Page 177 of Mangled Memory
“Can we go to Kenosha Pass?” I love the Pass and it’s the perfect time to watch the yellows and golds warm to fiery oranges and rusty reds.
“Sure. How about Maroon Bells next week if we can swing it?”
Yes. No. Panic seizes me. “Maybe. Can we play it by ear?”
Thumb to my chin, he tips my face up and dips too close, holding my gaze. “What happened? Where’d you go?” I look away, but he persists, his thumb remaining firm. “Tell me. Trust me with this, Ayla.”
“That’s not a day trip.”
He nods.
“It’s overnight.”
“It is.”
“I don’t… I don’t know you like that.”
“Oh, but you do, Princess. You know every inch of me, inside and out.” He breaks eye contact and leans in to whisper in my ear, letting his hand roll down to rest on my neck, as his thumb rubs over my pulse point. “I know every inch of you too, Ayla. Every inch. I’ve licked, sucked, caressed, and fucked every inch of you. I know your taste. I know the sounds you make when you’re close and your face when you come. I won’t force you. Never will I take what you don’t give, but you’ve never withheld, never not given, never been shy. You’ve seduced me with your face and your body, your words and desires, until my dick is as hard as it is right now, picturing you laid out before me. Your pink pussy, red hair, pale skin, dusky nipples, and your body writhing in pleasure, chasing an orgasm like it’s your job to catch it.”
I gasp.
“Hearing that gasp makes my cock jerk. It knows you. I know you. And you know me.” He places a kiss below my ear as his thumb presses into my pulse.
Fuck my traitorous body for breaking out in goosebumps as a shiver rolls through me from top to toe. From the heat in Christian’s eyes, he doesn’t miss it. Nor does he miss me glancing at his trousers as he stands to leave. They’re tented as his dick strains against them.
He places a kiss to my forehead and leaves the terrace without another word.
6
more about horny
Ayla
What the hell just happened? I squeeze my legs together to alleviate the ache of my throbbing clit.
Today has been the longest, most extreme roller coaster ride of my life. I might as well have had a week’s worth of manic craziness rolled into a handful of hours.
I look down at the diamond band on my right hand—my wedding ring—to the man whom I fear and the man who just made me wetter than any time in my life. The unknown man who built me a dark room, who loves this terrace because of the peace it brings him, who has a ridiculously expensive car, and who refuses to walk on eggshells around me.
He’s honest to a fault, but can I trust him with the vulnerability I now possess?
“Ayla?”
Halley rushes out onto the terrace and wraps me in a tight hug, not worrying about which side or soreness.
She’s striking—tall, voluptuous, and elegant. Her dark curls bounce around her gorgeous face in a riot of disorganization. Her lips are painted a vibrant brick red, and they only highlight the smile that stretches wide when she sees me.
She doesn’t take up her own chair, but curls up in the spot Christian just vacated and launches in.
“Corinne let me in. It smells so good in there. How are you feeling?”
I love the woman before me. She’s been my friend for as long as I can remember. She’s honest, hysterical, kind, and gutsy—all things I admire.
“Wrecked, scared, horny, confused, overwhelmed. That about covers it.”
“I want to hear more about horny, but we’ll get there. Why are you scared? What has you overwhelmed?”
I launch into my day, what I told Christian about being an actor in my own life, and the craziness of coming home to this place. She listens intently and, at some point, grabs my hand to hold it. She’s a toucher. Always a stroke or a tap or a hug or squeeze. It’s familiar and not confining. She doesn’t contain me.
