She goes to walk to my room but I grab her arm and pull her back before slamming her back into the wall. My lips are on hers before I can reach down to pull her shirt up and over her head.
She pulls away panting and I take the opportunity to grab a hold of her shirt and rip it off of her. She’s learned by now to always be ready for me to fuck up her clothing.
I reach down and place my fingers through the holes in her black fishnet tights and rip them even more as well. She fumbles quickly to undo her skirt before it falls to the floor.
She pants as she grabs the back of my neck and slams her lips to mine. My cock gets so hard it hurts as I picture this being Missy. Wanting it to be her touching me like this. Demanding I please her. But instead I’ve only had her once and I still can’t remember all of it. But Braxton. He has probably had her more times than I can count.
This should be her with me right now. I should be taking her to bed. Showing her what I can help her get over him. But then what? Who will help her get over me?
The thought of it being Missy in front of me has me becoming more aggressive. I reach up and grab a handful of Cindy’s hair and yank it back. Her head hits the wall and she lets out a cry.
She wraps her arms around my neck and I pick her up as she wraps her legs around my waist. I carry her to my bedroom and don’t even bother closing the door. I could care less if Parker comes home and sees us. Plus, whores like Cindy like to have others watch. It turns them on even more.
She drops her legs and I spin her around before placing my hands on her back and forcefully bending her over the side of the bed.
I don’t even bother taking my jeans or boxer briefs. I just unzip my pants and pull my hard cock through the zipper.
I give her no warning.
No foreplay. She’s already dripping wet for me.
This was a call to get fucked and she knew that when she answered it. And I don’t care to see her face. I just want to close my eyes and imagine it’s Missy who I’m inside.
She bends over like a good little whore and takes what I have to offer. And then I’ll send her on her merry way.
******
“Tate?” my mommy cries as she crawls over to where I lie on my bedroom floor. Her face is covered in black watery stuff that runs down her cheeks.
“Mommy?” I cry as tears run down my face. I’m shaking and my side hurts.
Where was she? Why didn’t she stop him?
She cradles me to her chest and her body shakes with mine as she cries. “I love you, Tate. I love you so much.” She kisses my head as she holds me tightly.
Why do I always hurt when she tells me she loves me? Why does she allow Daddy to hurt me?
I sit straight up in bed with my hands clenched, ready to hit the fuck out of something or someone. I look around the dark room. My nostrils flare and my chest vibrates as if I’m growling like a fucking dog about to pounce.
Five. I was five years old when that happened and I still dream it like it was yesterday. Actually I remember a lot about my childhood. I try to forget but no such luck. That was why the drugs came into my life. I used to take pills to help me sleep at night. Then I needed pills to help me function throughout the day. One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was taking things that made me forget completely. I craved the emptiness they brought upon me.
I run a hand down the back of my neck and I scowl at my sweat-drenched skin. It’s disgusting.
Once I calm down, I finally look over to the other side of the bed and sigh in relief when I see that Cindy had left after we were done. And that is exactly why I call her. The bitch hates to cuddle and talk about as much as I do. I was too tired and emotionally drained to fuck with what comes after sex.
I make my way into the dark bathroom and turn on the light and then the shower. I grab a towel out of the cabinet and then step into the shower. I place my body under the sprayer and let the water consume me.
As a little boy, I thought that water washed away your flaws. My mother used to tell me that if you stood in the rain God would cleanse your soul. A rough laugh leaves my lips as I think of that. It’s crazy how kids believe everything their parents tell them. I mean, you don’t know any better.
Now. Now I know there’s nothing pure enough that could cleanse me from evil. I had thoughts as a little kid of violence. It didn’t start until I was about seven, maybe eight. I started thinking of all these ways I could get away with killing someone. That someone being my mother’s husband. And although I have never actually killed anyone, I tried with my bare hands. And if given the option, I would do it again but I wouldn’t stop next time until it was done.
I get out of the shower and crawl back into bed. As soon as I pull the covers up my cell rings on my nightstand.
“Hello?” I snap. Who’s calling me this fucking late? It’s almost one in the morning.
“Hey, I know it’s late but I thought I should call and inform you that Missy is up here.” I hear my friend, Scott’s, voice on the other end. He works up at a little dive called Marvins and he was my first real friend when I finally was able to walk away from the destructive road that my life was heading down.
Missy! I sigh. She’s fucking everywhere. Consuming and controlling my life. “So why call me?” I growl in aggravation.
And why the hell is she out at the bar on her birthday? When I saw her earlier she was at her party that Sam was throwing her.
There’s a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. “She’s drunk and a man is all over her,” he says with a sigh.
A man all over her? Is she seeing someone new already? Sam had told me that she and Braxton broke up. “So?” I snap. “Why fucking call me?”
“Tate,” he says softly, and it pisses me off. “I know you guys have a past but it’s her birthday and she seems drunk. You need to do something before something happens to her.”
“She is not my responsibility,” I say through gritted teeth. Plus, she wants nothing to do with me. Can I blame her? Doesn’t she see that I was doing the right thing in pushing her away? I’m no good for her.
“Listen,” he demands, getting irritated. “I understand that. But there’s no one else to call. No one else to look out for her. She’s not your responsibility but she is going to end up drugged and dead in a ditch somewhere. Can you live with that?” he snaps.
Drugged. That brings back memories of watching Slade carry Sam up from the basement of Jeremy’s house drugged, looking half dead. I walked away from Missy because she deserved better. And by better, I did not mean some asshole who is trying to get her drunk and take advantage of her.
“Get close to Missy,” Slade had said. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her.
“I’m on my way,” I growl before hanging up.
******
I make my way up to the bar and walk in. I spot her immediately. Her platinum blond hair stands out under the neon lights and it takes my breath away at how beautiful she is. I always found her attractive in a girl next door kind of way. But what I feel for her was always more than skin deep. She was innocent and sweet. I took that from her. I changed her. Now, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. She’s like one of those models that you stare at on TV who always looks fucking perfect; it makes me hard and pissed at the same time.
I square my shoulders and push those thoughts away. Down boy! I make my way over to her and come to a stop once I reach her bar stool. “Missy?” I say tightly.
I see her small frame stiffen at her name, but she doesn’t turn to face me.
“Is this your boyfriend?” I finally notice the guy sitting next to her. My eyes drop down to his hand resting on her exposed thigh. My jaw clenches. Women and their fucking dresses.
“No,” she responds curtly. “Just a mistake.”
Jesus Christ! A mistake. I continue to tell myself that’s what it was but it didn’t feel that way.
The man gives her a sleazy smile getting my attention. “Buzz off,”
he says to me but continues staring at her.
“Buzz off?” I repeat making sure he was speaking to me. The man is a tool.
He finally looks at me over his shoulder and his green eyes narrow. “Yeah, buzz the fuck off. I bought her a drink. I’m going to let her finish, then she’s leaving with me. Go stick your dick somewhere else tonight.” She goes to speak to him but he holds his hand up quieting her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it, baby,” he assures her with a smirk.
Baby? I tighten my fist in hope to not punch his fucking lights out.
She turns to fully face him with her drink in her hand, and I watch her mouth
drops open. “Excuse me?” she snaps to him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
His hand runs further up her exposed thigh and she pulls it away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” she snaps as she stands.
“Hey I bought you that drink.” He points to it as if that gave him rights to her body.
“Thanks,” she says, and I can’t hold back my smirk as sarcasm drips from that one simple word.
She then throws it in his face and turns to storm off. He stands from his chair and goes to take a step after her. My hand shoots out and hits him in his chest, knocking him back into the bar. His face twists into rage and he swings his left arm to hit me, but I’m faster. I duck and then stand letting my fist connect with his jaw. His body falls into his bar stool before he and said chair are laying on the floor.
“Don’t ever fucking touch her again,” I say before I turn and walk out the bar.
I find her digging into her purse looking for her keys. “Missy?” I snap, feeling the rage continue building inside of me. How could she even put herself in that situation? “What in the fuck were you thinking?”
She continues to ignore me and I place my hand on her shoulder spinning her around. “Don’t touch me,” she screams furious.
“Missy?” I run a hand over my unshaven face. Stressed to the max. What do you say to someone who hates you? “Look, I’m just trying to help you…”
She takes a step back from me. “Don’t.” She lifts her hand cutting me off. “I don’t need anything from you,” she states yanking her keys out of her purse.
I take a step toward her not wanting her to drive away mad at me. Why does it bother me so much to know that she hates me? “What I said tonight…at your party...” I swallow thickly as she looks up at me and pins my stare with her blue eyes.
I expect her to get into her car and storm off but instead she straightens her back and crosses her arms over her chest daring me to say I’m sorry. “I get it, Tate. I do.” She sighs heavily. “I’m just tired of this game we are playing. You don’t have to lie to me,” she says as her eyes drop to the ground.
“I wasn’t lying to you…”
“Just leave me alone!” she shouts cutting me off. I stand there speechless as she turns away from me and gets in her car. I watch her little red car back up and drive off, hoping that she makes it home okay. I don’t know how much she has had to drink. I should have asked. I should have grabbed her keys out of her hand.
I go to turn around and walk to my truck. I’ll follow her. Make sure she makes it home alright when I hear sirens approaching. “Just fucking great,” I mutter under my breath.
I step back onto the curb and wait for whatever I’m about to get dealt. No doubt the bartender called the cops on me for hitting that guy. I smile though when I see Parker get out of his cop car with a smirk on his face as well. “Been getting into trouble tonight?” he asks approaching me.
“Something like that,” I respond. “The guy was fucking with Missy.”
His smirk widens into a big smile. “Well, then let’s go fuck with him.”
******
MISSY
“Help me?” I repeat his words in my mind. I angrily wipe the tears from my eyes. Why the hell am I crying on my birthday? IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!
As soon as he left my party, I left as well. I told everyone I wasn’t feeling well. I’m pretty sure they all knew it was because of Tate. They all knew that he showed up and then just left without even saying goodbye. They also knew that I was the reason for him leaving. I needed out of there. I couldn’t continue to hang out with everyone looking at me with pity on their faces. I’m tired of them thinking that I can’t get over him—no matter how much it’s true. I should be able to fake it better.
Then the idiot has to show up at the bar? What the hell was that about? How did he even know I was there? He actually said he wanted to help me.
I give a loud laugh and smile. “Help me?” Has he lost his mind? I’m pretty sure I have. There’s only one person who can help me. One person who wraps their arms around me and tells me everything will be okay. Only one person who knows how deep my loss goes and I need to go to him.
I make my way to the house that I could find in my sleep. The house that I spent weeks at crying my eyes out. It was hell, yet a sanctuary. It hid me away from the world but not my nightmares.
I come to a quick stop and step out of my car. I make my way up the long walkway and the door flies open.
“Missy?”
I let out a sob as I watch Braxton stand on his porch looking at me with only a pair of sweat pants on. It’s not fair to him. I shouldn’t use him but I need him. I need the safety he offers. The comforting that someone actually cares and wants to dry my eyes, not tell me one thing yet do something completely different.
The tears sting my eyes before they spill over and run down my face. “How did I let my life get to this?” I cry out. And how do I stop it?
Braxton jumps down the stairs and wraps me in his arms the second he reaches me. My body shakes as I cling to him. “Shh.” He runs a hand down my back. “It’s okay.” He bends down and places his arm under my legs and picks me up before walking me into his house. I feel safe here. I even feel loved here. And that is what I need at the moment.
The alcohol from my last shot has my lips going numb, and my eyes are getting heavy. “You’re okay,” he whispers as he lays me on the bed and starts to remove my heels.
I lift my heavy arms and dry my cheeks with the back of my hands as he tries to remove my dress.
Once he succeeds, he lies down beside me. I cuddle up to him as he wraps his arms around me. He pushes hair back from my face as he looks down at me. His eyes drop to my lips and I lick them. Although I don’t feel them, I know they’re there.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he asks softly as his brown eyes roam my face.
“Because I need you.” It feels like it takes forever to get the words out. But as soon as I do his soft lips are on mine.
******
I wake up in the plush bed that I have woke in so many times before. The walls are a soft brown and the carpet is a creamy beige. The soft silk sheets are wrapped around me as the sunlight filters in letting me know it’s morning already. And my pounding headache reminds me that I drank too much last night.
“Good morning.”
I look up to see Braxton lying in his bed beside me. “Morning,” I say softly.
He lifts a cup of coffee and offers it to me. I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say softly. I roll over onto my side to face him as he just stares down at me with a frown on his face. I let my eyes roam over his perfect skin covering his small chest. I know he works out often but he’s not big by any means.
“Missy?” he asks getting my attention. I look up at him and he speaks. “What happened last night?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I say.
He lets out a sigh before he places his coffee on his nightstand. “I should go,” I say before I throw the covers off and get out of his bed.
“No,” he says firmly and it makes me pause. I stare at him and he points to the bed. “Sit.”
I slowly walk back to the bed and sit on it facing him. “What?” I ask reluctantly, not wanting to have this conversation.
He’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks. “W
hat happened last night? I spoke with Slade and he said that you had left your party even though they tried to get you to stay.” I continue to stare at him and I can see his dark eyes start to darken more. “Where did you go? When you got here you smelled like you came from a bar.”
I look down to his thick bedspread and start to pick an imaginary piece of lint. “I did,” I admit quietly.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, making me look up at him. Braxton is never hateful. He is the most calm, understanding guy I’ve ever met. “Why were you out drinking and driving?” he asks as his voice continues to rise.
“I wasn’t drunk,” I say defensively. Although he knows that’s a lie. “I just wanted to get away. Tate had shown up at the party…”
“Ahh,” he says interrupting me. “He showed up,” he hisses. “I knew he would.” He jumps out of the bed and starts to pace. “The guy is Sam’s brother. He’s always everywhere.” He rambles on as if he’s talking to himself. “I knew I should have gone to the party with you. Every time you see him, he leaves you in tears.”
“I’m sorry,” I say trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “I shouldn’t have come over last night.”
I go to get up but he’s on the bed in front of me before I know it. His hands gently hold my face as his dark brown eyes search mine. “Why does it take him showing up for you to run into my arms?” he asks and his brows crease. “Seriously? Why didn’t you come here after the party?”
“I just wanted to be alone.”
“At a bar?” he asks not believing me.
He sighs heavily when I don’t respond. “I’m trying to understand what you’re going through. Truly I am,” he says softly before he pulls away. “But how long are you going to allow him to have this hold over you?”
I ask myself that same question every day. “He doesn’t…”
“Yes he does,” he interrupts me and gets out of bed once again.
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