Page 74 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Staring down at his closed art book, I gasp when I feel Went’s fingers trace the quivering seam of my pussy, gathering my cum before he pushes there tips past my battered entrance. “Open it.”

Unsure that I can trust my body to stay upright without the support of both my hands, I unlock one of my elbows so I can do as he says. Flipping the cover open, the first drawing I see is of us, standing in front of the bathroom mirror at Northpoint. Went’s hand buried between my thighs. The other wrapped around my throat. My stomach covered in his cum because I wanted it. Asked for it and he gave me what I wanted.

I want the picture.

The fingers in my pussy push deep enough to buckle my knees, pumping in and out. Even though he doesn’t tell me to, I flip the page. Another drawing. This one is of us in the kitchen at Northpoint. My legs wrapped around his waist. His hand fisted in my hair. Teeth buried in his tattooed skin while he cock strokes me against the counter.

Pulling his fingers out of my pussy, Went hooks his thumbs under my ass cheeks and spreads them wide before notching the head of his still hard cock against my entrance. “Keep looking…” he groans on a hard, deep thrust that nearly turns my knees to water.

Palm pressed into the desk, elbow wobbling, I scramble my free hand across thick paper, trying to catch the edge of it, barely able to flip the page on a needy, mewling whimper when Wentpresses his cum slicked fingers between my ass cheeks to tease and circle them against my tight, puckered hole.

Went fucking me from behind in our marriage bed. The panties I’d been wearing cut away from my pussy with the knife he carries in his pocket. His long, thick cock buried inside me while he fucks my ass with one of his wide, callused fingers.

“Yes…” I moan it, eyes glued to the drawing in front of me. “Please…” Instead of punishing me, this time Went gives me what I want. What I’m begging for, working his finger inside me on slow, shallow thrusts while he fucks my pussy in tandem, until I’m moaning and writhing uncontrollably. Grinding back, against the deliciously heavy feeling of being fucked and filled by him completely. Until tears are streaming down my face and my pussy slams closed around him like a vice and I’m shattering for him again while he finally comes inside me with a vicious curse that sounds like my name.

FORTY-ONE

WENTWORTH

Twelve hours ago,I thought Kait was gone. that I’d never see her again. That she’d chosen a life far away from me, filled with people who didn’t love her because even if it was a future she didn’t want, it was a future she understood. A future she could be certain of.

But that’s not why she left me.

Kait didn’t run back to Barrett. Back to a lifetime of being less. Being Brock’s wife and her father’s whipping post.

She didn’t run back.

She ran headlong into the unknown.

She ran away.

Fromme.

Somehow, knowing that hurts more.

Makes me even angrier.

It’s late afternoon and she’s been asleep for a while, curled up on the mattress behind me while I stare at the piece of blank art paper on the desk in front of me. For once, my head isn’t full of her. There aren’t a million memories of us together, screaming to get out. I don’t feel this crazy impulsive need to draw them allbefore I forget. Before she slips away completely because she’s here. She’s with me and if I want to remember the way she made me feel, all I have to do is turn around and look at her.

It’d be smarter if I just let her fade away. If I let myself forget. Maybe if I let myself forget the way she made me feel, I’d be able to move on. Let go.

But I doubt it.

Flipping my sketch pad closed on a sigh, I swivel my chair toward the mattress behind me to find her awake and looking up at me with an expression that tells me she doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen next, any more than I do.

“What time is it?” she asks quietly, lower lip caught between her teeth. A habit of hers that I remember well. She does it when she’s nervous. Unsure of the situation she’s in. She used to do it a lot when we were together.

“After five,” I tell her, my tone flat to hide my reluctance because I don’t want to tell her what time it is. Because she’s going to leave and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to stop myself from dragging her into my bedroom and tying her to the bed. “Are you hungry?” It’s a stupid thing to ask. I’ve been fucking her almost nonstop for the last twelve hours. She’s probably starved to death and sore beyond belief.

“No,” she lies to me, shaking her head against the pillow before she struggles to sit up with a barely concealed wince. “I should probably?—”

“You’re not leaving.” I say it in that same flat, careful tone but I can hear it, even if she can’t. The desperate certainty that if I let her leave, Kait will disappear again. This time for good. “Not yet.” Pushing myself out of my chair, I cross the room to the kitchenette to open one of the upper cabinets. “Not until we’ve talked.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.” I can hear some of the old Kait—my Kait—in her tone and the sound of her makes my chestache and tightens the clench of my jaw. “As a matter of fact, you made it perfectly clear, from the moment I got here, that you don’t want to hear anything I have to say.”

“Well, I do now.” Finally finding what I’m looking for, I slam the cabinet closed before moving to the refrigerator without looking at her. “So you’re going to sit rightfuckingthere, and not move an inch while?—”

“You can’tkeepme here,” she says on a scoff, my Kait roaring back in full force. “I’m not your?—”

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