Page 27 of Deranged
I lay myself between her parted thighs and sighed as I settled at her opening. I wanted to go slow, give her time, but she grabbed my ass, urging me on. “Are you always this impatient during sex?”
“Yes, now fuck me.”
I thrust inside her in one move, her hands guiding me as I entered her. We stayed that way, neither of us moving, staring into each other’s eyes for a flash of a second. Then she arched her hips up, and I dropped my head to her collarbone. She felt so good, her pussy wrapped tight around my cock. She deserved time, care, and multiple orgasms. But I feared I wouldn’t be able to hold out long for all that. Especially when—she arched up again, effectively fucking my cock from below, using her abs to move herself up and down.
“You have a control streak in you,” I murmured into her ear as I dropped my hips down and forced hers into the mattress. “But I’m in control now.”
She groaned. “Well then, get moving please.”
I slowly slid forward, and it was worth the way she threw her head back and bared the soft curve of her neck to me. I pressed my lips there as I moved inside her. She dragged her nails into my shirt and then shoved her hands underneath to scratch at my skin. I’d wear the mark of her desire proudly.
I trailed my lips up her neck, over her chin, and back to her lips. She untangled her hands from my shirt and gripped my cheeks in her small hands. She kissed me back like she needed my lips to breathe. I let her control the kiss while I controlled the slow slide into her body.
Once she released my lips and my face, she sighed loudly. “If you don’t start making some progress here, we are going to get caught before either of us get off.”
I chuckled. “Is this what you want?” I anchored my weight on my elbows and picked up a harder tempo, my pelvis hitting hers with each thrust.
She sank into herself with a satisfied hum. The primal part of my brain wanted to run around the room, beating its chest in victory. I kept going until she latched her nails into my upper arms and started breathing raggedly. “Are you going to come for me?”
She nodded over and over, not saying a word, eyes squeezed tight. “Look at me.”
She pried her eyes open and met mine as I arched up so my cock rubbed right on that little bud, making her squirm. I felt her splinter, her nails dug in hard, and she bit her lip. I monitored it all, staring into her eyes as she broke apart beneath me.
Once her breathing evened out a little, I pushed into her once, twice, until I followed her into my own orgasm. She held the back of my head, forcing me to look into her eyes as I did her. I almost came all over again from the intensity of it, and the sweet aftermath of her body coaxing everything from mine.
I lay my head down onto her chest, and she cradled it with her arms. “Do you want to go again?” she asked.
I moved so I could lay but stare up at her. “Are you kidding me. Give a man a moment.”
She giggled. “Sorry. I’ve just been imaging this for a while, and one time with you isn’t enough to satisfy myself.”
I murmured something, and she shook me. “Nope, you have to go. The nurses will do rounds soon. You can slip out before then.”
I peeled myself off the bed and gathered my things. She stole a quick kiss, and I slipped into the hallway to leave, alone. But some part of me thought I’d only ever have a home in her arms.
Chapter Eleven
Kory
Iwoke slowly, praying as I surfaced, it had all been real. Experience told me Ash in my arms was a dream. All good things are nothing more than pretty dreams. A way to keep myself from tipping over the edge, letting myself go for good.
I drew in a long deep breath, the pillow smelled like him, subtle, clean and soapy, but distinctly masculine. I pressed the pillow over my face like a wierdo.
“Calling it quits, are you? Plan to snuff it with a pillow?” a voice asked.
I removed the pillow from my face and focused on the voice by the door. Styx had been working at this hospital before I’d even been born. And it showed. “No. Just screaming into the fluff so as to not disturb my fellow socialites.”
I sat up and stretched while she sat a tray of food on the desk. I glanced over and noticed a sock underneath it, a black one. Definitely not mine. Styx didn’t seem to notice as she busily arranged my tray and turned back to me. “Let me know if you need anything else. You have a session with the doctor shortly. Eat quick.”
I couldn’t stop the smile which spread across my face at the thought of seeing him again. On this side of things. The side where he believed me, truly believed me. I’d never been more grateful my mother came to see me. If he hadn’t overheard her…I let that thought trail off into obscurity where it belonged.
The scent of the oatmeal dragged me from the edge, thankfully, and I pulled myself off the bed to bring it back. Cinnamon, brown sugar, and butter all wafted up from the bowl. My stomach gave a loud greeting grumble, and I dug into the food. Styx always knew how I liked my oatmeal. The rest of the nurses brought it plain and expected me to know the right ratios of toppings I liked. Which was impossible since I could never know who cooked the oatmeal for the day. Okay, I’ve lived a privileged existence in some cases.
After I ate, I took stock of my sore hips, letting myself remember the way his fingers indented my skin. I wanted his bruises. I wanted his marks. I wanted his claim on me. And mine on him in return.
I plucked the rubber band at my wrist and used it to shove as much of my short hair up into a ponytail as I could. Fly-aways escaped, but I let them as I tidied my bed and grabbed a book off the stack. I needed to shower before I saw Ash. But for now, I needed to feed my soul.
A knock dragged me from the pages of Dickens. Ash stood in my open doorway, staring down at my hunched over form expectantly. Then I remembered we were supposed to do the therapy thing.
