“It has always been you, Gentry. Always.”
His words, his touch, his warmth soothe some of my unease.
Lifting the hem of my shirt, he pulls it over my head and tosses it aside before doing the same with his. I slide my palms over his well-developed chest, and the contours of his ribcage and back up. He’s hard and warm, his heart thunders under my palm. A couple more scars mar his shoulder another low on his side, testaments to his life away in the service. “These?”
“Nothing to worry about.” He slides his hand behind me and undoes the clasp of my bra, letting it drop to the floor.
“Beautiful. So beautiful.” He rubs a thumb over my hardened nipple. “I used to lay awake at night imagining what color these would be. Deep rose. God, you are perfect.”
He drops to his knees, licking and gently suckling one nipple then the other. He caresses and plumps one before feasting on the next. Again and again. His mouth, his tongue, his hands are like magic shooting desire to my core. It feels so good. A hunger I’ve never experienced washes over me.
He slides the borrowed stretch pants over my hips and down, taking my underwear with, to my knees. Working one side, then the other past my feet, he tosses them aside.
“You are so fucking beautiful. So perfect. Please, sit.”
I do. He kneels before me, once again suckling and lapping my breast. Soon he urges me to lie back. Kissing a trail from my lips and down my torso he drapes my legs over his shoulders and nuzzles my core. “So sweet.”
I gasp, arching my hips when he licks a path through my labia. Giving his full attention to my clit, he sucks and licks. Harder and harder.Oh My God. What is happening?
“Come for me, baby. Come.”
Heat and need fill me. Everything inside me tightens then suddenly explodes and I’m awash in a trembling release.
Minutes pass, my breathing finally slows to normal. He lifts me, laying me the length of the bed, head on the pillow and snuggles next to me. Our eyes meet. He smiles and kisses me. So gentle, so thoughtful.
His hands, slightly roughened from the work he does, graze my body, raising goosebumps of awareness. Lowering his head he licks and sucks my nipple. The lassitude of my release is slowly giving away to another hunger. The need to feel the same euphoria again builds in me. His touch feels so good, his scent surrounds me, his warmth and sweet words.
He's holding me down. He’s heavy. He’s calling me names. Saying terrible things. He’s hurting me. He laughs when I cry out.
The world shifts and I’m free. I inhale and release. The dream fades. I open my eyes and meet Sayer’s worry filled gaze. He’s turned the bedside lamp on and his hands are on the pillow as if surrendering. I’m straddling his hips.
“Talk to me sweetheart.”
I swallow, but no words come out.
“We were fine until I rolled on top of you and my body settled between your legs.”
I struggle to talk, to explain. Fear of rejection, shame vie for control. Both keeping me mute.
“Sweetheart, who raped you?”
I shake my head dropping my gaze, refusing to meet his.
“Sweetheart. Please can you look at me?”
After a couple minutes I sigh and do as he asks.
“There’s my beautiful girl. Can you tell me what you need? What I can do. Should do. Do…do you need me to leave? To call someone?
“I understand rape can trigger PTSD. As a team leader we had some training to recognize signs. Just talk to me.”
I shake my head. “It’s not you. It’s me. I was in a support group for a while. I’ve only had—tried sex three times with someone since… since it happened. I think I need to be on top.”
“Your rapist held you down?”
“Yes.”
“You can achieve orgasm with toys or if you’re in control?”
