Page 6 of Amnesty

The nightmares that woke her almost nightly were proof she was haunted. But she didn’t want to talk. She wouldn’t. Instead, it stayed rolled up inside her like a message trapped in a bottle. Floating… drifting through a sea of what she couldn’t remember and the flashes of what she could.

I couldn’t make it better; that much I knew. Still, I yearned to try.

I wanted these clouds gone, the ominous storm to vanish. Time was precious, and I was greedy. Now that I had Amnesia, I wanted as much time with her as possible. And I wanted her to be able to enjoy it, too.

Is she really Amnesia, though… or is she Sadie?

I told myself it didn’t matter, but the question was always there. I’d been so convinced it was her, then changed my mind… And now I was stuck somewhere in between, wondering like everyone else.

It gave me some sort of insight on what it must be like to have amnesia, to not know anything about yourself. The woman I loved was a riddle.

The thought made me guilty.

Amnesia had no more control than I did.

I was frustrated. I wanted her to open up to me. To trust me enough to tell me whatever it was that gave her nightmares and put that faraway look in her eyes on an almost daily basis.

To me, those were stolen moments. Time that would never be given back. Taken from her, taken from me.

I was tired of people taking from us. I wanted to fight back. The thing was I couldn’t fight until she told me exactly what I was up against.

So I continued to wait.

It had been over a week since that night the widow tried to haul my girl out into the secretive waters. Amnesia was a little more withdrawn than before. It pained me, but I tried not to push. Seemed to me I shouldn’t apply to much pressure to something with a crack in it.

Instead, I just loved her, tried to be there… tried to bide my time.

Sometimes it was harder than milking an elephant, but then others, like right now, it was simple as pie.

Beneath the blankets, Am shifted, and instinctively my body followed. We lay spooned together, me curled around her. She fit into me like that missing piece I spoke of earlier, the final piece of a puzzle, except she was the final piece ofme.

The thick waves of her light-colored hair brushed across the lower half of my face, tickling my nose, and if I were a mouth breather, they’d likely be trying to floss my teeth.

Good thing I wasn’t a mouth breather.

I didn’t move away, though. Instead, I just wiggled my nose until it no longer tickled, pulling her in tighter along my body.

She sighed softly, and my lower belly quivered with the low sound. Automatically, my hips rocked forward, pressing against her round ass.

I should have let her sleep. She’d been up again last night. Waking up alone was nearly the worst alarm clock a guy could ever have. Reaching for your girl. Coming up with air… After everything that happened?

Hell to the no.

I wasn’t surprised to find her outside, though I hated when she went out there at night alone. I was drawn to the lake, sometimes desperately, but even so, I knew it wasn’t always safe.

Odd to feel this was where I belonged—wherewebelonged—yet have the kind of history with the shore that would drive most away.

She was just as drawn to Lake Loch as I was, something else I often suspected was a telling clue to her true identity.

Her warm, supple ass pressed against me, wiggled, and all early morning ponderings fled my brain like cockroaches beneath a kitchen light. A low groan rumbled deep in my throat, vibrating into her neck as I nuzzled against her.

A soft sound of appreciation permeated the bedroom. Her hand stretched up and behind her, fingers delving into the hair on the back of my head and flexing until they were good and tangled.

Using my chin, I scratched lightly over her neck until her hair was pushed aside, then fastened my lips against her skin with soft enthusiasm. Her chin tilted against the pillow, and I sucked deeper, pulling her satiny skin past my lips to massage it with my tongue.

My hips moved again, rocking into her ass, again and again, creating a slow rhythm that my lips matched against her throat. My cock was stiff between us. The more it brushed against her, the harder it became.

Still gripping my head, Am twisted her upper body, turning her face so our lips could collide. We kissed deeply, as if we’d been apart weeks instead of right beside each other, only parted by a few hours of sleep.

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