Page 39 of Stutter

“No. Ssslower. Want.. to f-feel… more. So big.” I reply, because God, his dick stretches me to max capacity. “F-feel.. so full.”

He grins against my lips, “Is that what you like? How fat my cock gets when I’m inside of you? Hmm?”

I clutch him closer, nodding, feeling my impending orgasm with each maddening slow pump of his hips, making me feel every ridge of his thick, rigid length. “Deeper, please.”

“Always so polite. So wet… that’s it, milk me. I want you to feel me coming and leaving my mark inside your delectable little pussy. I love fucking you like this because I feel everything, Amourette. Every groove, every pulse, every squeeze -everything. I love how your little pussy looks and feels stretching around my cock. There you go, such a good girl fucking me back. You take my cock so well,” he whispers.

His words are always so dirty. So perfect. My orgasm rushes through me at his praise, his head sinks between my shoulder and he laves his tongue, over and over again as I contract around him and he shudders, biting my neck softly, leaving his mark. He lets me down gently once he slips out. We go to his room so he can take care of me, cleaning me up. “One day I’m going to plug all of this inside of you for the day. I’ll only remove it to fill you up again. Would you like that?”

I nod, enthusiastically, mindlessly scratching at the spot in my arm where he placed my birth control rod while he grabs one of his shirts for me to wear. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud once it’s on and he grins from ear to ear.

Damon is devastatingly beautiful.

At Lorne Wood Mental Asylum, the moment my brain fog had lifted from the amount of drugs I was on, Damon was in the room, checking my vitals. I still remember the moment I saw him, my lungs felt as though they had crashed. The pulse monitor I was connected to went haywire. I kept blinking, wondering if this gorgeous man was a hallucination. He was wearing black scrubs under his white coat. Brown hair was freshly cut, only a few grey hairs on the sides, silver eyes glittering, sharp jawline and a French nose.

He looked at me… andsmiled. Dimples showing on his clean-shaven face and I almost fainted, heart stammering in my chest. It was the first time in a while anyone had smiled at me without their lips slightly rolled inward or their face pinched, as if the sight of me wanted to make them vomit. No, Dr. Damon Archer brushed my hair away from my face, lifted the gauze on my temple, frowned at it, but then parted his lips and smiled down at me as if I were a living, breathing person again.

“Good morning, Raven. I’m Doctor Damon Archer. Lead psychiatrist on your team. How are you feeling this evening?”

I had closed my eyes and cringed.Lead psychiatrist. Of course. They had to have drugged me while I was at Lorne Wood Falls Hospital and transferred me here.

Here.

Wait. What if… what if this is a dream? What if… what if this isn’t real? Panic rises in my throat, and I claw at it.

“Raven, Raven, what’s going on?” he shakes me, his strong fingers gripping my tender shoulder. I can hear his voice but I- “Raven, breathe. Stay with me, Amourette. I’m with you.”

Amourette.

This is real.

I look at him, searching his silver eyes for any chance that he’s a hallucination, a sob escaping my throat. I point between us, the words on the tip of my tongue but like a child all that comes out is “Real? This?”

“Yes, Little Bird, this is real. Iam real. We are here. Can you tell me where here is?”

“Kingston. N-not Lorne… W-Wood.”

His nod is big. “That’s right. We are here. In Kingston. You and me.”

“Jonas!” I scream. I need to make sure. I need… Damon could be lying to me. I could be… I could be in a straitjacket. I could be – there’s a fumbling in the hall and Jonas appears in the threshold only to sink to his knees, grasping my hand in his without hesitation.

“I’m here, baby. What’s wrong?”

Maverick turns up next, leaning against the door, eyes wide in alarm. “What’s happening?”

“Real?” I rasp. “Real?”

Jonas tilts his head in confusion like a puppy with a solemn dip of his chin. “Real, baby.”

Maverick’s dark brows furrow, green eyes filling with concern when he realizes what’s happening. But I can’t trust it. What if this is all in my head? I could be dreaming. I could be so drugged up this is all just a figment of my imagination.

I lift a trembling hand to touch Jonas, and he kisses my palm, leaning into my touch as his eyes flutter closed. “Jo..nas Anderssson... nummmber nnineteen. Sssix f-foot four… two-hundred a-and thirty ssseven p-pounds. Wide Receiver f-for Rayne…Mmmoore Y-yellow Ja..ckets.”

He grins and my heart rewires. “That’s me. Except now it’s more like, two hundred and fifty-six pounds. Damon cooks like he’s paying rent.”

Maverick snorts. “You made her remember your stats?”

“Nope.” Jonas answers, popping thep. “It was on a roster poster for the Athletic Holiday Banquet. I was nominated as MVP. Asked her to be my date.” He kisses my palm again, glowing, not removing himself from where he sits, kneeling at my feet. Then he waggles his brows. “Think you’ll be up for it? We can fuck in the custodian’s closet if it’s too boring. And you know we’ll leave quick. I hate those guys. My mom will be there.” He reassures me.

---