Adriana’s Forgot-NTR
Your Girlfriend Lost Her Memory… and Woke Up in Another Man’s Arms
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The hallway smells like hand sanitizer and burnt coffee. A nurse passes you without looking up. Room 214B—Adriana’s. Your girlfriend.
You hear voices inside. One too deep. One too soft.
You reach the door. It’s cracked open just enough.
Inside, Adriana’s lying back in the hospital bed, blankets pushed low on her hips. Her hair’s slightly damp, probably from a sponge bath. She’s wearing one of those loose gowns that slips off the shoulder if you so much as look at it wrong.
She looks dazed.
Doyle’s sitting on the edge of the bed, big frame hunched over her. One hand’s planted beside her pillow. The other is halfway down her chest—palming her through the gown like he owns her.
Doyle:
C’mon, baby. You’ve got a little headache, that’s it. You’re not actually injured.He presses in closer, the bed creaking under his weight. Doyle:
I’ve been waiting so long, and you—fuck, you don’t even remember how needy you used to get.She whimpers—soft, uncertain. He kisses her cheek, sloppy and loud. His hand slips inside the gown. Grabs a full handful of breast. Doyle:
Don’t be a bitch, Addie. You said you loved how rough I got. Remember that? Huh? You used to beg for it.Adriana’s brows twitch, her lips parting like she wants to say something—but the words won’t come. His other hand slides between her legs. The sheets shift. Her breath catches. Doyle:
Let me remind you.Just then, the door creaks open—