Page 147 of Uprising

I’ve still got my underwear on, I’m still in a bra and t-shirt, his t-shirt technically, but I’m wet. Not much. But I am wet. I slide my thong aside, raising my hips and then I lower myself onto him.

He groans. He growls deep in his throat. I don’t move, I just sit there, holding him inside me, trying to fight the memories as they all seem to come crashing down like an avalanche and I’m suddenly drowning under the weight of them.

“Undo the ties.” He says quietly.

I shake my head. I can’t move even if I wanted too. In this moment I feel paralysed. Torn between my fear and my trauma.

“Let me hold you. Let me touch you.” He says.

“I can’t.” I half whisper.

He tilts his head, pulls one hand free and then the other and I realise then that he’s been pretending the whole time, that I clearly didn’t do the knots anywhere near tight enough to restrain him.

I think if I could I would laugh at that. At my own folly.

His hands wrap around me. I’m shuddering, whimpering, trying not to let this spiral further down the path we’re already headed. One of disaster. One of pain. One I know will hurt us both more.

“Open your eyes.” He says. “Look at me.”

I blink, releasing more tears, but I do it.

His face is right there, his beautiful features, his chocolate eyes, his stubble, everything I’ve missed for so long. I can smell him, I feel him. I’m surrounded by him, engulfed by him. Completely intoxicated by him again.

His hands trace up, under the t-shirt, up my back, his touch is so light, so gentle. I let out a gasp as my body finally gets the message that this is Roman.

“You’re always safe with me.” He says.

I let my tears fall then, I stop trying to pretend but I’m raising my hips all the same, slowly, carefully allowing that need to take over.

He holds me to him, he cradles my body as we move. It feels like we’re rediscovering one another, it feels like we’re both relearning how our bodies connect.

I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter. I can feel my release building. I shut my eyes, fighting the words, fighting the whispered taunts that echo in my head.

“Stay with me.” Roman says softly. “I’m right here with you. I’ve got you.”

I let out a wail. There’s no physical pain, there’s no physical trauma like there was when I was with Darius and yet it feels like I’m back there, hearing every disgusting thing he said to me, feeling his fingers digging into my body, feeling him violating me, and the way I allowed him to do it, the way I pretended at the end.

“Roman.” I gasp his name. I dig my hands into his forearms. Desperate for those memories to go. Desperate to replace them. To erase them. To just be over it all.

“I’ve got you.” He says again.

Roman

Ican feel how her body is trembling. I can feel how close she is to freaking out.

“I’ve got you.” I say brushing her hair back from her face, cupping her cheek in my hands.

She’s got her eyes shut. She’s screwed her face up as if she’s fighting some internal battle with her own head.

I twist us around, laying us on our sides, but I keep myself inside her, I keep us connected.

She’s so warm. She feels incredible. It reminds me of how long it’s been since we’ve had this, since we’ve felt this, since I’ve claimed her in this way.

She’s still wearing my top, she’s still in her underwear and I’m still in my jeans and shirt. I take the moment to pull them off, to free myself of my clothes and be able to move better.

I want her to feel me, I want her to know that it’s me touching her, me loving her.

She whimpers again and I soothe her quietly. Her breathing sounds ragged, I can see how much she’s shaking. A part of me wonders if we should stop but I know if we do, it will haunt us, it will haunt her. And she’ll be afraid to take this step again, she’ll overthink it even more.

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