I take her earlobe into my mouth, sucking with slow rhythmic movements. One of her hands clasps my neck, a faint squeeze and release matching to my beat.
My free hand draws her blouse back from her shoulder, exposing the creamy skin, unblemished except for a tiny smattering of pale freckles. I stroke a patch with my thumb, selecting a space for my mark before I affix my mouth, sucking, then soothing the reddened skin with long strokes of my tongue.
I pull the sides of her blouse farther apart, awkwardly reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. When I push the cups down, the feel of her breast against the palm of my hand sends a spiral of pure lust whipping across my brain.
“I’m going to make you feel so good,” I whisper, kissing along the side of her neck, above and below my collar, briefly returning to pull her earlobe into my mouth.
With each new caress, the urge to touch her grows stronger, an addiction spiralling out of control in seconds instead of days or months or years. A pleasure twisting from a want into a need.
My fingers delve lower, inside her waistband, inside the tight cling of her underwear, touching her pussy and feeling a surge of pure mindless ecstasy so encompassing I thrust my cock against her, pressing her back against me to heighten the sensation, groaning into her ear.
And I’m aggravated that she’s not here with me. That we’re not enjoying this together.
Her body responds to my touch, sure, but if she were awake, there’d be her moans and gasps, the teasing lilt of her voice and laughter.
I want the safety of this power and the presence of the girl I adore.
I don’t know how to have both.
But she’s given me this gift and I won’t squander it. My middle finger strokes along the outside of her pussy, slipping inside to feel her wetness while my eyes roll back in my head.
Gently, I explore her, making an internal map of how her body tenses and relaxes, flinches or leans into my touch. A guide to Evie, just a single volume now but something I wouldn’t mind adding to over a lifetime, turning into an encyclopaedia of knowledge, adding book after book until the shelf bows under its weight.
And when my fingers aren’t enough, I lay her on the bed, spreading her legs wide, her pussy wide, until her taste coats my tongue, the scent filling my nostrils, igniting my greed, belly tightening with hunger. Until her muscles clench around my fingers, her clit pulsing against my tongue.
My cock is deliciously sensitive as I move above her, positioning myself until I can rub the head against her slippery warmth, teasing around her entrance.
This isn’t what I intended to do, isn’t what I promised her, but I have always been better at asking for forgiveness than permission.
Then a memory lunges forward, hands touching me even as I fight against them. The horror of what I’m doing lodges deep behind my breastbone, the power slips from my grasp, my erection disappearing as I roll onto my back beside her, feeling the same old gasp of emptiness corroding me from the inside out.
EVIE
I wake in the bath, wet bra and panties clinging while Maddoxsits on the edge of the tub, lifting my limbs, washing them with a sudsy sponge, a gentle smile on his face.
He is sweet and cautious and so shy my heart aches. Especially when I ask, “Did you get what you needed?” and a dozen expressions chase each other across his features, locking eyes with me as he nods.
And I’m relieved that it was just sex after all. Despite the staging of my underwear and the water washing the evidence away, there’s the imprint of something inside me; even if not his cock, then his fingers. My clit has the slightly swollen feel it gets after an orgasm. Apparently, even asleep, I appreciated his attentions.
A betrayal but at least it’s something I understand. Not the horrible blankness of not knowing, my mind trying to fill a space with an inexhaustible supply of potential answers.
I want to concentrate on what I’ve gained not what I’ve lost, but my mind isn’t cooperating, not yet. I’m a doll again. A blank plastic form for people to play with, however they like.
His gaze rests on me with warmth, with affection, but I don’t know what he’s seeing. If there’s any ofmein the person he looks at or just a projection of what he hopes to see.
If I exist as a real person in his mind at all.
“Why am I in the bath?”
“You were shivering,” he says, moving from the tub to sit on the floor, head just slightly below mine. “I thought you needed warming.”
“Unconscious me needs her temperature gauge adjusting, then,” I tease, watching the tension leave his face. “Because this is far too hot for summer.”
“I can pour in more cold water if you’d prefer.”
“I’d prefer you to get in here with me.”
He smiles, hand covering mine when I place it on the edge of the bath. “Maybe another time.”
