Page 111 of The Cost of Forgetting You

On even ground. He took care of me, and now I’ll take care of him. How it should be. How it always should’ve been for me.

“Do you want me to get down on my knees, or do you wanna fuck my throat while I lie in your bed?”

I see that question rock through him, from his shoulders squaring to the way he rolls his neck and swallows to the movement on the column of his throat. Every motion is tight, arduous. Like he’s trying to keep control of himself and losing.

And I want him to lose it all. To be reckless with me. Unhinged.

Finally he points to the edge of the bed right in front of him. “Lie on your back, and hang your head over the side. I want to play with you while you choke on my cock.”

“Yes, sir.”

He groans, and it fills me with power. Such an unfamiliar sensation, knowing that I could bring this man to his knees with my words. With my touch. Now that I’ve had it, I never want to let it go.

I crawl to him slowly, drawing out the moment. His jaw is tight, and so is his grip at the base of his cock when he squeezes there in an attempt to pace himself.

I settle onto my back and tip my head over the edge, bringing his muscular thighs and rigid length into view. Then I open my mouth wide.

He nudges the head against my parted lips. Teasing. I stick my tongue out and lap at the drop of cum on the tip, and he groans. Two can play at that game.

“Spread your legs, Temptress.”

I do as he says, opening myself to him. He drags the smooth head of his cock against my tongue with one hand as he spits in the other, then runs those damp fingers through my core. He circles my clit slowly. Pushes into my mouth at the same pace. There’s so much of him, and I want it all. I’m tired of waiting. I reach up and grab his ass, so perfect and muscular and taut, and pull him into me. He bottoms out at the back of my throat, and I gag, opening up to him.

This time it’s he who says, “Fuck me.”

I moan, letting him know that’s exactly what I want him to do, and he gets the message.

His thrusts are slow, controlled, but his breathing is ragged. I release his ass and cup my breasts. I pinch my nipples and roll them. Pleasure makes my pussy slick, and I feel his fingers slip through it, burying in me and stroking me until I’m nothing but a shrine to this moment, to my desire for the man standing over me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and now he’s filling me, touching me, surrounding me. My nerves coil tight, and I open my mouth wider, hoping he’ll lose himself to the pleasure of me the way I am to him.

And lose himself he does. He fucks my throat frantically, abandoning the control he’d so carefully honed. “Delilah, you feel so fucking good. Your body… Fuck. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” He shudders. He buries himself in my throat and holds, quivering against me for a moment before withdrawing. Not just from my mouth but from me entirely, stepping back and combing a hand through his hair. He’s shaking his head as I flip over, a question in my eyes. He whistles. “Couldn’t let myself finish there, when I haven’t even felt you around me yet. But fuck, I wanted to make you swallow every drop.”

“I would’ve.” I move to lounge on my back with my head on the pillows, legs drawn up so I’m on display for him. I draw a finger through my lips and spread that wetness over my clit. “I still can.”

“Come here,” he growls and kneels on the bed, hooks my knees, and drags me to him. He settles over me and locks his mouth with mine, our tongues moving against one another. Our chests heave, breaths intermingle. He’s so close and yet not close enough.

I mewl against his lips, bucking my hips toward him. “I want you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” He nips my bottom lip, and then he’s gone, rocking back on his heels and reaching into the top drawer of the side table, where he pulls out a foil packet. He rips it open and drops the condom onto my stomach. “Put it on me.”

Heat flares in his gaze as I roll the condom over the length of him, then stroke his dick in my closed fist once, twice, before lining him up with my core. I’m nervous and turned on and so fucking ready. I swallow, gaze trained on the place where our bodies meet, and watch as he stretches out over me and rocks forward, entering me.

Truett. I’m having sex with Truett.

My chest swells with desire, with emotions I don’t dare name. Inch by torturous inch, he fills me, until he’s buried to the hilt and I’m whole for the first time in my life.

I gaze up at him, eyes wide and marveling. “It’s never felt like this,” I whisper.

His fingertips glance over my jaw, brush my swollen mouth. “That’s because you’re mine, Delilah. Always have been. Always will be. There’s nobody else. Not for you and me.”

My throat constricts. And then, before I can find a single word that will do my feelings justice, he retreats and slams home, emptying my thoughts with a single thrust.

My vision blurs. My back arches, reaching for him in every way that it can. I cry out as wave after wave of pain and pleasure course through me, threatening to drag me under. His hands lock around my wrists and pin them by my head. It almost hurts it’s so tight. Yet I want it tighter.

“That’s my girl.” Thrust after thrust, my thighs spread wider for him, beckoning him in. He revels in it, taking everything I offer and more. “You’re so fucking strong, Delilah. You can take it.”

“Yes!” I slip one hand from his grasp, reaching blindly for him. His arms, his sides, anything I can touch. I want it all. Every inch of him. Mine. “That feels so good.”

The only light in the room spills in from the hall, but with it, I can see everything that matters. The sweat beading on his forehead. The contours of muscle that tell the story of his body. His cock thrusting into me over and over, marking me as his. Claiming me.

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