“Grip it firmly, chérie.”

I tighten my grip on his solid girth and slowly slide my hand down the velvety length. Stepping forward, I press the tip against my clit, then I plunge my hips forward so his cock glides between my lips. I moan and he wraps his arm around the small of my back to hold me still. I tilt my head back and he sucks hard on the column of my throat. That’s going to leave a mark.

Rocking his hips slowly back and forth, he rubs his erection against my clit, using my moisture to guide him in and out of my swollen flesh. His hands grip my ass, then his left hand pulls my leg up, resting my ankle on his shoulder. He slides into my pussy easily, but he’s so hard it sends a shock of pain through me.

“Ow.”

“Does it hurt?” he asks, as he stretches me.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He grips my ass and pushes himself deeper inside me. I yelp in pain and he runs his tongue along the crease of my mouth.

“Scream for me, Alex.”

He pushes me up against the wall of the shower and his pelvic bone grinds into my clit as I cry out in pain and ecstasy. “Daimon!”

“Louder,” he growls, sinking his teeth into my neck.

“Daimon!”

“I’m going to destroy you.”

He licks the tender skin on my neck where he just bit me, tracing his tongue all the way up to my jawline then to my lips. He takes my top lip into his mouth and sucks hard as he grinds against my clit. The pulling and the grinding is driving me insane.

“Oh, please, Daimon. Don’t stop.”

He curls his hips further, digging deeper inside me, crushing my swollen bud with the force of each thrust. The one leg I’m standing on begins to weaken and I coil my arms tightly around his neck for support.

“I want you to come when I come.”

“I’m going to come now,” I breathe a warning, but he doesn’t slow down. My leg trembles and my stomach muscles begin to clench. “I’m coming!”

“Not until I say so!”

“I’m coming! I can’t stop! Oh, God!”

He grabs a chunk of hair on the back of my head and thrusts his tongue into my mouth as he pounds my pussy. I release guttural, high-pitched screams as he continues to drive into my sensitive clit. Then he groans into my mouth as he comes inside me.

He continues to kiss me, tenderly, as his hips move oh-so-slowly back and forth. Until his throbbing cock finally softens inside me and I let out a deep sigh.

“I love you, Alex.”

The words take me by surprise, so much so that I open my eyes and my stomach clenches at the sight before me. I’m in the tiny bedroom of my rental cottage in La Palma. The morning sunlight is streaming through the sheer curtains. The blankets and sheets are pushed off the bed and into a pile on the wooden floor. My nightgown is pulled up to my neck and the black panties I wore to sleep are missing.

Instinctively, I reach down to cover myself up and find my pussy is soaking wet and my clit is sensitive, as if it’s been overstimulated. Was I touching myself in my sleep? I’ve never done that before.

Something smells … different in here. The hairs on my arms stand on end as I inhale the scent of something briny. Images of my dream flash in my mind and I quickly yank down my nightgown to cover myself up. A wave of shame rolls through me as I slide off the bed to retrieve the covers. I toss them haphazardly onto the mattress and head straight for the shower to wash away my embarrassment.

How can I have such poisonous dreams of Daimon after what he did to me?

The body knows only what the body wants. It doesn’t care about the consequences to the mind or the heart.

I push back the pink shower curtain and reach my hand in to turn the water on. Peeling off my nightgown, I toss it into the pedestal sink basin and look at myself in the mirror. I force myself to stare directly at the white streak of hair on the left side of my head and the white blotches of skin on the same side of my face. I used to avoid mirrors at all costs, but everything changed the night I met Detective Daimon Rousseau.

He didn’t just change me into a woman. He changed me into a woman with a purpose. And my purpose was to make him pay for what he did to my father.

Out of the darkness and into the light, a new Alex was reborn as Alyssa.

I trace my fingertips down my left cheek, over my neck and down to my breast. My nipples are a bit darker. Maybe I was rubbing or pinching them in my sleep. That was quite a dream I had of Daimon.

I resist the urge to move my hand further down and touch myself to the memory of my dream. Instead, I step inside the shower and force myself to sing, loudly, so I don’t have to think of Daimon and his beautiful cock.

Oh, get a hold of yourself, Alex, I reprimand myself silently.

I take a quick shower, running the water a bit colder than normal to cool my hot, aching skin. Then I hurry into a pair of jeans, white tank top, and sandals. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize the jeans look far too much like the old Alex. I change into a soft turquoise jersey skirt and sigh with a bit of relief. My legs are so white from not wearing anything but jeans for the past nine months. You can hardly see the white patches of skin on my left leg.

I grab a canvas grocery bag from the hook inside the tiny walk-in pantry. Then I hang my camera around my neck and make my way outside. Closing the front door behind me, I turn around to face the Atlantic Ocean. It looks just like a “wish you were here” greeting card. Picture perfect.

And the smells…. The whole island smells briny and sun-baked. Mix in some of the local aromas of tropical flowers, the savory smells from people cooking in their homes, and the sweet, earthy smell of grapevines. I could get used to this kind of life.

But I mustn’t get too comfortable. I have to appear comfortable on the outside. Inside, I have to remain self-conscious and vigilant.

I set off down the lane toward the open-air market with one thought in mind: Out of the darkness and into the light. I have to blend in with everyone else here, and they’re all so damn happy.

A squat woman with brown wrinkled skin, wearing a flowery apron over her gauzy dress, smiles at me from where she’s sweeping her front stoop. Her husband sits in a chair at the far end of their porch, his bottom lip jutting out farther as if he’s lost his top teeth. He waves at me then flashes me a partially-toothless grin.

I smile and wave at both of them. “Hola!”

They must be silently wondering who this strange looking girl is who just moved in next door. I’ll introduce myself to them soon, when I have a bit more time. Today, I have to get to the market before all the ensaimadas are gone. Ensaimadas are decadently soft bread rolls filled with sweet pastry cream and dusted with powdered sugar. I’ve only had one since arriving in La Palma, but I’ve already deciphered that they are quite popular here as a breakfast item. If I don’t get to the market soon, they’ll run out.

At the crossing, I turn the corner and I can smell the market from a block away. It always smells like a combination of fresh fish, fruit, and baked goods. A young kid, maybe mid- to late-teens is standing next to a bicycle outside a convenience store. He stares at my white hair so unabashedly, I’m afraid he’s going to drop the bike at any moment. I force a smile and he flashes me a weak smile in return.

I really should be used to this by now. This is what I’ve been dealing with since the moment I left my apartment four days ago. From the moment I stepped into the taxi that drove me to the airport and the cab driver did a double-take when he saw two different colored eyes, my stomach has been clenched tight as a fist.

I’m trying really hard not to get angry with people for expressing their natural shock and curiosity. After all, millions of years of evolution has taught us to shun undesirable mutations. There’s no use in arguing with a person’s natural instincts. But it still hurts.