Wake to Dream(39)

"So easy," he whispered, his amused voice mocking her as much as the finger he used to thrust down deeper. And despite the anger that was born to mingle with the rush of unwelcome need, Alice had lost all the fight she had in her.

She hated herself as much as him, but spread her legs anyway begging for him to push deeper still. His breath fanned across her slick skin and she bucked at the burst of heat.

"Please..." It was one whispered plea that crawled out from somewhere deep down inside, a frightening reminder that she'd been so easily seduced. One touch - one pleasureful touch - and she was a slave to the sensation he gave her.

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, his finger picking up its tortuous rhythm until he was driving it so deep within her, she was begging for more so she wouldn't scream.

She groaned in complaint when he pulled his hand away, and he shushed her and cooed, "Just a little bit longer."

His body moved to kick his pants down farther and the weight of him inched up over her until his body heat was a comfort across her skin, a lie that promised safety and love. And when he finally pushed into her as thick and hard as she knew he would be, the sudden fullness from that one violent stroke inside forced the breath she'd been holding from her lungs.

Max wasn't the sweet type in bed, the kind of man who told you how beautiful you were beneath him and made promises of how he'd love you forever. No. Not with the darkness that lurked inside him, the clawing need for pain that forces a woman to whimper. He drove into her so hard, she thought she'd split open, his hand wrapping over her throat to hold her in place and steal away control of the air that flooded her lungs.

Unable to draw in a breath, Alice swam in euphoria, the feeling of floating beneath him while he took what he wanted. She was coming apart at the seams, trapped in a nightmare that split her between the side that begged and the side that whispered to her that she was finally the victim she always promised herself she'd never be.

His strong hand released her neck and she gulped in the hot air between them, her mind still lost when he pulled out to flip her body over.

Memories rushed back, the woman with the mask, with her face crushed to the mattress as he drove in from behind, and now Alice was that woman, her body on its knees as Max rode her with one hand on the back of her head and the other clutching the thick flesh of her hip, driving and forcing himself so deep it was all she could feel.

A flutter in her belly grew into a wave of ecstasy and rebellion, an orgasm churning until it exploded within. She opened her mouth to scream into the mattress, her voice breathless and torn, her submission finally and thoroughly complete.

Max used her body to chase his own release, catching it on a deeper stroke before he dropped his weight down, crushing her beneath his body and the bed, his hand releasing her head to allow her to breathe.

Having come down from the orgasm that relieved the torment, Alice lay beneath the cage of his body, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye, one liquid, hot drop that was all she had left of the woman who'd existed before she'd been stolen away.





12:32 p.m.



Gray walls.

"Alice? ... Ms. Beaumont? ... Alice Beaumont?"



She couldn't bring herself to announce her presence. Defeat sat heavy on her shoulders as she walked into the interior of the doctor's office, her feet dragging beneath her as she forced her eyes to seek out the usual landmarks that told her she was somewhere protected and safe.



White door.

Dark wood desk.

White and beige striped couch.



The doctor sat back in his leather chair, his slacks wrinkled at the knees and his notebook on his lap. He studied her for several minutes without saying a word, forgoing the usual questions he'd ask when he said, "Something's changed."

Nodding her head in response, Alice pulled a pillow into her lap as if that small square of fluffed fabric would protect her from the truth she didn't want to admit to herself or to him. "How far did I get in our last session, Doc?"

Speaking softly, the doctor's voice was cautious, as if Alice were thin ice that would become cracked and broken beneath the weight of his words. "You described a sexual assault."

She shivered at the familiar words, at a nagging memory she hadn't yet fully retrieved. But even more than that was what came after in that particular dream. For the fact that he hadn't mentioned it, she knew she hadn't been brave enough to speak it out loud. Now was as good a time as any, because what she had to say was the worst confession of all.

"I fell in love with Max in that dream."

The quiet shuffle of his pant leg when he moved was the only sound in the room beyond the ticking clock and the sink that still hadn't met a plumber. Relaxing back against his chair, he dropped the pen on the surface of his notepad to bring his steepled fingers to his lips and appraise the woman balled up and fragile on the couch in front of him.

"Because he raped you?" he finally asked, his words as vulnerable as Alice.

Her eyes were hot from the tears that rimmed them and threatened to drip down cheeks that were already swollen from crying. Shaking her head, she clenched her eyes shut, expelling the tears so their heat would trail down in small rivulets of shimmering pain.

"No," she croaked, her voice weak and gritty. "It was because he chased away the nightmares."