Bruised But Not Broken

All too often, we hear about women, who have been victimized by the very person that was supposed to love and protect them. How does this happen to bright, young, outgoing women who have everything to live for? They watch as their world shrinks gradually inward until there is nothing left but fear and torment from the person they once loved.
Cassandra woke up in the hospital from a coma. With the help of her family, primarily her sister, she was able to get away and hide from another family, his family, who would try to manipulate and control her. However, whenever you’re running from one thing, whether you know it or not, you’re usually running toward something else. Refusing to be victimized again, she regains her old sense of self-esteem and begins to open up to new possibilities and the potential of being able to love again.

Excerpt:

It didn’t take long until I was soaking wet. There wasn’t a dry spot anywhere on me. My ponytail had come undone and clung to my face and back. My T-shirt was drenched, and I could see my nipples and my dark-blue panties through the thin white material.
“What a great feeling,” I said, squealing as I held the hose over my head and let the water “rain” down on me.
Standing there giggling, looking at my handy work in the garden, I didn’t hear him calling my name. When I finally heard him, I turned around and there was Bradley, standing not more than ten feet away from me. We looked at each other, yet neither of us moved nor said a word. I knew he could see everything I had, and I was sure I looked a mess.
“Bradley?”
“Jessica?”
I was surprised, but I wasn’t afraid or embarrassed. He was looking at me intently, most likely expecting me to cover myself and run. I dropped the hose and continued looking into his piercing eyes.
I licked the water from my lips as he came toward me. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Perhaps, he was going to offer me his handkerchief. Maybe, he was going to lend me his shirt and scurry me off to the safety of my house before anyone else could see me practically naked.
It was none of the above. He kissed me. He wrapped his massive arms around me, lifted me up off the ground, and kissed me. He was warm and slightly sweaty, and his lips were wonderful. I wrapped my arms around his neck and parted my lips. I shuddered at the first taste of his manliness.
He lowered me to the grass and looked at me fearfully, questioningly. I looked up at his lips, moist from mine. I looked up into his eyes and whispered, “Kiss me.”
With animalistic lust in his eyes, he embraced me and gently placed his lips against mine. I leaned into his massive body and wrapped my arms more firmly around his neck. His breath was hot and fresh. His tongue slid briefly between my lips as I parted them hoping for more. He broke our kiss and moved his lips to the base of my neck, and he began kissing me there. I leaned back in his massive arms and exposed the tender flesh just above my collarbone.
He smelled like a man, full of power and testosterone. His odor was turning me on even more that I already was. I parted my lips and kissed his neck. I licked some of the perspiration from his skin and moaned as I felt my body give in to him. It had been so long since I had been this close to a man, a real man, and there was no mistaking that Bradley was a real man.
He kissed me again, this time with more need and more urgency, but he was tender. He was gentle and tender, like a gentle giant, and I folded into him.
“I want you,” he said breathlessly through his kisses, not halting nor slowing down as he consumed me.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Is there somewhere we can go?” he groaned.
“Inside,” I gasped, realizing that I had just given him permission to take me, to make love to me. I was amazed at the ease with which I made that decision, but I knew that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.
He picked me up and headed for the back door.