it. But she could do this for him. She would serve him
until he remembered only the love.
She curled her tongue around the head of his cock, using her hand to hold the shaft,
to pump it as she licked and sucked.
“Use your teeth,” he ordered, and she did, grazing his cock, nibbling. “Ah, that’s
it.”
He grew hard again, and his hips angled, pushing his flesh into her mouth, then harder,
choking her a little. There was a hard knot in her stomach at the change in him. But
when he began to moan she relaxed, taking him deeper into her throat, teasing the
urethral opening with the tip of her tongue, working the shaft with her hand.
Finally he panted. “Enough!”
She pulled back, feeling stung by his tone. He’d never been so stern with her.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, shut the water off and marched her
out of the shower. Without offering her a towel or drying her himself, as he usually
did, he bent her over the long marble counter, a condom already in his hand. She watched
in the big mirror as he drew it over his cock, pressed her thighs apart with his and
pushed into her from behind.
He was watching her in the mirror but his eyes were distant. Vacant. And the knot
in her stomach was back, tears burning at the back of her eyes. He started to thrust,
hard and hurting. Devoid of pleasure for the first time because the connection was
gone as if it had never been there to begin with.
She pushed back against him, hard enough to make him lose his footing, and he slid
from her body. She whirled on him, shoved hard on his chest with both hands.
“What the hell, Roan? What is this?”
He looked remorseful, but he only shook his head.
“Really? That’s it?” She pushed her wet hair from her face, waiting for him to speak,
but he remained silent, unable to look at her. She grabbed a thick, white towel from
the rack and began to dry herself in rough strokes. She was fuming inside. “What did
I do to deserve this? What’s happened here?”
Finally he spoke. “Miranda—”
But she cut him off, too furious to hear him out. “No. This is done. I’m done. And
don’t even try to tell me you don’t know what’s wrong.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to… Fuck, I don’t know what I was going to say.”
She stared him down, rage and loss burning her like acid. “Fuck you, Roan.”
She wrapped the towel around her body and ran through the apartment, through the marble
foyer and into the open doors of the waiting elevator, punched the button for the
lobby.
By the time she’d reached her apartment she couldn’t even remember how she’d crossed
the lobby in nothing but a damp towel and reached her own bank of elevators.
It’s like a death all over again.
“God damn you, Roan Abrams,” she muttered, flinging the towel on the floor and moving
into her own bathroom, slipping into her soft, pink robe. “Why did you have to make
me fall in love with you? Why did I allow this to happen? Again?”
Love had been given, then taken away even more quickly than it had before, which was
almost worse than losing Daryn in some weird way. All she understood was that she’d
lost again.
She picked up her hairbrush from the counter and began to brush through her damp,
matted hair a little too hard, needing the pain to center herself.
“Don’t fucking do it,” she ground out from between clenched teeth. But the tears came
anyway. She had to turn away from the mirror, unable to watch herself cry.
She climbed into bed, burrowing under the covers and wrapping her arms around her
body, trying to hold herself together. But it was as if all the years of pain had
been unleashed, and the crying turned to uncontrollable moans. Then absolute sobs
and howls of grief that were wrenched from the very center of her being. She couldn’t
think. All she could do was feel everything she’d tried so damn hard to lock down
over the years.
until he remembered only the love.
She curled her tongue around the head of his cock, using her hand to hold the shaft,
to pump it as she licked and sucked.
“Use your teeth,” he ordered, and she did, grazing his cock, nibbling. “Ah, that’s
it.”
He grew hard again, and his hips angled, pushing his flesh into her mouth, then harder,
choking her a little. There was a hard knot in her stomach at the change in him. But
when he began to moan she relaxed, taking him deeper into her throat, teasing the
urethral opening with the tip of her tongue, working the shaft with her hand.
Finally he panted. “Enough!”
She pulled back, feeling stung by his tone. He’d never been so stern with her.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, shut the water off and marched her
out of the shower. Without offering her a towel or drying her himself, as he usually
did, he bent her over the long marble counter, a condom already in his hand. She watched
in the big mirror as he drew it over his cock, pressed her thighs apart with his and
pushed into her from behind.
He was watching her in the mirror but his eyes were distant. Vacant. And the knot
in her stomach was back, tears burning at the back of her eyes. He started to thrust,
hard and hurting. Devoid of pleasure for the first time because the connection was
gone as if it had never been there to begin with.
She pushed back against him, hard enough to make him lose his footing, and he slid
from her body. She whirled on him, shoved hard on his chest with both hands.
“What the hell, Roan? What is this?”
He looked remorseful, but he only shook his head.
“Really? That’s it?” She pushed her wet hair from her face, waiting for him to speak,
but he remained silent, unable to look at her. She grabbed a thick, white towel from
the rack and began to dry herself in rough strokes. She was fuming inside. “What did
I do to deserve this? What’s happened here?”
Finally he spoke. “Miranda—”
But she cut him off, too furious to hear him out. “No. This is done. I’m done. And
don’t even try to tell me you don’t know what’s wrong.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to… Fuck, I don’t know what I was going to say.”
She stared him down, rage and loss burning her like acid. “Fuck you, Roan.”
She wrapped the towel around her body and ran through the apartment, through the marble
foyer and into the open doors of the waiting elevator, punched the button for the
lobby.
By the time she’d reached her apartment she couldn’t even remember how she’d crossed
the lobby in nothing but a damp towel and reached her own bank of elevators.
It’s like a death all over again.
“God damn you, Roan Abrams,” she muttered, flinging the towel on the floor and moving
into her own bathroom, slipping into her soft, pink robe. “Why did you have to make
me fall in love with you? Why did I allow this to happen? Again?”
Love had been given, then taken away even more quickly than it had before, which was
almost worse than losing Daryn in some weird way. All she understood was that she’d
lost again.
She picked up her hairbrush from the counter and began to brush through her damp,
matted hair a little too hard, needing the pain to center herself.
“Don’t fucking do it,” she ground out from between clenched teeth. But the tears came
anyway. She had to turn away from the mirror, unable to watch herself cry.
She climbed into bed, burrowing under the covers and wrapping her arms around her
body, trying to hold herself together. But it was as if all the years of pain had
been unleashed, and the crying turned to uncontrollable moans. Then absolute sobs
and howls of grief that were wrenched from the very center of her being. She couldn’t
think. All she could do was feel everything she’d tried so damn hard to lock down
over the years.
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