Phoenix by Cecilia London Page B

he asked.
    “You heard me. Fuck me like I deserve it. You can do it. You want to.”
    Something wasn’t right. She didn’t switch moods without a good reason. But he didn’t pursue it further. This was her night. Her reunion, her desire, her request. Whatever she wanted she would get, and he wouldn’t argue about it. Jack did as she said, thrusting inside her as hard as he could.
    “Harder,” she choked.
    He did it again, more than once, and she screamed. “Like that?” he asked.
    “More,” she whimpered. “Please.”
    This was a mistake. He told himself to stop. But she was asking him to do it. He needed to respect her wishes. He owed her that much. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. He was afraid he already had.
    Caroline clawed at his back, fire in her eyes. “Fuck me,” she said. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, until I’m begging you to stop. Hurt me.”
    “But-”
    “Do it.”
    Jack grasped her hair in his hands. “Fine,” he said. “You get what you want, baby. No going back.”
    “Never,” she gasped, as he started to move inside her again.
    He pounded into her over and over again. Her screams drove his passion higher. He looked down and saw the tears in her eyes. Tears of pain, not of longing. Not of desire. Pure, anguished pain. But she didn’t tell him to slow down. Didn’t say no. Didn’t tell him to stop. And he didn’t, thrusting in and out of her until he exploded in a rush. It took a moment for her to withdraw her hands from his hair. For her breathing to slow down. Jack pressed his nose against her cheek before wiping the sweat off her face and kissing her softly. He withdrew from her and came to the realization that she was no longer moving.
    “Caroline?” he whispered. No response. He said her name again. He shook her shoulder gently. “Sweetheart, are you all right? Baby, wake up!”
    He turned her face to the side. It was windswept, battered, bruised. He stroked her cheek, willing her awake, but there was still no response. He momentarily closed his eyes, flashing back to a wintry night that he’d never been able to forget.
    “Stay with me, Caroline! We can do this.”
    Jack yelled her name, trying to rouse her. But nothing worked. He looked down and realized she was gone. He scanned the room, confused, thinking she had slipped out of the bed without him noticing. And he knew.
    He flipped the pillow over, searching through the sheets. “Caroline, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to leave you. Please, baby. Come back.”
    He collapsed onto the mattress with a strangled noise that didn’t sound human, clinging to the bedcovers in the hope that she would materialize in his arms, knowing deep in his heart that the moment would never come to pass.
    *              *              *              *              *
    Jack woke up in a tangle of blankets and sheets, calling out her name. He lifted himself up. His boxers were sticky and wet, plastered to his thighs. His eyes drifted downward and he saw his spare pillow, now sullied by his dream.
    You just fucked a goddamn pillow, you asshole. Happy now?
    This wasn’t a new occurrence. It had happened before. Never this intense, never with this ending, but he’d had the same dream many times. Often it played on repeat. Same dialogue, same scenario. Caroline with the virginal white floor length gown, even though Jack couldn’t remember her ever owning one. A porcelain doll gazing at him with those giant doe eyes – shy, demure, completely innocent. And completely not herself.
    Every time he had the dream he knew she truly and honestly wanted him, in all her glowing perfection. That pretty little picture was shattered. He had never harmed her before. The dream always ended tenderly, lovingly. With them laughing in the sheets or cuddling in the chair in the corner of the bedroom. The kind of easy marital behavior they took for granted before their safety