“Because I’m your whore, Sir!” I exclaimed, the word jarring to my own ears.
“Don’t you ever fucking forget it,” he growled, bending low over me to lick the sweat from my spine.
He pushed the vibrator into my hands. “Make yourself come.”
I held the cool metal against my swollen, painful clit, and sucked in a breath. I shouldn’t have been able to feel a damn thing, after what I’d already been through, but a combination of the filthy talk and Neil’s utter Dominance turned me on beyond the limits of the physical. I’d never felt so used and dirty in my entire life, and I loved it so much I couldn’t help but be turned on.
“Tell me you love my cock, Sophie.”
“I love your cock, Sir!”
“Tell me you love getting fucked in your ass.”
“I love getting fucked in my ass, Sir!”
I would have told him anything, done anything. And that... That’s what scared me. Not his control over me, but the fact that I’d willingly ceded it to him. That I would do anything for his cock in me, his hands on me.
I’d told him to make me afraid. Well done, Neil.
When I finally reached a true, unspoiled released, I screamed, and there was no power on earth that could have stopped me. Luckily, Neil was quick to react, and clamped his hand firmly over my mouth, pinning the dildo between us, grinding his cock so deeply in me I saw bright red starbursts of pain behind my eyelids.
“Oh, fuck.” He withdrew, and through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, I heard the snap of the condom coming off. Still hunched over me, he came, spraying heavy droplets onto my back before collapsing into a slick, sweaty mess on top of me.
“Well,” I panted beneath him, wriggling, the dildo still inside me. “I think that will definitely sustain me for a good, long while.”
He laughed and rolled off, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me, a sticky hand in my hair, the other pulling me hard against him. And in that moment, I felt so loved, so cherished, I was absolutely certain that nothing in the world could bring me down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’d thought the induction chemotherapy had been bad. I had no idea just how much worse the high dose would be.
As with the induction chemo, Neil received the first treatment in the hospital. We arrived at seven AM, and I staggered under the burden of not having any coffee. Neil wasn’t supposed to have caffeine or anything else dehydrating before we checked in, and I didn’t want to torment him with a steaming hot cup of you-can’t-have-any.
I’m not entirely sure he wouldn’t have just smacked it to the ground, anyway. He was in a fine mood as we’d left the house, completely at odds with the loving, sensitive man whose arms I’d fallen asleep in the night before. He grumbled about everything from the itchiness of his hair: “Why is it even bothering to grow when it’s just all going to fall out again in a few days?” to the indignity of having to be admitted at all: “I had the other drugs at home and nothing went wrong. Besides, if it did, I could practically crawl to the bloody hospital.”
“You have cancer. Some hospital visits are going to be required,” I tried to remind him gently, but I did grit my teeth a little.
“Yes, I know I have cancer, thank you Sophie!” he’d snapped, and that was the last we’d talked on the drive.
At the hospital, I made the mistake of picking up his bag to carry it in. He snatched it out of my hand and muttered, “I can do that myself.”
The lack of control was killing him.
Despite his agitation and antagonism toward me, Neil was sweet as pie to the nurses and receptionists. I bit my tongue the whole time, but I was wondering if I could slip somebody twenty quid to anesthetize him.
In his room, he changed into a gown as instructed.
I folded his clothes and put them neatly in his bag. “Do you want me to help you tie that?”
“Yes, thank you.” He had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish. I stepped up behind him and began tying the little bows one at a time. He turned his head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been absolutely horrible to you this morning.”
My mood thawed a little. “Yeah, you have. But you’re worried.”
“I’m not,” he insisted lightly. “Really, this isn’t the part that worries me.”
“Then what is it?” I plucked at the shoulders of the gown to straighten them.
“I don’t like the idea of you seeing me sick again,” he admitted. “I know it’s only for a short amount of time, but I’ve felt so much better since that last round of chemo. Almost normal. Last night I felt like I had my old life back. Now, I have to give it all up again.”