face. “I’m sorry, Eric. Thank you for turning the lights off. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” “Honda Civic, actually.” I groan. Suddenly images flash through my mind. I stepped off the curb, headlights came hurtling at me, a paramedic looking down at me inside an ambulance, Clint brushing his fingers through my hair… or was that part of a dream? I don’t know. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I start to panic. Was Clint here? Does he know what happened to me? Does he even care? “Hey… Hey, Emily, calm down. It’s alright. You’re alright. You’re fine.” Eric fills a cup from a pitcher that’s on a small table close by. He drops a straw into it then brings it over to me and up to my lips. I take a couple of long drinks before nodding slightly at him and he moves the cup away. “Thanks, Eric. I’m alright. It’s all just starting to come back now.” I close my eyes and try to breathe. “It’s not too bad, you know. Well, I mean, I’m sure it’s bad for you but the damage is nothing too major. You’re going to be fine.” I open my eyes and watch his own move up and down my body, making me very aware of a whole new set of pains I didn’t notice before. It feels like every inch of me has something to complain about. I glance down at myself ...

... but the bed sheet covers me from the chest down. I try not to imagine what damage is hidden beneath the sheet and instead fixate on the IVs that pierce my arm. “Hydration and medication,” Eric informs me. I gingerly touch my fingertips to my face. They paint a grotesque picture in my mind of what I look like based on the foreign swells and scratches that they pass over. I encounter plastic and trace its path from behind my ear to my nose. “Oxygen,” Eric explains as he watches me. I nod. My hand falls back down against my side and I close my eyes again as I let the weight of the whole ordeal wash over me. Eric tenderly brushes his fingers through my hair and tucks a loose strand back in place. The touch reminds me so much of my dream with Clint that I feel tears starting to form in the corner of my eyes. I hold them back and try not to think about anything for the moment. “What day is it?” “Thursday,” Eric replies and with drawls his hand. Nearly a week has gone by! Clint has to know what has happened, so why isn’t he here? Well, I guess he still has to work and all that. Maybe he has been coming by in the evenings; maybe I’ll see him tonight. “So… has anyone else been to visit me on my death bed?” A look of anger or… something… passes over Eric’s face at my question. It’s so brief that I can’t be entirely sure it was really even there. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. “Well, let’s see. Your dad, of course. And your step.. ah.. his new wife. Your aunt yesterday but I ...