"No, they most certainly did not...ah!" She cried out as he entered her, swiftly, deeply.

He groaned. "God, you're so wet." He tightened his hold on her hip whilst pressing his pelvis more firmly to hers. "Yes, that's good, eh?"

She moaned in response, a sound that quickly threatened to become a wail as he flexed his hips and his erection stroked her inside, thick and pressing against her walls with glorious pressure.

He gave her buttock a smack. The sudden sharp sensation made her jump. He held her hip with one hand whilst still grasping her hair.

"Don't let your hands fall away from the wall," he said.

She moaned, her whole body gone weak with desire. But she managed to cling to the wall.

"Good girl." His voice was hoarse.

He released her hip, slid his hand around her body then stroked her erect nub. It throbbed frantically in response and her sex clenched on his thick cock.

"Tell me when you're close to coming," he said, and then he began to move within her. Slow, long stokes that sent pure bliss through her. Just him talking so frankly about her coming sent streams of fiery urgency into her sex, deep into her belly. Oh, yes, she wanted to come. She wanted it so badly!

"James." She moaned and writhed, trying hard not to lose contact with the wall.

"Tell me, Cat." He gave her buttock another slap, this time a little harsher. The contact sent waves of heat and sensation straight to her cunny.

She moaned again, a long, near wailing sound.

He slapped her bottom again. "Speak my name when you come."

Fire sparked through her, and her legs began to quake, her knees threatening to give way. She made one of those ridiculous mewling sounds.

He increased both the tempo and force of his thrusts, whilst still rubbing the bundle of sensitivity at the crest of her cleft.

She was amazed at how easily he managed those dual actions, how he maximized all possible stimulation for her. He tightened his grasp on her hair, gave the mass of it a sharp tug. The unexpected, though swift, fleeting pain sent a wave of thrills down her spine. His lips touched the hollow beneath her ear. He licked her earlobe. Drew it into his mouth and sucked.

She shivered with the myriad of sensations he gave to her. "James...oh, James!"

"Yes?"

"I am going to c-come...oh mercy, I am going to come!" Like lightning, bolts of fiery pleasure blazed from her sex, deep into her belly, down her legs. She curled her toes, arched her back and threw back her head and sobbed with the first waves of her release. Those tiny flickers of fire sparking from her cunny into her very core.

He felt bigger and harder than he ever had before, straining against her clenching inner walls. And he kept stimulating her, driving her, and white lights exploded within her mind. Spasms of ecstasy consumed her. She screamed with the intensity.

And then she fell against the wall.

He stilled within her and let go of her hair, his arm locking about her waist, supporting her limp body. He buried his face into her hair. "Cat...Cat!"

He was thrusting into her again, propelling himself with force and speed. Rocking her. A tremor wracked the length of his body. Then a ragged groan escaped him. His hot come jetted into her as his body continued to shake.

After a meal, they lay in James' bed. He had dozed for a time. Sunny had lain there, letting a succession of memories from her childhood play in her mind. Memories of town life as the daughter of a proper yet genteelly poor clergyman. How regimented their lives had been! Discipline taught through learning to play piano and to sing church music and hours upon hours of calligraphy practice until her hand cramped. Educated at home by their pious mother, other than the Bible, hymns and a few carefully selected arias, she and her sisters had been sheltered from the world of art and literature and music. They weren't allowed to play card games or indulge in other forms of frivolity. No ribbons for their hair. No lazy afternoons. No dolls or beloved pets to cherish.

Not even any secrets of the heart. They were constantly encouraged to confess their every temptation to their parents. Many an evening was passed, discussing temptations and how to overcome them. Such conversations took the place of mere entertainments and pastimes. Satan was hiding behind each corner. One had to be aware of his methods at all times.

That had been their home life. All she had known as a girl.

Her sisters had been content with this.

But Sunny's imagination had often run wild, galloping away from her. Filling her with wants and wishes and energy she had difficulty containing.

She had always needed to find some outlet for her high spirits.

"You are so far away from me." James' voice pulled her from her musings, even as his arms tightened about her.

Still feeling wistful, she sighed and looked up into his sleepy, silver-blue eyes. "I used to make everyone happy. I could always coax a smile from the sourest spirited person."

"It is not your duty to entertain the world and make everyone happy."

"But I liked it. It was the same as the way that Papa could preach on Sundays to a crowd and have everyone beaming with joy, hanging on his every word. I used to watch him do that...so effortlessly. He took people out of their dreary existences and lifted them a little closer to heaven. A day out of the week when their sins and their wretchedness were released. People need that. People need moments of bliss amid the stark, cold reality of life."

"Such weighty thoughts you have whilst in bed, my love." Amusement sounded in his voice.

"I think, if I had not been born to a clergyman..." She hugged his arm, feeling her depleted energy returning as a small surge of delighted naughtiness lit within her. She always felt that way when she imagined how different her life might have been. "If had been born to a shopkeeper or a tavern owner or a laboring man, I would have run away to the theater."

"You could have." Deep emotion vibrated in his voice. "You would have been a sensation."

"You don't find it odd, the way I compare Papa's preaching to a play acted on stage?"

"Both lift people out of their daily life. Both provide a form of release."

"Yes, they do. But I am not that girl anymore." She felt what little energy had returned to her drain with that admission. "I am too serious now. Too sad."

"Perhaps that's just a facet of yourself that you've been faced with. It is easy to be carefree and focused on giving others joy when you've never yet known real loss and pain. But everyone faces disillusion and grief as they mature into adulthood."

"The thing is, if I am not that girl now, who am I? What worth do I really have?"

"Don't talk like that."

"I know the truth, James. I am not a pleasure to be around now."

"That's rubbish!" He sat up and took her hand. "Stop believing all the rubbish that Aunt Frances drilled into your head. You don't owe anyone entertainment. You don't owe them happy spirits or smiles."

She looked up at him, trying to reflect a teasing light in her eyes. "Don't I owe you entertainment?"

His look! Goodness, she had never seen his expression turn so fierce, and certainly never so quickly. She shrank back against the pillow as much as she could, and wondered if she ought to beg his pardon.

"Cat." He squeezed her hand. "You don't owe me anything except your company, and to share yourself with me, good, bad and all the in-between. I am keeping you as my lover, not my whore."

At the last word, her blood went cold. She turned away.

He ran a caressing hand from her shoulder and along her arm. "Don't turn away, tell me."

"I hate to be a depressing bore."

"What did I say just a moment ago; have you already forgotten? You don't have to be bright or happy for me. Not all the time. I would rather have your honesty than your lies."

"You think that's what I do? That I want to lie to people?"

"It is a form of dishonesty for you to deny your true feelings. Especially here with me, where it is not necessary."

"I had not thought of it exactly like that."

"You must start to think of it in exactly those terms. If I am to take care of you, if I am satisfy your needs, all of them, then I must know the truth of your thoughts and feelings." He tapped her shoulder with two fingertips. "Now tell me."

"I fear I am a whore at heart. The worst kind."

"What on earth could ever give you that idea?"

"I have to admit something about Meeker." She said the doctor's name hesitantly, fully expecting that James was weary of hearing about the man. But she needed to talk about this.

She needed to confess to someone.

Maybe after confessing, her own tangled confusion would ease. She might come to know this new Sunny a little better.

This Sunny she had never guessed at as a girl.

Slowly, she turned then slowly lifted her eyes to his, dreading what she would see. Exasperation? Disgust?

He was staring at her with compassion. He took her hand and pulled it to his cheek and pressed it there. "Tell me."

It wasn't an easy matter to discuss and for a moment, she struggled to gather her wits to speak. "When I first met Dr. Meeker, I found him rather attractive, despite our considerable age difference."

"After Freddy, Meeker's relative maturity was refreshing?"

"I suppose. But there's something else, something darker, far less flattering to me. When he began to speak of my need for discipline and punishment, it intrigued me." She took a deep breath, turning her face ever-so-slightly from his so that he couldn't see her eyes.

"You found the idea of being punished by man arousing?"

Oh goodness! Admitting to having been intrigued, that she could do. But she didn't wish to admit that she'd actually been aroused, initially, by Meeker and his shocking suggestions. Especially when the reality of his "discipline" had proved to be far from sexually arousing.

If you can't be good, at least be honest. With yourself, with James.

She rolled onto her side, glancing away from him.

"Yes, I found it arousing," she said softly, as though speaking in a hushed tone would make the admission less damning. Her cheeks began to flame. More with shame than embarrassment.

He grasped the back of her neck.

The unexpected firm gesture sent a thrill through her. She caught her breath.

"You don't have to be ashamed with me, Cat. I am your lover. I am here to satisfy your longings. But what if I told you that you were only allowed to come when you were with me?"

A bolt of pure desire flared in her sex. "Oh goodness..."

"What?"

"I can no' believe that I found my doctor, such an older man, attractive. I mean as a man."

"Cat, it was sexual for him as well. Never think otherwise."

"I suppose you're correct."

"If you had been a clergyman's widow and he had not been such dastardly example of a man, the two of you might have made quite a congenial marriage."

"What!" She whirled to face him. "You would have wanted that?"

His look turned so fierce, it seemed he glared down his narrow nose. "No, I would not have wanted that. You know I wouldn't have. But it could have happened, as you say, if you had been born to a different man, had led a different life."

She frowned. "I feel that you are making sport of me."

"No, I am trying to make you see it is not so shameful. Not so unusual. Men and women meet every day, in all sorts of circumstances. They are attracted to each other for a variety of reasons, sometimes against their willing it."

"Yes, I suppose they are," she said softly.

"But you were intrigued by the idea of receiving discipline and punishment, from a man?" He paused. "A lover?"

She sucked in her breath then grew quiet.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I can't talk about this. I should no' have mentioned it."

"We need to talk about all of this."

"I can no' possibly!" She bent her head and buried her face in the crook of his arm.

He tightened his hold on her neck. A flash of fire shot through her, making her nipples into hard points. Her channel clenched and wetness began to trickle over her folds. She hugged his leg more eagerly with her own.

"You thought about a man punishing you? And you found it arousing?"

She nodded against him. Then she pulled her face away from his chest. "It did no' turn out to be very thrilling. In fact, it was the worst thing ever. I hated it! But I had consented to it and he said it was necessary to my healing."

With James here, so solid and warm, Meeker and his tortures seemed distant. Something that might have happened in a dream. As though she were speaking of things that happened in another life. Another world.

A nightmare world that she'd only narrowly escaped.

Escaped because James had listened to her, trusted her. Supported her whilst she regained enough strength to see the truth about Meeker for herself.

"He went about it wrong. He abused you. Abused your trust." James sounded so certain.

She could almost believe the fault had been with Meeker and not her. She caressed her hand over the expanse of James' hard-muscled chest. "I suppose."