Hello! Finally we have the first chapter. This wont be long, about 12 chapters only. Will be updated once a week. Hope you like this new book too. ☺️💚
credits to Maine's ig for the header.
FICTION.
Disclaimer: All and fully disclaimed.
[⚠️Warning!! SPG entries ahead. If you are below 16, please skip this. If your sensibilities are offended by these types, please do not read. Thank you.]
As always..
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*******ALDUBPARIN****************
His naked body was hot as he lay over her and covered her body with kisses. He tasted and nipped and licked, bringing both of her nipples to tight wet peaks. He tasted the underside of her arm, the curve of her waist, her belly. He rolled her onto her stomach despite her choked protests, and kissed her calves, the backs of her knees, up the back of her thigh, then gently sank his teeth into one rounded buttock, not enough to cause pain but to let her feel a slight sting.
Then he worked up her spine, licking and kissing, sucking her flesh up against his teeth, and by the time he returned his attention to her buttocks she was writhing on the sheets, moaning with pleasure. One soft, fragrant location drew him to another, and he lingered over her like a bee over nectar, as if trying to satiate himself on the taste, feel and scent of her.
He turned her onto her back again. Her eyes were glazed, her skin flushed, and her thighs falling apart naturally to welcome him. He took advantage of the invitation to bend and kiss her, his tongue making a brief foray that had her arching off the bed, and he saw the shock that wiped the sensual daze off her face. Before she could do anything more than sputter incoherently, though, he mounted her and stopped the protests with his mouth as his body penetrated hers.
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"Oh my god!" the figure in the bed launched itself upright, gasping for air.
Mia panted, as she tried to pull herself from the sensual dream. Once again it had come. Once again it had pulled her into a haze, where her body was no longer hers. Where her heartbeat accelerated, and she almost reached heavenly bliss. Almost.
She hated this.
She hated it.
She hated what it did to her.
She hated that her body was no longer hers.
And she hated the man of her dreams. The one who took over her body. The one who brought forth these sensations.
She lay back down, curling into a tight ball, as her heartbeat began to slow down.
Tears came to her eyes.
They were tears of frustration. She couldn't control her dreams, no matter how hard she tried.
Tears of shame. For the fact that this stranger could evoke these sensations in a body that was no longer under her control. For her betrayal, in all the nights she had allowed her body to react.
Tears of loss. Because she knew that there was something missing. Some need that only he could fulfill. But he wasn't here. He never was.
Her eyes widened when she heard wails coming from beside her.
"Dylan honey, are you alright?" she asked. Reaching out, she cradled him in her arms. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back.
"Don't worry, Mommy is here," she whispered into his ear, cuddling his trembling body closer.
His whimpers gradually petered out. But she held him until he had fallen into peaceful slumber.
"Don't worry, baby, Mommy will be always here to protect you," she softly said, running her hand gently through his hair.
Dylan James Mendez.
He was her son.
He was her angel.
People called him her bastard. Because he was illegitimate. He didn't go to school yet, but she was afraid of the moment he would. The world was a cruel place, unmerciful to those that it thought immoral, or whose existence evidenced acts of immorality.
He was a sign of her immorality. And even in the 21st century, this was reprehensible in the small town they lived in.
His own grandparents couldn't bear to look at him.
Her eyes traced his features. His eyelashes, his pouting lips, his hair. That deep dimple on his left cheek. He was beautiful.
He was her beautiful boy.
It ate away at her that she couldn't tell him who his father was.
That she didn't know who his father was.
Her parents told her that she had a wild past. That she had slept with so many men, there was no way that she could know who fathered her child.
Chances were that even if she found him, he would be unwilling to shoulder his responsibility. She had been told that she had had a knack for picking losers.
Her heart protested at these accusations. Was she really that kind of person?
Everything that was in her cried out that she hadn't been. That she could never have been with someone unless she loved him. That she loved her son's father.
But months had turned into years, and her son's father had not shown up.
She had waited.
She could do nothing but wait.
Because three years and two months ago she had been in a terrible train accident.
An accident that had left her in a coma for three months.
One that had damaged her body so severely, that the doctors had to take her child out of her body to protect him.
One that had stolen her son's first three months of life from her.
One that had damaged her brain, so that she could no longer remember anything that had come before. She had lost all memories of her past. Of her family. Of her friends. Of the man who had made this child with her.
The doctors traced her family through her identification cards. Her parents had come. They had brought her identification, pictures capturing moments of her childhood, and she had gone home with people who were complete strangers to her.
At first she had asked the questions. Questions that all amnesiacs asked, wanting to remember all that had come before. Wanting to become comfortable in an environment that was so completely alien to her.
"Who am I?"
"Where's my husband?"
"Where do I live?"
"Why won't you tell me anything?"
It had taken a while for the truth to penetrate the haze she had been living in. It had taken her a while to realize that her parents didn't want her to know.
They didn't want her to ask.
They wanted her to forget.
She could see how much her questions were hurting them, but this was something that she could not do. She had a son, and she owed her son the truth.
Realizing that she wouldn't stop asking, they had begun to ignore everything she said pertaining to her past. And to ignore anything that was connected to her past. To the point that they ignored her son. An innocent child.
They had trapped her with guilt. With the duty that she owed them as her parents. Duty wouldn't let her leave, but her love for her son ate away at her, demanding that she find answers.
She felt trapped.
She was twenty-four years old. She was the mother of a child who was exactly two years and three months old. And she had no memories. Her life was a blank slate, and nothing and nobody was willing to help.
She felt lost.
And one question rebounded through her mind. Through the days and the nights. Especially the nights . . . nights like these when she awakened with her body throbbing. When she could still feel him inside of her. Her body would ache . . . and so would her heart.
Only one question.
Where are you?
Who are you?
And one other thought.
Why haven't you come?
*******ALDUBPARIN****************
Non-proofread.
Non-beta'ed.
FICTION.
Disclaimer: Fully and all disclaimed.
Thank you for reading. 😊💚
