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  "Oh God, Kara,” he uttered as he lifted his hips toward her. She sucked him deeper into her mouth, liking the feel of his hardness thrusting against the back of her mouth.

  It had been a long, long time since she'd had a man's cock in her mouth. That first experience when she was a child had been nothing like this. There had been nothing good then. It had been hard, ugly, violent. She remembered the force with which he had shoved himself into her mouth and down her throat. He had made her gag and then had smacked her for gagging.

  She pushed the ugly memories aside as she concentrated on Slade.

  She circled him again, her tongue trailing the underside of his cock. He began to thrust against her mouth, driving himself deeper with each pumping motion of his hips. “Oh, God baby, that's it."

  Kara slid her mouth up and down his length, taking most of him into her mouth with each pass. She could feel his body tightening, the tension seeming to grow as each touch of her tongue on the head of his cock pushed him further toward that place where he would explode as she herself had exploded.

  Slade moaned, his body thrusting hard against her face as his passion mounted. The hard thrust of his hips and the pressure of his cock against the back of her throat, and the strength and fervor frightened her. The memory of a man's cock cutting off her ability to breathe exploded within her and she prayed she wouldn't gag as she had when she was seven.

  She tried to push the ugly memories aside, determined to give Slade the same pleasure he had given her. She could feel him straining for his own release, the same release he had given her and she struggled to close out the memories that grew stronger with each powerful thrust.

  As his passion intensified he grasped her head, holding her in place as he thrust upward, his hard cock slamming against the back of her throat. She nearly gagged but he withdrew a fraction. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to move away but his hands held her as he thrust into her mouth again.

  Without warning the memories she'd kept trapped were free, tearing through her. Buried images slammed into her consciousness. The pervading smell of damp that had filled the basement where she had been kept and the frequent sounds of sirens that came close but were still too far away to offer help exploded in her mind.

  She was no longer with Slade. It was no longer his cock in her mouth. Instead she was seven, her head held immobile while the vile stranger thrust his huge smelly dick into her mouth. Her mouth ached more with each thrust and she gagged gasping for breath with each powerful surge.

  The memory receded leaving her aware of reality but it was too late. She scrambled from the bed and dashed for the bathroom as she gagged. The contents of her stomach rose into the back of her throat as she slid to the floor in front of the toilet. She lifted the lid and hung her head over the bowl as desperation and embarrassment clawed through her.

  Her head spun as she gagged into the toilet. The memory of Slade holding her head still as he'd thrust his cock into her helpless mouth brought fresh tears and fresh embarrassment.

  She'd wanted his cock, wanted to please him but once he'd grasped her head everything had happened too quickly. In that split second she'd been back in the basement prison where she'd been kept. She'd been seven. Helpless. Alone. Afraid.

  By the time the ugliness had started to recede it was too late to stop the panic attack. She trembled, shivering. She gagged, her stomach lurching as she vomited into the toilet. Wet tears cascaded down her face.

  Chapter 8

  What in the hell? Slade asked the question of himself as Kara tumbled backward off the bed, retching as she dashed toward the bathroom.

  He didn't know what had happened but he was damn sure going to find out. He climbed out of the bed and not bothering to pull on his jeans strode into the bathroom all set to demand answers.

  The sight that met his eyes made his gut clench. Kara sat hunched on the floor, her head hanging over the toilet, her hair dangling in the way as she vomited. The repetitive sounds of her gagging and the contents of her stomach filling the toilet bowl kicked at his conscience.

  He'd known she was a virgin but he'd thought that by the time he'd carried her to their bed she was as into it as he was. She'd been so sweet, so responsive, so wet. It had been her that had reached for his cock, touching him shyly, with her hands, making him ache before she ever took him into her mouth. Hell, he'd have bet his entire business that she'd been as into it as he was.

  Even so, guilt tore at him. Something had happened. It couldn't have been the taste of him. She'd pulled away and tumbled off the bed before he'd made it all the way to climax.

  "I'm sorry.” She gagged. “So sorry. I didn't mean to—” she lost some more of her dinner into the toilet. “I—oh God!,"

  she gagged again.

  The sight of her hunched, alter nately puking and apologizing made him feel protective. He didn't care what had happened, he wanted to comfort her and make whatever was wrong right. “Sh—shhh. Just relax honey. You can tell me what happened when you feel better.” He stepped toward her reaching forward to rescue the long strands of bed-tousled hair from the toilet.

  "I'm sorry.” She was sobbing, her breath coming in choppy little gasps as she hung her head over the toilet.

  "I know you didn't mean for this to happen sweetheart,” he said. “Are you done throwing up do you think?"

  "Maybe. I think. That part doesn't usually last long.” She hiccupped.

  Usually? This had happened before? His mind raced. “Whoa Kara. You lost me. That part of what?” he asked as his mind groped to make sense of the sudden turn of events.

  As he waited for her answer he turned to the sink and grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack. He turned on the cold-water and ran the rag under it. “This has happened before?"

  "I h-h—” she hiccupped. He squeezed out the excess water from the rag before settling on his knees on the floor in front of her.

  He tilted her chin, gazing down into her face. His concern grew as she shivered, her teeth chattering. Sadness surrounded her.

  "I h—have panic attacks,” she said through chattering teeth.

  She dipped her head, closing her eyes. He sensed her shame but didn't comment.

  He tilted her chin and began to wipe her face free of the tears and vomit.

  She began to cry again. Not the short choppy little gasps of before, but a silent trickle of tears that wound their way down her face.

  Her silent tears touched him deeply. He'd never seen her cry. Even when she'd come to his office afraid that her brother would end up in prison and the stress of his trial would kill her mother she hadn't cried.

  He finished cleaning her face, then tossed the rag in the sink and pulled her against his chest, wanting to make whatever was wrong better. He held her, rocking her as if she were a child. Still she couldn't seem to get a grip. Her tears continued to trickle down her face dripping onto his bare chest.

  "Shhhh honey, it's okay,” he whispered softly as his body absorbed another of the violent shivers. He rocked her back and forth and stroked her hair back away from her face. She didn't open her eyes, didn't look at him, and didn't raise her face as he stroked her.

  She trembled, her teeth chattering as she shivered. “Listen sweetheart, look at me,” he said softly wondering if he could even reach her where she was. She seemed disconnected, as if she were only partially aware of where she was. That and the nearly constant shivers worried him.

  Very slowly she opened her eyes. Her gaze climbed his chest until her gaze met his. Deep, misery stared back at him but at least there seemed to be some awareness of where she was and what was going on. “Listen to me honey."

  Her attention seemed to wander and he snapped his fingers in front of her face drawing her focus back to him. “I'm going to carry you into the living room. We're going to sit by the fire until you are warm and until you feel better. Okay?"

  She nodded her brain feeling fuzzy and overwhelmed. She knew that the freezing, the nausea, the dizziness,
the weakness that sapped every drop of her energy was part of the panic attack. They always left her feeling as if she'd been kicked to her knees.

  She closed her eyes shutting out everything around her as Slade lifted her. She didn't have the energy to argue. Instead she savored his strength, needing it and his kindness for just a little while till her own strength returned.

  He paused by the bed standing her on her feet but steadying her with one hand while he tugged the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her with the other. When he had her enclosed in the soft folds of the blanket he lifted her again.

  She lulled her head against his shoulder feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach and more miserable than she could remember feeling. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn't be sick again.

  Slade carried her down with him as he eased into the big rocker in the living room. Once he was seated he shifted her, positioning her so that she sat across his lap with her head nestled against his shoulder.

  She was a pool of conflicting emotions as she waited, dreading the moment when he demanded to know what had happened and why she had fallen apart. She didn't know how she could explain why she had gone from enthusiastically sucking his cock to a blubbering heap on the bathroom floor without telling him about the stranger that had kidnapped her and her twin sister.

  Her skin crawled as she contemplated what she'd tell him. She knew he wouldn't understand her panic unless she told him how the man had held her face, nearly smothering her as he slammed his dick into her mouth again and again. She heaved a sigh, reaching a decision. She'd tell Slade what she needed to to make him understand why she'd fallen apart but she couldn't give him more.

  She had never disclosed what had happened between being kidnapped and being found even when the psychiatrists, detectives, and doctors had tried to badger it out of her.

  Nothing had changed to make her want to relive the gruesome ordeal. She didn't want to face the pain that lived in her heart when she thought about the events that had happened during the nightmare of her captivity.

  She couldn't explain what she herself didn't understand. She couldn't tell Slade, or the police, or the psychiatrists or her parents why she was alive and Kayla was dead. It made no sense.

  Kara leaned against him, needing to absorb his strength. He was silent, stroking her arms and her back. His touches and his silence soothed her scattered nerves but did nothing to alleviate the guilt and pain that went clear through her.

  Slade took care of her. When the misery overwhelmed her clogging her throat he drew the quilt closer and wordlessly wrapped his arms more tightly around her, not saying anything, just giving her warmth and closeness she desperately needed.

  The gentle way he cared for her intensified the anguish that ate at her. She didn't deserve his care. Her brother had stolen from him and she'd lied to him when she'd let him think she could be an obedient and passionate wife.

  Slade's body absorbed the shiver as her teeth rattled. She sniffed and stirred on his lap, her bottom grinding against the ache in his groin.

  "How're you doing, honey?” he asked gently, ignoring the ache.

  She sniffed again and pressed her face into his chest. “I'm so sorry—” she sucked in a deep breath. “I—I Kn-know you want to d-div-divorce me.” Hot wet tears leaked onto his chest and her shudder echoed through him.

  He didn't want to divorce her. He wanted to protect her, to erase whatever had hurt her and make her whole again. He nuzzled the top of her head placing a series of little kisses there. “I don't want to divorce you. Not now. Not ever.” He pulled her closer, wrapping the quilt more snugly around her as he rocked her.

  "I just want to understand what hurt you."

  She buried her face more deeply in his chest and he could feel the tremor that worked through her, even as her tears, the silent ones that tore at him the most ran down his chest.

  He stroked her back as she drew a deep breath. “When I was seven—” She stopped. He waited.

  She sucked in another breath and let it go.

  His heart felt bruised. He knew without any doubt that whatever had happened when she was seven had wounded her profoundly. His arms tightened around her, as he willed her to go on.

  "When I was seven,” she started again. “I was—I was—kidnapped."

  Seven. His niece Nicole was seven. He pictured her. She was small for her age and had dark hair that just brushed the bottoms of her ears and deep brown eyes that sparkled when she laughed. She was innocent, a child.

  His body tensed as he imagined Kara at Nicole's age.

  He stroked Kara's hair and her back, comforting her as best he could. He thought about Nicole and what she would need if something this awful were to happen to her. “He asked me to help him look for his p-p-puppy.” She choked up, her voice ending on a sob.

  He felt her hands twisting in the quilt.

  "When I got c-close to his truck he picked me up and threw me in. H-h-he had a knife.” She sucked a deep breath and burrowed her head into his shoulder sucking in another gulp of air.

  Slade held her against his shoulder, his hand splayed over the back of her head. He wished he knew what to say or do that would make this easier for her.

  There was nothing he could do but hold her. He remained silent giving her time.

  She sniffed against his shoulder. “H-he said he would k-kill me if I tried to get away, s-so I didn't t-try."

  "He ... molested you?” Slade asked, kissing the top of her head and holding her tighter. He'd offered the word, wanting to spare her having to drudge up the words to explain her ordeal.

  "Y—yes. N—n-no. I-it was quite a bit worse. H-he ... um...” She sucked in a breath and tried again. “Hhh ... h-he—"

  "Raped you?” he asked, vile hatred for the man rising in his chest as he dreaded her answer.

  "Yes.” The word came out on a big gush of air that broke apart on a sob.

  Not since he'd been four and watched the sheriff haul his family's belongings to the curb had Slade felt more helpless.

  "Shh—shh baby. I'm sorry. So sorry that happened,” he said as he rocked them.

  After several minutes he urged her chin up and wiped tender fingers over the tears that still ran like silent rivers down her cheeks.

  "Did I do something? Before? Did something happen that made this all real for you again?"

  She blinked up at him her eyes large and filled with tears. She was the picture of misery and it made his heart buckle. He could see indecision in her expression.

  "Tell me the truth Kara. I need to know.” He stroked her hair back from her face, his eyes searching for the answers on her face and in her expression, even as she twisted on his lap, closing her expression and attempting to hide the depths of her misery from him.

  She tipped her head downward. He sensed that she was hiding from him, hiding her shame. He wrapped his arms around her offering what comfort and support he could. He felt her short choppy breaths lengthen as she tried to regain the control she'd lost. “When he—p-put his—p-penis in m-my mouth,” she scrunched her eyes shut and drew a deep breath. “H-he held m-my h-head still. I couldn't b-breathe."

  Understanding and the implications of what she said hit Slade with the force of an avalanche. He remembered how he'd held her head as he'd driven himself into her mouth.

  Shame and regret filled him. Sickness settled in the pit of his stomach.

  "I'm so sorry sweetheart. I didn't know.” The apology seemed inadequate and yet he didn't know what more to say. He pulled her tighter, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her, his mouth gently following the salty trails her tears had left.

  "It's not your fault. It's just—” She sucked in air. “It's just I can't—"

  He lifted his head, his attention drawn to her pale features and the dark eyes that remained fixed on her lap where they avoided the lure of his gaze. “You lost me. You can't what Kara?” he asked feeling like he'd been caught in a vortex he couldn't break fre
e of.

  Her lip trembled and she clenched her hands in her lap as she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “I lied when I let you think I could be a—g—good sex partner. I can't."

  "Kara, honey,” He tipped her chin up so he could meet her gaze. “You're a great sex partner. You're sweet and passionate and responsive.” He stroked her cheek. “This is one experience that ended badly because I didn't know—” he sucked in a deep breath, “about what happened to you and how it would effect you."

  He watched as she dipped her gaze, drawing away, putting distance between them. “I left you—um—unfulfilled."

  "And I'll live. It's not the end of the world.” He stroked her hair back away from her face tilting her chin so he could read her expression.

  "I can't do this again. Please—please don't make me."

  He understood. He'd seen her anguish, heard it in her voice, felt it in the tremors that had shaken her long after they'd settled into the chair. Yet he wasn't willing to release her from their marriage.

  "So where are you thinking this leaves our marriage Kara? I don't want a divorce."

  "I don't know where it leaves it.” Her voice was soft and hollow. Empty. “I don't have anything to offer you. I can't—I don't want to—” She bit down on her lip and he had the impression she was fighting back tears. “It wasn't fair of me to marry you and I'm sorry I got you into this."

  He felt her breaths deepen and become short. She bit her lip hard enough he expected he'd taste blood if he were to kiss her. She was putting up a hard fight against the tears, but he sensed they were going to fall in spite of her efforts to control them.

  "You could lean on me Kara. You could take what I'm offering and trust me,” he said as he wrapped her in his arms just before the first of her tears slid down her nose and onto his chest.

  Kara let him hold her while she cried. She was too tired, too emotionally drained to do anything else. She didn't want a divorce but she didn't deserve his patience or his understanding. She had lied to him, and was still lying to him to some extent.