by Selena Kitt
I turn off the light, and as I close my eyes, I think about what just happened. How it felt completely natural, not tainted or soiled in the slightest. How it was loving, passionate, and sexy. How it made me feel like a proper woman.
And that’s my new memory now.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ben
My orgasm explodes as I call out her name in the darkness, her face imprinted behind my closed eyelids, her soft voice husky with passion. The whole phone sex thing is a first for Grace, and it’s a first for me. There hasn’t been any true love in my life, either. Before prison, I concentrated on my fighting career. Yeah, I dated, but there was no one special. And in the two years after prison…well, I couldn’t bring myself to date anyone.
Until Grace.
I’ve never felt with another woman even an inch of what I do for her.
I fall into a relaxed sleep, and when I wake up the next morning, the post’s already sitting on the mat. I flick through, hoping there’s something from the other application forms I’ve filled in but dreading it at the same time.
I wanted that job at The Clover Project. If I can help Grace, I can help other women, too, can’t I?
Or am I too close to this? Is it too personal? I should see a counsellor myself. It’s one of the things covered during my degree courses. It sounds weird that a counsellor needs to see a counsellor. We know the tools to use to heal ourselves, and yet it’s not that easy to apply what you know when it’s so personal. Plus, listening to all the tragic stories can get to you after a while, even when you’re trying to be impartial. And I know what they’ll say to me, because I say it to other people. I need to get rid of the guilt and forgive myself. I just don’t know if I’m ready. How can I?
An envelope with the name Hertfordshire Women’s Centre franked on it stares back at me. Another job I’ve applied for in the next county.
I can’t open it. I put it on the kitchen table and run my hands over my face, preparing myself to face rejection again.
Finally, I rip it open and read the letter.
We regret to inform you that your application has been unsuccessful.
I screw up the letter and lob it in the bin.
Shit. Fuck. Bollocks!
I don’t know when another suitable job will come up, and I’m going to hit this brick wall every single time. I can’t escape my past, even though I’ve done my time and paid my debt to society. And if I can’t get a good job, what can I possibly offer Grace? I want to give her the world. Treat her like a queen. Give her all the things she’s never had since her mum died. Make her life a living fairy tale.
I’m no good for her. I should end things. I should stay out of her life; it’s not fair of me. It’s dangerous. Too risky. But I just don’t seem to have any control over myself where she’s concerned. Grace makes me feel again, where I was numb inside. When I’m with her, she chases the demons away and lets me forget who I really am.
Every disappointment about not getting the job vanishes the second Grace’s face lights up when she opens the door to the coffee shop. I want to drown in those eyes I’m so addicted to. Sink into the depths of her beautiful soul so some of her goodness rubs off on me.
I don’t know if I was expecting her to look embarrassed about what happened last night, but I’m sure as hell not. Judging by the satisfied grin on her face, she’s not, either, which is a major turning point for her.
‘Hey, you. Sleep well?’ I raise an eyebrow and circle my arms around her tiny waist.
She runs her hands up the back of my neck. ‘Yes. The best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.’
‘So, as your counsellor, I prescribe orgasms every night as an alternative to sleeping tablets.’ My mouth quirks up at the corners.
‘Well, hopefully you’re not going to prescribe them with just anybody.’ She smiles coyly.
‘Only you, gorgeous. Only you.’ I reach out and wipe away some icing sugar on her lip with my thumb. ‘Sugar. Oh, damn, it’s not coming off. I’d better kiss it off.’ My lips seek hers, sending shivers up and down my spine. My hands grip her waist, stroking softly with my thumbs. My tongue circles around the tip of hers before running down first one side and then the other.
She curls her fingers into my shirt and drags me closer, pressing herself against me. As the kiss intensifies, I draw back.
‘We need to stop this. I’m going to be in serious trouble if we carry on,’ I groan and release her.
The morning’s busy, and it’s not until eleven-thirty that I get time to tell her about the letter.
‘God, I’m so sorry, Ben.’ She shakes her head in sympathy.
I shrug it off, but it hurts, and I’ve only got myself to blame. ‘Yeah, me too. I don’t know when another job like those will come up.’
‘Something will come up, I’m sure of it.’ She squeezes my arm.
At the end of the day, I pull Grace into my arms. Tonight I have a counselling session at the Youth Centre, and I don’t finish until late. Maybe it’s a good thing, anyway. I don’t want her to feel pressured to take things a step further before she’s completely ready.
‘So…’ She bites her lip. ‘You could phone me later.’ She tilts her head and gives me a suggestive smile.
I arch an eyebrow, my body responding just thinking about it. ‘Ten o’clock?’
She gives me a heated look. ‘Sounds perfect.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grace
A few weeks later, after work, I sit on my sofa and tuck my legs underneath me, waiting for Ben to arrive from teaching self-defence. The lamp in the corner of the room gives off a soft glow as I tap my pen on a pad. I’ve been putting this off since Ben suggested it, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to do this. Ever since the phone sex, I’ve been thinking of nothing else.
I draw two columns on the paper and write the headings ‘How I see sex’ and ‘How I want to see sex’.
I chew on the end of the pen and think for a while before the words come into my head and I write them down. When I’ve finished, I’m left with this:
‘How I see sex’
Painful
Dirty
Force
Terror
Disgust
Helpless
‘How I want to see sex’
Loving
Passionate
Warm
Caring
Soft
Pleasurable
Sensual
Healthy desire
Ben
I rip the piece of paper in half, screw up the ‘How I see sex’ list and walk into the kitchen with it. I grab a bowl from the cupboard and a box of matches. Holding the end of the piece of paper, I set light to it. I don’t want that list, and I refuse to accept it any longer. I want the new list. And why don’t I deserve it? I’m not going to be dirty, tainted Grace anymore. Like Ben told me in the beginning, I shouldn’t feel ashamed, because that’s the same as admitting it was my fault. I’ve been there and done that, and I’m so not doing it again. Ever.
I’m a woman in love for the first time. A woman in love with a man who’s tender, kind, and compassionate. A man I know loves me, too, because it’s in every word, every gesture, every look. And sex with him will be all good things. I want to have sex with Ben, because I want him to take the rape away from Theo. I can’t let Theo own that part of me anymore. This is all about me now.
Ben and me.
I watch the paper char and burn with a smile on my face. I’m expunging the last hold Theo has over me.
I run a bath, pouring in vanilla essential oil. I light tea lights and place them around the edges of the room. While the water runs, I turn on Ed Sheeran’s CD.
As I turn off the taps, I stare at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself from the woman I was a few months ago. My cheeks are fuller. My eyes aren’t covered with a mask of makeup; in fact, they sparkle back at me. I look relaxed. Happy.
I like her, this new Grace reflecting b
ack at me. For the first time in my life, I love her.
‘You’re a survivor,’ I say to the woman in the mirror. ‘And you’re sexy.’ I raise an eyebrow at myself and grin.
I lay in the bath and close my eyes, the nervous anticipation building inside. I want his skin against mine so badly.
I can do this.
I want his lips to discover every sensitive part of my body. I want him, and I know it’s not wrong, disgusting, or dirty.
It’s right.
Very, very right.
Just as everything’s been since he came into my life.
I’m still a little afraid about the thought of having sex with Ben. Who wouldn’t be? But I know I can get through this. He’s made me realize I can get through anything.
I’m ready.
I pull out some sexy underwear that I bought after work. It has to be new. Red lacy knickers and matching bra. Nothing that’s associated with the old Grace.
I stand in front of the mirror and smile approvingly. I hope Ben’s going to like them. I put on a little mascara and swipe beige lipstick over my mouth before pulling on tight jeans and a fitted shirt.
And in that moment, I’ve transformed myself. For the first time since the rape—the first time forever, actually—I feel like a sexy woman.
I can’t wait to see his face when he gets here.
Chapter Forty
Ben
She looks more amazing than usual, if that’s even possible. And something else about her is different. A spark of something in her eyes that makes them look mischievous and incredibly sexy.
Before I can say how stunning she is, she pulls me inside her flat and kisses me, giving back the breath she’s just stolen.
I’m hard instantly; I can’t help myself. I cup her cheeks in my hands, but it’s not enough. I need to feel her body. I run my fingers along the ridges of her spine, over the thin material of her shirt as they dip in and out.
I’m lost in her. Totally fucking lost. I love this woman with all my heart, and I never thought it was possible.
She untucks my T-shirt, and her fingertips on my back almost make me come there and then.
One of her hands strays to my stomach, her fingers splaying across my abs and running up my chest. There’s urgency in her movements. It takes all the strength I have to pull back slightly. I stare into her eyes, silently questioning her.
‘I want to do this,’ she whispers, running her fingers through my hair and tugging on the ends.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I won’t lie and say I’m not a little afraid, but I want to. I want you. I want you to take him away.’
‘You’re in complete control, here, Grace. We can stop any time you want. You just have to say the word, OK?’
‘OK.’
I’ve thought about this moment for so long. I’ve played it out in my fantasies, alone, and it’s going to take some strong self-control not to fall apart too soon.
‘We’ll start slow,’ I say. ‘I’m happy to just kiss you all night. Let’s leave our clothes on and see what happens. No pressure.’
‘Clothes on?’ She cocks a confused eyebrow.
‘It’s amazing how much fun you can have with your clothes on.’ The suggestion of a smile plays across my lips as I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom.
Chapter Forty-One
Grace
We lie on our sides, facing each other on the bed. He curls one of his arms protectively round my waist, drawing me closer so there’s no space left between us. My head rests on his shoulder as his mouth grazes my ear, his moist breath making me shiver.
‘I love you, Grace,’ he whispers.
My pulse trembles in my throat. I want to say it back, but I can’t. Not until I can be free enough from the past to make love to him.
His penetrating stare reaches deep inside me, turning my insides to liquid. The gentleness there is like velvet caressing my heart and makes the barriers inside come crashing down around me.
‘I want you to touch me,’ I whimper.
‘There’s no hurry. I’m happy to hold you all night.’
‘Ben, I want you to.’
He reads the look in my eyes, giving him full permission, and his fingertips skim down my neck as he kisses that sensitive spot behind my ear. My breath shudders. The anticipation in the air so thick and loaded.
His fingers move lower, dancing over my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast.
Lower. Sliding down my side, stroking my hip. My thigh.
His kiss deepens, his touch coaxing unfamiliar feelings in me, causing heat to slither through every cell.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks.
I nod, drawing in a short burst of air that he’s sucked right out of me.
He gazes into my eyes with such warm intensity it makes my head spin. I’m falling into his eyes, unable to put one rational thought together. I’m heady with the sensation of his body against mine.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips before sucking on my lower one, pulling it towards him, claiming my mouth once more as he palms my breast through my shirt.
I inhale sharply.
‘Still OK?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I just about manage.
I lift the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it upwards, wanting to feel his skin. He fumbles to pull it over his head as my hands glide up the taut muscles of his stomach. His breath catches, and he groans. Or it could be me groaning. I’m so lost, I can’t tell anymore. Don’t know who I am.
Where I am.
What day it is.
All I feel is him, and his touch, taking over every single part of me. I’m drunk on Ben.
‘God, I’m going to explode soon if you keep touching me like that,’ he says hoarsely.
My gaze takes in his body. Smooth, defined, strong. The smattering of dark hair on his chest. His segmented abs that just beg to be kissed. The line of hair below his navel that travels down lower, disappearing into his jeans. He’s scary-beautiful. I run my palms along his skin, wanting to touch every part of him.
His thumb strokes around the outside of my nipple, a touch so light it’s almost unbearable.
I want more.
Arching into him, I press my breast against his hand, moaning as the other tickles up and down the base of my spine, the touch barely there but sending excited impulses shooting between my thighs.
He plays with the buttons on my shirt. ‘Do you want me to take it off or leave it on?’
‘Off,’ I whisper.
He unbuttons my blouse slowly, allowing easier access to my body as he slides his mouth over mine. Letting the material fall to the sides, his lips retrace the steps his fingers took, kissing a trail down my throat, over my collarbone, towards my breasts.
My head falls back, and my mouth parts. I trail a hand over his biceps, working its way up to his shoulders, his pecs, marvelling at how firm and solid the contours of his body are under my hands before skimming them down his abdomen.
He groans deep in his throat, his muscles clenching tight for a second before relaxing again. His hand slides lower over my jeans-encased thighs, between my legs. His tongue works sensual magic on my breast over the delicate lace of my bra, kissing around the outside before turning his attention to my puckered nipple. He sucks it into his mouth through the fabric, his tongue swirling around, painstakingly slowly.
I gasp, curling my fingers in his hair to pull him closer.
He moves to my other breast, his tongue sweeping over it before nibbling and sucking gently, moving from one to the other. A moan erupts in the back of my throat as I melt beneath him.
He pulls back abruptly. ‘Is this all right?’ He stares into my eyes.
I nod, the heat from his hand between my thighs mixing with the heat from my most private place as he strokes me through my jeans, fingers running up and down sensuously.
He adjusts himself slightly, cradling my head in one hand while the other somehow manages to find my sweet spot throu
gh the material, just where I need it. He alternates between moving in slow circles and sliding up and down with just the barest hint of movement.
Noises I don’t recognize fall from my mouth.
‘Is that good?’ he asks.
‘Oh, God, yes.’ I rest my hand on his as it moves against me, a silent message that I don’t want him to stop.
He presses harder, his fingers affecting me in a way I never knew was possible.
‘Still good?’ he asks.
‘Uh…huh.’ I can barely speak over the throbbing sensation that’s building up between my thighs, and I can’t contain the sighs slipping from between my lips.
His mouth moves back to mine, swallowing the sounds as his fingers caress and stroke me into oblivion, driving me wild, pushing me over the edge with a touch so gentle, so soft, I’m spinning with longing.
When my orgasm ripples through me, I clutch his shoulders tight, pressing my chest against his, panting my breath into his mouth as I fall apart.
As the last shudders fade away and my thighs are left trembling, he slides his hand away, back up my stomach, over my nipple to the base of my throat. His thumb traces a circle on my skin as his tongue delves into my mouth again. Then he rolls onto his back, gathering me into his arms on top of him. One hand is at the nape of my neck, the other stroking my hair as I rest my head on his chest, unable to believe what just happened and how he made me feel. So wanted. Sexy. Beautiful. So good. The first orgasm I’ve had with a man was mind-blowing. Overwhelming.
‘I never knew…I mean…no one’s ever…’ I say breathlessly, embarrassed to admit no one’s ever done this to me before.
He lifts my chin and runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face as his gaze meets mine, understanding my words perfectly. ‘I’m just happy I could make it good for you.’
‘I want to do the same for you,’ I say.
He kisses behind my ear then whispers into my skin, ‘I can wait. This is all about you, Grace. What you want is the only thing that’s important to me.’
