Page 18 of Whispers of Torment

Her hands repeated his actions, rolling her clit between her fingers, tugging it outward and releasing. A deep burn gripped her, held, swelled, and without warning, she burst. Her entire body stiffened. Her pussy contracted around her fingers, and she fucked it until she grew too sensitive to continue.

Controlling her gasps, she pinched her nipples hard as her dream man licked at her juices in her mind.

John shifted and his breathing changed. Lillian let her head fall to the side to look into his open eyes.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” His voice was gritty.

She felt the blush crawl over her cheeks. Never in all these years with John had she touched herself with such abandon, or experienced the ecstasy that followed. John brought her off in this way, but she had never achieved it alone.

Yet she hadn’t been alone, had she?

John flipped on top of her and groaned at the wetness he felt. “God, baby, you’re ready for me already.” His thick cock poised at her entrance.

She spread her legs automatically for him even as he found her mouth. And as he fucked her slowly and thoroughly, tears stung her eyes. Something deep inside her had broken open, and she felt as though she betrayed her blond man, her dream man, the man to whom part of her soul was irrevocably bound.

* * *

The Cadillac geared down and rolled to a stop overlooking an expanse of sand. Lillian squinted through the windshield into the blinding sun. Across the baking sands, the ocean shore glittered, and a black outcropping of rock writhed.

“What is that?” she asked without removing her gaze from the view.

“Come and see.” John leaped from the car, his step lively as he came around to open Lillian’s door. He drew her hand into his and led her to the edge of the beach, where she removed her high heels and looped them in her index finger. The breeze brought the sound of barking.

“Seals!” She stopped dead. He flashed a grin and towed her faster.

The rock appeared to squirm as the elephant seals crawled over the surface. Sometimes a young one would be shoved into the water with a little splash. John removed his jacket and flattened it on the ground for Lillian to sit. She curled up, ankles crossed and her knees to her chest. John sank cross-legged next to her and she leaned into his side.

“Are you warm enough?” He rubbed her upper arm where she had slung a sweater in the old-fashioned way—without her arms through the sleeves and buttoned at the throat.

She had always adored his manners and consideration for her welfare, but now irritation bubbled up her throat. She swallowed it. “Yes, I’m fine.”

The wind caught her hair, sending wispy tendrils dancing around her face. How long had it been since she truly relaxed or escaped the fear plaguing her mind? She tilted her face up to the sun, letting the golden beams sink into her pores and burn away all thought. Time slowed. Her breathing deepened to match the waves breaking over the rocks. Her mind cleared of pain and confusion and her muscles relaxed.

When the tide sizzled up the sand and swallowed her toes, she jumped up with a cry, and John laughed, wondering aloud how she hadn’t noticed the surf rolling in.

“Do you want to move or shall we go?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Where we’re going next.” She knew her fragile psyche couldn’t withstand another trip to a cemetery or memorial at the moment.

“Dinner?” He tipped his head back, judging the time by the sun. She nodded and silently threaded her hand through his arm to wander back up the beach.

Minutes later, seated across from her mate in a five-star restaurant, the chaos of Lillian’s last few days took control once more. She avoided John’s steady gaze and forced her mind away from her dream man, though it continually wandered to the strangely realistic release he had forced on her that morning.

To make matters worse, the blond-haired waiter showed her undo attention, which made her squirm. She could not stop staring at his hands, at the golden sprinkle of hair on his knuckles, comparing the beefy palms and thick fingers to her dream man’s long, tapered ones. Flushed and concealing her twisting hands in her lap, she met John’s gaze. His eyebrow lifted like a small, pointed blade.

“It’s nothing,” she said after the waiter had moved away. “He was looking at me so closely it embarrassed me.”

John’s full lips spread into a smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “He seems quite smitten.”

“And he’s what—nineteen?”

“Probably. But you don’t look anywhere near ninety.”

She rapped him smartly with her menu. “Thank you, but a gentleman never mentions a lady’s age.”

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