“You’re dripping, baby.” His voice was deeper, raspier, and as he dipped one finger inside, a moan tore out of me. “God, I almost forgot how tight you are.”
“Noah!”
“I know, I know.” He pressed his lips to my cheek, while his fingers went in and out of me, pressing against that spot inside of me he now knew well. “I love these noises you’re making, darling. But I want you to scream for me. I want them to hear you.”
“W-Why?”
“Because I want them to know you’re mine. You will always be mine, no matter what.”
As he removed his fingers and replaced them with his dick, fulfilling yet another one of my fantasies, I had no doubt in my mind that if things were different, Noah Kincaid would be the man I would spend my life with.
21
NOAH
Days,hours, minutes, and seconds; they all passed by so quickly. It was as if I had just blinked, and the months passed me by. Time wouldn’t wait for us to catch up, I knew that, but every atom in my body wished that it could pass a bit slower.
Just a little bit slower.
Just to give me a few more minutes with her.
But she… She was fading in front of my eyes, and so did any hope I had. Sophie Anderson was slowly dying, and it was obvious to anyone who knew her from before.
Before this sickness took hold of her life. Before it destroyed everything.
I went back to my practices because she insisted, but I wasn’t there—mentally at least. My body knew what it needed to do, but my mind was constantly with her, worried that I wouldn’t be there if something happened.
Her doctors prescribed medicine to make her more comfortable, to alleviate her pain, but I had a feeling that they were doing more harm than good.
She tried hiding it, tried lying to all of us, but we could see what was really happening. Those four months they gave her were passing too fast, and she was slowly slipping through my fingers.
I’d tried holding on to her. Tried telling myself that things wouldn’t be that bad, but every time my eyes landed on her frail form, that courage I tried to build up would crumble down like a house of cards, and the pain would be back.
Sometimes it was easy to forget she was dying, but reality was a harsh bitch who came knocking at my door every time I tried to think positive. And how could I be positive when all of this was happening? Steering clear from the morbid forums where they talked about final days of cancer patients was becoming harder and harder to do.
We were coming to the end of May, to the end of high school, and while I should’ve been happy, should’ve been elated about the opportunity that was given to me, I couldn’t.
I couldn’t feel anything.
“Noah.” Sophie stirred next to me, and when I looked down, she started slowly opening her eyes, those dark circles becoming more and more prominent. “What time is it?”
“Around nine, Soph. Go back to sleep.”
A storm raged outside, reflecting how I felt.
“I think it’s better I get up.” She started pulling herself up. “I won’t be able to sleep through the night if I continue napping.”
Lies, lies, lies, they were all lies she created to make us all feel better.
These so-called naps were full sleeping hours, ranging from four to seven hours during the day, and even with those, she managed to sleep through the night—most of the time. But I could see the way her arms shook when she tried pulling herself up.
I could see her eating less and less, and sleeping more with each passing day.
I could see her disappearing and I couldn’t say a thing, afraid I would upset her, when that was the last thing I wanted to do.
It was fucked up being this angry and not having an outlet to direct this anger at. It wasn’t her fault, but as the days passed, as her strength weakened, I couldn’t stop gritting my teeth every time she wanted to just stay in bed and do nothing.
“Is it raining again?” She looked toward the window and placed her hand on my thigh. Even through the clothes I could feel how cold she was.
