by Dyanne Davis
“Come on, baby girl, wrap your legs around my back, Damien urged.
Sweat covered their bodies, so much that Mia’s hand fought for purchase on Damien’s flesh, only to slide away. They were both grunting, deep, guttural, almost animalistic sounds.
“Raise your hips to meet my thrusts, Mia.”
She did as he asked, wincing in both pleasure and pain as Damien plunged even deeper inside her.
“Mia, you’re a natural. You were born for this. It’s in your blood.”
A natural? In her blood? It couldn’t be. She didn’t want it to be her mother’s blood that was awakening these feelings in her. All at once a tremble of awareness started in her belly and spread throughout her body. She shivered, thinking of all the things she was doing, all the things she was enjoying. She liked the things Damien was doing to her. Were virgins supposed to enjoy themselves the first time? She’d always heard they didn’t. Did their bodies respond as hers was doing? Mia didn’t want to be a natural. It could mean only one thing…
She opened her eyes and looked at her new husband, his face contorted in lust, and a shiver traveled down her spine, chilling her soul. She knew that look. It was the same look she’d seen on the face of a man Mia had found lying atop her mother. She knew in that instant that if she looked into a mirror her own face would be distorted by the lust. Just like her mother’s had been. She shut her eyes tighter as the memory forced itself into her thoughts-the memory of how at five, hearing her mother’s screams, she’d run into the bedroom to find a strange man on top of her. She’d thought he was hurting her mother, had tried to help her but her mother had screamed at her to get out and she’d run into another room and hid in a corner, covering her ears and crying until Keefe came in from riding his bike and found her there.
Oh God, what was she doing? Her hands were clawing at Damien and she was moaning and grunting like some animal in heat…like a slut…like her mother. Terror skittered down her spine, and Mia struggled desperately to shove the image of her mother out of her head. She didn’t belong there, not now when her husband was making love to her. She tried hard to remember that this was Damien, the man she loved, whose touch she craved like flowers crave rain. This was Damien, her husband now. The man she’d wanted to make love to her for months, the one who’d made her melt, made her feel things she’d been unaware existed. She’d wanted him with every fiber of her being, risked her relationship with her brother by lying to him.
Suddenly it was as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her entire body, freezing her, freezing every emotion except shame. Mia loved Damien, she truly did. But she was helpless to resist the horrible images and thoughts flooding her brain. Every doubt, every worry she’d ever had about herself coalesced into this one moment with Damien. She was her mother’s daughter! Mia closed her eyes against the horror of that thought but what awaited her was even worse. She saw her mother laughing, her finger pointing and the tears worked their way from beneath her closed lids.
A wave of revulsion swept through Mia. Her husband’s touch that only moments before had filled her with a sweet intense heat, making her crave more, now filled her with a different heat. She was burning up alright-burning up with shame.
Mia screamed out, the pain of the images more that she could bear. “Stop! She screamed. “Stop, Damien!”
* * *
Damien had everything he wanted, Mia as his wife, him buried deep inside her. Damien groaned in pleasure, feeling his release getting the better of him. He was taking it damn slow, making sure he didn’t frighten Mia, didn’t hurt her with his intense need, his greed. But he’d promised her he’d teach her, that she’d enjoy it and he was teaching her. He hoped like hell she understood the gruffness of his voice when he called out encouragement to her, little hints of things that would increase their pleasure.
He dove into her again and again. God, how he loved her. Then he heard her calling his name just as he’d always imagined, just as he’d told her she would and the sound of her voice pushed him farther over the edge. She was almost as incoherent as his thoughts.
“Stop, Damien.”
He wasn’t sure if that was what she said but he knew she couldn’t want him to stop. She hadn’t come. He knew that. Maybe he was still hurting her. “Don’t worry, baby girl,” he consoled her. “It won’t hurt much longer, just a few more seconds.” Just then his entire body trembled and he could no longer control it. His release shook him all over and he growled, clutching Mia to him. Then he collapsed on her chest.
“Stop, Damien,” she screamed again and he shook his head to clear it. As he attempted to rise up, he felt himself being shoved upwards with such force that he slid to the floor with a thud.
What the hell! “Mia,” Damien called to her as she snatched a rumpled sheet to cover her body.
“Leave me alone,” she sobbed and ran into the bathroom.
Damien stood up, panic filling him. He looked toward the bed, then the bathroom door, not knowing what to do, what had happened. I must have hurt her, he thought. But he’d been so gentle. He’d made sure of that. If not, they would have been done the moment he slid into her wetness.
“Mia, why are you crying, baby girl? Did I hurt you, Mia? I’m feeling like hell out here. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Sometimes it’s painful for virgins the first time. I promise you it’ll get better. Come on out, Mia.”
The sound of rain came from the bathroom and Damien frowned. “Are you taking a shower? Let me come in. We can shower together.” He was having a difficult time getting his voice normal. He knew what Mia was doing. She wasn’t just taking a shower. She was washing his scent off her.
An intense pain filled his chest and he groaned again but this time there was nothing pleasurable about it. Without warning his mother’s laughing words returned to him. “It will serve you right if the one woman you want to please, you can’t.” He looked again at the bed. “Stop, Damien.” He now heard the words loud and clear. “Stop, Damien.” They were reverberating in his head. She’d wanted him to stop. What the hell did it make him that he hadn’t? Shivering, he looked down at his nakedness and felt foolish. As unbelievable as it seemed, he was still hard. That knowledge disgusted him. He’d scared the hell out of his wife, and even now she was washing the smell of him away. She was disgusted by him. And he had an arousal.
* * *
Mia stood beneath the hot water crying, her heart breaking. She’d loved Damien touching her, the feel of his hands on her body, inside her, and even with the pain she’d welcomed him inside her. “Oh, God,” she moaned, “God, please don’t let me be like her.”
Despite the running water she could hear Damien calling to her. What could she tell him? How could she explain her behavior. How could she tell him that she’d tried to control the images and hadn’t been able to. He’d think she was crazy. She just needed time to work her way though this…to apply her process. But how did a woman get over finding that she was a slut-just like her mother?
All she wanted was to make Damien happy. She cried harder. She loved him so much. How was she ever going to face him. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Damien, I’m so sorry.”
* * *
Mia came out of the bathroom at last, wrapped in one of the hotel’s huge fluffy white towels. She wished she’d thought to take clothes with her into the bathroom. She didn’t want to cross the room in only a towel but she had no choice. She aimed for her open bag, averting her eyes from the bed.
“Mia, what happened?”
She blinked, startled. She hadn’t seen Damien sitting at the table near the bags. Her eyes flicked over him and she was grateful that he was at least partially dressed in sweats.
“I won’t know what’s wrong unless you tell me.” Damien’s voice was hoarse, the words ripping from his throat with the rawness he was feeling. “Help me out here.”
Mia remained silent, searching her bag for clothes.
“Answer me, Mia.”
“Wh
at is it you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me what happened. Did I hurt you, baby?” He started to rise from the chair but was stopped by the look of terror in her eyes. “You’re afraid of me?”
She opened her mouth to speak, only the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to tell her husband that it wasn’t him, she was afraid of, but her own emotions.
Damien tried again, this time not allowing the look of fear in Mia’s eyes to stop him. He walked toward her, reached his hand out to pull her close. If he could just hold her, he thought, everything would be fine.
“No, no, no. Please don’t touch me, Damien.”
Mia was trembling so hard that the clothes fell from her arms. “Please, just go back to the chair. I need to get dressed, Damien. Just let me get dressed.” As he bent to pick up the dropped clothing she moved away, nearly snatching them from him as he held them out to her. “Leave me alone, Damien, just leave me alone.”
“How can I just leave you alone, Mia? Something is wrong, I need to know what it is. You’re afraid of me and I have no idea why. Now you’re angry and I don’t know what I did wrong or what you think I did. Please, baby girl, tell me at least why you’re angry.”
She turned and stared at him. He was right, she was angry, but not at him. She wanted to tell him that she was angry at herself, at her mother, that despite all of her years of waiting for the right man, for marriage, blood had won out. Damien deserved so much more than to marry someone who’d been cursed to have Lillian as a mother.
As she stared at him, she thought about all the things that had gone wrong since they’d taken their vows. She should have known what she was. How could she have so easily fallen in love with Damien? After all, she’d been engaged at the time.
Even now she wanted him, wanted his hands on her, wanted him to repeat the things he’d done before she’d leapt from the bed like a lunatic. Mia looked away briefly, before bringing her gaze to rest on Damien. That was what she feared and what she could not tell him. That was the reason she was angry.
Then a quiver began in her toes and continued until it was a full shudder ripping through her at the knowledge of what she was. The pain of knowing was killing her. Mia closed her eyes, attempting to shove it away, to forget. That had been her habit for more years than she cared to remember. That was how she dealt with her pain. She submerged it, afraid of what would happen if she allowed the pain to explode.
“Mia, talk to me,” Damien pleaded. “If you’re angry about something I did, tell me, we can deal with it.”
Anger she could deal with, unwanted memories, she couldn’t. Her first time making love had been marred by ugliness. If she were to share the images she’d seen in her head with Damien he would think she was crazy. “Not now,” she said, “give me some time.” She backed away from Damien, turning only when she felt the bathroom door at her back.
In the bathroom she thought of her patients, of some of the things they confided to her, things that didn’t sound nearly as ridiculous as what she had to tell her husband. And she knew first hand that she thought they were nuts. Mia’s eyes closed as she leaned against the door. Some psychologist she was. She thought her patients were crazy. And then she screamed, loud and long. But it was only in her mind.
* * *
Damien sat where he was, watching Mia as she reentered the bathroom, her arms loaded down with her clothes. He was still sitting there when she came back out fully dressed, avoiding him. He couldn’t let this go on. He had to know what the hell had happened. Maybe this happened with all virgins. He didn’t know. But there was only one virgin he was concerned with and that was his wife. “God,” he moaned. “Help me.”
He walked toward her. “Whatever it is, baby girl, we can talk about it. I must have hurt you. You have to know it wasn’t deliberate. It’s all part of lovemaking. It will get better, Mia, the pain will go away and you’ll…you’ll enjoy it.” He swallowed, but stopped short of making her a promise. He’d made her several promises in the last few months and it was apparent that none of his promises were coming true.
He reached out for her, believing that if he could only put his arms around her it would be okay. He’d take away her pain in his arms.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t touch you?” Damien’s mouth dropped. This was a bit more than his new bride being fearful. More than a virgin’s skittishness. He looked into Mia’s eyes and saw fear mixed with loathing.
“Mia, what did I do?” he whispered hoarsely, wracking his brain for the answer. They’d been married less than twenty-four hours. He was sure that look hadn’t been there when she’d said ‘I do.’ Hell, he was positive it hadn’t been there when he’d begun making love to her. No, just a short time ago her eyes had been filled with love that had rapidly changed to lust as he kissed her. She’d wanted him, loved him. He was certain of it.
“Mia, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” she said softly, and walked away.
If he hadn’t hurt her, then it could only be one thing: His new bride hated his hands on her, hated his lovemaking. Damien cringed inwardly, praying for that not to be so. He was a good lover, he knew that. He’d prided himself on giving pleasure to the women he’d been with. His chest was hurting with the effort it was now taking him to breathe.
“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Just tell me what’s wrong, Mia.”
What was wrong was Mia couldn’t stand the hurt she was hearing in Damien’s voice. “Damien,” her throat closed with the lump lodged there. She couldn’t talk and she didn’t want to continue crying.
“Mia, please—”
“I need to have time to work through this, Damien,” she whispered, wishing he would stop talking and allow her to begin her process but he wouldn’t.
“I know there was some pain, baby. I’m sorry.”
She wanted to tell him that the pain she’d known about, had expected it. What she hadn’t expected was to have her worst nightmare come true.
“Mia, I love you. Just let me hold you.”
If only it were that easy. There was nothing Mia wanted more than to turn to her husband, tell him that she loved him too. But if she did, he would touch her, hold her, and as much as she loved him, as much as she loved his touch, the thought of being like her mother disgusted her to the point of not being able to have him touch her at all. She feared her passion for him. In his arms she would succumb. She knew that.
From the moment Mia met Damien, she’d felt the fervor. Now she knew it was a danger to her. She wished she could tell him all of that, that she was hurting far worse than he could ever imagine. But that wasn’t how she did things.
All her life she’d been brave. She’d kept her pain buried deep inside, sharing it only with her brother, but mostly keeping it to herself. Her brother had told her time after time that she had to be brave, had to be strong, had to not let anyone know they’d hurt her. She’d done that time after time. She’d played her part, never giving in to being scared, never crying when their mother would leave her alone and she couldn’t find Keefe. And she’d kept the pain inside whenever her mother would drop in wanting money instead of them, loving a different man and never them. Mia had become an expert at keeping her feelings hidden. She’d done that time after time.
Yes, Mia was very good at being strong. This pain, too, she would handle alone. She’d learn to deal with it as she had every other pain in her life. But she knew this would require more time. For now she couldn’t allow Damien to touch her. Her hysteria was just below the surface, having it return wasn’t a chance she was ready to take. She needed him gone. She needed to mend on her own.
* * *
For two days the two of them shared a room and little else. Mia refused to talk and Damien was so bewildered by her attitude that he didn’t know what to do, how to change things. He’d decided to wait it out, make small talk, eat with her, sleep in the bed with her, knowing that the moment she thought he
was asleep she got up and slept on the overstuffed couch. They were both nearing the breaking point and he knew they couldn’t take much more without one or both of them saying things that they would regret.
“Mia, I’m going to run downstairs for a little bit, maybe play a few slots. Do you mind?”
“No,” she answered, surprising him. It was one of the few answers she’d given. She must be happy at the thought of him leaving her alone. And that saddened him.
“Okay, then I won’t be long.”
* * *
The pain had not subsided but Mia had shoved it into the nether regions of her mind. She hadn’t run screaming from the room and she’d even gotten into the bed with her husband, knowing that if he touched her she could not maintain the calm façade. But if she told him how she felt, it would drive a wedge between them.
Like my actions aren’t already doing that, she thought.
She was positive that Damien thought she was crazy. And the longer they went not talking, the harder it was.
She’d cringed at the look of confusion on Damien’s face. She saw the hurt in his eyes and was affected deeply. Sometimes she found herself wanting to ease his pain; other times she wanted to ask him to get a separate room. She did neither. She was brave; she held it all inside.
When the door closed on the room Mia picked up the phone and dialed her brother’s cell. Mia shivered as she waited for him to answer.
Keefe must have known what would happen. She remembered Keefe’s reaction when he’d caught her kissing a boy, how he’d yelled at her, something he rarely did. Her brother had told her he would not allow her to become a slut like their mother. That was the first time Mia had doubted her character. She’d liked the kiss. Since that day Mia had shut herself away from those feelings, until Damien. And though both she and Keefe had tried to keep her from turning into Lillian, it had happened anyway.
“Keefe, you lied,” she began.
“Mia, I don’t understand. Lied about what?”