Page 154 of A Dirty Business
Her other hand clapped the back of my head, holding me in place. Her legs lifted up, going around my waist. I caught her, moving, putting her on something, anything. I had no idea what. A table? It held our weight, so I didn’t care.
“Baby,” I rasped, lifting my head and looking into her.
Her eyes were blind, glazed over. She was beyond talking.
I reached for her, sliding a finger in, and she moaned, her head falling back.
A second finger.
I loved how tight she was, and I worked her. In and out.
She paused, savoring what I was doing to her, but I needed inside of her. It’d been too long.
I moved, pulling her pants the rest of the way off, shoving mine down, and I lined up. I held still for one second, looked at her. She was watching me, biting her lip, and her eyes were dark, melting. The slightest of nods from her, and I slid inside.
Pushing.
I paused once I was deep, and we both started trembling.
I had to move. Had to.
Thrusting in, I began moving. She rolled her hips with me.
This was a moment in time that was a dichotomy. Slow and loving, but also frantic and rough. I kept moving in her, and she was clenching around me, her legs tightening their hold on my waist. As soon as I felt her body begin shaking, her own release, I let out a growl and began slamming into her.
She clutched at my shoulders, but she was pulling me to her. Her legs holding firm, and once her release had moved through her, she began meeting me, helping me.
God.
Please.
Damn.
I growled as my release pounded through me, and I held her, riding out the rest of the waves. I could still feel hers, too; her body was doing this little jerking movement. She lay fully out on the table, and I rose up when I could, looking down at her.
I couldn’t speak, but I touched the side of her mouth, where she’d been biting down.
Her chest rose, and she closed her eyes at the touch. A new tenderness came through me, one that was new to me even with Jess. Pulling out of her, I turned and saw her painting. It was propped in the corner, just in line of eyesight.
A little girl was in the corner. “What happened there? That night?”
A door was opening, showing the light shining on her. In the corner of the painting, an arm was opening that door.
The floor just rolled out from under my feet. I couldn’t look away from that painting.
“What?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“That’s you. I know that’s a memory. I know that night occurred. What happened after whoever that is came into your room?”
“I—” She choked off again. “I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been painting in the last month, and I’m starting to have these memories come back to me. This one, I don’t know what happens, but I know there were two bad men outside my house. And I remember that something happened that night, something bad.”
The desire to murder whoever that was in her painting was fresh, rising up in me. It was swirling with all the other shit inside of me. Some of that was anger at her, but anger at myself too. “You’ve shut me out.” I dropped my voice.
“I was trying to do the right thing. Ashton—”
