The Reaper (Eastward Prison)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER

SEVEN

JACK

The way she looked at him told him a lot. It was dark and sultry, and held the memory of pleasure.

He found himself purring with satisfaction. It threw open doors in his mind. It dropped the floor out from under him. He felt his pulse beating faster. He hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t saying no, she wasn’t embarrassed by his physical arousal, but she didn’t want to talk about it? Why not? Did he like to talk about it? He wasn’t sure, he wanted to. He felt his desire building and building. He almost felt drunk with it. He was slurring. His mouth was salivating. He almost felt high. He had not been expecting this at all. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t prepared for it. He just wanted to slake his desire, forget all the uncertainty and the mess of the situation he was in. He just wanted to bend her over the bed and bang her brains out. Jesus. He was an animal.

But there was something else, too, something darker. His brain was whirring, the blood rushing out of it and to his pounding cock. But in its wake, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a new sensation. Right now, his body was almost solely governed by his desire, his attraction to her. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to take off his clothes, take off hers, injuries be damned, and sink into her. To pump into her with everything he had and only stop when he was satisfied. It felt warm in his veins. But he sensed his veins weren’t used to it. They weren’t used to such warmth, such spontaneity. He felt more cold blooded. He wasn’t used to running at such a high temperature.

He swallowed, it sounded loud to him, the air between them had become still, thick, and the sound of him swallowing was deafening.

“You know I can’t really remember being with you? You know I can’t really remember who you are? Who I am? You wouldn’t be worried by that?” he asked, trying to cling to the last semblance of rationality before his brain melted. He almost wanted to offer her an out, a reason to stop, to pull them back from the edge. He needed her to control him, to temper him.

“No.” Was a single, sure reply.

She’d wanted to be intimate again, with him, right then and there. That uncontrollable tail spin he felt, and her eagerness, had made him pause. It had made him almost come all over himself in his hospital gown, but it had also caught him out slightly. He was covered in bruises and sore all over for a start but that wasn’t the reason for his holding back. Why had he been unsure? It felt strange, to be intimate with a woman who he couldn’t remember, but who could obviously remember him. Hannah, his girlfriend. But he was surprised she would want to be intimate with him. So soon. After the worry, and the stress of him being here, she had to answer to the police and come every evening and see him covered in bruises, in the hospital… somehow he’d assumed any sexual feelings were too removed from the situation. She seemed keen to go there, and that had caught him off guard. But why? Why should she not want that? Want him? His body was obviously wanting that, it wasn’t any different for her to want it too. He almost felt privileged, that she could want him, despite any worry or the strangeness of the situation, she was still attracted to him, she still wanted their relationship to be sexual. She was a strong woman. Braver than he was, in that moment. She wanted him. Despite him not remembering, she wanted to feel his touch, she wasn’t afraid if it would be different, not as good, she had just wanted him.

“We have done this before, right? I mean, I’m assuming, if you were my girlfriend, we’d have slept together?”

She blushed bright red now but kept her gaze steady, looking at him. “Yes.”

His head spun. What if it wasn’t like that again? What if he couldn’t get himself there, let alone her. Did she expect that? What if he wasn’t as good as he had been and she was disappointed? He didn’t know much about himself, but he knew he wasn’t unconfident, he knew he wasn’t afraid, he knew he wasn’t usually one to feel under pressure. What if she was disappointed he wasn’t as good as he had been? She had blushed with a thousand erotic secrets in that blush he had thought, he felt proud he was good in the past, but would he be different for her now? He didn’t even know what she liked. Fuck, he didn’t know what he liked. It would be sleeping together for the first time.

“You are fucking cute when you blush like that… what am I doing?” He rubbed his face with his hands. “It may seem strange, being with me if I can’t remember being with you. It feels strange for me,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she said simply.

He reached for her hand and put the tips of her fingers in his hair, and rubbed his face into her hand.

“I just can’t understand,” he said lightly, as he closed his eyes, pushing into her fingernails in his hair harder, “why was I not there, when I could have been in bed with you?” He let it hang in the air, his mouth remained open, his eyes remained closed.

He saw her blushing and smiled a little. He kissed the palms of her hands. Pecking, nibbling.

“I...” She didn’t finish her sentence. He was arousing her, it was clear to see.

He nipped harder. “This isn't fair, you're busy remembering a nice moment. Care to share?” He flashed his eyebrows cheekily.

She opened her mouth and just barely managed to croak, “you want me to tell you about the most recent love making?”

His smile spread now, slowly, satisfyingly, his eyes hooded a little. “Recent? How recent?”

“No, I'm not going to give you a blow by blow account of it all-”

His mouth opened at the word ‘blow’. He licked his lips. “Sweetheart, you're driving me crazy, tell me please, just tell me, when did we last make love?”

“The other night, the night before you got hurt.” Her voice was much more breathy than it had been a moment before.

He sunk back into the pillows, languorously. He nipped her wrists again, pulling her down with him. She was now kneeling on the bed next to him, draped forward, close to him.

“Tell me everything, please tell me everything that happened…”

She faked innocence and shrugged nonchalantly. “Which time?”

His jaw went slack. “More than once? Don't tease me, tell me everything, or better yet, show me-”

She tutted and gave him a gentle swipe on the shoulder. “As if you're in any fit state to do anything of the sort.”

He smirked, nibbling now at her ear. “How many times?”

“Three.”

“Fuck. Was it good?” He rubbed his jaw over hers. He wanted to rub himself all over her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Did you come?” he whispered into her ear.

She blushed at his blunt question. “Yes,” she whispered back.

He groaned. His hands coming over her shoulders, running down her back.

“The last time,” she continued, “We were doing it slowly, deeply. I was on top of you, completely naked.”

“I’m imagining that right now… fuck…” he croaked.

“You see, earlier in the night it had been quite rushed, we barely made it to the bed-”

He swore again. “Hannah, I'm so hard for you, sweetheart.”

He reached for her hand and ran it over his waist, pressing it into his groin. And she felt it, his hardness.

This was truth, right now, in this moment, both of them under each other’s spell. What she said, what he said, it didn’t matter as much, but this between them, yes lust but more, the pulling sensation, the feeling of fit, of rightness, this was truth.

“I want you, now,” he said simply.

“Jack we can't, you're not up to it-”

“I'm fucking up to it, alright,” he replied through gritted teeth, looking down at his groin and the bulge in the bedsheets.

She followed his gaze and smiled. He was pleased with this, too, his body was responding as he wanted it to, as he felt it should. He felt pleased to be aroused. He almost sat straighter, almost puffed out his chest proudly. He felt pleased that she knew he was aroused. Aroused by her.

“Come here, come closer.”

he scooted closer, in front of him on the bed. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He leaned into the kiss, she could hear him growling deep in his throat.

His hands trailed down her sides to her waist, he held her hips to pull her closer as if he was trying to pull her on top of him.

“We can’t,” she said with her voice, but her body melted down beside his.

“We could,” he returned.

“Not yet,” she added, “when you are a bit better-”

“Hannah. You’re setting me on fucking fire now. I know I hesitated at first, and I regretted it, I’m sorry, but now how long are you going to make us wait?” He reached his hand to the waistband of her jeans. He undid the button and zipped down the zip. She took an involuntary sharp breath, and held on to him.

He skimmed his hand down, over her cotton panties, closer, lower. Then his fingers touched her hot, pulsing clit. Over her panties, he circled. She hummed and closed her eyes.

He was enjoying watching her. She wanted it, physically needed it. Yet he was aware that once they started this, they wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t be able to go back, it was a one-way road.

“I know you deserve better than this, a quick fumble in a fucking prison hospital bed but… I just can’t fucking stop myself.”

“Don't stop yourself,” she whispered.

With his fingers, he slipped the crotch of her panties aside, groaning himself quietly, and one of his fingers slipped inside her. She gasped out loud. He gasped, too. The starting gun had been fired, there was no going back now. His thumb applied pressure to her clit while his index finger slipped inside further.

“You're so ready for me,” he said, and she was wet. So ready.

“We shouldn’t…” She trailed off half-heartedly. She wanted this, it was clear to see.

“You know you hardly know me, really, by the sounds of it, we only know each other like this…” he slipped a second finger inside, moving them in a beckoning motion, urging her forward. “I sound like I’m a dangerous man, a bad man, Hannah.” The other hand came up to her chin. He cupped it lightly, and then moved lower.

“You sound like you are a good girl. Hannah. Please be good to me.”

She breathed lightly, as his hand closed around her throat. His hand lightly continued on, to the nape of her neck, up into her hair, tenderly caressing. He had the strength to crush her windpipe, he realised suddenly. He would rather crush his own than hers.

She bucked her hips beneath his fingers on her, and moaned, arched closer to him. Her hands came to his chest, forgetting his injuries as she pushed against him.

Pain shot through him, his body jerked.

“Sorry, sorry…” she mumbled.

He pecked her on the forehead, laying back on his bed, but his vision suddenly blurred, his ears rang with a high pitched squeal.

She blinked at him. “You’ve gone grey.” She went to move off the bed, too, again, murmuring an apology, but he held her down.

“Stay where you are. You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled, fighting the faint his body was trying to fall into.

She lay down beside him, she turned onto her side, so her back was to him, so they were spooning, and she could back into him, gently. The blood in his ears reassured him. Her warmth caught him and pulled him back up. He slipped his hand down in between her legs.

He swirled and coaxed gently, moving side to side over her clitorus, catching it gently each time he passed over the centre. His nose was against her cheek, smelling her skin. He dipped down with his finger and again slipped it inside her, hot and wet.

He sunk one finger into her until he could go no further, his thumb now pressing on her clitorus. She relaxed into it, her eyes closing.

He recognised this, he was sure of it.

“Tell me how you want this,” he murmured.

She whispered back to him, “yes, there, keep going, a little lighter.” And he watched and listened, his breathing slow and even behind her, but it caught a little in his throat.

“Yes, yes, harder now,” she said, her body clenching. He did, he followed her instruction, pushing the palm of his hand into her whole vulva, hard. She came, she rocked, she shuddered.

They both lay there, breathing deeply, surrounded by calm. He suddenly realised how quiet the hospital was, his room. A moment of quiet, and a moment of meeting. She gently, subtly snuggled back into him a little.

“When I close my eyes, I see you, you know,” he said, gently. “I see you… on top of me, riding me hard… and it feels… amazing Hannah. I see you, in my head.”

She stroked his shoulder, his arm.

“I don't know if they are memories or fantasies… but they are good,” he said.