The moment her body ceased its quivering pleasure, she felt Raoul’s arm around her waist lifting her up into the air as he stood. He tossed her backwards onto the bed, watching her head fall lightly between the cotton pillows
He lifted his jumper up over his shoulders and threw it on a chair. Bronze toned muscle rippled and stretched across his chest, forcing Sabrina’s eyes to widen with appreciation. Another wicked grin lit his lips at her reaction. She lay passively, waiting, watching, unable to fight her need for him. The rest of his clothes followed in a hurry and then he was stretching across the bed on his knees as lithe as a stalking panther to take her. His cock, long, hard, and proud, pointing accusingly at her.
Sabrina parted her thighs wide, eager and ready to accept his penetration, but he shook his head, indicating he wanted her to turn over. With his assistance, she found herself on her knees, her pink whipped bottom facing him and positioned high in the air, her breasts brushing the cotton of the covers, and her head submissively down.
“You are so beautiful, Sabrina. Just as I remembered.”
His hand stroked her spanked bottom in a gentle caress, raising some whimpers from her mouth. Softly he hushed her, allowing her to feel the brush of his fingers down the crevice between her buttocks, circling the small tight entrance to her anus. Startled, she bucked, but the sharp stinging slap of his hand to her buttocks ceased her movement instantly. His hand moved to her sex, where he coated his fingers in her juice. When he then bathed her anal entrance with the cream from his fingers, Sabrina grew alarmed.
“I’ve never come this way before,” she confessed.
He gave a small laugh as he gently eased his finger in and out of the hole in a pulsing beat.
“Oh, but you have, Sabrina. Many times. Anal play is one of your favourite ways to have sex. Now trust me. I only want to give you pleasure, not harm you, cherie.” He stretched over her back, planting small kisses across her spine, soothing her into consent. “If you have any discomfort or fear, just let me know and I will stop. I promise.”
Sabrina nodded, curious and bewildered by the way her bottom lifted upwards in response to his finger’s penetration, moving backwards to beckon his cock. The movement teased and wetted her sex as he obliged, removing his finger to replace it with the tip of his cock. Slowly she felt him slide himself into her anus, stretching the channel, firing the nerves with erotic impulse. Her vagina pooled. She pushed backwards, liking the sensation, wanting more of him inside her. With a grunt of approval, Raoul began to thrust with more vigour, seeming to take his cue she was more comfortable. Desire coursed through her veins and built as he rode.
She felt him stretch across her back to fist his hand through her hair tightly and pull it back, riding more deeply. The simple action fired a chain reaction within her body. The tightness of his hand in her hair, the firm way he guided her head up and back, his strong dominating thrusts owning her body and riding her into submission, and the cruel dig and grip of his digits into her sore buttocks to keep her in place drove her orgasm to reach new depths. Exotic sensual pleasure spread down her legs, deep inside her vagina, into her stomach, and gripped her thighs. The feeling was so intense, she thought she might scream or faint.
It was difficult to breathe. Her breath as it was came in noisy pants and her satiated cry was a mixture of tormented cries and tears of ecstasy. He came with her hard and fast, deep and powerful, intensifying the grip on her hair, and giving her buttocks two harsh slaps as he did, only serving to heighten both their orgasms.
* * *
Happy with the afterglow of such pleasurable sex play, Raoul insisted she bathe to soothe her aching bottom. Lovingly he had prepared the bath for her and had taken great pleasure in cleansing her body with a sponge. The action touched her and when he’d helped her dry, he’d creamed her body and bare bottom with nurturing moisture lotion in a soothing sensual massage as she lay on the bed. In looking through the mirror, she had witnessed the mark of his hand on her bottom and the streaks from the riding crop. She had been in two minds what to think of them, but the memory of the experience tingled her nerve endings with excitement once more. It made her feel branded by him.
Now alone while he showered, she turned her attention back to the room and decided to investigate its contents for clues to the life she did not know. She started with the dressing table. It was still covered with make-up, cream, and other assorted goodies that would have been way past their best. All the makes were the same as she used in the present. Her heart leapt. It was as though he had left everything as it was for her coming back. He’d never given up hope.
The small CD rack caught her attention. It had to be hers. She was never without music. She grew excited; you could tell a lot about a person by the CDs they bought, she mused. On careful inspection, she found many of the CDs she already kept in her car and house in London. There was no conforming style. They ranged from classical and pop to rock and heavy metal. They were her CDs, all right, a mixture of everything. She pulled out Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and went hunting for the CD player that seemed to be secretly concealed somewhere in the room. She found it tucked inside a disguised cabinet not far from the TV, which was also similarly cloaked. She inserted the CD and listened to the music drift around the room. She returned to the dressing table to brush her hair and stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she?
It happened instantaneously. One minute she was looking at her confused reflection in the mirror, the next she was greeting guests with Raoul and then she was watching dancers swirl around the chequered floor again. The memory was so real, she felt as though she was reliving it. She could see Raoul talking to a woman who kept touching him, a hand on his arm, the brush of her fingers along the lapel of his evening suit. Even as he courteously backed away from the woman to talk to another guest, all she could feel was anger, suspicion, and hurt. She turned on her heel. She was wearing that dress, the velvet one in the portrait, the one he’d lovingly bought her on a business trip. A bribe to keep her quiet, while he carried on his affair? Now that she knew about his affair and who was stalking her every move, their whole life together was about to change.
“Sabrina.”
The concerned voice brought her right back to the present with a thud. She turned to find Raoul standing at the door in nothing more than a towel. His hair was wet and slicked back. Moisture glistened on his skin, giving his lightly tanned body a seductive sheen. He looked concerned, protective. He strode over.
“You were staring into space looking vacant. Are you all right?”
He touched her forehead with the back of his hand as though checking for a temperature. She did look hot and flushed.
“I remembered being at the party. It was so real, it felt like I was there again. I want to remember more.”
“I think you should wait until we see Dr Martine.”
“No. It’s the music. That’s what helped me remember. It was playing when the guests were arriving. Please, you have to help me.”
He gave her one of his famous stern looks and then smiled as he moved away from her to retrieve something from a concealed closet.
He sat on the floor crossing his long legs in front of him whilst he played with the combination on a safe. The towel tied precariously around his waist opened, threatening to expose more than she was ready for at that moment. She looked at him wistfully. Could this hunky, sexy man really belong to her? Maybe he didn’t; maybe it was all a dream and she was about to get a nasty wakeup call any minute. Maybe she did share him with that woman she saw in her memory. She felt her teeth close together and grit at the mere thought. But if he was by some miracle only hers, what could he possibly see in her? She was small and curved, not like all those super slim elegant French women. And he looked as though he should be kept on a leash; he was too sexy, too lethal for any woman’s good sense to be let out on his own. He must have had an affair, she decided. She turned back to the mirror, disappointment shining in eyes that blinked the colour
of sapphires.
“You were wearing this, the night you disappeared. I found it on the floor of your study. I had it repaired for you coming home.”
He was standing behind her draping a necklace around her neck. It was made of beautiful droplet rubies surrounded by cut diamonds.
“Raoul, is this real?” she asked, taking a breath.
He looked affronted. He cupped her shoulders and stared at her in the mirror, surrounding her with his intoxicating scent of masculinity she appeared to have no defence against.
“It’s beautiful, Raoul. I can’t believe you bought me such an extravagant gift.”
It was gorgeous. She shuddered to think how much it cost. Thousands wouldn’t have been close. She twisted and turned her neck, watching the diamonds and the gemstones catch in the light. She looked at herself in the mirror disbelieving what she was hearing and seeing. It was like waking up to find out you were a crown princess in a fairy tale. Raoul was fast mending those walls of her imaginary wedded bliss.
Maybe the idea was for her to remember all the good bits and discard the rest, such as his affair. Yes, maybe the necklace had been another bribe. Her thoughts trailed off as she watched a hand reach out and snatch the necklace from her throat. She cried out with pain, flinching away. She was in her study trying to back away. A man’s tuxedoed arm reached out and pulled her towards him. His other hand reached out and slapped her face, knocking her to the floor. Her head hit the wooden floor with a thud, leaving her dazed. She tried to get up, but the man held both her arms and was pushing her back down, straddling her body. No matter how hard she fought him, his strength was too much for her own. She’d never felt fear like it, a fear of being raped. As she felt the skirt of the velvet dress being lifted, the memory shut down flat, a sudden blank calmness seeping into her mind.
“Sabrina, Sabrina, are you all right?”
She looked up to find Raoul cradling her in his arms on the floor. She was shaking uncontrollably. She rested her head against his bare chest and held on to him for dear life.
“You were having a flashback. Who hurt you, Sabrina, who was it? I need to know.”
He stroked her hair, rocking her in his arms to soothe the emotion, holding her tight and close as she told him what she’d seen.
“You didn’t see who attacked you?”
She put her hand to the necklace that suddenly felt heavy around her neck, the image of it being torn from her throat echoing again and again in her mind. She pushed her body closer to Raoul, hiding her face against the smooth taut muscle, shaking her head. It took several minutes for her fear to subside. He held her whispering gentle words of reassurance in French. His soft musical tone soothed her raw nerves.
Her thoughts asked a million questions, about her attacker, about Raoul, about the house. Her conscience was warning her about being close to anyone. She could not see her attacker’s face, but she was aware that she knew the man very well. Isn’t that what they said? You often knew your rapist. But Raoul’s arms held her so tightly, so protectively, she wanted to melt against him. She could feel his strength against her hand as she pushed at his chest to compose herself.
“I’m not sure I want to see him.”
“No, I can understand that. But I, we, the police need to know who hurt you so we can stop him from doing it again. He’s still out there. I want you safe, Sabrina. God knows I don’t want you to hurt like this. If I could swap places, make it all go away, I would. But we can’t and we have to face it. I will be with you every step of the way.”
Raoul swept his hand softly through her hair, a hundred emotions swirling in his eyes. Love, anger, protection, frustration all fighting for supremacy.
“Dr Martine is coming in an hour. He might be able to help you enlarge that memory.”
“I’ll get ready.”
Raoul stopped her from moving. His hands didn’t want to relinquish their possession.
“I’ll stay with you.” It was a statement rather than a suggestion.
“No, I’m fine, really.”
“You are so tense again.”
Raoul gestured for her to turn around. She closed her eyes as he kneaded the painful knots in her shoulders. She tried to ignore her conscience that demanded that she move away, urging caution, but her physical self was firmly in control, rejoicing with each careful and sensual touch of her body.
The phone rang, jerking her eyes open. His hands ceased their pleasurable movement and rested flat against her skin, simply holding her body still to prevent any escape. He sighed, deliberating whether or not to answer the persistent ring.
“I suggest you answer that. It could be important,” she said with dismay, reluctant to allow him to stop.
Raoul glanced at the offending object with a frown and got up.
“Dr Martine is here.”
Chapter Seven
“You have amnesia, Madame Valoire,” the consultant told her with a smile that did not sit easily on his face.
“Please call me Sabrina.”
As if she didn’t already know that. And if anyone called her Madame Valoire once more, she was going to hit them. She wanted to keep her own name. She caught sight of Raoul’s mouth curving into the briefest of smiles. Every time he did that it was another sign, another confirmation she was indeed his Sabrina. It was more evidence of the identity she’d lost. It frightened her more than ever that she really didn’t know who she was and to some extent was living a lie. Even worse was the fact that Raoul and many others possessed the advantage of knowing more about herself than she did. She felt out of control, incredibly vulnerable, and totally dependent on Raoul to help her recover her lost life.
The consultant moved from his position next to the roaring fire and sat down. Sabrina glanced at Raoul. There was sympathy etched into his features and he covered her hand that gripped the arm of the brown leather chair. She could feel his strength and support seeping inside, warming her heart.
“You experienced a severe emotional trauma and your mind shut down, subconsciously burying emotional and physical pain. It is the mind’s way of protecting itself.”
“But why did I forget who I am?”
“In severe cases it happens. Your mind has made you believe that those events happened to someone else and has created a new identity for you to live in.”
He sighed and stood again to lean against the fireplace, running his hand through the bristly grey beard covering his chin.
“Patients with this condition may leave and relocate, function normally, but without knowing their past.”
“So what about recovery? How long will it take for Sabrina to regain her memory?” Raoul asked, the impatience and eagerness in his voice unmistakable.
“It can happen all of a sudden or may take a while. It depends on the individual or she may not remember everything.”
Sabrina watched a frown crease Raoul’s smooth brow as he considered the possibility of her never knowing him. But it readily disappeared to be replaced by avid determination. The grip on her hand tightened positively. She got the feeling it was not an outcome he was prepared to tolerate. She gave him a nervous look. He was never going to give up and deep inside she was relieved.
“But this type of dissociative amnesia is usually reversible. The best course of action, Madame, is to move back to your home and get back into a normal routine as soon as possible.”
“But my life. I have so much going on in it.”
Feelings of frustration consumed her. She couldn’t be expected to just dump the life she’d spent years building up to make her feel safe.
“I live in London now. I’m a doctor of history, a lecturer. I’m in the middle of writing my second book. I have a dog and a fish, for heaven’s sake.”
Raoul laughed. It was the wrong thing to do and his face turned serious when she glared at him. So he thought she would just give up her life and run back home. He had another think coming. There must be a good reason she chose to forget him. She quickly stood, ya
nking her hand from his hold and folded her arms across her chest, taking the floor as if holding a lecture.
“I won’t be dictated to like this. I don’t want to give up who I am. I like who I am. What was I before? Your little woman who sat around looking pretty, letting you dictate and control her life?”
Raoul stood up quicker than she had done herself, a dark cloud of anger covering his face. She found herself taking two steps backward, feeling the fire from the fireplace right behind her legs.
“You are not a decorative part of our marriage.”
He took hold of her arms and pulled her towards him. His voice was angry but level.
“The Sabrina I knew and loved was an independent courageous woman. But she was also incredibly vulnerable and she needed me to look after her. There is no shame in that. She needed me as much as I needed her. It’s this vulnerability you are afraid of knowing again. You are frightened of being hurt. I won’t hurt you, Sabrina, and I will not allow anyone else to either. If you don’t try to recover the old Sabrina, you and I will always be incomplete.”
She stared at him hard, feeling her chest rising and falling with each agitated breath. There was no reply, he was right and she had to face it. She was frightened. Her new identity protected and shielded her insecurity. Sabrina pulled away, unable to find any words and quickly left the room.
* * *
She didn’t notice exactly when he entered their bedroom, but her small suitcase was nearly packed.
“What are you doing, Sabrina?” he asked, his reprimand cutting across the air like the crack of a whip.
“What do you think, genius? I’m packing. and don’t you dare try throwing me over your knee again. I will not be deterred, no matter what you do to me,” she challenged.
Conquering Sabrina Page 6
