Scar

She's not very talkative anymore, and she's gripping the steering wheel so hard as she drives that her whole hands are stark white. Her face is very white too, glowing in the moonlight. I can't wait to hold it in my palms. My bike is still at the animal hospital parking lot, since she insisted on driving to the restaurant and I didn't argue. I didn't argue when she wanted to drive to the safe house either, even though it'd be much faster if I drove.

We're almost there, and she turns a few more shades whiter as I point out the house at the end of the street lined with other houses in various states of disrepair. She gasps as I tell her to turn into the driveway, but does it anyway, though very slowly.

Beyond this house there's nothing but a field of dried grass with a tree here and there, then hills in the distance. She's afraid, I can smell it, and maybe I should suggest we can go back if she wants, but it's beyond my power to do that, and I'm not gonna hurt her. I'll never do that.

I don't talk either, and give her plenty of space to follow me from the car to the front door, fearing she'll bolt, hoping she won't. She follows.

But she whimpers as I close the front door behind her.

Tonight, her fear doesn't piss me off like it did that day in the woods. It just makes me want to protect her that much more, even more than I already do, than I already always have.

I'm a scary, dangerous guy, pumped up with a lot of anger and hate. But Lynn has never had anything to worry about from me. And she never will.

The safe house is a small, one level and one bedroom home, and thankfully Fuse didn't neglect paying the power bill, because all the lights work. I turn on the one in the hall and walk towards the bedroom, hoping she'll follow, hoping I won't hear the front door open and close any second now.

I wanted to grab and kiss her as soon as we got out of the car, carry her to the bedroom and toss her on the bed once we entered the house, then give her all I got to give fast and rough. I have no idea what gave me the strength to fight that urge. Probably the knowledge that she'll bolt if I get too rough too fast.

She stops in the doorway to the bedroom.

"We can leave if you want to," I tell her even though all I want to do is rip her clothes off and make up for all the time we lost from now until dawn, or better yet, 'til sometime next week.

She doesn't say anything, just walks over to me with a very determined hardness in her step. Seeing someone this afraid of doing something they clearly want to do, something that's as natural as breathing, makes no sense to me. I don't understand the demons she's fighting in her head right now, but the battle is fierce, I can see that much in her set face and her eyes that cycle through so many emotions the look in them is impossible to read.

"I want you to kiss me now," she says once she's near enough to grab. I don't grab her, but I do kiss her, deep, long, slow.

She molds to me, and I once again have to fight the need to rip her clothes off, throw her on the bed and take her the way I need her. She'll bolt if I do that, I know she will. And I want to keep her for a long time.

So I go slow, stroke her neck instead of grabbing it. Kiss the path my palm just took, her racing heartbeat tickling my lips. Then I slide my hands across her breasts, don't clutch, just caress and pull her t-shirt up slow, wish I could watch her skin getting revealed as she does it herself, for me, but there's time yet.

I pull her t-shirt up and she helps me get it all the way off. Then I kiss her neck some more. Her skin is like velvet, something I barely noticed before with other women, because I'm always in a hurry during this part. Always racing to the finish line, just satisfying my hunger. But she's different, always was.

There's no beginning to her, just as there's no end. It's a weird sorta thought, but it makes perfect sense to me right now, as I taste her lips some more, caress and play with her breasts some more, not grabbing or slapping, exhibiting a gentleness I didn't know I was capable of.

Soon she's no longer stiff, no longer stinks of fear, and my cock is throbbing hard and pulsing with the kind of need I've never experienced before. I never wait for much permission from the woman I'm with. I take what I need. But I'm not that guy tonight.

Right now, every one of Lynn's moans, every one of her muscles she relaxes, every kiss she returns is a reward in itself. I don't know this guy she brought out of me, but I kinda like him, because he's the one she needs. The one that's not gonna fuck all this up.

But I don't know how much longer he's gonna stick around, because her smell and her softness, her beauty and her pureness, her grace and her gentleness are already fogging up my brain with one thing and one thing only: the need to make her mine. And I don't think she's got long before I lose control.

I want to break her, make her give herself to me completely, make her scream my name, but I need her to stay whole afterwards. And I don't know if she can.

* * *

Lynn

To say I was shaking inside as we drove to this house is an understatement. There was an earthquake going on inside me! Once we were inside the house, it got worse, so bad I was surprised not to hear my teeth chattering.

I don't know what force gave me the ability to follow him to the bedroom, because everything in my body and mind was screaming to run away, run and hide back home with my mom where it's safe, keep hiding from the world because that's best. And yet I do know.

I’ve wanted to be with Scar for a long, long time. I’ve yearned for the kind of passion I know we'll make real for a long, long time. And I wanted to sleep with him, since the day he showed up at the ranch. My mind is protesting, but my body is doing its own thing, because it’s completely sure it wants this, that it needs this. I’m just following its lead. And what he said before made such perfect sense that even my mind is almost completely onboard too.

The men that kidnapped me and held me captive took something from me, something precious and very fragile, but I just let them keep it for years afterwards. I never took it back. This is my chance to take it back. This could be my only chance.

I want to feel loved, I want to feel wanted, desired, want the physical pleasure that love and desire brings.

I want Scar, the man who saved me from my nightmare, the only man who sees me for me and not just my beauty, and I want to give myself to him. I wanted that for a long time. But I forgot just how much.

Yet, I'm afraid. Afraid that the dark, nightmarish memories swarming my mind will take over if I let him touch me. That they'll take me under and bury me in darkness if I feel a man's touch on my naked skin, his cock in my body. I'm afraid that once we take this further, no ignoring will keep those memories from blasting right back from the corners of my mind I've managed to sweep them into. I'm afraid they’ll drag me back down into that black hole of madness, of unawareness that became my world when they raped me again and again. Which was my world for weeks afterwards as I tried to climb and claw my way out and find my way back to the light. I never completely succeeded.

This is my second chance, but

I’m afraid my memories will destroy it.

Scar was my light then. He'll be my light now. I know it.

"I want you to kiss me now," I tell him as I reach him by the bed.

He was looking at me like he expected me to call it all off and run away, right up until the moment I spoke. Now his eyes are happy again. But that playful light is quickly drowning in his dangerous and predatory stare that's full of desire, which makes my stomach quiver in fear. But it also makes me feel like I'm the only woman in the world and the perfect one at that.

He grants my wish, and as his lips touch mine, as his tongue enters my mouth looking for mine, it becomes easy to ignore my fears. Even though I can hardly breathe, I feel as though I’ve finally been able to take a breath of fresh air.

He doesn’t stop just at my lips this time, but trails kisses down my neck, my racing heartbeat and his becoming one for a moment as his lips glide across it. I can feel all his burning, pent up desire for me right under the gentle touch of his hands as he runs them down my neck. All his strength is coiled around it to prevent it from exploding out. I don't know where he gets his strength, but it's formidable, it's out of this world, it's godly. I can trust him with anything. Even with my body and with it my sanity.

A new wave of cold, paralyzing blackness hits me as he slides off my t-shirt, but I let him, I even help. And the warmth of his touch, of his kisses on my naked skin as I'm standing before him in just my bra and my jeans is enough to keep it at bay.

My bra follows and his hands grow rougher, the coiling of his muscles more ominous. But his strong presence, the light of his desire, his gentleness that masks his ferocious need to have my body, is protection enough against my fears, is like a fire in the dead of winter on a cold snowy night. It's all I need.

So I surrender, stop fighting the memories because I wish to just enjoy the present. The blackness starts to recede and the paralysis begins to lift as I stop focusing on them.

My skin tingles from his kisses and his touches, and my mind is burning from the magnetic, deep looks he gives me every once in awhile as though checking if I'm alright, if I'm still here, if I'm enjoying this. I am.

He's still fully dressed as he guides me down on the bed and pulls off my jeans. The chill that hits my nakedness is just in my head, because it's perfectly warm in this room, turns hot even, as his lips find my bare thighs.

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he pulls down my panties, and I start shivering, my thighs taut because I can't relax them. His vivid green eyes, so much like a cat's, yet soft like a field of wild grass, promise summer will come, that even after this winter, the sun will come out and melt the snows.

I've longed for a man's touch, yet I've spent years terrified of it. I'm still terrified.

As he glides his hand down my stomach and doesn't stop, as his palm slides across my clit and his strong hands spread open my taut thighs, a jolt passes through me, painful and electrifying, frightening and jarring.

But also necessary, just what I needed.

The war my fear is waging against this pleasure Scar wants to give me, that I want him to give me, starts to wane. He kisses my clit, gets bolder as I sign and moan. His lips and his tongue soon start sending more jarring jolts through my body, and my mind, and my soul too. Each one tears chunks off my fear, until it becomes just memory, becomes inconsequential against the need and desire and heat that is the right now, this moment, with this man, the one who knows me and knows what I need even when I don't.

And that realization becomes even more solid as his lips and his tongue and his fingers too, start pulling me higher and higher along this fiery path of pleasure to a peak I never even imagined existed.

I'm not just moaning but shrieking now, as all those memories, all those fears I didn't know how to shake, that I kept locked away behind soundproof walls, shatter beneath this searing hot mountain of pleasure rising inside me. The bliss is already breaking the barriers of its origin and flooding the rest of my body, entering my blood, which carries it everywhere.

I scream out when I can't take it anymore, when I come as I never have before, the room spinning all around me, my body pulsing and shaking and radiating all the heat it could no longer contain.

He stops playing with my pussy, but I don’t move, just squeeze my thighs together—not because I'm afraid, but because I want to hold onto this heat, this pleasure, this bliss, which is already fading now that he's moved away and is standing over me.

"How was that, Lynn?" he asks and chuckles when I just smile, my voice too cracked to speak.

He rips off his shirt and removes his boots and jeans with the precision born of practice. Seeing him standing over me like this, his wide, strong, muscled, tattoo-covered body half in light and half in shadow brings some of my fear back to center stage, fires off memories I don't want to have.

But he only looks like those other men, the men who kept me tied up on a dirty bed in a dark room. He's not those man, he's this man, the one who saved me, the one whose naked body I wish to look upon, have covering me, the one I want inside me despite what all those other men did to me.

My body and my mind are in synch on this knowing, so even those thoughts of running away and hiding are just a memory now, a bad one—a memory I want to forget.

His cock is raging hard, wide and long. I want it inside me. And I don't.

Because I'm afraid, afraid of the pain and the memories coming back. They're never quiet when I dream of being with a man, never quiet when I think about it. They couldn't possibly be quiet when I'm with a man for real.

Yet all those thoughts are just fading echoes of the screams they once were.

I want this. I want him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Lynn," he says hoarsely, still just looking at me, his face in darkness, but his eyes alive. "I can't believe you're here with me."

He says it like me being here is an honor, a gift, something he's always wanted, but didn't think was for him. And hearing it is an amazing feeling, reminds me of my life before, when I was happy and admired and loved, of the time when I was sure the world was mine for the taking, and I couldn't wait to live in it. The time before I hid so hard from the world it was like I didn't even exist anymore.

"This is exactly where I want to be," I tell him. "Then and now, this is where I always wanted to be. Alone, with you."

The light in his eyes shifts, becomes edgier yet softer at the same time.

"Good," he says as he walks over.

He lays his palms on my folded up knees and spreads them apart. "But I gotta warn you. Before…that was all the slow and gentle I got in me."

He kneels on the bed, spreading my legs almost as wide as they’ll go with his strong hands. My heart is racing so hard I'm sure he can see it pulsing in my chest and my neck. I'm breathing hard too, but I don't know if it's from fear, or desire, or what?

A lot of it is desire and a lot of it is fear. I didn't lie before. When we first met, I wanted him to make love to me with all that passion and desire he had for me and I for him then. It's this same passion he has for me now— the passion he's kept locked away inside until now by some sheer power of character and internal strength I'll never have. He’s still keeping it locked away even now that I'm naked beneath him, completely under his power if he wants it that way.

"Can you take it?" he asks, the force of his gaze so magnetizing I couldn't look away if I tried.

"I hope so," I whisper and nod, because it's the only true answer I can give him.

"You hope so?" he repeats and chuckles. "Alright, that's good enough for me."

His voice is already different. It’s deeper, harder, and now I see little but the hard, burning desire for me in his eyes. But I know I'm safe in his hands. I know I'll always be safe in his hands.

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he slides one hand up my stomach, twisting my nipple and making me yelp a split second before he thrusts his cock into me, hard, angry, but not painfully.

My mind is full of conflicting thoughts as he starts thrusting his cock in and out of me, each jab faster and deeper, each opening me up a little more. But none of them are clear enough to hear as the ceiling above us becomes bright with all the stars of the night sky, and we’re once again climbing that mountain of pleasure, which is all that matters in this moment. All that should matter is how good he makes me feel. And right now, that is all that matters.

His palm is cradling my face, his thumb sliding across my lips, his eyes boring into mine, his breaths jagged and loud, as I kiss it, lick it, suck on it as he pushes it into my mouth. His cock seems to grow inside me, his thrusts shallow and hard now, getting faster and faster, taking my breath and messing up my sight, making me see stars in his eyes shining down on that peaceful forest I always see in them. Beasts are roaming in the darkness of those trees, vicious and ferocious ones, but they’re there to protect me, never harm me.

His hand is wrapped around my neck now, his thumb massaging my racing heartbeat. Like a cat, he's watching my every move, my every wince and grimace and blink, as his cock bangs against my barriers, pleasure and pain and fear and bliss all rolling into a ball—a wrecking ball that will leave nothing whole once it swings and crashes.

He sees me, he knows me, and he won't hurt me. He isn't hurting me.

The pleasure he gave me before, the pleasure I tried so hard to hold on to, is winning. Each hard thrust is bringing it closer back to me. My need to catch it, to feel it once more, is pushing all those other fearful, painful thoughts farther away, so far they don't come back even after his hand closes around my throat, even after his thrusts get so fast and so deep I feel like he's splitting me apart. The pleasure turns searing, its edges painful even though its center is pure bliss.

His thumb is on my lips again, demanding entrance and I open, let him in, bite down as his deep thrust almost takes me under. He's pumping his cock into me so deep and hard and fast my body's bouncing around on the bed. His hand on my throat and the other one now spreading my legs apart are the only thing keeping me in place, keeping me where he wants me, how he wants me. But I wouldn't move even if he let me go. No, I'd stay right here, waiting for this explosion of bliss he’s bringing to tear me apart.

This pleasure rising inside me, fueled by the passion, the wild primal abandon radiating from him and multiplying as it mates with my own, is a force of its own. Nothing can stand in its way. Not even me and my fears.

There's no room for fear and doubt in this kind of pleasure, this kind of desire and passion, this kind of bliss. No room for anything but enjoyment and surrender to it. This is how it was meant to be. Always. For everyone. And for me too. For us.

As my orgasm explodes inside me, the room and everything in it shatters into uncountable shimmers of multicolored dust. My memories shatter too, become just black specks among the shimmering ones. Inconsequential. Unneeded. Swallowed up by the good, the pleasure, the bliss, the way it was meant to be. Gone.