Trust Me by BJ Wane Page A

Richard had forced a ménage on her with a man she didn’t know and she had
been confident she had overcome the ordeal emotionally enough to resume a
normal sex life again. She had no trouble since the rape in getting herself off
and had assumed she’d have no trouble climaxing with a man. She didn’t have
nightmares or flashbacks over her ordeal and physically, other than a few
bruises that had long since faded, she hadn’t been harmed.
         Joe had been a previous lover, someone she
was comfortable with and was still on good terms with. But barely fifteen
minutes after they had landed naked in her bed together, Brooke knew it was
going to be a no go for her. Determined to see it through, she closed her eyes
and thought of Alec, a combination of memory and fantasy that always aroused
her, but with each thrust of Joe’s cock, she felt herself slipping into a void
of nothingness, no fear, no anxiety and no pleasure. For the first time in her
life, she faked her way through an orgasm and her way through concealing her
frustration and devastation at this new development and consequence from an
encounter she had thought she had put behind her.
         Joe, bless his kind, oblivious nature, had
been none the wiser that night or the two other times she had been with him
with the same dismal results. Deciding she simply wasn’t ready to resume an
active sex life, she went back to masturbating. Three months later her sexual
frustration had reached a boiling point when she was out with Susan, a
co-worker, at a small bar they often frequented after work and Susan happened
to see a longtime friend she had introduced Brooke to. Adam was tall, built, with
brown hair and blue eyes and instantly reminded her of Alec. She didn’t know if
that was why she was so attracted to him, and didn’t really care. For the first
time in months, she had the urge to get naked with a guy again, to feel him
filling her sheath with hard deep strokes, and ached to feel herself come apart
from the power of those thrusts instead of the milder, softer strokes of her
own fingers.
         Two hours later, feeling comfortable and
aroused with Adam, going on Susan’s assurance that he was a good guy, she
followed him to his apartment, anticipation humming through her veins. Her
confidence that her mental and physical block to intercourse was gone was once
again short lived. Her body was with her as they stumbled through his door together;
their lips locked, their hands shedding clothes, and stayed with her as he
anxiously pulled her into his bedroom and onto his bed. Her nipples peaked, her
pussy swelled, dampened and ached for possession and she accepted his cock
inside her with a sigh of pleasure that soon turned to a feigned response as
she once again shut down just as quickly as with Joe.
         Clenching her hands, she had to bite her
lip to keep from sobbing in frustration, a frustration that built into anger by
the time she faked her way through the encounter and left Adam none the wiser.
Her anger built over the ensuing weeks, an anger at herself for her stupidity
in allowing Richard to talk her into going to that sex club with him, anger at
Alec because it was the memory of the experiences he gave her in dominative,
alternative sex that led to awesome climaxes that had her seeking those same
heights with the wrong person, and angry at Richard for abusing her trust and
her right to say no.
         That anger had led her to try again, only this
time with the one man she could’ve sworn held the key for her release. She had
loved going down on Alec again, loved the lust that flared on his face as he
watched her suck him while she fingered herself to orgasm, and loved the
arousal escalating slaps he had delivered on her ass as he hauled her upstairs.
Those light stings had zipped straight to her still convulsing pussy and
resumed her arousal. If she hadn’t been so anxious to take advantage of her
heightened state, she would have liked