Prelude 4 (ii)

Prelude 4 (ii)
Meanwhile, he was showering her face with kisses while she panted. “Beautiful… that’s it. You’re so beautiful when you cum, just the way I knew you would be.”
Who is he?
This question roused her up from her blissful stupor, and she was whimpering again as she tried to resist him again. He laughed, then he lowered his lower torso, angling his hips in a way that had her suspect he was going to—
“Umph!” 
He had the head of his cock just inside her entrance, and then he was sliding his hard flesh all the way in. She was so wet, his thick girth might have slowly but surely pierced her through, and her surprised sound turned into a groan because she had never felt anything so wonderful as an authentic, long rod of thick flesh penetrated her down there. 
Her head blanked out everything but the exquisiteness of being so filled that her vagina was gagging. 
She couldn’t believe it, shocked now because of the sheer pleasure of being so fully filled. 
And he didn’t give her any chance to recover or remember she hadn’t given him consent for what he was doing to her body. He withdrew, and he was pushing back, and she went crazy that only moans of pleasure tried to escape from her gag. She couldn’t know how to explain the exquisite, carnal pleasure his hard thrusts inside her body brought her…
And then she was cumming again. 
And she was screaming behind her gag so hard that his hand covered her mouth. It might have been louder than usual. A mix of shame and gratification had her eyes watering. 
How could she feel this way while she was being raped?
He raised his head when a sob emitted from her gag. He saw the tears flooding her eyes, blurring his face from her sight. Those tears overflowed and raised down her temples to wet the pillows. 
He shocked her with his next move. He moved to untie her ropes and took the gag off her mouth, and then he kissed her. He was kissing her while their bodies were still fused and their hearts raced next to each other. He was kissing her. And Amber knew no forgiveness for her disgrace because she was kissing him back. She couldn’t not kiss him back. His incredibly lush and wonderful lips were making her forget her confusion and the utter wrongness of what was happening to her.
The arrogant, conceited fool.
And yes, she moaned when he moved again, thrusting again and again into her. And when she came again, she was clinging to him as he was to her. His hand wiped sweat and strands of hair that had stuck to her face when she finally managed to lift her incredibly heavy eyelids to look at him again. 
They stared at each other. He had taken his mask off, and she could now see his face without anything covering it. 
And he was so handsome and she knew him and she couldn’t speak for a moment.
“Are you truly awake now?” he asked, his voice aroused and vibrating between their slick bodies.
She gulped. No ropes. No gag. 
This was Dwayne. 
She had another episode. 
“Oh Dwayne…” she sobbed.
“You’re alright.” And he showered kisses down her face even as her skin was covered with thin sweat. “You’re alright.”
Another sob escaped her parched throat, but his mouth only caught that sound with his kiss. And she kissed him back, ferociously. She was so hungry for his kisses. She needed it. She needed him.
And he was moving his body again, his thick and hard cock driving into her. The sex was real. But the others were not. She was asleep, and he wasn’t a stranger. She wasn’t being raped. There were no ropes, no gag, no mask, no bedposts to tie the ropes. There was no birthday and she was actually just nineteen. She was asleep. 
She was sick.
In the head. Psychotic as fuck.
Before light, as he’d promised (or was that a dream, too), Amber was fucked nine ways to Sunday (except anal—no negotiation). It was true she was on a vacation with her parents. But they didn’t know about Dwayne, her stalker since she was fourteen. Her savior. The perfect somnophiliac to her sexsomniac. 
“I have to go. Your parents are awake.” He pulled her to him a little harshly, and kissed her lips that had become sore from their kisses of the night. When he raised his head, his eyes traced the tip of her tongue as she traced her lips for the taste of his. “Until next time,” he whispered, then he straightened, his lithe body moving away from the bed. He stood up to walk towards the windows instead of the door. He looked back at her again, grinned as he donned his trunks and a towel, and he escaped out that window as easily as a sleek cat going out for an early morning stroll. 
She left the bed to go to the window and looked outside, covered with her blanket. Their rooms were on the first floor of the hotel. She couldn’t find him anymore. There were early risers combing the beach, movements against the backdrop of waves. But he wasn’t there. 
She frowned, remembering how they were booked on the third floor because of the view, but when they arrived here, there was supposedly a mix-up, and they were only left these rooms on this floor. It seemed silly to think Dwayne had something to do with it, but her heart was racing in suspicion.
That parting grin of his …
He was behind it all. He followed her here, stalking her still, to give her this… whatever it was. But… 
Amber shook her head. They had meant to go to a doctor for their disorders. 
But…
Why would they still go when they already have each other?

Two drunk men staggered along the beach, singing drunkenly while one of them waved a bottle of gin in his hand. After a while, he lifted the bottle to his mouth and drank, only to be disappointed when he realized it was empty. 
He said something to his companion, and they both laughed. The man then tossed the useless bottle onto the sand, and they continued their unsteady walk. 
After a few moments, one of them stopped and pointed towards the water, close to where the waves were crashing onto the sand. He let go of his friend's shoulder and waded in to retrieve whatever was floating there, pulling it towards the shore. It was a large sack tied with a rope, and something was inside. 
They struggled to untie the rope. From inside, something round began to emerge from the sack's opening. 
Suddenly, both men sobered up and started shouting.
There on the sand lay the head of a lifeless woman, her long wet hair spread out on the sand, played with by the waves as if wanting to pull her back into the ocean’s depths…