Page 33 of What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

“Um,” I said, rubbing my nose, pulling back a grin.

“Does this feel strange to you?” she asked, staring at my face. Her toes pressed against my balls, gently and softly, enough that I felt them. I got hard immediately.

“No, it feels good,” I admitted. “Tell me, why did you join the military?”

She laughed. “I craved order.” She dropped her voice down to a whisper. “And secretly, I crave having someone tell me what to do. Yell at me. Get in my face. It makes me happy.” She shrugged again. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I like kink, Mason. Want to tie me up?” She looked excited, and that scared me. Scared the hell out of me.

“Um…no?”

“What’s the matter?” she said. “You afraid?”

“Yes.” There was no shame in admitting it.

She climbed up onto her knees and crawled toward me. “But you do want to fuck me.”

“I’d have to be dead not to.” I looked down at her, where she kneeled between my legs. Suddenly, she jerked her shirt over her head, leaving her in a perfectly serviceable white bra. I reached for her tits, because…tits. Hello.

“I like it rough,” she said, her lips against my mouth. “Can you give me what I need?”

“No,” I admitted.

She sat back. “Then I’ll find someone who can.”

No. No, she wouldn’t. It would be me or no one. “You would have to show me.” My voice got stuck on show me, and I coughed through it. “Show me,” I said again.

“Yes, Mason,” she said.

She followed me to the bedroom, the bed I shared with Lynn, and stood quietly beside it. “Tell me what to do, Mason.”

“Take off your clothes.” She frantically started to rip her clothes off until she was naked in front of me. She was curvy and perfect, with skin the color of honey and eyes that pierced my soul.

Forty-five minutes later, I was ashamed of myself. Guilt assaulted my conscience. I couldn’t believe I’d done what I did to her. She’d begged for it. Cried for it. Pleaded for it.

“Pull my hair, Mason. Bite me, Mason. Stretch me wide, Mason, so wide it hurts. I want to feel it for days.”

So I did. I did everything she wanted, because if anyone was going to give it to her, it would be me. Only me. But in doing so, I’d changed who I was.

I hadn’t cherished her body. I hadn’t loved her. I hadn’t pleased her. I’d hurt her. And inside my soul, I hurt because of it.

I looked down at her. Her lip was bruised where I’d kissed her too hard. She had bite marks on her inner thigh, and they came from my teeth. She’d asked me to pretend like she was unwilling, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend like that. I didn’t have it in me.

Until I did. And that…that was what broke me.

18

The psychiatrist didn’t say a word. He just set his notepad to the side.

“Give me some words of wisdom, Doc, because I’m dying here,” I joked.

“Did you hurt her?” he asked, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Yes.”

“And this makes you feel guilty.”

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