The Man I Need

by Williams, Shanora

  I can’t even remember the last time I was this pissed. This hurts so much more than what Kyle did to me. So. Much. More.

  I step toward my dad, pointing a firm finger in his face, “You know what, Dad? You’ve always been selfish. Ever since I can remember, all you’ve ever cared about is yourself! When you cheated on Mom, Ricky and I didn’t bat an eye! Mom pretended it was nothing, but it was bullshit! She should have made you pay for what you did instead of forgiving you so quickly!” I shout in his face. “I always wondered how you could do that to her, but now I see. You cheated because you’re a self-centered, inconsiderate, stupid man! Any man who can sell out his own daughter instead of keeping his dignity is no man at all!”

  “Gabby, please listen to me, sweetheart! I didn’t know he was that kind of person! I thought he was good for you and that you really liked him, so I didn’t want to ruin—”

  “No!” I growl. “No! You do not get to decide what is good for me and what isn’t! You don’t get to make those decisions for me!”

  Tears have blinded me. My heart aches when I notice a tear sliding down his cheek, but I refuse to cave.

  I turn around and rush for the back door before any drop of sympathy can course through my bloodstream.

  Marcel is outside talking to my mom, but when they hear the door slam, they look back with confused expressions.

  “Marcel, let’s go!” I yell.

  He frowns in my direction. “What’s wrong?”

  “Let’s just get the hell out of here. Please.” I pick Callie up as she runs to me then I walk around the house.

  I can hear my dad calling my name before I can get too far.

  “Gabrielle!” My mom screams. “Honey, where are you going? What happened?”

  I come to a sudden halt, swinging around to face her. “I don’t know, Mamá! How about you go ask Dad, huh? He’s the one with all the big secrets these days!” She’s confused, but she stops chasing after me, allowing it to digest.

  I hurry to Marcel’s truck, climbing into the passenger seat. I wait for Marcel to get inside and as soon as he does, he looks at me.

  “What the hell happened?” he pants.

  “I don’t want to talk about it here! Let’s just go! Please!”

  He’s quiet as he looks me over, but he starts the truck anyway.

  My dad is walking down the driveway, waving a hand, trying to get my attention. Marcel drives off, and I’m glad, because I don’t want to see my dad’s face anymore.

  “Gonna tell me what the hell happened?” Marcel asks as I swipe an angry tear off my face.

  “I just thought of all people, my dad would be the last to hurt me, but he fucking did. He’s no better than Kyle.” My voice breaks, and I turn away, squeezing my eyes shut and holding back a sob.

  Marcel doesn’t ask any more questions after that. Frankly, I don’t expect him to.

  He drives for hours, glancing at me every so often. I only know it’s been hours because we passed the “You are now leaving Virginia” sign a while ago. The sun begins to sink, and, eventually, Marcel gets off the freeway, pulling up to a hotel.

  “Why are we stopping?” I probe.

  “Because we need to rest. We’ll stay the night and head back to Hilton in the morning.” He glances down at Callie, who is on my lap. “It’s pet-friendly. Be right back.”

  Marcel climbs out of the truck, shutting the door behind him. He goes inside, most likely to book a room, and returns several minutes later, opening the passenger door.

  I step out, Callie tucked beneath my arm, then he grabs the suitcases from the back row.

  I place Callie down, and she immediately runs off to pee.

  When I’m inside the hotel room, I dump some food and water into Callie’s bowls then sit on the edge of the bed.

  Marcel lets out a long, weary sigh, and walks to the bathroom.

  “Why don’t you hit the shower? Maybe that’ll help a little.”

  I peer up at him as he stands by the bathroom door. Then I stand, too, walking his direction.

  “This is all too much for you,” I whisper.

  He clasps my chin between his fingers. “How so?”

  “I can just tell. I feel like I’m dragging you through my shit. You don’t deserve this.”

  His head shakes. “I told you I’m not goin’ anywhere, Gabby.”

  “Yeah, but I just…” I trail off with a huff. I don’t even have the words right now. I feel betrayed and so, so stupid.

  I go for my suitcase to take out my toiletries and then walk past him to the bathroom.

  Once the shower has been started up, I strip out of my clothes. He’s watching me from the door, but not in a hawkish way. More so like he’s concerned.

  “Shower with me,” I insist.

  “You sure?”

  I nod. I don’t know why, but I’m afraid that if I shower alone, Marcel would be gone when I get out. Would he do something like that? After everything he’s had to deal with because of me, it wouldn’t surprise me, but I’m not sure I could handle it if he did.

  I stand beneath the warm stream of water, closing my eyes and soaking in it. When I turn my back to the showerhead, Marcel is stepping in, too.

  We stare at each other for several seconds before I finally tear my gaze away and turn toward the water again. The heat of his body meets my backside, and I feel the ridge of his soft cock on my ass.

  I sigh, because I love the comfort of his body so much.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” I mumble.

  Marcel wraps his arms around my midsection, pulling me closer to him. “You stay with me,” he murmurs. “You fight.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you really want? I’m technically still married, and you’ve seen firsthand who I’m married to. It would be complicated.”

  “Complicated may as well be my middle name,” he says with a light chuckle. “It’s all my life has ever been.”

  I can’t help smiling a little at that, even though my heart still hurts.

  When he pulls away, we both wash up, rinse well, and get out of the shower. As he searches for clothes, I sit on the bed again in just a towel, my hair damp and on my shoulders.

  “I want to know more about you,” I murmur.

  Marcel looks back at me as he slides into a pair of briefs. “What do you wanna know?”

  “If there is anything about you that you haven’t told anyone. Other than the information about how you lost your sister.”

  He looks away, toward the window. He’s quiet for a really long time, going to the side of the bed to sit with his back to me.

  “Marcel, I can’t stay with you if I don’t know you,” I say after a while.

  “I know.”

  “So, tell me something. Who is the guy you fought at the bar? You got charged for assault for it? Why?”

  “Jesus.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “Tell me.”

  He lets out an agitated breath. “He was Shayla’s ex-boyfriend. She used to hang out with him a lot. The fight happened right before I moved to Hilton. He was at the bar the same night I was, and he was really drunk. He started blaming me for her death, calling me a bunch of different names. For a while, I sat there and took it, but then he called me a name I didn’t like.”

  I turn to fully look at him, but he’s not looking my way at all. “What name?”

  “Murderer.”

  I study his hunched shoulders. He stands, fists clenched, as if the memory itself is enough to infuriate him.

  “I slammed his face on the counter. He was with a few friends, and one of them tried to join in on the fight. It was bloody, so I got arrested. Tommy, Shayla’s ex, decided not to press charges, probably because he was no longer drunk and realized he’d said some pretty fucked up things to me. Also, if it hadn’t been for him almost getting busted, she wouldn’t have needed a ride from me anyway. The police let me go after a few days.”

  “Wow… Oh my God, Marcel. I’m so sorry t
hat happened—that he called you that.”

  He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

  We’re both quiet a beat.

  “Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

  “Depends on what it is…”

  “I don’t know why I’m curious about it, but were you plannin’ on havin’ kids with him?”

  My brows dip when I meet his eyes. “Um…he wanted them sooner than I did. We couldn’t agree, so we left the topic alone for a while.”

  “Oh.”

  I drop my arms and walk around the bed, pulling the comforter down and lying on the bed.

  Marcel stands with a grunt and makes his way to the bed. When we’re under the sheets, Callie jumps up and starts to snuggle in the blanket at the foot of the bed.

  I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling for a while. Marcel has told me his truths. I can’t keep holding mine back from him.

  “When Kyle and I first got married, right after our honeymoon, we got into an argument about having kids. That was the first night he choked me.”

  He’s quiet after I air my statement, but I can tell he’s listening.

  “His mom was so obsessed with the idea of us having a baby. I told her I wasn’t ready yet, at a dinner that happened shortly after our honeymoon. I mean, we’d just gotten married. I wanted to enjoy the married life a little while longer before bringing a baby into it.”

  “I understand that.”

  I roll over, curling up to his side. My pulse quickens with what I’m about to tell him. “The day when you were about to take me with you, Kyle did something to me that I can’t, for the life of me, forget about. I mean, it happened before, but not to this extreme. I’ve been having nightmares about it, that’s how bad it is.”

  Marcel finally moves, turning his head to meet my eyes. “What did he do?”

  I close my eyes, fighting the burn that’s taken hold of them. “He kept asking me about you—about how we…did things. How we had…sex…” I draw in a sharp breath and a deep growl forms in the pit of Marcel’s throat. “He was in a rage, almost like another person. He threw me over the table and raped me.”

  “WHAT? Are you fuckin’ serious?” Marcel sits up straight, his back against the headboard. “I swear to God, Gabby that is the last fuckin’ straw! I’m gonna break his goddamn neck!” He shoves the sheets away and jumps out of bed, pacing the room, flinging his arms in the air. “I don’t give a fuck if he charges me with assault, Gabby! I don’t! He’s a worthless piece of shit who needs to be taught a goddamn lesson!”

  I climb out of bed, stepping in front of him. I grab his hands and shake my head. “Marcel, it doesn’t matter what you do! He’s not going to let you get away with it!”

  “I don’t give a shit! He’s hurt you multiple times, Gabby! If you don’t report it, then I’m going to beat his ass, plain and simple!”

  “I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me, okay? I’m not kidding! If you want me to report it, I will! Just promise me you won’t put yourself in that position because I need you! I can’t afford to lose you right now!” My voice breaks, and his seething eases. That frown of his slowly melts away. My hands are shaking now, my throat raw. “I don’t know how it’s happened, okay? I don’t know when this feeling took over me, but I realize now it’s not just that I have fallen for you! I love you, Marcel! I love you a lot, and I was trying to deny it, but the more I’m around you, the more I realize that’s exactly what I feel! I fucking love you, okay?”

  He’s looking me all over, eyes wide, breaths leveling out. “How can you love me?” he rasps. “After everything I’ve told you—everything you know about me—”

  “I don’t care about any of that! I don’t care that you had to do what you had to do to survive. And what happened with Shayla was an accident. I don’t care that you were almost charged with assault—but if you get charged again, you won’t just be in there for one night or even one week. Kyle will make sure you’re in there for months. He will ruin your life like he did mine, so just promise me, right now.” I try keeping my voice steady, but it’s breaking terribly. “Promise me you won’t put your life at risk for me.” I squeeze his hands. “I need you right now, so promise me that you won’t hurt him unless he hurts you or me first.”

  He studies my face, and it doesn’t take long for him to cup it in his hands. “I can do you one better.”

  Bringing his face forward, he kisses me so passionately that every emotional fiber inside me ignites.

  I throw my arms up and curl my fingers in his hair as he picks me up by the waist. My legs lock around his hips instantly, and he carries me to the bed, laying me down gently and continuing the kisses.

  We maneuver to the middle of the bed, my heart racing and my mind gone. I’m greedy for more of him, kissing feverishly, like one kiss at a time will never be enough.

  He sucks on my bottom lip and trails his lips down to the crook of my neck, sucking there before lowering his mouth to the cut of my shirt. He snatches the shirt down, sucking one of my erect nipples into his mouth.

  “Make me forget,” I breathe. “Please. I want to forget it.”

  He peers up at me with hooded blue eyes, and with no hesitation at all, he lowers my shorts. He’s between my legs in seconds, kissing my lips, drinking me in. I snatch my mouth away to force his boxers down, and his cock lands on my thigh, hot and heavy.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt—”

  “No. Stop.” I press a finger to his lips. I am still sore, uncertain, but I need him right now. I want to erase that pain—replace it, even. I know Marcel can do that.“This won’t hurt me. I need it.”

  As if my words are everything he needs in this moment, he wastes no time pushing between my thighs. He’s inside me with ease, kissing me fiercely as he stills for just a second.

  “Oh, fuck,” he groans, mouth dropping to the crook of my neck.

  I moan.

  “You’re too precious to hurt, Gabby.” He lifts one of my legs, thrusting even deeper. I cry out in bliss and pleasure, arching my back. “You are fuckin’ gold. You’re perfect.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” I breathe out, and I know I sound desperate, but it’s the truth. I don’t want him to leave. I never thought I’d want another man as much as I’d wanted Kyle, yet here I am, wanting Marcel Ward more than anything on this earth.

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You already know that,” he rumbles in my ear, and his voice is so deep it’s almost orgasmic. Everything about it makes me want to come.

  He cups the back of my neck, and his mouth lands on mine again. As we kiss and he strokes, the fire builds up, roaring like a flame. Every single thing outside of this moment is meaningless.

  The bruise on my face means nothing.

  The pain I felt mere days ago? That’s gone.

  Why? Because he’s erasing that pain. He’s taking it all away.

  I meant every word of what I said to him. I love Marcel, and I know Kyle. He will not rest until Marcel is taken down, and if Marcel lays a finger on him first, he will make sure that his life is ruined.

  He’s already ruined mine. I refuse to let him do the same to this insanely beautiful, wonderful man, who has already been through so much.

  With several more thrusts, I feel my climax building. He’s closer and closer, and my back begins to arch again.

  Marcel unleashes a deep groan, and before I know it, we’re both letting out noises like animals. He’s groaning and I’m moaning, and I realize what this is: we’re both letting go at the same time. It’s a release that shoots us over the moon and past the stars.

  I’ve never done this with Kyle—never had the pleasure of coming when he’s coming, but this sensation is fucking amazing. I feel even more connected to him than I did moments ago, and when he kisses me, I sigh, loving every bit of this.

  After our bodies have died down, we slide up to the pillows and I lay my head on his chest, hiding my smile.

  We catch our breaths for
just a moment, my arm curled around him and his hand on my waist.

  “I’m going to file for a divorce,” I whisper after a few minutes have ticked by.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

  I run my hand down his chest, over his toned stomach. “When we get back, I’ll go to the police station and file a domestic report, too. He’s not getting away with what he did that easily.”

  Marcel tips my chin, planting a kiss on my lips. “Good,” he rumbles. “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabby

  Marcel purchases a phone for me as soon as we are back in Hilton Head.

  He told me point blank that he needs to be able to call and check in with me, so he added me to his phone plan. With Kyle’s threats hanging over my head, I’m glad he’s taking this seriously.

  Marcel has been doing so much for me lately that I almost can’t allow myself to accept some of it. I feel like he’s taken on my burdens, and since we’re just now getting to know each other, the feeling always makes me icky. He deserves better than to deal with my mess, let alone help clean it up.

  As soon as I received the phone, I gave my mother a call—using the number on the folded sheet of paper I wrote it on, during the little trip to Virginia, where I asked her for it—but of course, she gave my number to Dad, who has been calling me and leaving voicemails for the past five days.

  I haven’t answered any of his calls. I haven’t even answered my mom’s after he started calling, because I know she’ll give him the phone, and I refuse to hear his excuses.

  What he did is unacceptable. Though I understand he thought he was doing what he needed to do to save the family and his business, I do blame him for thinking I was some kind of object he could auction.

  Surprisingly enough, Ricky has been calling too. I didn’t answer at first, because he’s just like Dad, thinking everything is no big deal, but today I do.

  “What the hell is going on?” is the first thing Ricky asks when I finally answer the phone.