Page 13 of The Reaper

“Did we… often?” he asked, his voice husky now, his pupils dilated.

She blushed, feeling the desire shooting through her, it hadn’t ebbed since seeing his erection under the sheets, since hearing his breathlessness. She couldn’t deny it, she wanted to play. It seemed like he did, too. They were both teetering on the edge, hesitating though. Aware that this was a big step to take, so early on.

“Hannah, talk to me.” He tried to cajole her.

“The doctors said I shouldn’t tell you anything… that you should try to remember for yourself,” she said, breathlessly.

“Yes, but I remember this, us, being together, I just told you, I remember us coming together… Were we good together?” he asked.

“We were good together.” She smiled, the lie as smooth as honey in her throat.

“Well, I’m not sure anything else matters then,” he said with a smile.

In that moment, of coursing desire, she realised it did matter. It did matter to her, what he had done. What future was there for them if he had to go back to prison? In that moment she realised it mattered because she wanted a future, she wanted there to be a time when he could leave this hospital, they could walk down the street together, and get a coffee, and come home, to the same home, their home, curl up on a sofa they had chosen together.To be together. To face the world together. To face oblivion night after night, together. Not just to go there once again, a few more times and then… what? Nothing more? A longer path shrouded in mystery. No, the fog was clearing and she wanted to see the path winding on and on, over the horizon. Jack was a Reaper, and if he had done bad things, she wasn’t sure she’d want to face the world, side by side with him. There were prison visits and court appearances to add logistical hurdles, yes. But it was bigger than that. What he had thought was okay, acceptable behaviour, to be a member of the Reapers in the first place, wasn’t in line with what she thought was acceptable behaviour. How could they shatter stars together if their worldview wasn’t the same? They could not.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

JACK

The wayshe looked at him told him a lot. It was dark and sultry, and held the memory of pleasure.

He found himself purring with satisfaction. It threw open doors in his mind. It dropped the floor out from under him. He felt his pulse beating faster. He hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t saying no, she wasn’t embarrassed by his physical arousal, but she didn’t want to talk about it? Why not? Did he like to talk about it? He wasn’t sure, he wanted to. He felt his desire building and building. He almost felt drunk with it. He was slurring. His mouth was salivating. He almost felt high. He had not been expecting this at all. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t prepared for it. He just wanted to slake his desire, forget all the uncertainty and the mess of the situation he was in. He just wanted to bend her over the bed and bang her brains out. Jesus. He was an animal.

But there was something else, too, something darker. His brain was whirring, the blood rushing out of it and to his pounding cock. But in its wake, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a new sensation. Right now, his body was almost solelygoverned by his desire, his attraction to her. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to take off his clothes, take off hers, injuries be damned, and sink into her. To pump into her with everything he had and only stop when he was satisfied. It felt warm in his veins. But he sensed his veins weren’t used to it. They weren’t used to such warmth, such spontaneity. He felt more cold blooded. He wasn’t used to running at such a high temperature.

He swallowed, it sounded loud to him, the air between them had become still, thick, and the sound of him swallowing was deafening.

“You know I can’t really remember being with you? You know I can’t really remember who you are? Who I am? You wouldn’t be worried by that?” he asked, trying to cling to the last semblance of rationality before his brain melted. He almost wanted to offer her an out, a reason to stop, to pull them back from the edge. He needed her to control him, to temper him.

“No.” Was a single, sure reply.

She’d wanted to be intimate again, with him, right then and there. That uncontrollable tail spin he felt, and her eagerness, had made him pause. It had made him almost come all over himself in his hospital gown, but it had also caught him out slightly. He was covered in bruises and sore all over for a start but that wasn’t the reason for his holding back. Why had he been unsure? It felt strange, to be intimate with a woman who he couldn’t remember, but who could obviously remember him. Hannah, his girlfriend. But he was surprised she would want to be intimate with him. So soon. After the worry, and the stress of him being here, she had to answer to the police and come every evening and see him covered in bruises, in the hospital… somehow he’d assumed any sexual feelings were too removed from the situation. She seemed keen to go there, and that had caught him off guard. But why? Why should she not want that?Want him? His body was obviously wanting that, it wasn’t any different for her to want it too. He almost felt privileged, that she could want him, despite any worry or the strangeness of the situation, she was still attracted to him, she still wanted their relationship to be sexual. She was a strong woman. Braver than he was, in that moment. She wanted him. Despite him not remembering, she wanted to feel his touch, she wasn’t afraid if it would be different, not as good, she had just wanted him.

“We have done this before, right? I mean, I’m assuming, if you were my girlfriend, we’d have slept together?”

She blushed bright red now but kept her gaze steady, looking at him. “Yes.”

His head spun. What if it wasn’t like that again? What if he couldn’t get himself there, let alone her. Did she expect that? What if he wasn’t as good as he had been and she was disappointed? He didn’t know much about himself, but he knew he wasn’t unconfident, he knew he wasn’t afraid, he knew he wasn’t usually one to feel under pressure. What if she was disappointed he wasn’t as good as he had been? She had blushed with a thousand erotic secrets in that blush he had thought, he felt proud he was good in the past, but would he be different for her now? He didn’t even know what she liked. Fuck, he didn’t know what he liked. It would be sleeping together for the first time.

“You are fucking cute when you blush like that… what am I doing?” He rubbed his face with his hands. “It may seem strange, being with me if I can’t remember being with you. It feels strange for me,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she said simply.

He reached for her hand and put the tips of her fingers in his hair, and rubbed his face into her hand.

“I just can’t understand,” he said lightly, as he closed his eyes, pushing into her fingernails in his hair harder, “why wasI not there, when I could have been in bed with you?” He let it hang in the air, his mouth remained open, his eyes remained closed.

He saw her blushing and smiled a little. He kissed the palms of her hands. Pecking, nibbling.

“I...” She didn’t finish her sentence. He was arousing her, it was clear to see.

He nipped harder. “This isn't fair, you're busy remembering a nice moment. Care to share?” He flashed his eyebrows cheekily.

She opened her mouth and just barely managed to croak, “you want me to tell you about the most recent love making?”

His smile spread now, slowly, satisfyingly, his eyes hooded a little. “Recent? How recent?”

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