Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

I tingled from his words alone.

“How high do you want me?” I asked, lifting up on all fours and glancing seductively over my shoulder at him as he palmed his cock and stared at my ass.

“Head down, remember. Ass as high as it’ll go.” I did as he told me, and he put his arm under my hips and pulled me up even higher. “Good girl.”

He leant over to open his bedside table and take out a condom. I heard the rustle of the packaging as he put it on. Then I felt him run his cock in-between my legs, teasing my folds and rubbing against my clit. His breathing became deeper, more of a pant, as he started to slide slowly into me, then he whispered, “Hold on to the bed. This could get bumpy.”

I reached my hand forward, and I’m glad I did, because he slammed into me hard and made me scream out loud with how fucking amazing it felt to be filled by him like this. My body jerked forward, and I cried his name as he pounded into me. The bed shook and the floorboards creaked, but we didn’t care. We both wanted it hard and fast. I pushed back into him, tilting my ass to take him as deep as I could, moving my hips to get better friction. When he reached his hand around and started to circle my clit as he was thrusting into me, I lost it completely. I begged him to fuck me harder, give me everything he had. I didn’t hold back and neither did he. We were like two animals that’d been lost in the wild for a lifetime. We couldn’t get enough.

“I. Fucking. Love. You,” he stated on every hard thrust.

“I love you,” I managed to gasp in between my breathy pants.

He pounded into me and I couldn’t get enough. Each thrust felt more divine than the last.

“Oh, Brandon.” I used both hands to brace myself against the headboard. “I’m gonna come so hard.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said, working himself deeper and deeper, harder and harder.

I tried to hold it, but I couldn’t. My walls contracted tightly around him and my whole body started to quiver with the force of my orgasm. I was no longer in control of my body, he was.

“That’s it, baby. Milk my cock,” he moaned, but he wasn’t done with me yet. He swivelled his hips and kept on grinding into me, making me shake and whimper. Everything was so sensitive, so heightened. The way he gripped my hips, the feel of him slamming into me and the sound of his moans all sent me spiralling into a euphoria I never wanted to leave. Then, without warning, I climaxed again. Wave after wave of the most amazing aftershocks rippled through me and I cried into his pillow. I’d never felt anything like it. Brandon owned me, body, mind and soul.

“So fucking perfect.” He grunted and then I felt him thicken inside me and groan as he came hard. His hands held me tightly in place as he rode out his orgasm, and I turned my head on the pillow to watch as a look of pure love and satisfaction washed over him. He gazed down to where we were joined like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I fucking love you, Harper,” he said before he covered me with his whole frame and pulled me down to lie next to him on the bed.

We were both panting and covered in sweat, but we didn’t care. We were only bothered about being close to each other, lying in each other’s arms.

“That was amazing,” I whispered.

“It always is with you.”

We stayed entwined for a little while longer, but eventually, he had to take care of the condom, and like the true gent he was, he brought a warm cloth back to clean me up. I had plans for a shower together, but the cloth would have to do for now.

As I lay in his arms, basking in that indescribable afterglow, the memory of what his nan had said sprang clear into my mind.

“Do you have a photo of me?” I couldn’t see his reaction because I was nestled into his chest and he wouldn’t let me go, but I felt his muscles clench and heard him take a breath.

“Did you look in my drawers when I was in the bathroom?”

“No. I’m not a snoop. It’s just, your nan said you have a picture of a girl and she thought it was me.”

He sighed and rolled me off his chest. I didn’t like that. Was he pushing me away?

I watched him push up onto his elbow and then reach forward to open the drawer in question. When he pulled a familiar frame out, I gasped.

“Where did you get this?” I said, taking the frame out of his hands and then mentally face-palming myself.

The night he broke into our house, that’s when he got it, dummy.

“I took it. It’s my favourite picture of you. I love the way your eyes sparkle at the camera. You’re so happy. When I saw that, on the night I… well, you know. I had to take it. It was a reminder for me.”

“A reminder of what?” I asked gently. I knew this meant a lot to him. I could tell by the softness of his voice, and the way he looked at me like I was made of china.

“It reminds me of what you’ve lost. You’ve lost a lot because of me… But that sparkle in your eyes? I wanted to give that back to you. I wanted to see that happiness on your face again. That photo reminded me what I needed to do. I’m not giving it back,” he stated firmly.

“How did we not notice it was missing?” I asked, more to myself than to him. It only highlighted the fact that both my parents and I had been walking around in a daze for so long. We didn’t even notice when things went missing right under our noses. “Brodie took that photo. It was our last family holiday. We went skiing in Switzerland.”