Chapter 59 Nothing Left Forgotten

Chapter 59 Nothing Left Forgotten
I turn my head to look back at him.
His eyes are shut, his brows pinched in a frown of concentration.
Zayn's forehead is covered in sweat, his dark hair sticking to his neck.
I love him even more with his hair grown out.
He's still wearing his black T-shirt.
It's rumpled and clinging to his chest, but everything below his waist is bare.

His jeans and boxers are shoved down low enough to free his cock, and the sight of him half-dressed while pumping into me—his thick cock disappearing inside my ass over and over— is filthy and beautiful and so fucking hot I almost come again just from watching.
I don't even remember when he stripped the lower half.

My body greedily opens for him. I think I'm even drooling on the floor.
I'm dripping everywhere. The moans that leave my throat are nothing feminine or cute. They are ragged and high.
Each thrust drives him deeper, forcing my body to yield, to take, to open wider for him.
"....ah….ah…"
I cry out, slapping the floor.
Zayn grunts again, slamming in harder.
I come from my ass, squeezing his cock till he groans out like it hurts.
His thrusts became erratic—hard and fast, slow and steady. They become unpredictable.
He grabs my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arches even more.

After a few more hard pumps, he pulls out and slaps my ass again.
I'm still crying, whimpering, as I try to drag air into my lungs. Words tumble out of my mouth, most of them gibberish.
Before I can catch my breath, he positions himself at my cunt and thrusts in, stretching me open all over again.
"Zaynnnn… ahhh…"

"Fuck,"
He curses. "Mine."
Another possessive growl rips from his throat. "Fucking mine."
"Yours," I whimper, rocking my hips back to meet him, chasing the fullness of his cock. "All yours, daddy."

The words seem to do something to him.
He grabs my hips and yanks me back, fully onto his cock, securing me against his groin so there's nowhere to go.
Then he starts pounding fast.
Each thrust steals the air out of my lungs, and I can't even cry out properly anymore. My voice breaks into silent, open-mouthed gasps, tears streaming across my face and into my hair.
I come powerfully, even as Zayn continues to fuck me through it.

I take it all silently, helplessly, my legs and arms shaking, my face pressed into the carpet as he uses me.
He finally comes with a groan, slamming into me one last time, as his cock fills my cunt with his seed.
His fingers dig into my hips so hard I'll have bruises tomorrow.
Zayn holds me there, still impaled with his cock, until the last shudder leaves him.
Then he collapses over my back, breathing raggedly against my neck.

His cock slips free with a wet sound, and I feel the remnants of his cum leaking out.
We both pass out on the floor, exhausted to the bone.
The last thing I register before darkness takes me is the heavy rise and fall of his chest against my back. And the quiet, drunken murmur against my shoulder.
"Ash…"

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ZAYN

I wake up to meet myself on the hard, cold floor, the bitter taste of stale tequila tasting in my mouth.
My head feels like it's going to implode if I don't do something about it.
I groan in pain and try to move, only for the room to spin violently the second I lift my head.
Nausea rises fast in my throat, and I have to clamp my mouth shut to keep from vomiting.
"Fucking hell," I curse, looking around me.

Ashleigh is lying on the floor beside me, wearing just her baggy nightshirt, folded up around her hips.
I look down at myself to see that my jeans are still unzipped and pulled low.
The memories of last night come tumbling in:
Us kissing.
Her straddling me.
My hands on her ass.
The tight, perfect heat of her hole taking me.

I swallow hard and groan again.
I don't regret it, but I'm literally so fucked.
I can't stay away from Ashleigh for long, even if I want to.
Shifting carefully so I don't wake her up, I try to get up again cause I'm parched as fuck.
My head spins worse than before, especially with the bright daylight stabbing straight through my eyes into my brain.
"Fuck this," I swear, supporting myself with one hand on the floor.

Ashleigh stirs immediately, a small, sleepy sound leaving her lips. Her eyes flutter open slowly.
"Zayn…?" She calls softly, her voice thick with sleep and worry.
"I'm fine," I rasp. "Just need water."
I push to my feet.
The room lurches forward.
I stagger sideways, catching myself on the wall.
My vision starts to swim again.
Fuck this hangover.
I hear Ashleigh scramble up behind me, wincing as she does so.
Yeah right. Her ass is probably still sore from all that fucking.

"Hey, wait. Let me…"
"I got it," I mutter, waving her off.
I just need to make it to the kitchen.
I take one careful step. Then another, like I'm still learning to walk in PT.
The living room looks almost unrecognisable to me, with how fucked up my sense of sight is.
I step on something and slip, pitching forward. My hands flail as I try to catch myself so I don't fall on my face, but because I'm still dizzy as fuck, my legs don't have a steady enough grip.

Before I know it, I'm stumbling backwards.
I hear Ashleigh rushing to catch me, but it happens way too fast.
I go down hard. And the back of my head hits the floor with a thud that reverberates through my skull.
It's not even the pain that makes me groan.
It's the sudden, blinding white flash that explodes behind my eyes, almost like someone flipped a switch and turned every light in my brain to maximum at once.

Memories don't trickle back.
They flood. And they don't happen in gentle flashes like the scattered fragments I've been getting for months.
They slam into me all at once, that the only thing I can compare it to is a dam bursting and drowning me in everything I'd lost.
I grab my head with both hands, thrashing on the floor.
I think I'm screaming.
I'm not sure.
I remember it all:
The first fight we had about Ryan, which led to my drinking myself to a stupor.
Waking up in Maya's bed with no memory of how I got there, and that she'd taken pictures.

Realising that Ashleigh had shut me out.
The silence after.
The journal entries I wrote when I couldn't sleep… pages of raw, ugly longing I never showed anyone.
Booking the flight to Melbourne, hopeful that I'll fix the mess face-to-face.
Arriving in Melbourne, and then the rain.
The headlights and screech.
The impact.
Everything crashes into me all at once.

I'm vaguely aware of Ashleigh beside me, her voice frantic and high with panic.
I can smell her, but I can't see her.
My eyes are shut against the onslaught.
When it finally stops… when the last memory slides into place, everything goes quiet.
My eyes fly open.
Ashleigh is kneeling over me, her face pale with fear, her eyes wide with terror.
Tears run down her cheeks as she stares down at me helplessly.

"Zayn… oh my God", she sobs. "What happened? You scared me. Please say something."
I sit up slowly. My head's still spinning from the hangover, but my mind is clear.
Grabbing her wrist gently, my eyes lift to meet hers.
"I remember," I rasp.
Ashleigh gasps, her free hand flying to her mouth.
"I remember everything."