Caught by Her Read online

  “It heightens the sensation when it’s the only thing you can focus on. You were all for getting rid of distractions, Sweetheart.”

  I pulled her underwear down, smiling to myself at how damp they were already. I ran my hands and tongue over every inch of her, and as I moved between her legs she arched her back off the bed, silently begging me to give her what she wanted. I put my hands on her hips, holding her down against the bed as I dragged my tongue up the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh.

  She groaned with pleasure, her legs open and slack. I positioned myself between them and gently brushed my stubble against her bare pussy. I could smell her arousal as I ran my tongue over her, getting so close to where she wanted me but not close enough as I still refused to give in to her, she whimpered my name.

  I heard her pulling against the handcuffs as they hit against the headboard. I relented and pushed a finger inside her, feeling how wet she was already as I slipped straight in, I added another and slowly moved them in and out.

  She moaned my name, a long drawn-out groan; she was already clenching around my fingers.

  “So close already, Lena, you are soaking for me, Sweetheart, absolutely soaking…” I removed my fingers and ran my tongue over her, holding my hands on her thighs, I pressed her legs open further, pushing in deeper and tasting her.

  She tilted her pelvis towards me, wordlessly begging me to give her what she needed, trying to move forward, but my hands held her in place. She was frustrated, huffing out her breath and pulling at the handcuffs.

  I chuckled, “You don’t like being at my mercy? You don’t like feeling helpless? Of being out of control?” I teased as I moved my tongue to her clit and continued with my fingers.

  She was panting now as she begged me, murmuring my name and “Please” over and over - whether it was to let her out or to let her come, I wasn’t sure.

  Knowing that I could reduce her to this, that she would allow me to do this when just a few weeks ago she was panicking at me moving my hands too close to her, felt incredible. The trust that she’d placed in me to allow me to restrain her was phenomenal.

  I felt her tense under me, my name a strangled cry as she came hard, her body lifting off the bed.

  I reached across to the bedside table blindly with one hand as the other pushed the blindfold up from her eyes. Snatching up the key I quickly opened the handcuffs as she lay there breathless, coming down from her high.

  I didn’t give her chance to recover; I needed her too badly.

  I pushed into her without warning or hesitation and she cried out again, pulling me to her now that she had use of her arms. She dragged her nails across my back, her hands going up into my hair and yanking my face down to meet hers. She kissed me, demanding and possessive and I responded just as aggressively.

  The only sound in the room was our bodies hitting against each other, wildly, as if we couldn’t get enough. It was frantic, heated and consuming, both of us needing this physical connection again.

  All the thoughts and doubts that had haunted me since her accident were swept away. I didn’t know how I could have considered standing back from her. I needed to get the shit-storm sorted in my head because I couldn’t walk away from her.

  I had to be able to trust in us the same way that she trusted in me.

  She came again just before me, my name a garbled moan as she tightened and clenched around me, I gave her a moment to recover before picking up the pace, chasing my own release. I thrust into her a few more times before hitting my own climax as she still trembled under me. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, digging into my back as she held me close.

  I kissed her lips, her cheeks and her forehead before leaning my own forehead against hers. “You’re amazing, Princess,” I murmured to her.

  Her eyes were closed but I noticed them crinkling at the sides, indicating that she was smiling. I went to pull away but she tightened her arms around me, snuggling her head into the crook between my neck and shoulder.

  “Two minutes,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around me, keeping me in close to her.

  I twisted so that I could lie on my back, pulling her into my side. We stayed there for a few more minutes as I listened to her contented breathing. She groaned as I pulled out of her embrace and moved back, looking about for the bottle of water.

  My face creased as I caught sight of her abdomen and ribs which were still faintly bruised from the accident. The bruising had faded to yellow now as it healed. I touched it carefully and she opened her eyes to look at me.

  “You called me Princess.”

  “I always call you Princess.”

  She shook her head at me. “You haven’t.”

  I moved out of the way as she sat upright. She tugged the sheet around her, hiding her nakedness, and pulled her knees up under her chin. She suddenly appeared smaller and fragile.

  “You haven’t called me it since the accident.” There was a hint of anger and challenge in her voice but she sounded hurt.

  I tried to think back but couldn’t recall. I hadn’t realised that I’d stopped calling her princess. It wasn’t something that I’d done consciously. “Hey!” I reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with us, Nate. Things haven’t been right since the accident. You were there but you weren’t. It’s like there’s this huge gulf between us and I don’t understand why. What have I done wrong? I know that you were upset with me for going with Paul…”

  I felt myself tense at the mention of Paul and the accident. She was right; I was still pissed off about that, but there was so much more. I just didn’t want to deal with this tonight, not now, not after what we’d just experienced. I wanted tonight with her, a normal night where we could forget all the hassle and stress that was a constant presence, and just enjoy each other.

  “Not tonight, Lena. We do need to talk and we will do. Not now, though. Not after this.” I spread my hand to encompass the bed and what we’d just shared. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed it before releasing it to stand but she caught my arm.

  “Please!” she pleaded, her fingers digging into my wrist. She was upset; her eyes shone with unshed tears and I felt bad. I hated that I’d made her feel so vulnerable.

  “It’s not you. Please don’t get upset. Let’s just have tonight and then we can discuss everything tomorrow. ” I got up from the bed and walked over to get a tee shirt.

  She sat up straight in the bed, squaring her shoulders as she glared at me. “Let’s just have tonight,” she repeated coldly, “it’s not you,” and instantly I realised how it must have sounded.

  She laughed but it was humourless, her anger immediately coming to the surface.

  Bad choice of words Nate, you arsehole, I scolded myself.

  “Nate, if you’re giving me the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech minutes after fucking me, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you!” Her eyes were blazing, arms crossed as she glared angrily at me, challenging me to explain.

  It was hard to focus with her looking so fired up and passionate. With her just-fucked hair, flushed neck and cheeks, her arms barely covering her chest, she made me want to forget everything and just crawl back into bed with her.

  Her eyes followed mine and she snatched the sheet up again from where it had slipped, pulling it around her tightly. “Are you kidding me?”

  “ Retract the claws, Wildcat! I do need to speak to you. I just didn’t want to do it tonight. If you’re pushing it, I will, but give me a few minutes to get my head together. I’ll grab us both a drink and I’ll be back.” I dragged my jeans on before going downstairs.

  This was not going to be a fun conversation. I needed to try and put into words the shit-storm of emotions and thoughts that had been going through my mind since the accident.

  I hadn’t had to open up to anyone since Clarissa, and in hindsight, that relationship had been purely superficial.

  I wasn’t looki
ng forward to this at all.

  Then, on top of having to spill my guts to her, I was going to have to break the news that someone had been taking photos of her. I hated that I was going to have to upset her again. She had enough to deal with, considering everything that was going on already. The last thing I wanted was for her to have any more ideas about going after this guy. She’d told me that she wouldn’t.

  I needed that as a promise from her.

  Selfishly, I needed to know who the hell that guy was and why she was hugging him.

  Who the fuck thought it was acceptable to put their hands on my girl? And why the hell she’d allowed it – and seemed all too fucking happy about it, too!

  I’d need to control myself. I couldn’t go in all guns blazing. The main issue was the creeper taking her pictures, but the thought of that picture had my jaw ticking. I closed my eyes to dispel the waves of jealousy and anger that washed over me at the memory of the photo and the words that were sent.

  I trusted her.

  I tried to quiet the little voice of doubt that was whispering away to me. I needed to hold onto my composure.

  I needed to hold onto my trust.

  She’d placed her trust in me. I owed her the same.

  Lena

  I felt sick with nerves watching Nate walk away and go downstairs. I’d felt vulnerable since the accident and his attitude was only serving to compound the feeling. He was definitely holding something back from me and I was going to find out what the hell it was. He’d said he was going to get us drinks but that was an excuse; he’d brought some water up earlier.

  Why did he need to get his head together?

  What was there to think about?

  I glanced about, trying to locate the bottle, and saw that it had rolled over by the bedside cabinet. I got up and started to get dressed.

  If he thought I was going to sit here, naked and exposed, while he suddenly felt the need to speak, he could think again. The fact that he wanted to talk to me told me that it wasn’t going to be good.

  Nate didn’t do talking; it was next to impossible to get anything from him. I tried to calm the storm that was building inside me, anxiety rapidly becoming anger. He never wanted to talk and of all the opportunities to speak, he decides to talk now?

  I opened the bottle and took a big gulp then set it back down on top of the cabinet. I’d been tipsy when I’d left Maddie’s, but now I felt stone-cold sober and very much on edge. These emotional seesaws with Nate were really starting to take their toll.

  I noticed the handcuffs and blindfold were still on the bed. I picked them up so that I could put them away. Opening the first drawer, I saw immediately it was the wrong one. There was a small pile of photographs, the top one showing Nate when he must have been only around 9 or 10 years old. He was standing next to Jonathan and a couple I presumed to be his parents were standing behind them.

  I put the handcuffs and blindfold back down on the bed beside me and pulled out the photos to have a look. There were about 10 in total and I quickly flicked through them. There were about 5 or 6 showing Nate at various stages of his life, as well as photos of just his parents and his Gramps. It seemed such a shame that Nate didn’t get on with his brother; they looked like such a nice, happy family.

  I noticed a folded, handwritten letter. I glanced towards the doorway. I didn’t know if Nate would appreciate me looking through his things.

  I pushed the drawer closed and sat impatiently on the bed waiting for him, but my eyes kept getting drawn back towards the drawer. With another quick glance towards the doorway, I opened the drawer again and pulled the letter out.

  He was going to speak to me anyway - maybe it was about something that was in here. Besides, he’d seen my letters, I thought, trying to justify to myself what I was doing. I’d have a quick look and put it back. I was surprised to see that it was a letter from his parents:

  To our darling son, Nate,

  Sitting down to write this letter has to be one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do as parents. The thought of leaving you, of not being around for you, no matter how self-reliant or grown you are, breaks our hearts. We can only hope that when the time comes for you to read this letter, you are settled, and that we have had many wonderful and blessed years with you.

  Please, know how proud we are of you and how much we love you. No matter how many times we tell you, it will never seem enough.

  We are sorry if we ever made you doubt your decision to join the armed services. We need you to know how proud we were of you and hope that the reason that you left was because it suited you. The reasons we had were selfish. No parent wants their child to do anything that puts him in harm’s way. We are sorry for ever making you feel bad about decisions you made for yourself, Nate. Know that, whatever choices you made in life, we always supported you. We have only ever wanted you to be safe, happy and to know how loved you are.

  Watching you grow from a beautiful, happy, little boy into the strong, wonderful, caring man that you have become has been one of our greatest joys.

  You are a good man, Nate, and we are so proud to call you our son.

  We know that you will be upset by the terms that James has read out to you. Please understand that we have thought carefully about this. It’s not meant to cause any more problems or to be used as a weapon or punishment. We appreciate how difficult this situation could be for you, but we have every confidence that you will deal with this fairly. Don’t let your brother twist this. See it for what it is.

  We don’t want the money to become a burden: it’s supposed to be there to help, hopefully to help the both of you. We want it to enable you to fulfil your dreams or give you the life that you’d like. It should be used to make things easier for you, not more difficult. You are free to do with it as you wish. Don’t ever feel that you need to do something out of a sense of obligation or duty; we don’t want that for you.

  Jonathan has made his choices. He’s an adult and needs to be responsible for the decisions he makes. We beg you not to feel any guilt or upset over this. Everything that has been put in place has been decided by us. There has never been a favourite; you are both our boys and we love you both, but we will not stand by and allow one child to hurt the other - or himself - by using our funds.

  Jonathan is more than aware of the terms that have been laid out. Please don’t allow him to use emotional blackmail on you. He has every opportunity to help himself. If he doesn’t, then it will be his failure, not yours and not ours. As parents it has taken us a long while to come to terms with this. You are not responsible for his poor choices, Nate. We have put plans in place for Jonathan to receive help if he so wishes, but, please, do not take any of that upon yourself. Our intention was never to make things more difficult or stressful for you.

  Relationships require two parties that fight to make them work. Sometimes relationships are so hateful and toxic that the only choice is to walk away to save yourself. We would never judge you or blame you for this decision, Nate. We know how fraught your relationship with your brother is. Please don’t make decisions out of an obligation to us. You have always put others first; you need to do what’s best for you. That’s not selfish; that’s sensible and right and we would never blame or resent you for that.

  We wish we could put into words how much we love you but it’s just not possible. We sincerely hope that we have made you feel loved and that you know how special you are. We love you so much, Nate, to the moon and back and around every star, our littlest baby boy! Every single day you have made us smile; every day you made us proud to know you, to call you our son.

  We hope we have the opportunity to meet the wonderful woman whom you make your life with. We hope that you are able to raise a family because you will make a wonderful father. We hope that circumstances will change, that these provisions can be cancelled and that we will never need to give you this letter.

  We hope for a lot of things, but, above all else, we hope for you to have a long,
healthy and happy life. If we are taken away from you, know that we will always be with you, smiling down on you, bursting with love and pride.

  We love you with all our hearts.

  Your Parents xxx

  I sat there holding the letter limply in my hand, my heart aching at the emotion that saturated the letter. I shouldn’t have read it but I hadn’t been able to stop. Once I’d started, I couldn’t put it down. It made things so much clearer, yet so much more confusing, too. There had to be more to it than Jonathan sleeping with Clarissa; there seemed to be some deep-rooted issues. I didn’t hear Nate walking back up the stairs and startled when he walked into the room.

  His face blanched when he saw me holding the letter in my hand, his posture immediately stiffening. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sorry, I went to put the stuff away.” I indicated at the handcuffs and blindfold, now seeming at odds with the atmosphere in the room.

  He walked over and snatched the letter out of my hands, stuffing it back into the drawer with the photos. “Wrong drawer,” he muttered crossly without looking at me.

  “Nate,” I called out to him but he ignored me, pushing the drawer shut. He walked across the room, leaning against the wall and shoved his hands roughly through his hair - whether it was because of what he’d come to tell me or because of the letter, I didn’t know.

  I blew out a loud exhale, feeling frustrated, my annoyance with him back at full force. Yes, I’d been in the wrong to look at his personal letter, but I’d laid myself bare to him time and time again, yet he continued to keep me in the dark. It was a constant battle to get him to tell me anything and whilst I could understand his need to hold back, it was completely unfair, we should have been past this by now.