Behind The Mask (Nurses Book 2) by Renee Adams Page A

to puke because I can smell his rancid breath on my face. I can hear his laughter in my mind, and I can feel the slice of his knife flaying my skin open. Every night, I swallow a scream while my mind replays the horrors of being raped multiple times by multiple inmates. My mind replays the video on a loop. Multiple times of being raped, beaten, cut, sliced, raped some more. It was hellish hours that still play out every night in my dreams.
    Dinner goes down like a bland rock sitting in my stomach. Nothing more than a watered down TV dinner, something that has too much salt that will probably give me cankles. Not that anyone is going to see my cankles, but I still want to avoid them. But that can wait for another night, I’m too tired.
    Lying in bed, I will my body into what will hopefully be a dreamless sleep, and my thoughts drift off to Gage. Green eyes seem to be watching me when I close my eyes. In my mind, I know this is a one-sided attraction, but it’s still an attraction. Which I guess is progress for me considering I haven’t found anything attractive since the riot. But there is a magnetism, a draw, a force that makes me want to be around him. Crazy because I only met him today, but my body feels as if he’s an old friend. Someone it has known for years, someone who is comfortable to the core to let them see every flaw.
    For the first time since the riot, I’m contemplating getting out my battery operated boyfriend, just by thinking of this man. It has been so long that even here in this empty room a nervous energy takes over. What if it hurts? What if I can’t do it? Will I ever be able to be intimate again with not only this but with an actual person?
    All of these questions hang in the air, and I decide that there is no better way to know if it will be bad than to try it. I feel self-conscious, feeling the bumps and scars along my stomach leading toward the little tract of hair I keep. Separating my folds, I circle my clit with my index finger. A shiver instantly goes down my spine to my toes and my thighs spasm. I dip my finger lower and am pleasantly surprised when I feel a wetness that I didn’t think would be there. Thinking of Gage, I almost immediately feel a surge of wetness and a warm feeling low in my belly, a need that hasn’t been there in so long. The feeling of wanting someone catches me off guard, and my breath hitches in my throat.
    Cutting my vibrator on, the buzzing sound fills the air. It’s almost a comforting sound because it cuts through the silence with its rhythmic hum. Lubing up the tip with my juices, I center the tip at my opening and start to push in. A panic starts to take over me, and I start clenching around the intrusion. I take a deep breath because I realize that I’m not in pain, I just need to calm my body down. This isn’t a bad thing happening, I just need to remember that. After calming myself, I start to move the vibrator and to my surprise, it actually feels good. Feels like heaven actually, but as the time goes by, I feel my orgasm is just out of reach. Frustration starts to take over and sweat beads on my forehead from this exertion. My breathing comes out in short pants, sometimes cut by moans. I am so close, but I just can’t grab onto that toe curling feeling. 
    In my mind’s eye, I’m imagining Gage laying me down and loving my body the way it should be. No scars, no wounds, no secrets, worshipping my body as if it’s a thing of beauty and not unsightly. This would be the dream that all women have. A man who worships a woman, cares and nurtures a woman, making her feel good from the inside out, making her skin glow in happiness. Of course, that is not Gage and that certainly isn’t me. But thinking of sharing such a tender emotion has me reaching my orgasm in a rush. One that hasn’t happened in months, and it makes me cry out. I cry out to the only thing that hears me, the walls. A wave of sadness blankets my body at the thought that the walls are