A Night with Mr Bryan

Chapter 4: A Night with Mr Bryan 2

When he pushed a finger inside me, I stiffened–the pain was sharp, immediate, unfamiliar.

His brow creased. “You’re tense.”

No response. I couldn’t give one. If I spoke, I would break.

“You’re wet,” he whispered a second later, as if that comforted him. As if it meant we were in this together.

You don’t know me, I wanted to scream. You’re touching a stranger.

Without opening his eyes, he withdrew his finger and fisted the thin lace of my panties in his hand. He was shaking as he looked up at me, fury clear in his expression. In one quick movement he tore them off, the rip of the fabric echoing in the silence.

My head fell to the side as I leaned back on my elbows, dread curling tight in my stomach. But to my horror, my body betrayed me, trembling in ways my heart wanted to resist.

To my absolute horror I actually whispered, “Oh, please.”

He gently eased me back onto the bed, his lips brushing my cheek. He stopped moving, pulling his fingers back and holding them in a fist before him. I sat up, grabbing his silk tie and pulling his mouth roughly against mine. I’d practiced. Not because I wanted to. But because I was afraid of messing up. Afraid of what Mrs. Banks would do if I failed.

His lips felt as perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I’d never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every single angle and dip and teasing move to make me almost completely lose my mind.

Then he touched my neck, like it meant something. His fingers returned, moving slowly, trying to ease the discomfort– still careful. Still thinking he was with someone he loved.

Then it happened. His hand moved lower down my back, fingers brushing along the ridges of the scars there. He froze.

“What’s this…?” he whispered.

I held my breath. My entire body tensed.

He trailed his fingers over them softly, like they were something sacred.

“They’re beautiful,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you had these.”

I turned my face away, biting down the ache in my chest.

If he only knew what caused them…

If he only knew I wasn’t Naomi…

He leaned forward and kissed the scars, slow and soft, as though trying to soothe them. As though they belonged to someone he cherished. And that… that almost broke me.

Then he whispered, “I hope you are ready for this.”

Before I could utter a single word, he took hold of my ankles, grabbed his c**k, and took a step forward, thrusting deep inside me. Though, he entered me slowly, carefully, stopping every few seconds to check my face.

Porn didn't prepare me for this. This was too real. It felt too real…. His c**k did not enter at first but he kept on deepening it more and more.

I couldn’t even be horrified by the loud moan I let out.

I didn’t hide the pain. I couldn’t. It was real.

“I kept thinking of Mom in that prison bed. Of Naomi’s warning. Just a little longer, I told myself. Just a little longer…”

He paused, blinking down at me, his expression softening. “Y..you… you really waited… for me… didn’t you?”

Of course he believed that. Naomi had promised him this moment, hadn’t she?

Said she’d save herself for their wedding night–or something close enough to it. And now he thought he was unwrapping that gift.

There was a strange tenderness in his voice, like he thought this moment meant something deep. Something sacred.

“I knew it’d hurt,” he added softly, drawing me back to reality. “But you’re doing so well.”

My vision blurred.

Don’t cry.

He’s not hurting you. But he doesn’t know who you are.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

He was shaking. I think he thought this was some big moment between them–between us.

And for him, maybe it was.

For me?

It was a lie.

He moved again–slowly, deeper. My nails dug into the sheets. I felt the burn. I felt the stretch. He shifted me suddenly, lifting and turning me toward the window, pressing me forward.

And then…. The next thing I felt was the cold window against my breasts, and I groaned at the intense contrast in temperature between it and his skin.

He reached around, moving his fingertips across my c**t with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. I could feel his smile press into the back of my neck, and when he opened his mouth and pressed his

teeth to my skin, I was done for. Warmth spread down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs, jerking me back into him.

My hands slammed against the table, near the bed, my entire body quaked against my will, betraying me with a release I didn’t want, leaving me gasping for air I couldn’t steady. When it finally subsided, he pulled out and spun me around to face him, ducking his head to suck my neck, my jaw, my lower lip. He groaned, leaning into my hands and kissing up and down my neck, pressing his erection into my stomach.

….He kissed the side of my face and whispered, “You’re mine now.”

He thought he’d claimed Naomi tonight. But the truth? He’d just given himself to a stranger wearing her skin.

And all I could think was…What happens when he finds out I’m not her? The night to him was special but to me, I can't tell… it felt special but it doesn't sound like it.

What happens when he realizes everything about tonight was a lie?