A stuttered moan falls from my lips, a sound of sweet surrender as I let him conquer another part of me.
The stretch and the fullness lead to discomfort, but that is quickly forgotten. My head falls back against his chest as he pushes deeper inside me, tearing me apart in the best way possible.
I reach out to grip the edges of the tub to hold on for longer before I trip and fall into sweet euphoria. It’s always like this; he makes me lose my mind while he possesses my body.
A sound of satisfaction roars in his throat as he bottoms out inside of me. “Fuuuck, you feel so fucking good. One of these days I am going to lose my damn mind and forsake everything and just keep you in bed.”
That doesn’t sound bad at all.
When he’s inside me, I don’t know where he ends and I start, we just fuse, becoming an extension of each other.
“I need to see what I am fucking,” he groans, tone dipped in carnality.
Still lodged inside me, he pushes me forward so that I grip the tub with him plastered behind me.
“Fucking hell.” His hoarse voice, accompanied by him getting even bigger inside me, sends a shot of pleasure mixed with pride through me. He might be the one fucking me, but he’s fucked just as much.
I look at him over my shoulder, but he’s lost in his own pleasure as if my asshole is the treasure he finally found after searching for a lifetime. I guess I am not the only one who likes it.
Our eyes lock, and what I see reflected in his undoes me––pure adoration, endless wonder, undying love.
I want to look away. It’s too personal, too intimate. It’s life-altering, and there is nothing I can do. I’ve sealed my life. Strangely, it feels as though that happened a long time ago.
As if he notices I am slipping away, he grips my thighs and starts fucking me in long, hard thrusts. Skin slaps, moans and groans ringing like a decadent flesh symphony.
The pleasure is all-encompassing, my focus returning to the present and not the heartbreak.
Throwing his head back, he jabs his teeth into his fleshier, lower lip. “You like being ass-fucked just as much as I enjoy fucking this tight as fuck hole.”
A god unraveling, making me high on both the pleasure and the power. I can’t deny it. I don’t even want to deny it. “Which one would you choose?”
He cocks his head, smirking as he curls his hand around my hair, tugging my head back. “Who says anything about choosing? I’ll fuck both your holes and your mouth whenever I please.”
He’s so very dangerous to my heart and sanity, yet I embrace it fully as he fucks me in deep, powerful thrusts, causing thewater to spill over the tub and splash on the floor just like my mind.
He shows me who is in control of my body––him.
Who owns my pleasure––him.
I am his.
19
ZARA
Ihave postponed returning home because the last few days have felt like a dream—one I don’t want to wake from. I am falling in love with my husband.
We have been on daily dates, discovering more of the Windy City together. Work has become secondary for both of us. I postpone reality just to indulge in this exquisite feeling of togetherness—of belonging—but I must go back. I have business meetings I can’t postpone any longer and my appointment with the new therapist.
I never thought that potentially finding out about my past would become an impediment.
If the previous doctors were right, maybe my brain has not been sabotaging me, but helping me remain sane.
The events that triggered my memory loss must have been horrendous. Maybe I should abandon the quest, aware that nothing good may await me. I just discovered happiness again. No more going through each day numb, no more surviving—only living to the fullest.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, remembering the deal that our hearts would remain sealed. With how easily the other slipped in and made a home, I guess they never were.
The chemistry, the passion, the talks, everything makes my core rejoice, my heart jubilate, my very soul spark.
