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flickering throughout the garden made the small space appear magical.  Yet I had eyes for only her.
    “You aren’t running.” She got to her feet and came towards me. I swear, my heart actually thudded in my chest. This was ridiculous. Sex was a game, nothing more. My emotions never got involved.
    “No.” My cock was about to explode as that sweet ass of hers descended onto my lap. I wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into me. I bent my head down towards her soft lips. “I’m not.”
    Look, I was a guy. Kisses and foreplay were nice, but in the end, it was just a way to get to the good stuff. Her wet juicy cunt spasming around my dick. Her moans as I slammed into her body again and again. Her heat. The way she’d taste. The way her body would quiver as I took her, over and over. Her sweet voice chanting my name, as if it were a prayer.
    But it wouldn’t be my name she’d be chanting. Marc was a figment of my imagination. He didn’t exist.
    Everything was a lie. I hadn’t lived in this house for almost ten years. Once upon a time, I would have said that there was almost no greater pleasure than to feel the sun’s rays on my face while I sat out back and weeded, tending to each plant and rejoicing when they flourished under my care. In those days I’d been fragile, shaken by the revelations around who I really was. I’d needed comfort while I tried to determine my purpose in life.
    Everything was different now. Gardeners tended to this garden, not me, not anymore . I was a key player in a dangerous game. There was no time for emotion and softness. There was no place in my life for the little sigh of pleasure she made as our mouths touched. I didn’t need to feel the way her lips parted and her tongue flicked tentatively against mine.  
    “Stop,” I groaned. If my cock could talk, it would have bitch-slapped me at that point. There was a beautiful woman on my lap, she was kissing me and I was cock-blocking myself.
    But I wasn’t a teenager anymore and I had fifteen specific reasons why I had to put all my cards on the table. Fifteen women, whose ruined lives haunted me every single day. “If you are looking for tender, I’m probably not your best bet.” God, those words actually caused me physical pain as I spoke them. But this was not a topic about which dishonesty was possible.
    She pulled away from me. “Are you going to hurt me Marc?” Her green eyes were filled with lust. If there was fear it had retreated to the edges.
    “If you want me to. It tends to be the way I play.”
    “If I don’t want it that way, will you force me?”
    Oh god no. Not that. Not ever. I was a child of rape. Force was the one thing that I would never, ever stoop to. “No, of course not.”
    “Then,” she shot me a look, “shut up and kiss me.”
    If she was my submissive, I’d have tied her down and made her come until she begged me to stop and promised never to sass me again. Since she wasn’t, I just bit her lower lip gently. “Who’s bossy now?” I asked her as I kissed those perfect lips. Her groan of pleasure vibrated against my mouth.  
    My hand reached over her shirt to cup her breast and she groaned again. “Please…”
    “Patience, Rachel. You’ve waited four years for this, what’s another hour or so?”
    Her whimper of protest was music to me. She moved restlessly on my lap, her ass grinding against my cock. “The four years is precisely why I can’t wait another hour,” she muttered, her breath tickling my ear as she spoke.
    I chuckled at that. “Fair point,” I conceded. I lifted her off my lap. “I’m going to take your t-shirt off.”

Chapter 6
    Ellie / Rachel:
    I hadn’t expected to be okay. When I’d seen Marc at the bar and felt a frisson of attraction, I’d been determined to sleep with him and put an end to my ridiculous fear of sex. But I had expected to be afraid through the process.
    I wasn’t afraid. Perhaps it was that his eyes had been warm, not cold. Perhaps it