The frosted flute of the champagne glass almost slipped from my fingers when I tipped the edge to my mouth. I observed Marc across the table, his warm, smiling eyes gazed back at me. Not dead eyes. Not a vacant, empty smile. I wished I felt as relaxed as him, but my nerves jangled, and my foot tapped furiously under the hem of the pressed tablecloth. I reminded myself I was here because I chose to be. Sipping from the glass, I decided I’d had enough. With my pasta Siciliano cold on its plate, I pushed my unfinished glass of champagne across the table and stood. The bolster of courage I searched for, nowhere in sight.

“Shall we?” Eager to leave, I smiled at Marc. We were done with the pleasantries.

“Let me get the bill.”

Wasting no time, he handed his card to the waiter, then thumbed out a text on his phone. Happy to escape, the busy restaurant an overwhelming experience all on its own, I was positive everyone had been looking at us throughout our meal, a sure sign my paranoia was climbing. I shouldn’t have been surprised, my dining guest was one of affluence and a well-known man at that. Having dinner in public unnerved me, the inclination to remain anonymous always at the forefront of my mind. I should have known it was a rotten idea.

“I booked a room at The V as you requested. Is that still okay, sweetheart?”

Gulping, I jerked my head in agreement, a moment of hesitation registering briefly, I pushed it down. My father said he knew the hotel well, it was the safest place I could be. Marc had grinned when I mentioned The V. I recalled the ostentatious building from passing it a time or two, yet I’d never had the need to venture through those gilded doors.

Marc’s hold on me was firm yet gentle when he took my hand as we left the restaurant. Now was the time to take this step, I couldn’t keep stringing the poor man along. Six months of chaste kisses and not much more between two grown people would be enough to drive anyone away. But not Marc. He’d been patient, gentlemanly; earning a slither of my trust I didn’t give to many. Not anymore.

Stepping out into the cool night air, he guided me toward the waiting car, his driver opening the back door. I climbed inside, the cool leather touching the backs of my thighs as my dress rode up a little. Marc rested his hand gently on my leg when he called forward to the driver, instructing the suited man upfront where to go. My hands twisted in my lap, fussing with the straps of my bag, nerves ratcheting by the second. Marc’s hand tightened as I threw a fake smile his way.

“Hey...” He shuffled closer. “It’s me,” he said, trying to soothe me.

He was doing a wonderful job in all honesty. I relaxed, leaning over to kiss him. His other hand reached around my neck, pulling me in further before I tried to move away.

“Let go,” he coaxed in a low, husky voice I found mesmerising. I shut my eyes as he kissed me back.

Ten minutes later we’d arrived at The V. Marc collected the key card and ushered me into the lift. Standing off to the side waiting for the doors to close, he pushed the floor number.

“What room?” I asked while pulling my phone from my bag.

Marc moved quickly, pushing me up against the mirrored wall, kissing me with more passion than before. Fluttering stirred in the pit of my stomach, nerves or anticipation, I didn’t quite yet know.

“212.” Licking his lips, he moved away. “Texting Taylor?”

I hummed in agreement at him, preoccupied with informing my sister which room we’d be in. A safety measure I didn’t need but ever the cautious person I was, I still texted. Knowing she was somewhere in the hotel was comforting, she insisted on booking a room should I need her at any point. It seemed a silly idea, but I liked the safety net she provided. I got lost in my own head while we climbed up towards our floor. Sneaking a peek at Marc who was studying his shoes, I registered a pang of guilt. Older than me by eight years, he was the stuff a girl’s dreams were made of. Dark hair framing a rugged complexion and honeyed eyes, he’d fit right in with the GQ crowd and not look out of place on a magazine cover. His body was toned and fit, muscled in all the right places. I was certain when we finally got naked, I’d like what I saw. Being the man he was, his clothes complimented him beautifully and I couldn’t help wonder what he was doing with a flaky waif like me. I was cheating him. There should have been more passion for this man, been more sparks, shouldn’t there? Chemistry. I’d had that feeling once before. Tonight, it was distinctly lacking. Marc was gorgeous, polite, caring, interesting. Like I said – every girl’s dream – so, why not mine?

The lift stopped, and Marc led me out into the corridor, his hand low on my back, heat searing through the flimsy material of my dress. I shook my head to dislodge the anxiety. I wanted passion, excitement...sex. I wanted to bear resemblance to a woman again, not have a bloody panic attack on the twentieth floor of some hotel.

On three-inch heels I wasn’t used to, I managed to walk sedately and stay on my feet as I followed Marc to room 212. Stepping inside the luxurious suite with its gold accents and floor to ceiling windows made me feel even more conscious of myself. A fraud. This was not where I belonged, not with this man. Marc gave me little time to ponder the thought as he nudged me against the wall, wedging his knee between my thighs. He trapped me with the bulk of his body pushing against my chest.

Tilting his head backwards to catch my eye, Marc ran a hand down my cheek. “Tell me what you need.”

A million-dollar question, if ever I’d heard one. I dropped my head, so he couldn’t see the indecision that was surely written all over my face. Marc gently shifted my chin upwards giving me no choice but to look at him.

“Let me make you feel good, Laura?”

I could hear the desperate tone in his words, his heartbeat thumping against my chest. He could surely feel mine, for it seemed to want to hammer right out of my body at any moment.

Tipping my head at Marc, he brought his lips forward to ghost over mine. Reaching down he clasped both my hands in his and tugged, leading me over to the bed. It looked soft and inviting but lost on me as the tension wound tighter inside. My hands gripped his, trying to quell my trembling when the back of my legs hit the bed. Leaning into my neck, Marc fluttered kisses across my collarbone while he removed the light scarf I always wore. His lips were firm as they travelled from one side of my neck to the other, the sensation was not enough to keep my memories at bay and I stiffened when his mouth reached my ear.

Scar tissue was a reminder of another time I’d rather forget, and his mouth there, induced memories. His steady hand journeyed up my back, heavy breaths sounded against my ear as he reached for the zipper on my dress, pulling at it. The rasping noise seemed too loud in the quiet room as his fingers skimmed down my skin along with the zip. I was shaking so much I squeezed my eyes shut tight, not out of anticipation, no – that would be far too easy – but out of desire to be anywhere other than here.

It had been seven long years since I’d been naked with anyone and the memory slammed home hard. A man I once loved debasing me, humiliating me, killing me...

Rough hands ripping delicate clothes. Harsh bites tearing tender skin. Sharp blades slicing soft flesh.

I was naked all too soon with Marc leaning over me, my back pressed into the bed. The comfort of the material grounded me. Our breaths were heavy, and I could see how excited he was; his dilated pupils telling me his control was on the verge of diving. I had no recollection of getting undressed, seemingly missing a step somewhere whilst lost in my head.

I grinned when my eyes roamed over his naked chest. I was right, he was a sight to behold. Lean muscle under taut golden skin, a smattering of dark chest hair surrounded his dusky nipples that had tightened with arousal. His happy trail led down to something that was...well...happy to see me. His rigid cock jutted out to my stomach, for some the invitation would be too good to be true. For me - a daunting prospect.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful, Laura.”

Bending further over me, he ran his warm hands down the length of my chest and stomach, stopping at the most sacred part of me. I felt the faintest touch of his finger gliding over the silky hair of my pussy, then it was gone. Groaning, he clasped his erection in his hand and all I could think was thank God, I’m at least turned on. Even if my head was a mess, my body seemed to remember all the right things to do.

“Amazing...”

I watched the pleasure build on his face and suffered a moment of jealousy, wanting the abandonment and freedom too. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye as I watched his hand continually pumping himself in languid strokes.

“Touch yourself,” he said, reaching down to run a finger across my pussy again. Just once, with more pressure than before. “Let me see you, Laura.”

Another tear coursed down my cheek, touching myself was past my limits. I couldn’t give him what he asked for. I wanted him to fuck me and for this to be over and done with so I could leave and wallow in my self-pity. Wallow in the knowledge that the patheticness that was me was well and truly broken. Emptiness crowded me, instead of the simple swell of desire. Sex with Marc should have been the answer, the letting go, the beginning of getting over myself at least. It wasn’t, and I couldn’t back out now. How awful would that be?

My heart broke a little more realising I didn’t know how to fix me. I watched the gorgeous man pleasure himself, and I knew I couldn’t simply lay there, so I gathered my courage and reached out to wrap my hand around Marc’s, my fingers still trembling. His face filled with a beautiful hunger, his strokes grew harder and quicker, his groans rumbled deeper.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked with stinted breaths, his drowsy eyes making contact with mine.

Taking a deep gulp of air, the words didn’t come easy, were almost inaudible, I jumped all in anyway. “Just fuck me...please?”

He stopped jacking off, my hand stilling with his. He was stunned; I’d never been so crass with my language around him or so forward before. Grabbing both of my hands, he raised them above my head. Panic struck until I heard his whispered soothings against my ear, indulgent breaths calmed me when he moved away. He leant down and captured my mouth, kissing me, almost devouring me. A subtle craving started to stir. Nothing much, but there all the same. A spark of energy - or was it resolve?

I can do this, I can.

Dancing my tongue with Marc’s, I deepened the kiss, nipping his bottom lip. Going through the motions, almost greedy for more, my hips rising so I could feel his cock slip between my legs. I knew I was wet, watching him and touching him had made it so, I was still terrified when I felt the head of him sliding back and forth between us. Fear threatened to overtake the spark. I tamped it down, trying to shove the bitch back in her cage.

Marc let go of my hand and brushed his fingers through my hair, smiling down at me. Moving further down, his fingertips traced my neck, the curve of my breast then brushed down to my stomach. When he reached my pussy again, he swirled a finger through me, flicking at my clit. My back arched from the bed.

God, that felt so good...

Through shallow moans, my nerves loosened up some more, my fear dissipated further. I tilted my hips up again as Marc’s finger pushed against my clit with finesse. Closing my eyes, I basked in the stars that burst behind my eyelids. Lust finally took over as I bit down on my lip and pushed my pelvis up, needing the friction, wanting to get off. It had been a long time since the touch of a man’s hand had made me feel desired.

The sudden unannounced intrusion of Marc shoving into me, knocked me for six, triggering my untimely descent. His thick length was invasive, uncomfortable. Neither him nor I moved. Deep gasps of breath resonated between us as my eyes popped wide open. He was eyeing me with an unsure expression when he gathered my hands. I lay stock still beneath him, not sure how to react. Pulling my hands further over my head, fingers entwined, my lust morphed into an emotion entirely different. Something petrifying. The shivers crawling over me no longer felt exciting. I was powerless to stop the revulsion rolling through my head, through my body. Darkness waited around the corner to open up and swallow me whole.

Marc moved his hips in a shallow circle, his dick hard inside me. “Relax.”

He nuzzled into my neck, pulling almost all the way out of me. A growl reverberated from him before he nipped at the marred skin of my neck. He slammed back in, the movement jarring, dislodging the dark.

“Fucking tight, baby.”

Marc gasped as he pulled back and surged forward again. His finesse was gone, his control nowhere to be found. I didn’t like it.

No...I couldn’t stand it. I was suffocating underneath his powerful body, drowning in a sea of despair. It wasn’t Marc’s face I was seeing anymore, but a mask of anger and disgust, wholly malevolent. Fear crept around my lungs tenfold, clamping tight around my heart, stabbing icy splinters through my veins.

Panic seized me wholly and I struggled beneath Marc’s strong hold. He took no notice as he fucked me over and over, his eyes glazed and his grip punishing.

“Fuck, Laura...so good.”

His gruff voice growling into my neck terrified me. His hips thrust back and forth as I grasped for each breath to fill my starving lungs. My voice was lost, carried away on the cusp of a hoarse whisper. Tears were streaming down my face as I stared at the ceiling; a river of destitution marking my will to stop. I struggled. Marc was moaning so loud, lost inside his passion, I knew he couldn’t hear my weak pleas. He was oblivious.

“Stop, stop!”

Yelling louder, trying to find my voice, yet no more than a harsh breath escaping. I was pinned beneath him as he dragged his cock in and out, like my struggle was part of the dance and spurring him onwards. Any minute I was going to vomit; I could feel the boiling swell of acid gurgling in my gut, bile rising thick and fast in my throat.

The stench of my nightmares surrounded me...sweat from the other man, the copper tang in the air...roses.

I thrashed frantically, pushing and digging with my fingernails, my wails finding voice and erupting from within. It wasn’t long before my screams shattered their surroundings.

Harsh grunts overwhelmed too much. I craved the darkness to overpower my senses, engulf me...drown me.

Blackness gave way to light. An azure blue sky beckoning me, like a long-lost lover in the distance. White, fluffy clouds sighed my name, the invitation to be swallowed and swaddled, too enticing to ignore. I let them carry me home.