As good as me touching him feels, it is nothing compared to the sensation of him touching me. It’s electric, like there is a current buzzing between us. His tongue tastes like whisky and sin, while his fingertips leave a trail of fire behind. He grabs my hips possessively, grinding his hard length against my burning core.
There is still something between us, a barrier making me whine impatiently. Liam somehow understands me, shoving whatever it was out of the way. His cock springs free and he presses it against my already wet pussy.
He rocks against me, the friction against my clit sending sparks of pleasure to my core. Liam places open-mouthed kisses along my neck, across my shoulder, and over my collarbone. Just as he sucks my nipple into his mouth, his cock suddenly enters me. My back arches, my breasts pressing against Liam’s chest, and my pussy stretches around him.
We both moan at the same time, the sounds blending together as if they were rehearsed. Liam moves in and out of me in a slow, rhythmic tempo. With each stroke, pleasure builds in my core.
My first orgasm slams into me suddenly and unexpectedly. Liam groans as my pussy convulses around him. My release is so overpowering I feel like I’m floating, my body weightless, and my mind on the verge of blacking out. My eyelids remain heavy, prompting me to leave them closed. I can’t see Liam, but I feel him all over. His hands, his mouth, his cock—he is everywhere.
At one point, I come again. Pleasure floods my body, leaving me sated but worn out. I don’t know how much time passes, but it becomes hard to stay conscious. I’m vaguely aware of Liam moving faster, thrusting into me deeper until finding his own release.
After, he peels himself off me and disappears. Instantly, I feel cold and uncomfortably exposed. I want him back, needing his warmth and comfort.
“Liam,” I croak, barely recognizing my own voice. Lifting my heavy arms, I reach out for him, only to find air. Exhaustion overcomes me, and I drop my hands in defeat.
“I’m here,” his deep voice finds me, soothing the loneliness inside my chest. “Relax and try to go to sleep.”
Something warm and soft is pressed against my sensitive folds. Liam wipes what I’m guessing is a washcloth between my legs. Once I’m clean, he pulls the cloth away and covers me with a heavy blanket. I fall asleep almost immediately, still not one hundred percent certain I’m awake.
My stomach lurches,and I sit up, clamping a hand over my mouth while whatever’s in my stomach rushes into my throat. A wastebasket gets magically positioned under my mouth before I have no choice but to let everything out.
By the time I’m finished retching, my ribs hurt and my back aches. I’m pretty sure I threw up my entire stomach. Not just what was inside, but the whole damn thing.
“Are you all right?” Liam’s voice shouldn’t startle me, yet it does. Something about the concern in his voice is unnerving.
“Not really.” More like dizzy and miserable. Something is off. Not just in my stomach or in my head, which is pounding with every heartbeat and making me wish I was dead or at least in a coma. There’s something in the back of my mind, tapping insistently. Like there was something I needed to do, but I can’t remember exactly what it was. I’m in the middle of lying back down when it hits me, and I sit straight up.
“Are you sick again?” he asks like he actually cares. Fucker. He can lie there and pretend like he doesn’t know what’s happening.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn when he reaches out, then I slap his hand away when he refuses to listen. I feel like absolute dogshit and really, truly want to lie down until it passes, but it’s more important that he knows he didn’t get away with anything.
“What’s the matter?” He sits up when I get out of bed on shaking legs, then almost stumble in the dark until I reach the bathroom door.
“Fuck off. You know exactly what’s the matter. You drugged me.” And then he fucked me. He knew damn well I was not in control of myself, but the soreness between my legs tells me it didn’t stop him from taking advantage.
And there’s the stinging sensation in my back, below my shoulder blade. I’m naked, so it’s not like my clothes are rubbing against my skin in a weird way. There’s no normal reason for it.
I really wish I didn’t have to turn on the bathroom light, since I’m pretty sure my head is going to split open once I do, but I need to see. I have to know. With my arms crossed over my chest, I turn in the mirror to examine myself.
He calls out from the bedroom. “Aurora.” The nerve of him, sounding tired.
I ignore him, staring at my back. I don’t have a habit of staring at it usually, but I know damn well there wasn’t a wound on it before now. Like somebody cut into it, then closed it with glue or something.
I felt it earlier, didn’t I? That soreness.
He drugged my food.
Now there’s this wound on my back.
My head hurts so much I can barely hold it up, but I can still put everything together. Slowly, I walk to the doorway and stareat him like I’m seeing him for the first time. I honestly never thought he would go this far. I guess that’s my fault.
He’s sitting up now, with his nightstand lamp on. “What is this?” I ask. “On my back. What did you do to me?”
He closes his eyes, sighs, then opens them again. “It’s a tracker. I had the doctor implant a tracking device.”
Jesus Christ. He just admitted it. Like it’s nothing. I mean, could he at least try to sound like he’s sorry? “Why?”
“You should lie back down,” he replies sternly.
