The tenting of his jeans makes it obvious he’s aroused.
His lips find my neck, kissing and suckling sensitive areas. His fingers find my breast, but only through my dress and padded bra. I close my eyes to the hints of sensation. My fingers grip his shoulders, encouraging him to give me more than he does.
This won’t get me off.
Another kiss touches between my jaw and throat, and he grunts, dragging down his pants and shorts.
The noise grates at my senses, and I picture him differently—a silent lover.
Within seconds, a condom slides over his length, and my panties are pulled to the side.
Guided into position, I close my eyes. Images of scarred hands and lips exploring my body, guiding me down on his, fill my mind as I take the first couple of inches.
My dress tickles Shane’s hips as I rock slightly, waiting for feelings of arousal to catch up.
Guilt gets there first.
These thoughts shouldn’t be in my head.
But they won’t leave, comforting me as Shane slams into me rough and fast when I need slow and hard.
I envision that. Slow and hard and deep. And a different man.
Those scarred hands move up over my hips and slip under my dress. The most unique eyes show no disgust over my imperfections.
I stare down at the man before me, and I picture Ambrose. Ambrose, who wants me dead.
And that does something to me, and I start to feel the arousal Shane feels.
As he touches me, kisses me, and grinds our bodies together, I ache for another man and come apart with him buried inside me. Seconds later, the condom fills, and Shane’s thrusting comes to an end.
Like he can’t wait for us to part, he lifts me off him, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I drop back into the passenger seat.
Gazing out the window, gray clouds surround us at the side of the road. The site is depressing, but it’s more appealing than Shane’s sudden fascination with a full condom.
Ignoring all he says about how full it is, I wait for him to tuck himself in, and then he says, “Fresh start tomorrow. Things will be good from now on. No more arguments.”
“Huh-uh…” is all I manage as I swallow down my guilt.
The fantasy of Ambrose doesn’t happen every time Shane and I get intimate, only when we’ve argued.
But I feel all that will get worse when I go home, and Shane’s attention is on his phone and all the games he plays on it.
That house terrifies me. I’m not sure how I’ll handle being there, and the memories of Ambrose will be all that’ll be there to comfort me.
CHAPTER 5
Ambrose—age eight – 6 months later
“Dollie, just wait!” Her new pink coat, nothing like my black one, is the only bright thing in view, surrounded by mist and dark clouds as I look ahead.
Mom likes us to come home from school together, and she likes us to be on the bus that we’d missed because Dollie was crying in a quiet corner in the schoolyard where I’d found her.
Now, we must walk home in the cold weather that is attacking us.
Dollie’s cheeks are the same color as her coat when she spins to me. But it isn’t because she’s cold. Upset is still fresh, and tears are in her eyes. “No, I just want to go home.”
And she’ll be there at least ten minutes before me, at this rate, with her little legs swallowing up the concrete.
