“Spread your legs,” he said with a tone that I didn’t like. I didn’t do it.
I trembled when he did it himself. What was he doing? Why was he making me feel this way? Shouldn’t he be holding me in his arms, telling me that he loved me, and it was okay?”
That was the first night that I caught a glimpse or a vision. I wasn’t sure what the hell it was, but it scared the hell out of me.
Drew ran his fingers up my slippery folds. My eyes closed, and I felt faint.
“Do you want to come, Morgan?” he asked in a voice that was familiar. I just didn’t know why it sounded familiar.
How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Of course, I wanted to come. I wanted to come the moment he touched me down there. He leaned on one elbow beneath me as his fingers did extraordinary things to me. I was so close. I was right there ready to climax when the image flashed through my mind. It was Drew. He hit me across the face with the back of his hand, and I heard his angry tone.
“I told you not to come,” the voice echoed through my mind, and just like that it was gone.
It was enough though. It was enough to scare the living hell right out of me. I quickly sat up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, shocked as I grabbed my clothes and started pulling them on.
“I don’t know what it is. Something.” I assured him.
He softly took me in his arms. “Morgan?” he said.
“Did you hit me, Drew?” I asked, looking up to him. I had to.
“What?” he asked like I was crazy. “No. I never hit you. Why would you ask something like that?”
“I just had a quick image of you hitting me.”
“Baby, I’m sure it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. Come back to bed with me.”
“I can’t,” I admitted, pulling on my shorts. “I’m not ready for this.”
I left him and headed back upstairs to my own safe room, but it didn’t feel at all. I felt far from safe when I closed my door. I crawled into my bed and tried to relax.
Why did I just see Drew hit me? It was so real. Was it my subconscious? Did he really hit me? I was probably just being over sensitive. It was probably nothing. I let my mind drift off to what was about to happen in his bed. I knew that I was still wet and more than ready as I recalled his fingers doing what they were doing.
Before I knew it my own hands were inside of my panties, pleasing myself. It felt strange. I almost felt like he was watching me for some reason. I knew that it was crazy and was probably just in my over active imagination.
“Stop,” I heard Drew whisper right beside my bed.
I did stop. I tried to conspicuously remove my hand without him knowing that it was there. How embarrassing was that? Did he know? Why was he telling me to stop?
I stared at him with wide eyes as he removed the covers and ran his hand up my leg. He didn’t look at my face and again slid me out of my shorts. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. Twice now I had been on the brink of orgasm. I wanted to stop him, but I didn’t want to stop him. I wondered what the chances of him taking care of me and not making me have sex with him were.
I could tell that he was trying exceedingly hard to be attentive with me, but for some reason he was fighting something. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. The expressions changed rapidly from patient and loving to vengeance and hate. What the hell was his problem? I didn’t stop him again. I didn’t have the control. I had a need that was dying to be filled.
He didn’t let me come. Every time I would get close he would stop. I wanted to come so bad I could taste it. What the hell was his problem? The third time that I was close, and he knew it, he stopped again. He took my leg and twisted it over my body so that I was half on my stomach. I wanted to protest, but when I felt his fingers slide my juices from the front of me all the way to the back, I couldn’t. I was aroused, scared, and exposed, and all I could do was lay there and let him have his way. I knew then that he was the leader in the bedroom. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I obviously liked it. I did marry him almost eight years before.
I wasn’t sure how I felt again when I felt his finger penetrating my anus. I mean. I thought I liked it, but I didn’t know if I was reacting out of fear or arousal. I grabbed the sheet and squeezed it into my fist as I felt him slide his finger into me. The other one had been dancing on my clit up until that time. He moved it and used his hand to spread me more as his finger penetrated me, slowly in and out. I would have to say that it felt better when his finger was massaging my clitoris, but I still didn’t stop him. I couldn’t.
I almost panicked when I heard his zipper being slid down. I wanted to protest and stop him, but it was almost like I was afraid of him. Why would I be afraid of him?