Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Tonight, we’re going to recreate one of the most traumatic experiences of my life and attempt to revise it.
My pulse taps at my neck like a concerned friend trying to get my attention.
Are you sure about this, McKenzie?
I am sure, whether or not I’m ready. The fact that I’ve been plagued by the exact same nightmare for two years tells me this sensory experience holds power. If I can retrain my brain to associate the memory of being chased outdoors at night with strong positive emotions, maybe I can loosen the hold the initial experience has on me. That’s the theory, anyway.
Austin rests the clean frying pan on the dishrack by the sink. I down the last of my ice water, take a deep breath, and rise to my feet.
My arm brushes his arm as I set the glass at the bottom of the sink. He catches my hand as I try to pull away, his gaze searching mine.
“You’re good?” he asks, his voice husky. I understand his caution. He doesn’t want to hurt me in ways I don’t want to be hurt. But I know I can trust him to not blow past my limits.
I have my safe word. Now, all I need is for both of us to commit.
“I’m ready,” I say.
His gaze darkens as he kisses the valley between my knuckles. My pelvic muscles clench like a fist.
My body is ready for this... Let’s hope my mind follows.
Austin keeps his back to the room as I exit through the kitchen door. Rough wooden boards nip at my bare feet. My heart’s already pounding, and I haven't even left the back porch.
Adrenaline heightens my senses, filling my head with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass. I pick up on cicadas chirping in the trees, frogs warbling in the pond. The night air sticks to my skin, making me glad for my thin tank top and cotton shorts. No bra or panties tonight; they would only get in the way.
I want there to be as few layers between me and what’s about to happen to me as possible.
The actual chase begins when I take my first step off the porch.
I jog around to the side of the house. The woods on Austin’s property are far across the meadow and dense with underbrush, so we thought it best to have me head toward the orchard.
The backdoor slams.
My heart pounds.
Run.
My heels slam the soft ground. I could have worn shoes, but in my nightmares, I’m always barefoot. The cloud cover is sparse tonight, allowing moonlight to slip through. I spot the first pair of peach trees just up ahead. For a second, I think maybe I’ll get to the orchard before he sees me.
Then I hear the thunder of footsteps—a terrifyingly familiar sound. However, since I wasn’t caught, I can only assume those footfalls were either my own feet slamming against the ground, or a trick of the mind to keep my adrenaline pumping.
But the footsteps I hear tonight are very real...and growing closer.
Excitement and fear braid together down my spine. I break into a sprint as I enter the orchard, ignoring the sting of sharp sticks and dried leaf matter beneath my soles.
Air chafes my throat as I force myself to breathe, to run, to not stop for anything—
Strong arms clamp around me from behind, dragging me to the ground. My knees bear the brunt of the impact.
I scream.
I know this is the part where I’m supposed to wake up, but instead of being pulled out of the nightmare, I feel anchored in this moment by the body at my back.
Panic riots in my belly like a caged cat on a sinking boat.
Red light. The words sit in the cradle of my tongue.
Red light. Red light. Red light.
“Thought you could run away from Daddy, little girl? Big mistake.”
Daddy...
Relief pours over me like rain. I lost myself in the weeds for a moment, but the path reappeared at the sound of Austin’s voice.
I’m not running for my life from a monster; I’m playing a game with the man who respects my limits and only wants to give me pleasure.
Green light.
Austin hauls me to my knees, keeping my arms pinned. His grip hurts, but I want it to hurt. Pain is memorable, possibly even more memorable than pleasure. I need this scene to impact me so that it leaves a lasting impression long after the scrapes on my knees have healed.
“Daddy will always find what belongs to him,” he growls.
I whine as he rakes a hand across my breasts. The carnal intention behind his touch makes my nipples tingle and stiffen. The adrenaline still coursing through my body needs somewhere to go, and I’m pleased to feel it rushing downward. Into my lower body, between my hips, behind my clit...
“What do you have to say for yourself, brat?”