Chapter 16 #2
He eases me away just for a second, then lifts me into his arms. My hands slide around his neck, holding on as he carries me up the stairs. But not to my bedroom. He takes me to the right wing.
Thought comes to me, the bedroom is different now. Her things are gone, his too. The space feels empty, like something has been cleared out for good.
He lays me down on the bed on the white cotton sheet. He leans over me; his left hand planted beside my head, while his right hand brushes a strand of hair away from my face.
“Part of me was scared you’d never remember,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “Part of me hated the version of you that didn’t.”
“Do you still hate me?”
“No,” he breathes out, almost like it hurts to say it. “I could never hate you.”
“Show me.” My fingers find the collar of his shirt, twisting into the silk as I pull him closer.
His face hovers just above mine, his fingers tracing the shape of my lips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his jaw tightening as if he’s holding something back.
His hand moves down, then both of mine are guided above my head. He’s holding his grip strong as he lowers his lips to my neck, keeping me in place while everything else fades away.
His other hand unzips my jeans, then slides down, slowly. His fingers press against my clit before dragging lower, finding my wet pussy between my thighs. The tips slip inside me, moving in small circles, his whole hand working in a tight space between my skin and denim.
I arch my back, eyes closing as a loud moan spills from my lips.
“You like that, Kitten?” he asks, pushing his fingers deeper, his palm brushing down from my clit.
I moan again, nodding.
When he stops, my eyes snap open. I look at him as he frees my hands, then grips my hips, dragging my jeans down to my feet before tossing them aside.
“Turn around,” he says.
I shift, turning and lowering myself onto the sheets. I arch my back, lifting myself toward him. He leans over me, pulling down the sheet hanging above the bed.
As it falls, I see a mirror right in front of us.
I glance up, watching him in the reflection as he removes his white shirt, each muscle tightening as he moves closer. Then I see myself. My hair is tangled, mascara smeared from tears, my body exposed in a way that makes me look needy.
He pushes his trousers down, and I see his cock, the same eight inches of length that filled me last night.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hands pull my legs apart. I arch into him as his fingers spread me, exposing everything. He drags the tip of himself against my pussy, teasing, while leaning closer.
His right hand slides up my spine, over my neck, then to my jaw, lifting my face so I have no choice but to watch us in the mirror.
Our eyes meet.
Then he thrusts into me, hard.
My pussy is stretched around him, a sharp pulse of pain mixing with pleasure.
A broken scream tears from my throat.
Every move he makes pulls his muscles tight. His hand stays firm on my neck, controlling every breath, every sound that leaves me, as he thrusts into me like he can’t hold back.
“Oh, God,” I gasp between moans as I feel him hit deeper, the friction driving me higher, faster.
His hips roll in slow circles before he pushes in deep, holding me there for a second, then pulling out only to drive back into me again.
He leans over my back while still inside me, his arm wrapping around my neck as he pulls me upright until we’re both sitting.
“It’s your turn to show me, Kitten,” he whispers against my ear. “Show me how much you want me.”
I swallow, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through me. He pulls out slowly, just enough, just so I can press back against him again.
I lean into him, lowering myself down, taking him fully before lifting again. My back arches as his hand tightens on my neck, keeping me right where he wants me.
He tilts my face toward the mirror. All I see is myself moving on him, desperate. My hair falls in messy strands, my body giving in to every motion.
His free hand grips my hips, guiding me until I fall into his rhythm.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as I take him deeper, lowering myself fully again.
I feel the impact each time I drop back down, my body meeting his, until he suddenly stills me, holding my hips up. He takes over, his pace faster, pulling soft, broken sounds from my throat.
“Touch yourself,” he says, guiding my hand down, pressing it down on my clit, making me follow his command while he pushes deeper, not letting me slow down.
My fingertips move faster, circling as he stretches me, every motion pulling me closer to the edge.
I catch his rhythm, taking over, moving on him without his help as he leans back.
I spread my legs wider, taking him deeper, faster, and I hear him moan behind me, but I can’t open my eyes. The pleasure is too close now.
I feel it building. I feel him losing control too.
Suddenly, he pushes me back onto the bed, lifting my hips. He pulls out, dragging himself along me, leaving a wet trail before changing his mind and thrusting back inside. This time he drops over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his hand finding my clit.
I gasp as his fingers move while my body tightens around him, pulling him in, holding him there as my thighs begin to shake.
He pulls out again and rolls me onto my back. My breath is uneven as he spreads my legs, teasing across my clit. I’m too sensitive now, every nerve is awake, my body jerking with each small movement. Part of me wants to push him away. The other part needs more.
His fingers slide inside me again, his palm pressing down, not letting me escape it.
“Fuck,” I cry out. “Nathaniel.”
He doesn’t stop. My body tightens again, another wave hitting before I can recover from the last. My legs try to close, but he keeps going, pushing me through it until another broken moan leaves me, then another.
“Tell me to stop,” he says.
But I can’t. The words won’t come. My body betrays me, giving in as my thighs tremble harder.
He finally pulls his fingers away, the sudden emptiness making me gasp. Then a sharp spank against my clit follows before he leans over me again. His fingers moving to my lips.
“Suck,” he says.
I obey, tasting him as I close my lips around them, cleaning every trace.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Such a good fucking girl, Kitten.”
He looks at me, his eyes locking with mine.
“Out of everything I hated about you losing your memory,” he says quietly, “my favorite part is this. Getting to give you new ones.”
My breath is still uneven.
“We never got the chance to live our own memories, did we?” I ask.
“No,” he says, his voice low. “But we do now.”