One plunge and he was inside her. After such phenomenal pleasure, she thought she could stand his body on hers. The warm glow still permeated every muscle. She should’ve been relaxed and blissful, but the moment he slid up and pushed inside, everything went cold. She detached, as she always had. If she closed her eyes, she could almost float up to the ceiling and watch him ride her. Maybe he won’t know, if I move and moan. No one else ever cared. The practiced sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, and he froze above her, his body locked. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” No. The men who had come before did that. But they had stolen the pleasure from her, leaving too many bad memories. Much as she wished it could be otherwise, much as she hated it, she tried to smile because it wasn’t his fault. She was broken. She almost lied, but the passionate honesty written plainly across his beautiful features called the same from her. “It’s . . . it doesn’t feel good.”
