“It’s your turn to show me, Kitten,” he whispers against my ear. “Show me how much you want me.”
I swallow, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through me. He pulls out slowly, just enough, just so I can press back against him again.
I lean into him, lowering myself down, taking him fully before lifting again. My back arches as his hand tightens on my neck, keeping me right where he wants me.
He tilts my face toward the mirror. All I see is myself moving on him, desperate. My hair falls in messy strands, my body giving in to every motion.
His free hand grips my hips, guiding me until I fall into his rhythm.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as I take him deeper, lowering myself fully again.
I feel the impact each time I drop back down, my body meeting his, until he suddenly stills me, holding my hips up. He takes over, his pace faster, pulling soft, broken sounds from my throat.
“Touch yourself,” he says, guiding my hand down, pressing it down on my clit, making me follow his command while he pushes deeper, not letting me slow down.
My fingertips move faster, circling as he stretches me, every motion pulling me closer to the edge. I catch his rhythm, taking over, moving on him without his help as he leans back. I spread my legs wider, taking him deeper, faster, and I hear him moan behind me, but I can’t open my eyes. The pleasure is too close now.
I feel it building. I feel him losing control too.
Suddenly, he pushes me back onto the bed, lifting my hips. He pulls out, dragging himself along me, leaving a wet trail before changing his mind and thrusting back inside. This time he dropsover me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his hand finding my clit.
I gasp as his fingers move while my body tightens around him, pulling him in, holding him there as my thighs begin to shake.
He pulls out again and rolls me onto my back. My breath is uneven as he spreads my legs, teasing across my clit. I’m too sensitive now, every nerve is awake, my body jerking with each small movement. Part of me wants to push him away. The other part needs more.
His fingers slide inside me again, his palm pressing down, not letting me escape it.
“Fuck,” I cry out. “Nathaniel.”
He doesn’t stop. My body tightens again, another wave hitting before I can recover from the last. My legs try to close, but he keeps going, pushing me through it until another broken moan leaves me, then another.
“Tell me to stop,” he says.
But I can’t. The words won’t come. My body betrays me, giving in as my thighs tremble harder.
He finally pulls his fingers away, the sudden emptiness making me gasp. Then a sharp spank against my clit follows before he leans over me again. His fingers moving to my lips.
“Suck,” he says.
I obey, tasting him as I close my lips around them, cleaning every trace.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Such a good fucking girl, Kitten.”
He looks at me, his eyes locking with mine.
“Out of everything I hated about you losing your memory,” he says quietly, “my favorite part is this. Getting to give you new ones.”
My breath is still uneven.
“We never got the chance to live our own memories, did we?” I ask.
“No,” he says, his voice low. “But we do now.”
Seventeen
THE CALLER
July 18th, 1987
