Sleeping Beauty Read Online Free PDF

kissed you. I could feel it.”
    â€œI didn’t! I just—”
    â€œDon’t lie to me!”
    Confused, terrified, Anne stared up at him. He was flushed and breathing hard, and glaring at her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly they hurt. Was that true? Had she loved it when he kissed her? She did love it when his arms were around her; maybe she loved his kissing, too. She must have; she must have done something that made him think she liked it. He knew so much more than she did; he knew everything. She didn’t know anything, except that she was afraid and she felt sick. She shook her head back and forth on the hard ground. “I don’t know. Please, Vince, please let me go, I don’t want to—”
    â€œYou want it. I know what you want.”
    He tossed his pants aside. Still gripping her wrists he held her hands above her head and thrust his fingers between her tightly clasped thighs, forcing his knee between them, spreading them. “You’ll love it. I’ll teach you.” He was tremendously excited. Her knees were knobby, exactly as he had imagined them; her thighs were thin and hard. She was skin and bones, taut muscles, closed and secret places. His to discover, his to take. He opened her thighs farther with his legs and shoved his fingers deep inside her, probing beneath the black, curly hair. “Don’t fight me, Anne. I’m going to teach you how to love.”
    Through the roaring in her ears, Anne heard one word. Love. She gave a long moan that Vince took for passion. Without waiting, he rammed into her, gasping at her exquisite tightness. He did not hear her cry out; he did not see the tears that squeezed through her closed eyes. All he knew was that she was not fighting him; she was lying beneath him like a good girl, and she was the tightest he had ever known and he could not hold back; it would takepractice to hold back with a girl like Anne. Eyes closed, he pounded into her and came with an explosion that made him drop like a stone on top of her, his face against her neck.
    Anne opened her eyes and stared at the trees tapering above. The light was fading, but she could see them swaying in the evening breeze. They creaked as they swayed. Doesn’t it sound like a horror movie? Close your eyes and you can believe something really awful is about to happen.

chapter 3
    T he next night he came to her room. She had been there all day, in her pajamas and seersucker robe, refusing food, refusing Marian when she stood outside the closed door, asking to come in and take Anne’s temperature. “I’m all right,” Anne said. “I just don’t feel like doing anything. I’m all right. I just want to be by myself!”
    â€œIt’s hard to deal with overly dramatic children,” Marian murmured to herself. “But then, we’re all overly dramatic at thirteen, aren’t we?” she added wisely, and returned to her gardening.
    Anne sat curled up on the flowered chintz cushion of her window seat. She was surrounded by bright flowers: in her wallpaper, on the canopy above her bed, on the skirt of her dressing table and the deep armchair in the corner of the room beside a round table with a flowered cloth that reached to the floor. Pictures of her mother, in silver frames, were everywhere. A picture of Marian and one of Charles were on the mantelpiece above the small marble fireplace across from the bed. Fresh roses were on the round table, put there by the maid every day. Everything was so bright and cheerful Anne couldn’t stand it. She closed her eyes against it.
    She burned between her legs, a throbbing, high-pitched pain. If someone asked her to paint it, it would be bright red, brighter even than the blood she’d found smeared on theinside of her thighs when she undressed last night. Vince had walked almost all the way to the house with her, his arm around her shoulders to keep her from stumbling, while he