The Reaper (Eastward Prison)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

HANNAH

She opened the door to Jack's room, and found him standing, topless, next to his bed, his back to the door.

“Hannah,” he said with a strangled croak, twisted round to look at her.

“What is it?” She rushed forward, had he hurt himself, what was wrong?

When she got nearer, she realised what was going on. His face was slightly red, warm looking, his body was hot, she could feel it radiating heat as she stood close to him. His eyes flashed. She starred with surprise, then hunger.

“I was just thinking about you,” he purred, and turned his body slightly. His pyjama trousers were bulging with his erection, he had a hand down the waistband, holding himself. That was what was going on.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you,” she said playfully, huskily. Dumping her bag on the floor, leaning back against the bed with her arms crossed.

“Come here,” he said, reaching for her with both hands.

She gathered his hands in hers, and kissed him hard, nipping his lips. She steered his hands back down to his groin.

“I think you were doing just fine by yourself,” she teased. He moaned, dropping his head.

“Talk to me, tell me what you’d do to me right now,” he said. One of his hands pulled his hospital pyjama trousers down. They pooled at his ankles, he stepped out of them. “You’ve basically got me locked up here, always hard, dripping for you.”

She swallowed at the sight of him. Stood up, fully naked, tall and strong. She had seen him lying or sitting a lot over the last few days, but being so close to him like this was intoxicating.

“I feel like I wait for you here, getting harder and harder, imagining making love to you, slow and deep,” he said. He touched himself, his fist gripping his engorged cock. He pumped hard, long slow strokes when he spoke.

“Then I imagine getting faster, harder, I imagine how warm and tight you are,” he murmured, and almost lurched forward closer to her. She backed away slightly. His other hand gripped the bed, as he began pumping himself faster now.

She was hypnotised. This strong, lean man, brought into this state of arousal, imagining her. Confident in his skin, in who he was, to strip naked and touch himself in front of her. He knew what time she arrived, she was a little early. She imagined him wanting relief before seeing her, anticipating her arrival and needing relief before even seeing her. She couldn’t help herself, she reached down and undid her own trousers.

He made a choking noise, watching her. She yanked her trousers down a little so she could reach down, and touch herself. She was wet, and hot. And burning. A little cry escaped her mouth.

“Oh fuck, Hannah, I’m close.”

“Wait for me,” she said simply.

He gritted his teeth, a muscle clenched in his jaw line. He adjusted his pace to the long, slow strokes, dragging a deep breath in in the effort to calm himself.

She touched herself, circling urgently, she felt swollen, hot, ready. She knew it wouldn’t take long. Looking at him, right in front of her, his being hanging on every word she said. His release, hanging on for her. Imagining him here all day, thinking of her, getting hot and hard at various points in the day, trying to settle on a book, not managing to, his hands straying to touch himself, to give himself pleasure.

“Hannah please,” he growled. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes, She could see he was trying very hard, teetering on the edge.

“Not yet, not yet,” she mumbled. She reached forward but put her other hand on his chest, her palm, keeping him at arm's length, close, but not close. “You were good at waiting for me, let me catch up.”

He almost whimpered.

She felt it then, she pressed into herself and cried out.

He opened his eyes, and gripped himself hard.

Her palm screwed tight into a fist on his chest. His hand fisted in the bedsheets. She shuddered, She felt his chest muscles tense and he shuddered. They gasped and sighed and shuddered together.

“Hannah, fuck,” he managed to say. He reached out for her again, and this time She let him, he held her face, her chin, then tenderly reached forward and kissed her. She breathed him in.

He needed to clean up, he had come, drips of his come were running down his thigh, there was a wet patch on the floor. He reached for her hand and padded to the ensuite bathroom, pulling her along with him.

He got some tissue paper, wiping himself. She got a flannel, running it under the water. She wiped his thigh clean. He took the flannel and gently pressed it between her legs. It felt cold and hot at the same time. She liked them cleaning each other off. She liked standing with him in the bathroom. He was tall, she was more aware of his height, his body, his presence.

They kissed wordlessly, then washed their hands together, he massaged soap into her hands, her into his, their hands merged in a soapy tangle under the stream of water.

They came out of the bathroom, he reached for his gown, which was screwed up on his pillow, and slipped that on. He settled back into his bed, sleepily. Like a toddler who’d had a busy day. He closed his eyes and immediately was breathing deeply. She lay next to him. She stroked his forehead, his neck. She breathed deeply, too. They didn’t say anything more, he stirred, woke up, looked up at her, his eyes open, seeing her. He stroked her forehead, too. Then he’d settle back. We were just two people, two lovers, not a liar and an amnesiac, not the complications of the situation, just two people who had acted on the feelings they had had.

“I admit I quite liked being kept here, in nothing but a gown, that you could slip off easily… like your sex slave, Hannah.”

She burst out laughing at that. He cocked an eyebrow suggestively, teasing her.

“Yes, I’m kept here, prisoner just for the sole purpose of being able and willing to pleasure you, whenever you visit me, is that it, is that the secret?” he whispered now, pulling her forward, nibbling her ear.

She almost gave up in a whirl of arousal and fear. But why fear anymore? He was remembering, he did know something was up, but he wasn’t asking her outright, he wasn’t pressuring her to give up the game. Maybe he was enjoying himself too much. She certainly was. He seemed content to keep up the charade for now, of them both pretending. This intimacy though, this wasn’t a charade, this fire between them was very real and it burned and burned.

“It still feels like… we were strangers, really.”

“Come on, you know that’s not true. When we touch-”

“Yes, yes, my skin knows your skin, I know it feels incredible, I know that’s not the kind of everyday chemistry most other couples have, I know that’s not the kind of chemistry I’ve felt before…”

“Then we weren’t strangers, were we? Just because I didn’t know where you worked or what your favourite book was, doesn’t mean I didn’t know you. I felt I knew you very well, in fact.”

“There is so much about me you don’t know, though, isn’t there?” he said. “And I think there are things about you that I don’t know, am I right, Hannah?” he asked, his voice suddenly steel.

This was the first time he was facing it head on, facing the fact that there was this wall of a secret between them, the first time he was calling it out. She didn’t know what to do, where to turn, how to react.

“For just one moment, let's just pretend that this is who we really are,” he growled into her ear. “Let's allow ourselves to believe that this is real and that we are who we say we are.”

“What? Do you know-” she stammered at his open revelation.

“Shhh,” he breathed.

KISS.

“Back out there, we talk as we normally do, we pretend we are Jack and Hannah, but I know we aren’t, I know there is something more to this. We carry on, otherwise we’ll both end up dead, do you hear me?” he murmured.

She looked at him, and he looked back at her. He met hers with the empty stare of a stranger.

She felt sick.

She blinked, and it was gone. His usual hovering smile was there again. But she knew, he had remembered, he knew a lot more than he was letting on. What could she do, what could she say?

“You should probably head home early tonight,” he said, with no trace of emotion. She thought her heart dropped out of her chest right there.

“Really?” she squeaked, her voice tight and high pitched. “I could stay-”

“No honestly,” he interjected, firmly. “I’ve got a splitting headache,” he said, he did look pale. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that, something was wrong.

“Yes, sure, okay, as long as you are sure,” her voice sounded small.

“I’m sure,” he said, and turned back, his eyes on the ground, that closed look came over him. She could see tension in his shoulders, his brow slightly creased.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, normal time? I’ve got to catch up on my reading, Hannah, anyway. I’m nearly at the end of the South African police novel you got me.”

“Oh?” she squeaked.

“I’ve got to the bit where the police are closing in on the suspect, there is no way out for him-”

“Well, if that’s what you think?”

“Oh, there is a way out?”

“Well, there is always a way out, isn’t there?”

“I don't know, sometimes things happen that you can't control. Sometimes there is no way out.”

She felt like they weren't talking about the book anymore.

“He’s only doing it to save his family-” She boldly ploughed on about the book though.

“Yes, the things you’d do to save the people you care about...”

“I… don’t know…”

“It’s enough to turn even the best of us, isn’t it?”

Her head snapped up to his.

“You know a white lie can be told for what you think is the greater good, but it turns into something much bigger than you thought? It grows legs of its own and takes over.”

She kept the book in mind. “A crooked policeman is still on the wrong side of the law, he has crossed that line and there is no way back, he’s basically a criminal-”

“Only if he is caught.”

He eyed her with a long look. Then leaned in for a kiss. She let him. To any onlooker it would have looked like an innocent kiss, a familiar peck on the cheek between a couple in a relationship. But then he looked at her again and kissed deeper, longer, as if he didn't want her to go.

As if he were saying goodbye.