Page 179 of Mangled Memory
Halley looks at me. “Outside or do you want to curl up in the reading room?”
Reading room? How big is this damn house?
“The reading room would be lovely. Great idea.”
We clear the table but only get one pass when Corinne insists she’ll handle the rest and shoos us out of the kitchen.
Halley loops her arm through mine and leads us up the curved staircase and to the first room on the left. We’re not over my bedroom or the kitchen wing of the house. This place is too big to get my bearings.
But when the door opens, I don’t care about my bearings or square footage oranything. This is a library, but not a stuffy, dark wood-paneled, dingy room. This room is light and airy. Whites, creams, and pale, foggy greens lend the space a purely feminine touch. The bold, yellow sofa is what draws my eye. It’s modern but deep.
I walk the walls, trailing my fingers along the blonde wood shelves and their books, awed by the hardcovers and soft paperbacks. Real property statutes and thrillers. Bodice rippers and first editions of A.A. Milne.
One wall of floor-to-ceiling dyed suede curtains. Suede! The greens and creams bracketed with a rich bold navy.
I turn like a princess in one of those cartoon movies, wishing my leggings were a flowy skirt and stare right into the joyous face of Halley.
“Love seeing that look on your face. Fear isn’t my favorite look on you.” She plops down into a deep chair made of a soft cream corduroy and drags a yellow and blue pillow onto her lap.
I fold into the corner of the sofa nearest her when Corinne enters, setting a silver tray on the low coffee table between us.
Two pieces of cake that smell like apples and cinnamon, two polished forks, two small spoons, and formal coffee service rest on its surface replete with sugar cubes and a pitcher of cream. “Enjoy.”
“Corinne.” She startles as I call to her retreating form. “I’m not used to this, but I really appreciate today. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Barone.” With that, she pulls the door closed behind her, leaving me and Halley to chat.
“Now, you were saying you’re horny…”
It’s bait. And I know it, but I spill the tea anyway.
His long cock pushes and pulls rhythmically deep inside me, rubbing just the right places, stoking a fire that’s building. The pace is hypnotizing and unhurried but punctuated with enough force that I buck with each thrust home. Warm arms surround me from behind, holding me in place, rendering me helpless to the pleasure that builds inside me—a volcano of sheer ecstasy that will erupt and run like lava through every cell in my body.
“You’re perfect, Ayla. I could stay like this forever.”
I reach between my legs and split my fingers around him as he enters me, adding some pressure, and feeling the pace go from slow and lazy to purposeful.
“Fuck, that feels so good. You feel so good.”
A whimper escapes me as he bucks into me, dropping a hand from my breast to rest atop my own. He finds my clit and flicks feather-light strokes there… the ones that tease. Those that make me chase more.
It’s the opposite of being given, having him arouse instead of relieve. The lava bubbles, churning in its fire, biding its time. I moan as I push back into him and replace his hand with my own to slake this overwhelming need to come.
Or at least I attempt that.
The chuckle in my ear comes at the same time his hand traps mine at my pubic bone, holding me fast, the pounding getting erratic. “Mine to give, Princess. Do you need more of me?” His voice practically coos.
I whimper again when his fingers move back to my clit. Hepeppers kisses at my neck, his tongue darting out below my ear to taste me as he whispers, “Beautiful. Perfect pussy. And all mine.”
I shiver and the moan that escapes me is raw and guttural.
His heat at my back, his breath at my ear,Princesstripping from his tongue as my body succumbs, and I tumble into wave upon wave of pleasure.
“Princess?” The heat at my back stiffens, no longer coiled or cocooning, but probing.
I stiffen, too, realizing three things immediately. The heat at my back is Christian spooned into me and surrounding me. He’s as real as the orgasm that overtook me. The sex, though, was a dream. I went to bed still aching from Christian’s words, and my fingers didn’t provide enough relief to the well of need built inside me.
I’m relieved I didn’t screw the man I’ve known for mere days and I’m thankful that some of the pressure that was coiled in my belly has dissipated, but that’s not the word I’d use about the situation I’m currently in.
