Chapter 400: React To His Touch

Rebecca’s POV

I woke slowly.

For a few seconds I didn’t remember where I was. The room was now dark. The mattress beneath me was soft. A warm, solid body was pressed against my back, and a heavy arm rested around my waist.

Then everything returned at once.

Kaden.

The fever. The healer. The ridiculous skin-to-skin treatment.

I was still completely naked. So was he. And his cock was still hard, resting firmly against the curve of my ass.

I stayed perfectly still, hoping he was still asleep.

That was when I felt his hand move.

His fingers, which had been resting near my stomach, slowly slid upward. They brushed the underside of my breast, then higher, until the rough pad of his thumb found my nipple.

I froze and kept my eyes closed.

His fingers moved slowly over my breast, the rough pad of his thumb circling my nipple again and again. A low, sleepy sound left his throat. His hips shifted, and I felt the hard length of his cock press firmly against the curve of my ass.

"Fuck..." he muttered against the back of my neck, voice thick with sleep. "I’m so hard... I want you, Rebecca."

My heart pounded against my ribs as heat spread through my body. I wanted him too, and I hated myself for it. Who was I fooling by pretending I no longer felt anything for him? But I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, let alone admit what I was feeling. After everything that had happened between us, the thought of wanting him again was simply too embarrassing.

His hand left my breast and trailed down my stomach. Lower. He parted my thighs carefully, and then one thick finger pushed inside me.

I held the moan in my throat, forcing my body to stay still, eyes still shut.

"Fuck... fuck," he whispered. "You’re already wet." His finger moved deeper, then a second joined it. He began to fuck me slowly with them, curling upward, stretching me. "I want you so badly..."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Please fuck me, I screamed inside my head. Please. But the words never left my mouth. I was too embarrassed to say them out loud.

He kissed the side of my neck, soft and open-mouthed, while his fingers kept thrusting. "Tell me you want it," he murmured. "Just say yes... I want to hear it."

Yes. I want it. The thought was loud and desperate, but my lips stayed sealed. Instead my body answered for me—I grew even wetter around his fingers, the slick sound impossible to hide.

He groaned quietly. "You’re embarrassed to say it, aren’t you?" His fingers slowed, then stopped deep inside me. "Okay. Fine. If you want me... clench around my fingers."

I hesitated for half a second.

Then I did it. I squeezed tight around him.

A rough growl left his throat. He pulled his fingers out, lifted my top leg, and in one smooth motion slid the thick head of his cock to my entrance and pushed inside me from behind.

I moaned into the pillow before I could stop myself.

"Fuck..." he breathed, burying himself to the hilt. "You feel perfect."

He stayed still for a long moment, fully seated inside me, letting me feel every thick inch. His arm tightened around my waist. His breath was hot against the back of my neck. I could feel his heart pounding against my back.

Then he began to move.

Slow at first. Deep, rolling strokes that dragged the full length of his cock against my walls. Every time he pushed back in, he ground his hips in a small circle, pressing against that sensitive place deep inside me until soft, helpless sounds spilled from my lips into the pillow.

He didn’t rush.

He fucked me like he had all the time in the world. Long, steady thrusts that made the wet sound of our bodies fill the quiet room. His hand slid down between my legs and found my clit, rubbing slow, firm circles in perfect time with his hips. The dual pleasure made my thighs tremble.

"You’re so tight," he muttered against my skin, voice rough. "So wet... taking me so well."

I kept my eyes squeezed shut, still pretending, still too proud and embarrassed to speak, but my body had long stopped lying. I pushed back to meet every thrust. My fingers clutched the sheets. Soft, broken moans kept escaping my lips no matter how hard I tried to stay quiet.

He gradually picked up the pace. The slow rolls of his hips turned into deeper, stronger strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder. His fingers on my clit moved faster. Pleasure coiled tight and heavy low in my belly.

I felt him swell inside me, felt the way his rhythm started to falter as he got closer.

Then, just as his cock throbbed hard and I thought he was about to come, he suddenly pulled out.

A thick, empty ache replaced him. I almost whimpered at the loss.

He stayed pressed against my back for a few seconds, breathing hard, his cock wet and heavy against my ass. Then he moved.

His hands gripped my hips and turned me onto my stomach. Before I could react, he pulled me up onto my knees, chest still down against the mattress, and knelt behind me. The thick head of his cock found my entrance again and pushed back inside in one long, deep thrust.

A sharp, muffled cry left my throat.

He didn’t give me time to adjust this time. He started fucking me hard from behind, hands locked on my hips, pulling me back to meet every powerful stroke. The new angle made him feel even deeper. Every thrust forced soft, broken sounds out of me into the pillow.

I couldn’t see his face. He couldn’t see mine. There was only the raw, wet sound of him slamming into me, the grip of his hands, and the overwhelming stretch of his cock driving into me again and again.

"Still so fucking perfect," he growled, voice rough with effort. Even sick, he was strong. His hips snapped forward hard, the force of each thrust rocking me forward on the bed. "Taking every inch... dripping down my cock..."

I buried my face deeper into the pillow, moaning with every stroke. The pleasure built fast and sharp. His hand slid around my hip and found my clit again, rubbing firm, relentless circles while he kept fucking me with long, aggressive thrusts.

My arms gave out. I dropped fully onto my chest, ass still raised for him. He followed me down, covering my back with his body, never missing a stroke. One arm braced beside my head while the other stayed between my legs, working my clit as he pounded into me.

The orgasm hit hard. My body locked up as strong pulses clenched around his cock. A broken, high cry tore from my throat into the pillow. He didn’t slow down. He fucked me straight through it, prolonging every wave until I was shaking and oversensitive.

Only then did he bury himself deep one last time and come with a low, guttural groan, flooding me with thick, hot pulses while his fingers dug into my hip.

We stayed like that for several long seconds, both breathing hard. His cock twitched inside me with the last aftershocks. Sweat cooled on our skin.

Neither of us spoke.

I kept my face pressed into the pillow, heart racing, my body still trembling, and waited for the shame and the old, unwanted connection to settle again between us.

Kaden slowly pulled away from me and lay down behind me, breathing heavily. For a few moments, neither of us said anything. I remained on my stomach, my face buried in the pillow, too embarrassed to turn around and look at him.

I felt the mattress shift as he moved closer.

"Rebecca," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, pretending I hadn’t heard him.

"Do you want to talk about what just happened?"

My heart skipped a beat. I knew exactly what he was asking, but I had no idea what to say. What was I supposed to tell him? That I had wanted him just as badly? That despite everything that had happened between us, I still couldn’t control the way I felt whenever he touched me?

I remained silent.

Kaden waited for a few seconds, probably hoping I would answer. When I didn’t, he let out a quiet sigh.

"Alright. I guess that’s a no."

I heard the disappointment in his voice, and for some reason, it made my chest tighten.

He didn’t try to force a conversation. Instead, he pulled the blanket over us and settled back against his pillow.

"Get some rest, Rebecca," he murmured.

I nodded slightly, although I wasn’t sure he could see me.

For a while, I lay there listening to his breathing. I wanted to turn around and say something, anything that would make the awkward silence between us disappear. But every time I opened my mouth, the words refused to come.

Then I felt him move farther away.

And strangely enough, I hated the distance.

"Kaden?" I whispered.

"Hmm?"

I swallowed nervously.

"Are you feeling better now?"

He was quiet for a moment before answering.

"Yeah. The fever’s gone."

"That’s good," I murmured.

Another silence followed.

Then he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"Rebecca, you know you can talk to me, right?"

I tightened my grip on the blanket.

"I know."

"Then why won’t you look at me?"

I froze.

Because I was afraid that if I turned around and looked into his eyes, he would see everything I was desperately trying to hide.