Page 51 of Secret Obsession
The room spins.
He pinches my nipple harder, eliciting my squeak of shock. His fingers slip out of my mouth and return to my throat. “Make those sweet noises for me. You sound so fucking perfect when you’re helpless like this. Just the way I want you.”
I shudder.
“That’s it, wild one, give in to me.” He rolls his hips and drives deeper.
Still so fucking slow. Drawing out every sensation.
Something breaks inside me.
Maybe it’s been cracking every day since Knox ended things, but this is just a sledgehammer to my defenses. My muscles relax, and I fall into his hold. It’s not just my body that’s falling—my mind is, too. Spiraling. I don’t know where I’m going to land.
Knox played me like a fucking fiddle and laughed when I fell for him.
Now I’m falling again, but it’s not into love. Or even lust. It’s just misery.
He’s picking up speed. I’m barely aware of it. The thumping noise of the bed hitting the wall echoes in my ears.
And then everything stops. He stills inside me.
His weight drops on top of me, and his hand slips from my breast, instead wrapping under both and cinching me to him.
“Get off,” I whisper. My voice cracks.
Maybe I’ve been in misery for a while, because when I reach for the feeling, it’s as familiar as breathing.
“No.”
He rolls onto his side, taking me with him. I don’t know how he stays inside me, his hips glued to my ass, but he manages to put us in a freaking spooning position. He shifts, adjusting. Maneuvering to get more comfortable. But every move is a stroke of his cock. He doesn’t even soften all the way—not that he seems to mind.
I wipe my face the best I can. My tears have dried up, and my heart beats uncomfortably loud in my ears. He didn’t just do this for the hell of it—he’s clearly not done. It wasn’t enough for me to say no and mean it.
He wants something else.
But I already gave in. I don’t know what else there is. He brings my pillow down so my head is resting on it. Although comfort is the least of my concern right now. He’s still wreaking havoc on me, just in a different way. My chest is too tight—all of this is uncomfortable.
How much longer until he leaves?
The longer we lie in silence, the more nervous I get.
“You didn’t wear a condom,” I point out.
“I didn’t.”
I grit my teeth. I want to get away from him. To bathe in acid.
“Does that bother you?” His hand, the arm that’s slung over me, traces a path across my stomach.
And that… that doesn’t feel so bad.
“Are you trying to get me pregnant?”
“Not right now. I heard you have an IUD.”
“You heard it from—”
“Don’t,” he warns.
