Page 87 of His Captive

I slide my hand behind her ear, into her hair, and she leans into my hand. I hate myself for wanting to be inside her so badly, my cock pressing hard through my pants against her stomach. Now, after all the trauma she’s been through.

“It’s ok,” she whispers, reaching down and beginning to fumble with my belt. The look she gives me tells me she needs this as much as I do. I don’t question it because this is us. We’re a little fucked up, but we’re great.

I help her unbuckle me and push my soaked pants down to my knees while she works at getting my shirt open.

Wrapping my hands under her thighs, I lift her up on to my waist. My cock seeking out her pussy with familiar ease, its thick tip finding her entrance, and relief washing over my body like a wave licking the tide.

I take her slowly, because I want to appreciate every second that I have left of her. An iron heavy feeling hanging in my gut tells me that I’m about to lose her, despite everything, regardless of what I’d sacrifice for her.

Her hands grip my back, clinging to my skin, while I hold on to her perfect round ass, sliding her back and forth on to me. She’s all I need in this world, the only remedy to my wounded soul.

Her light pants in my ear, and the way her nails scratch along the skin at my neck make me forget what a fucked up place that world is.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, letting my head rest on her shoulder. She doesn’t respond, I’m not even sure if she hears me. Her body has turned rigid, tensing with her own shocks of pleasure. She holds my cock so tightly inside her, tugging my hair gently between her fingers. It sends a tingle shooting down my spine that finishes with me spilling everything I have into her.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispers, sinking the knife the whole way into my heart. Because those words confirm what I’ve been dreading.

I’ve lost her.

I carry her back to my room and place her on my bed. Lying out beside her, I wonder if I should speak first or let her ask the questions.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” she tells me after what seems like a whole lifetime of waiting.

Wasn’t. She ‘wasn’t’ gonna leave.

“I know. I found the checks in my office this morning.”

“I wouldn’t have taken the money even if I would have left.” She looks up at me.

“I know that too,” I try and forge a smile

“I thought he was gonna kill me.” Her face shatters. Like she’s reliving the horror inside her head.

“Hey.” I wrap her up in my arms. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Silence again. Just her chest rising and falling against my ribs.

But she has more to say, I can tell.

“You really loved her. Didn’t you? Millie?”

Christ hearing her name from Lysetta’s mouth is like taking a sledgehammer to the chest.

“Yeah,” I answer honestly.

She nods understandingly and I watch as sadness steals a little more light from her eyes.

“Do you still love her?” She looks down to where her fingers brush against my chest.

“She’s dead, Lysa,” I remind her.

“Yeah, I know, do you still love her?” she asks me again.

“Yes.” I close my eyes, so I don’t have to see her reaction. I can’t lie to her. I will always love Millie, but that doesn’t mean I can’t…

“It doesn’t stop me from lov—” Lysa’s hand moves over my mouth before I can finish.

“Don’t Ethan,” she warns me.

---