Once Forbidden by Hope Welsh Page B

with his mouth her whole world centered
on those few moments. She felt his fingers holding her open to him and felt his
tongue as he lapped at her, driving her to the brink of climax within only a
few seconds.
    His
hand was biting into her buttocks, clenching and unclenching as he held her to
him. “Now!” she demanded. “Please!”
    He
ignored her, driving ruthlessly. He flicked her clitoris again with his thumb
and felt her convulse, her legs tightened around his head and still he drove
her on, wringing every last ounce of her passion, drinking in the scent of her.
    Sarah
screamed with the force of her release.
    “Yes,”
he said at last. “That’s what I want.”
     

     
    Sarah
awoke suddenly and climbed from the bed with a groan. She’d had the dream
before. Her eyes closed against a wave of pain. In the dream, the way he made
love was sometimes different, but some things were the same—she was whole
again, the disfiguring burns were gone. Her lover had been intense, his passion
driven by her own.
    With
a sigh, she padded silently across the carpeted floor to the bathroom. As
usual, she was wet. She could feel the juices flowing, and knew she’d had an
orgasm. It had been so real— and it was embarrassing!  Women didn’t have
these kinds of vivid dreams. It amazed her still how real the dreams were each
time she had them. She could almost feel him inside her.
    Sometimes
he made love to her slowly and gently. Sometimes he was rough and demanding…but
always, he made sure that she found as much pleasure as he did. Never before
these dreams had begun had she had such erotic dreams so vivid and real. But
the dreams were also painful—especially now that no man would ever want her. That,
of course, was the source of the dreams, she’d decided.
    It
had been months since she’d had sex, and it was her minds way of giving her
body release. Too bad her body didn’t know how painful they were when she was
awake and realized it all would never be real.
     Always
awakened after the dreams, she knew she’d be getting no more sleep this night.
She didn’t bother turning on the light as she got the glass on the counter and
filled it with cool tap water.
    As
she sipped, she thought once again how much she wished the dream would come true.
Wished with a desire that literally hurt. She didn’t regret what she’d done six
months before. She couldn’t regret saving the child. The little girl thankfully
hadn’t been burned and would go on to live a normal life.
    Unlike
her.
    The
price she’d paid was high. She’d never look normal again and she never would
she get used to the stares of people as she walked down the street to the
market. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she was better off staying
inside as much as possible. She hated being the recipient of their disgust
and—even worse—their pity.
    Parents
actually pulled their children closer when they happened to pass as if she were
somehow a danger to them. It had been months since she’d gone out in the light
of day.
    Sarah
sat the glass back on the counter with a soft clink and reached for the vanity
light. A Tylenol for the headache she felt creeping up, and just maybe she
could at least go read for a while. She glanced up as she prepared to open the
medicine cabinet and gasped.
    Where
there should have been pink scars, there was smooth undamaged flesh. Her hair,
burned off in large patches in the fire, was long and the luxurious again. But
how? She ran her fingers through her hair. It was soft and silky just as it
had been before.
    The
answer hit her with the force of a blow. It was only a dream. She was still
somehow in the dream. She touched her face.
    It
seemed so real.
    If
she was dreaming she didn’t want to wake up. The dream was much better.
    Sarah
ran her hand down her neck to the edge of her nightgown, seeing that the flesh
there was healed, too. The ugly scars on her neck and upper chest were gone. “Please,”
she whispered, “let it