Chapter 26
Grace
I’m tingling after Nate leaves the bathroom with a final, dark-eyed look over his shoulder. I know he wants to stay and help me through the rest of this… procedure. The man is blasé about bodily functions that would send most people running, but he values hygiene.
I take my time, wondering how Nate always manages to transform my hesitation into agreement.
I think this time it’s a combination of curiosity and precedent.
All these mornings he’s woken me with pleasure alongside subtle, stretching demands.
Part of me thinks I should feel less secure sleeping in his arms when he continually makes deviant advances; the larger part of me is greedy for every bit of affection he gives me, sexual or otherwise.
My grief has been suspended since Eileen confirmed the Coeliac diagnosis.
Losing Nick—and Mother, by extension—is undermined by the fact that both of them were keeping me sick.
Eileen’s evidence shut down the part of me that was grieving.
Healing took precedence, my body and mind demanding a restitution that was inaccessible when Nick was my husband.
My wellbeing is slowly becoming a reality, day by day.
The woman in the bathroom mirror is different from the one who arrived at Horseshoe Manor asleep. The chronic gauntness hasn’t been reversed, but there’s been a gentle gain that makes her cheeks seem less hollow. Unlike the grieving, sickly woman, she knows precisely what to expect from Nate.
I shiver and look away, feeling curious and a little scared. I realise that I trusted Nate enough to leave the door unlocked.
“Grace,” he says from the other side, his voice quite close.
Maybe he’s not as patient as he’s pretending to be.
I open the door and he’s there, eyes moving down my body, assessing. I’m wearing only a camisole and a pair of underwear, but I’m not uncomfortable. He traces the slope of my belly with his fingertips.
“How did it go?” he asks.
“Easier than I thought.”
“You made me wait.” He leans in, his chest crowding me a little. I stand my ground, breathing deeply as my nervousness spikes. “Good.”
“You like waiting?”
“Tease me anytime,” his hands drift up to cup my ribcage, “so long as you bring me what I want afterwards. To that end,” his hands move over my hips, then further back, “is this ready for me, Grace?”
I shrug, unsure now that the hard length of his cock is pressing against my belly. He’s big enough that our first time together hurt; I have little doubt that putting things in the wrong place might hurt even more.
“Will you go slow?”
He pulls me into a hug, warm and strangely comforting. “Until you’re begging me to go faster.”
“And,” I take a moment to breathe in his arms, “what if I change my mind?”
“Then we go to sleep.” He pulls back enough to look into my eyes. “I won’t ever use force during anal sex, Grace. Not until you’re a pro and even then, we’d need to talk things over very clearly beforehand and use a safeword.”
I shake my head, looking away. “That’s not what I was asking for, Nate, I was just—”
He kisses me quiet, his hands cupping my cheeks—then he pulls back before I’m ready.
“It’s exactly what you were asking, but you need to understand that higher risk means clearer consent.
So there won’t be any pretending tonight, Grace, even though we both know how much you love it.
If I’m hurting you, you need to tell me right away and I’ll stop.
If you’re afraid or unsure, you will tell me. Got it?”
I shiver at his commanding tone. Then what he says registers properly.
“What if I want to pretend?”
“No pretending. ” He leans in, nuzzling my neck, his breath on my skin. “Let me make love to you tonight, Grace. To celebrate the start you’ve made.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “When did sex that one has to prep for become celebratory love making, Nate?”
We’re next to the bed, which is turned down, several brolly sheets and pillows ready.
“Every single thing I do to you in this room is about love. Especially the truly filthy things.”
He lays me down, eyes on mine as he crawls over my body to kiss me.
It’s a lot, having him maintain eye contact while his tongue slides along the seam of my lips, but I try to hold it, wanting to watch his expression.
It’s still the same cold, possessive look as always, devoid of the warmth from when we had sex in his office.
That man is inaccessible, though he claims to be right here.
My eyes close when he grinds his hardening cock against my underwear.
I break free of the kiss to catch my breath and he moves his lips close to my ear.
“I could slip inside you right now.” His voice pours into my mind, liquid and heated. “I could skip what you prepared for and just take what you want me to have the most. You know how good it’ll feel, don’t you? Me filling you up exactly the way I should.”
Another grinding thrust. I shake my head.
“No?” he asks, his weight going to one elbow as he skims a hand up the length of my thigh and into my soaked underwear. “This girl’s going to be denied, Grace. Do you know what that means?”
I gasp as his fingers skim over my clit—once, then again. “Don’t stop!”
“Oh, but I have to. I can’t risk tempting her with anything further, can I? Not when she’s wet and whoring for it.”
I jolt at the terrible word, even as fabric tears. My arousal meets his fingers with a sound that’s vulgar beyond anything I’ve ever heard.
“This pussy," he continues, "would take me like a bitch in heat. She’d gobble me up and ask me for more. But she—” he leans in again, licking a slow path up my neck, “can’t have me.”
When his fingers drift away, I try to follow, straining my hips after him.
He smirks. “Down girl.”
I make a noise that should fill me with shame—a hiss of protest not unlike something a kitten might make. But I don’t care. I’m worked up beyond anything. I need more. I lean up for a kiss but he evades me.
“Nate, please…”
“There’s only one place I’m going to touch you now.”
My stomach twists. I almost forgot what I’ve prepped for, why I’m so squeaky clean. I glare up at him.
“Was this your plan all along? Prepare me for one thing then tempt me into another?”
He chuckles, retracing the line along my neck with his teeth.
I take it as affirmation. Everything Nate does is to his own advantage, usually across multiple dimensions.
Sexually, he’s persuading me to shelve my taboos and beg him to defile me, even as he subverts his own preparations and offers to take me in a less problematic way.
The latter would end in me being even more attached to him, and possibly pregnant. So I pull away, meeting Nate’s eyes.
“Stop distracting me,” I say, trying to sound confident. “It’s not fair, you know.”
He works his way down my body, peeling my camisole off and getting rid of my underwear. “I just want you to know all your options, Grace.”
“You’re trying to make me ask for what you want anyway, and I’m—”
My words end in a moan of pleasure as he takes my nipple into his mouth. His skimming fingers go further back, probing me with my own wetness. I squirm as his finger presses in. It’s harder to accept than other times, when his mouth was on my clit. Nate pauses, gauging my reaction.
“How does that feel?”
“So-so,” I admit.
He withdraws with a low chuckle. “Good thing I’ve got other things to play with, huh?”
At his guidance, I lift my hips so he can slide a pillow under me.
“Go slow, okay? It feels really… weird back there now.”
“We’ll fix that.” A plastic creak, and I feel him add lube. “Remember what to do, love?”
I nod, bearing down gently as slips his fingers inside.
“Don’t tense up now,” Nate cautions even as he pushes further into me.
Feeling how the muscles in my stomach move in counterpoint, I put my hand there, soothing myself.
“That’s right. You’re my perfect girl and you know exactly how to take this.
” Deftly, he replaces his fingers with a toy, something smooth and cool. “So fucking perfect.”
Without thinking, I reach down, needing to touch my clit.
“Ah, ah,” Nate catches my hand, “too much too fast, and we’ll overstimulate you before we've had our fun.” He sends me a wink. “I promised you my cock, after all.”
The intensity recedes, and I start worrying about what it looks like down there.
“This feels messy, Nate.”
“Not messy at all, love.” His voice turns joking. “White-glove clean, I promise.”
He shows me what he’s about to insert, a plug that’s bigger than his two fingers.
“Still with me, Grace?”
I nod, a little worried, but it goes in easily enough. His widening smile is the one that makes him look like a wolf about to devour its prey. I raise my legs up higher, trying to keep the relaxation we’ve worked so hard on. I feel full and strange, my entire back passage over-sensitised.
“Please, Nate—” My voice is higher than usual as I try to keep control of myself.
“Mouth open, love. As above, so below.”
I obey, opening my mouth wide. My whole body feels like a ring, tied-off and twisting tighter.
Nate’s hypnotic voice keeps me from panicking. “What do you need, pretty girl?”
“I feel so full and—” My voice cracks.
Without another word, Nate lays the heel of his free hand on my clit with steady, even pressure.
I break, tension striking like lightning through the centre of my being.
It’s nothing like a normal orgasm, and I can’t tell if I’m crying or moaning or some strange combination of both.
I can’t control the urge to scramble away, to close back up, curl in on myself until the sensations die down.
Nate uses pressure to keep me in place, the plug grounding rather than scaring me now.
“Breathe, Grace,” he reminds me.
“C-can’t,” I stutter, trying and failing to calm down.
But I know I can. He’s taught me how, and the only thing I want is to answer the most intense demand Nate has placed on me so far.
Because I know what comes next. And, fucked up as it is, I want it.
So I breathe through the intensity, forcing each breath down, deep into my body.
Soon enough, the feeling bottoms out, the tension loosening with it.
I’m panting a little, but it’s with relief.
Nate strokes me from shoulder to hip, murmuring quiet assurances for a few minutes while I let myself relax into his touch.
“What next?” I ask tentatively.
I already know. Both of us do.
Nate’s pupils are dilated wide enough that I can’t see the grey, and part of me knows I should be afraid to give myself over so completely to this man.
“Next, you wrap your arms around your thighs, love.”
I feel the stretch in my lower back when I comply, locking my arms around my own legs, folding myself almost in half. He shifts the bedding to support my position. I moan in anticipation, realising how vulnerable I am, stretched wide and ready, my ankles almost at my ears.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, looming over me.
I give an abbreviated cry when he takes the plug out, leaving me empty, almost desperate.
More lube, and I shudder as he works it in with his fingers.
Then he stares into my eyes, pressing his cock into place.
I tense, unable to stop myself, trying to breathe through the fear, the tension, the stretch.
His cock is more blunt than the plug, but there’s also more give.
“Yes,” I whisper, “yes, yes, please…”
“Fuck…” I feel him shaking. “You are making it very hard for me to go slow, begging like that.”
I make crying noises as my mind blanks, my arms locked around my thighs, my entire body straining to take everything Nate is giving me.
“Are you hurting, pretty girl?”
“No.” This is beyond something as simple as pain.
He leans forward, pressing himself inexorably to the hilt, and I feel his hips meet mine.
“Is that…” I swallow, trembling all over, “is that the whole thing?”
“Yes. You have me, Grace.”
I breathe slowly, trying to remind myself that sensation and pain are not the same thing. Slowly, I feel myself adapt to the fullness, and I’m finally able to check in with Nate. He’s staring into my eyes, his jaw tense, his eyes ablaze. At my nod, he starts fucking me.