No Strings Attached

Chapter Three

“How can I ... ?”

He sped up his thrusts at her words, and she threw her head back on her shoulders, her pleasure so intense that the moans from her sensual lips became agonized as they pounded into the night air, just as he was pounding into her sensitive flesh.

“Nate, I can’t ... I can’t stop it!” she whimpered, her voice a cacophony of loud pleas.

“You can,” he whispered, struggling to hold onto his restraint as he showed her with his body what he couldn’t say with words, “You’ll do it for me baby, for just a little longer ...” Her body began to tense at sporadic intervals, muscles clenching around his flesh, and her face was deep, deep into its concentration, as she tried to centre her mind against the ongoing assault, “That pleasure belongs to me,” he panted, “Just enjoy the edge ... take deep breaths baby, it’s for me, just remember that.”

A low groan burst forth from her throat, but she felt herself saved for a second, back, back, until one thrust sent her forward, and his command echoed in the air as she clung to it while her body fell apart, around his, “Come with me, baby,” he whispered against his flesh, just before his thrusts picked up a pace, and his own pleasure exploded inside her.

“That’s what it’s about with you baby,” he breathed out shakily against her temple as he held her close moments later, “No matter how you feel, your body trusts itself to me – it recognises me as its master. Our skin knows we’re made for each other,” he ran his fingers down her slender arm, to catch her fingers, interlacing them with his own as he held them against his frantic heartbeat, “However we come and forever, you’ll always belong to me in this, baby, always.”

“What are you doing out here?” she could almost recognise the same timbres in his voice, she thought, as the suddenly chilled night air danced over her skin in a breeze, and his deep baritone burst into her memories.

For the second time that day, she was caught with her inappropriate trek along memory lane taking complete control over her mind. She didn’t know what that meant – except maybe it was time to get out of here again, which her therapist had pointed out would not resolve the problem.

“I wanted some alone time,” she remarked coldly, feeling exposed and vulnerable with the memory so fresh in her mind, so clear – as though it had happened yesterday, rather than almost five years ago.

He sat down on the paving stones, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the stars, his body apparently relaxed, but each movement, she knew, was controlled and restrained.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, when it looked like he was going nowhere, reaching forward to pick up her shoes.

“What?” he smiled, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Are you serious?” her hazel eyes wide, she searched his face, and spoke very, very slowly, “Alone time Nate, as in ... the absence of another soul.”

Turning his head to face her, corded muscles bunching beneath his skin with the strain, his jaw tense, “I’m not another soul, Shannon,” his voice hoarse and steady – impassioned but completely restrained, “I’m your soul mate. As in together for-fucking-ever. No bullshit, no hiding, just me and you.” His eyes suddenly burned with intensity, narrowed to meet hers, “I meant every word of it, did you?”