Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Tears fill my eyes as I imagine my deceased fiancé stood directly behind me, moving the hair from my neck like he did so many times and placing his lips in the spot he cleared. Every time he did this I shivered and my skin broke out in goose bumps. My knickers would soak in seconds and usually his hand would snake around my waist and slide between my trousers and my underwear.
Just thinking about it makes me tingle in ways I shouldn’t. My own hand follows the trail that Caleb’s hand left so many times. It’s harder with my stomach in the way so I pop the button of my jeans and dip my fingers directly into the wetness that seeps from my core. A sharp breath leaves me as I imagine Caleb’s hand working that sensitive nub. I do it exactly the same way he used to, circling slowly, picking up the pace as his other hand came up to tease my nipple. My hand follows this movement and I squeeze my full breast in one hand, still teasing my clit with the other.
Burning spreads through me and my mind conjures how it felt to have his lips and tongue tasting my neck, as my ears pick up on words once spoken but no longer there.
It starts in my clit before spreading up and around to every sensitive spot on my body. My nipples become erect, at this moment he’d press it with his thumb like a button before rolling it gently between his thumb and finger.
A strangled cry escapes me as I bring myself to the edge, my hand working quickly in my pants. I want to push my fingers inside but I can’t reach, my stomach won’t let me.
“Oh god,” I breathe and continue my movements.
My eyes seem to darken as the burning and tingling focuses on one place in my lower stomach. I gasp and rub harder, willing it to burst forth.
It does and I almost fall to my knees but manage to free the hand teasing my breast and grip the desk with it. “Ah,” I cry out as my breath comes out in pants and the explosive climax tears through me, ripping my body to shreds before finally piecing it back together with the lingering pleasure that lasts a few seconds after.
With one final shudder I collapse to the ground and cry. My body exhausted and sated but my true desire nowhere near fulfilled, nor will it ever be again.
It’s been a while since I felt like screaming, the need to is almost unbearable.
Instead I stagger into the bathroom, turn on the shower and step under the cool spray without removing my clothes first. I should never have done that, I’ve never needed to do that before. Caleb was always the one to turn me on and finish me off. Every single time.
Not once during our entire relationship did I ever pleasure myself.
Now I just feel guilty and dirty. Why did I do that? I shouldn’t even be feeling horny after everything that’s happened. I’m weak.
Weak and stupid.
I’m lonely.
I’m lonely and tired, tired of being alone.
Chapter Fourteen
I remember when Sasha told me not to lose myself to a darkness I’ll never be able to climb out of. She was right, but she was also wrong. Caleb was my light. Sure there’s darkness that I can’t climb out of, but not because I lost myself, it’s because I lost him.
The week drags on and nothing new or exciting happens, I continue cooking for an invisible man and cleaning with Jeanine. I search for photos, notes and other things that may prove to me that Caleb once existed and ran through this house.
Unfortunately I find nothing yet and I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t started looking in the first place. The amount of disappointment I feel each time I don’t find anything just pushes me further into that darkness.
On Tuesday I went into town and printed off a lot of pictures from my phone, wishing I’d done so sooner. This brings me a small amount of joy and an even bigger amount of frustration because I can’t bring myself to look at them. They still sit on my dresser in a closed envelope, gathering dust that doesn’t exist in this bleach scented house.
Part of me was hoping we’d go baby shopping this past week. Nope. Either Nathan forgot or he’s changed his mind or maybe he’s been busy. I don’t know and I don’t want to ask.
His moods are never certain and I can’t deal with pushing him over the edge right now.
Why is he such a recluse? It can’t be healthy.
It’s none of my business.
Why do I pick at everything when Nathan pops into my head? I don’t do it over anybody else. What is it about him that makes me want to protect him and slap him all at the same time?