It was an answer so different than what she would have said in our last life that it gave me pause.
She filled in the pause with, “My mother loved Jack before she died, she even wanted us to get married one day, and Vivienne wants me to date Jack because his parents can help her career.” An inhale. “He and I have an open arrangement between ourselves, but I still feel like I owe him my time for all he’s done for me. He got me through my mother’s death, Merlin. I can’t overlook that.”
“So it’s what your family wants and you feel obligated anyway,” I said. “And I’m not enough on the other end of the scale.”
“Stop it,” she said, growing tearful again. “That’s not how it is at all! You’re putting me in an impossible position, and if you could just stay—”
“Stay and watch you continue on with Jack? I’d rather suffocate,” I told her. “I’d rather be buried alive. I can’t. My…feelings…for you won’t allow it.”
“So what are you saying?” Her tears were really flowing now, glistening in the moonlight. “What way are you going to hurt me?”
“Just with a goodbye, little moon. I’ll only hurt you with goodbye.”
I left her alone on the lakeshore, and her last words to me came through the slowly settling night mist.
Stay. Don’t hurt me like this.
I love you.
I love you, Merlin.
Please.
5
“You’re drifting,” she says, sounding pleased and exasperated all at once. “Come back to me.”
Had I been drifting? Yes, I suppose I was.
She’s still standing above me, her dress dropped down so it rests along my stomach and legs, hiding her cunt from view. I want more than anything to pull that dress back up, but I feel like that would earn her displeasure, so I keep my hands by my sides.
“There you are,” she says, scanning my face. “You’re back.”
“I was remembering.”
“And do you remember what I said?”
I know exactly what words she means. “You said you loved me.”
“Did you believe me?”
I hesitate. Decide on the truth. “I didn’t.”
She doesn’t seem upset by my admission. She even looks like she expected it in a way. But still, there’s something about the way she blinks a little too slowly, as if fighting back some powerful feeling, that makes me add, “I came back anyway.”
Her eyes snap all the way open and she’s suddenly still. Taking a deliberate breath. And then another.
She doesn’t ask me for more just yet and I don’t volunteer it, letting her process my words as she braces one knee up on the lounge by my hip and then the other on the other side. She reaches under her dress and takes hold of my male flesh, which is so swollen by this point that it almost hurts to be touched, and positions it against the wet well
between her legs.
She doesn’t rub me against her, doesn’t run my tip through her slick seam; she merely places me at the place where she wants me and starts to sink down.
Her eyes flutter as her pussy squeezes over the fat head, and she has to screw her hips back and forth in order to work her cunt over me. It takes work—she pauses several times to rest her hands on my chest and breathe—because she’s so tight. The kind of tight where I think we might have to change positions or maybe I’ll have to get her off with my fingers. I might be forced to do so anyway—the kiss of her skin against mine, bare wet pussy on bare fat cock, is too much to endure after everything else.
My back arches up and I ball my hands into fists. My belly feels like it’s made of corrugated steel with how clenched tight it is, and my thighs are hard swells of muscle against Nimue’s sleek legs as I fight with all my body to keep my orgasm at bay.
And I’m only halfway inside her.
