Page 37 of Lost Touch

“How do you feel?” I dared to whisper, praying the answer wouldn’t be something incoherently wolfish.

Drew lifted his head. His eyes shone clear—of any confusion, at least. But something like regret lurked in their depths. My heart sank straight down through the bed.

Obviously it had worked. And equally obviously, he wished it hadn’t happened at all.

“Physically, never better. Mentally? Like pond scum.” His mouth tightened, and he lifted up a bit, propping himself on his elbows to either side of my shoulders. Glancing down, I could see his groin flush against mine, the place where he’d buried himself in me. And above that, the whole expanse of his torso. Someone ought to sculpt him, or something.

“Ash, Christ, I have my knot in you!” That startled me into looking up again. His eyes blazed down at me. I wanted to trace the furrow between his dark brows, smooth it out with my finger. My hands had dropped down on the bed when he moved. I was too lazy to lift them again. Did his come have Valium in it, or something? I’d felt like this after he fucked my mouth too. “And you can’t—I know you didn’t enjoy that. Aren’t enjoying this. Why would you let me do this to you? And no more bullshit about me not being able to hurt you.”

“I’ve already told you,” I snapped—or tried to. I still couldn’t get a full breath, what with how fuckingfullI was. “You needed this. Didn’t you? Don’t you feel more in control now?”

“Yeah, because I lost control!” He seemed to be perfectly capable of snapping, the bastard. “Because I fucking brutalized you! And for some fucked-up reason, that makes me feelbetter,” he spat, like the word tasted foul. His face twisted, jaw set as hard as granite. “I feel better than I have in months. And I fucking hate myself for it. You must hate me, underneath the pity. Or the obligation. And I don’t know which one is worse.”

Brutalizedme? I shifted my lower body a little, feeling the tug of his knot on my hole. That…I didn’t mind it, even though I knew it ought to have been more. Intense, or…simply more.

“Fuck,” Drew gasped, and rolled his hips, pushing deeper. “Don’t do that. It’s—my knot’s never going down if you keep squeezing me. And you’ll hurt yourself—injure yourself, I mean. If you pull too hard without realizing.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t. “Drew, don’t change the subject. Pity? Obligation? Haven’t we been over this?” My slurring voice matched the molasses-trickle of my thoughts, and I had to interrupt myself to yawn, my jaw stretching nearly as stupendously as my ass. God, my limbs had gone so heavy. I could sleep for a week. “I don’t pity you. It’s not obligation. It’s—I seriously don’t mind being your sex toy, okay?”

Drew went absolutely still.

Except for his knot, which—grew even more, pressing me inexorably open. I fought the urge to squirm. He’d said not to do that.

He gazed down at me, eyes ablaze. “Don’t say that. Don’t—I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t—I’m hard again,” he said, desperation in his tone. “I can’t pull out now without ripping you apart. I probably won’t be able to pull out until I come again.”

I’d had it with this conversation. Sleep. Nothing could stop me, not even Drew’s meltdown, or his knot in my ass. My eyes started to drift shut. “Then fuck me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled. “It won’t bother me. ’M all yours.”

Anything else he might have said faded away along with consciousness.

So heavy.

I slept.

Chapter 12

Thoughtful

When I woke up hours later, the sun pouring through the cracks in the blinds and casting streamers of sparkling dust motes in its wake, I had strong arms wrapped around me, a hard chest against my back…and an even harder cock nudging between my thighs.

Even though he’d come a lot the day before, and he’d knotted at least once. Had he fucked me early that morning after I went back to sleep? I tried to catalog my sensations, but of course I didn’t have much to go on. My ass and thighs felt damp and sticky.

Gross.

But Drew hadn’t left me alone in the bed and gone out in the woods. I could only consider that an improvement, no matter how sticky I might be.

A few birds twittered outside the window and broke the near-complete silence. Under that, I heard Drew’s breaths, slow and even. He hadn’t moved, either. But I knew he was awake. He breathed differently while he slept, a little rougher.

“Drew?”

“Yeah?” His breath brushed my ear.

“I need to get up?” Needing to piss felt very, very strange these days, but at least I could recognize it. The alternative would’ve been unthinkable.

Drew’s arm tightened a little. “Right now?” Had his cock gotten even harder?

“I’ll come back in a minute,” I promised him, and after a moment he let me go, his hand lingering on my waist and his cockdefinitelylingering in the crease of my ass.

Crawling out of bed under Drew’s watchful eyes had to be one of the more embarrassing moments of my life—well, that I could remember, anyway, although I thought it might’ve ranked high even if I’d had my no-doubt many past embarrassments to compare it to. The tingle in my exposed skin had to be psychosomatic, the effect of knowing he had his eyes glued to my ass. Or it might be drying semen.

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