Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,89

inside me, his hips now swiveling, reaching that spot so deep, so sensitive. I knew it wouldn’t take much more movement before I was coming.

“Garin…”

“You want more?”

He took my moan as a response, and suddenly, his hand was at my other hole, a hole he had entered in the dream. It was just another similarity that felt as carnal as before.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle. Your ass is so tight.”

“That feels”—his entire finger was in me, plunging in the same speed as his cock—“so good.”

His movements changed again. They became sharp, hard. So deep. And then there was his sounds, his throaty groans. His growling.

I couldn’t get enough of it. My body couldn’t either.

“Garin,” I moaned, “I’m going to come.”

His hand left my clit for a second as he pulled me on top of him, but his finger stayed in my ass, his cock in my pussy. I landed upright, straddling his waist, holding his shoulders so that I wouldn’t fall.

“Ride the cum out of me.”

I bounced up and down on his dick. The fullness was just what I needed. The stimulation on every sensitive part was what brought me to the edge.

“Garin!” I shouted as the burst blasted through me. Just as my navel began to shudder, I felt his long, thick streams of cum enter me.

He rubbed my clit until the screams stopped. Then, he locked his hand around the base of my neck until I had pumped everything out of him. When we both stilled, his face dropped to my breast, his cheek pressing right over my nipple. It was the softest he’d been since my clothes had come off. The very first bit of tenderness I’d felt from him.

He grazed his whiskers over my skin, scraping each of the cuts that the glass window had left. Then, he kissed the same spots. Once his lips had covered them all, he lifted me off him and pulled up his pants and then his shirt.

“Here,” he said, handing me my clothes. “Get dressed, and I’ll carry you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re bleeding, Kyle.”

The light hit him just enough that I saw the blood on his face. It was on his scruff, and there was a swipe of it over his lips. I looked down and saw it was all over my breast, and there were streaks of it on my chest. I didn’t know where it had come from—if he’d bitten me or if one of my scabs had opened up.

It didn’t matter.

I was such a mess either way.

“Come on, Kyle.”

I slipped my arms through the bra straps, wiggled my pants on, threw the shredded tank over my shoulder, and clasped my fingers around his hand. I was only on my feet for a second before he lifted me into his arms.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t make a sound. I just tucked my face into his neck and took a deep breath while he walked us home.

Thirty-Three

Kyle

“The only thing we have inside this cell is words, Kyle. Don’t hold them back from me.”

That line kept repeating in my head. I couldn’t get it to stop. I heard it while I was in the shower. I heard it again when I climbed into bed. I even heard it when Garin slipped under the covers, his skin still wet from his shower.

We hadn’t spoken much since the beach. He hadn’t touched me again. He hadn’t asked if I wanted him to sleep in my bed. He just walked out of the bathroom, naked, and got in. He lay on his back and folded his arms under his head.

I didn’t want him to leave in the morning. I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be with him, but I couldn’t tell him that either.

There was no future, no us.

Why couldn’t I just accept that?

These were the same thoughts that had haunted me in the cell. They hurt even worse out here because I was lying in a bed that could possibly be ours. One that I could share with him forever.

But there were bars between us.

Bars I had created.

I just had to tell him what I wanted.

And I had to tell him what he needed to hear.

“Billy didn’t OD,” he said.

And then, suddenly, it felt like his hands were back on my throat. But, this time, there was no give; he was squeezing to strangle every bit of air out of me.

I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you mean?” The air shuddered out of my lungs. My