She went upstairs as well, went into Jameson's room. He was in the shower and she didn't feel like joining him, so she wandered back into her own room. She was an odd combination of mad at him and grateful for him. He should not have ambushed her with her family, it was going too far – but it had felt better than words could describe to watch him put Ellie in her place, after all these years. To have someone back her up, when she said it hadn't been planned, that it hadn't been done on purpose. She was very thankful for him. It all made it hard to stay mad at him.
As she worked her way out of her dress, her mind went over Ellie's words. Robert's words. Slut. Tease. Tate was angry. She wanted to get back at them. They weren't so great. Six years, and one child – Tatum would put money on the fact that they never had sex. Ellie just wasn't a sexual person, and Robert was way too pervy; he had to be getting it elsewhere. Tate saw his type all the time in her bar, hitting on her when their wives went to the bathroom. It made her so angry. A thought crossed her mind. When she got angry, there was one thing that always made her feel better ...
In just her heels, underwear, and stockings, she dashed across the hall, back into Jameson's room. He was still in his bathroom, so she stretched across his bed. He took a long time in the shower, so she knew it could be a while. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Imagined him under the water. Naked. Her annoyance at him was slipping farther and farther away.
When his bathroom door finally opened, she was laying with her legs sticking straight up in the air, crossed at the ankles. The room was dark and he didn't seem to notice her at first. He walked across the room, securing a towel around his waist as he headed for his luggage. He was about halfway there when he saw her.
“What's this?” Jameson asked, stopping. Keeping her knees locked and her legs straight, Tate let them fall open, while her head hung over the side of the bed so she could look at him from upside down.
“You sound surprised,” she commented, bringing her legs back together and then slowly fanning them apart again. His eyes followed the motion; he loved her legs.
“Three hours ago you were telling me you hated me. I was prepared to sleep alone tonight,” Jameson explained.
“Tsk tsk, silly man. Just because I hate you doesn't mean I don't want to fuck you,” Tate replied. He smirked at her.
“Someone is very angry,” he said. She nodded and rolled onto her stomach, driving her knees into the mattress and using her legs to pull her body back so she was sitting upright – classic stripper move. He wasn't immune to it, she could tell interesting things were starting to happen underneath his towel.
“Yes. I won your little game, I stayed. I want my payment,” she informed him, sliding her legs out from underneath her and moving to the edge of the bed.
“And what exactly do you want? Maybe I don't feel like paying,” was his retort. Tate laughed and stood up.
“Oh, you'll pay,” she chuckled, walking over to the wall to her right. She pressed her back against it, stretched her arms out to her sides.
“What's going through your head, baby girl?” Jameson asked in a quiet voice, walking towards her.
“I want you to fuck me, right here. Against this wall. As hard as you can,” she told him.
“Seems like I'm winning on this deal.”
Tate lifted a leg, stretching it out, touching his washboard stomach with the heel of the expensive shoe he had bought for her. Dug into his skin a little, hoping for blood. He grabbed her ankle, held it against his hip.
“I want you to call me every filthy name you can think of. I want you to fuck me like you absolutely hate me,” Tate whispered. His eyes narrowed.
“Sounds like my kind of game What's the catch?” he asked.
“We can't move from this spot. This wall. I want you to pound me through this wall,” she explained. He dropped her leg.
“Who is on the other side of that wall? Ellie and Robert? Very clever, baby girl. Very obscene,” his voice was low as well.
“That's what I was going for. I won't be quiet,” she warned him.
“Is this really what you want to do?” he double checked. His hesitancy annoyed her. She arched her back, pushing her hips away from the wall, and sighed. She let her eyes slide away from his, as if she were tired of their conversation.
“If you don't want to, it's fine. I'm sure I can find someone else to play with; Robert was very keen a moment ago,” she said in a bored voice. Jameson's eyebrows shot up. Now she had his attention.
“Oh really? I saw the way he was looking at you. What did he say?” Jameson asked, stepping closer to her. She shrugged.
“Stuff. Things. Since I have a thing for Ellie's sloppy seconds, basically, why not give him a try. What a good fuck I must be. What a tease I am for not showing him,” Tate replied nonchalantly. Jameson was now pressed against her.
“Would you show him?” he asked, his hands pressing against her ribs and then sliding around to her back. She chuckled.
“If I could tie Ellie down and make her watch, maybe,” she replied.
“Kinky. Can I watch, too?” he asked, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms.
“I don't think so. You haven't been very good to me lately,” she pointed out. He laughed, pulling the towel away from his hips.
“Baby girl, I am always good to you,” Jameson countered.
“That's a matter of opinion.”
“And your opinion doesn't matter.”
It was like a switch. He ripped her panties away – the expensive ones he had bought for her – and grabbed her ass, forcing her legs around his waist, forcing his way inside of her. She cried out and slapped her hands against the wall above her head. She was going to put on a performance that Robert and Ellie would never forget.
It was almost comical at first – it was like being in one of Ang's pornos. She said things she normally never said, things she laughed at when other people said them – “You fuck me so good, oh my god, your dick's so big, oh yeah, harder, slower, right there, you're amazing.” And of course his name, over and over again. Couldn't let them forget who she was doing this with, after all. She even heard Jameson laugh at one point.
But as his thrusts got harder, the game melted away. She groaned and screamed for real, pounding one hand against the wall. Picture frames fell down. Books came off a shelf. There was a mirror across from them, and seeing their reflection, watching his muscled back and strong legs tense up, his hips moving against her so hard, it was practically her undoing. They hadn't even been standing there that long, and she was already coming like a freight train.
He didn't slow down at all. If anything, he pounded even harder. All his weight was pressing her into the wall, one hand digging into her ass and the other gripping her breast painfully. He pressed his face against the side of hers, growling at her through clenched teeth. Called her every filthy name she'd ever heard of, and a couple new ones. She was surprised, though, that he stuck to just names. Usually he liked to really degrade her, say horrible, horrible things about her, but not that night.
After what seemed like forever and two more orgasms for her, he literally dropped her to the floor and loudly told her to suck his cock. While she did so, he braced himself against the wall, beating his fist against it when she nipped at particularly tender areas. When he finally came, he announced it to the whole house, holding her head in place by her hair, pulling at the roots.
More of our games should be like this one.
“How was that? Good enough?” he whispered, breathing heavy as he leaned his forearms on the wall above her. She leaned away from him.
“It'll do for now,” she joked, gasping for air as well while she wiped at her mouth. He groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair.
“I can't wait to take you home and really treat you bad,” he grumbled, pulling her to her feet and leading her to the bed.
Me, neither.
~10~
Tatum woke up the next morning to Jameson chewing on he
r butt, literally. She laughed and slapped him away. He informed her that her father would be home in a couple hours, so she should probably get ready and brace herself. He offered for her to join him in the shower, but she knew that never led to getting ready, so she passed and sent him in on his own.
Grumbling, she pulled on her trademark socks, some booty shorts, and a long tank top before heading downstairs. Jameson had bought her an entire wardrobe for the weekend, all miss-priss clothing, but he had been thoughtful enough to include her usual sleep wear. It made her feel more comfortable, and she felt like she was more herself as she wandered into the kitchen. Her mother was by a coffee pot, watching the coffee fill up.
“Good morning, honey,” her mother yawned. Tate managed a smile.
“Morning,” she replied, laying her top half across the counter and staring at the pot as well.
“I stopped and peeked in on you around five this morning, but you weren't in your room. Where were you?” her mom asked. Tate glanced at her. Was this for real?
“I was in Jameson's room,” she answered truthfully. Had the lady not heard anything?
“Oh my! I thought you were just friends!” Mother exclaimed. Tate stood up.
“We are. We are very, very good friends,” she emphasized. Her mother worried her hands.
“Do you think that's such a good idea, honey? I mean, what with Ellie and all, maybe it would be better to ... you know, not,” her mother suggested.
Is she fucking kidding me?
“Mother. I don't give two fucks about Ellie, or how she feels,” Tate said in a hard voice. Her mother gasped.
“There is no need to talk like that! You should show some respect for your sister and her feelings!” she urged. Tate threw her head back and laughed.
“Is this a fucking joke? Why should I respect her? Or any of you? She hasn't spoken to me in seven years, she still treats me like the whore of Babylon, and her husband hit on me last night, after she complained about me ruining things between her and Jameson. Daddy doesn't even acknowledge my existence, and you only call me when you're drunk and feeling guilty,” she spat out.
Her mother stared at her for a second, eyes swimming with tears, then she rushed out of the kitchen, letting out a sob. Ellie came in at the same time, jumping out of the way. She watched after her for a second and then turned her glare on Tate.
“See. You ruin everything. Your little show last night was disgusting. Something is wrong with you,” Ellie hissed. Tate smiled sweetly.
“That show was the best sex you'll never have, so you're welcome,” she replied, blowing a kiss at her sister. Ellie bristled up.
“I've had good sex. I slept with him first, you know,” she snapped. Tate laughed.
“Not the same thing at all, Ellie. And it's not a competition, who got him first, who got him last. I didn't want him then, and I don't have him now. You shouldn't even care about who he is, or isn't, fucking; you're married,” Tate pointed out.
“But I should have been married to him!” Ellie suddenly shrieked.
“What did you say?”
They both turned to see Robert standing in a separate entrance way. Ellie groaned.
“It was nothing, I didn't -,” she started.
“We need to talk, now,” he snapped before turning and walking out of the room. Ellie sighed and then glared at Tatum one last time.
“See!? Everything. You ruin everything,” she repeated before hurrying after her husband.
Force myself on estranged family, Check. Jameson put sister in her place, Check. Have amazing loud sex that makes everyone uncomfortable, Check. Make mother cry, Check. Ruin a marriage, Check. Awesome family reunion!
Tate puttered around the kitchen, making herself a bowl of cereal and eating it. Then she filled two coffee mugs, knowing Jameson would want one once he was out of the bathroom. She carefully carried them up the stairs, listening for the sound of the shower. It had already been half an hour, but he was still in there. She shook her head. He preened more than a girl sometimes.
She was about to push her way into his room, when a noise caught her attention. Arguing. The door to Ellie's room hadn't been fully closed, and the sounds of a fight were reaching into the hallway. Giving an evil little chuckle, Tate tip toed closer, listening to what was being said.
“You stupid fucking bitch!”
Tate was surprised. Robert hadn't seemed like the kind of guy to talk to his wife that way.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Ellie was saying over and over again. Tate frowned. Ellie didn't sound upset. She sounded ... scared.
“Fucking embarrass me!? In front of that whore sister!?” Robert was really yelling now. Tate touched a finger to the doorknob, just barely pressed against it enough to push the door open a smidge. She had a tiny view into the room. She could see Robert standing, his hands in his hair. Ellie was sitting on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands.
“No! I didn't mean to! I was ... upset! I'm sorry!”
“You know his New York offices have a contract with my firm! If she bitches to him about her cunt sister, I could lose everything!”
“Cunt” was a special kind of word to Tate. It was the dirtiest of all words, very taboo. Probably got her the most excited. But on the flip side, it was taboo for a reason. It was very bad; an angry, evil word. In her experience, people who used it comfortably in anger were not very nice people. For most people, it took a lot to whip out the C-word in a fight, and Robert had just dropped it like he was saying “good morning” or something.
“I'll talk to her, I promise. I'll make her promise not to tell him,” Ellie assured him.
“Why would she listen to you!? You're the goddamn devil, as far she is concerned,” Robert replied.
“I'll make her, I promise -,”
His hand crashed across Ellie's face, and Tate gasped, dropping the coffee cups. Her sister was not her friend. If anything, Ellie was an enemy. But she was also a woman. And she was pregnant. And her husband had just backhanded her. He grabbed Ellie's arm and lifted her off the bed, lifting his hand to hit her again.
“HEY!” Tate shouted, bursting through the door. They both turned and stared at her.
“Tatum!” Robert called out jovially, letting go of Ellie. “How was the coffee? Did you -,”
“Get the fuck away from my sister, you piece of shit!” Tate stated, marching to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Tate, just go away, you don't under-,” Ellie started, holding up a hand.
“Shut up,” Tate and Robert both snapped in unison.
“You are not really a part of this family. Please leave,” Robert asked in a frosty voice. Tate crossed her arms.
“You leave. I'm not going anywhere,” she informed him.
“I am not going to ask you again.”
“You've never hit someone who hits back, have you?”
“Don't push me.”
“Please!” Ellie interrupted, surging to her feet. “Please, just stop! Leave her alone!”
“Excuse me!?” Robert looked shocked, staring down at his wife. Tate was shocked, too.
“Leave her alone! Get out, let me talk to my sister!” Ellie demanded.
He slapped her again, and Tate was on him in a second, arms wheeling through the air. He tried to grab her, and she shrieked, throwing a punch. She was pretty sure it landed near his ear. She wasn't exactly a street brawler. He turned away and she climbed onto his back, pulling at his hair and hitting him on the top of the head. Ellie started screaming. Robert spun in a circle, yelling at Tate to get off of him. When it was obvious that she had no intention of doing that, he rammed them back up against a wall. Pain shimmied down Tate's spine and she let him go, falling to her feet. He spun around and slapped her so hard, she was knocked to the ground. She scrambled to get away, backing into a corner.
He hadn't made it two steps towards her when Jameson was on him, pinning him to the wall. Tate hadn't even noticed Jameson entering the room. He was by far the bigger man,
with a much stronger physique – Robert couldn't move. Tate leapt to her feet, breathing hard, a hand pressed to her cheek. Jameson glanced at her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded.
“I'm fine. He hit her. Hard,” she replied, gesturing to Ellie, who had her face in her hands again.
“What kind of piece of shit hits a woman? A pregnant woman?” Jameson asked in a soft voice, his eyes very cold. He had his forearm pressed against Robert's windpipe and the smaller man squirmed around.
“It's none of your business, she's my wife,” he choked out.
“And Tatum is my business,” Jameson growled, nodding his head at Tate.
“Please, we heard the way you talked to her last night – the slut probably probably liked getting slapped.”
There was no hesitation; Jameson's fist instantly slammed across Robert's jaw, and Robert slumped to the ground. Tate hurried forward, staring down at the unconscious man. She winced; his jaw was probably broken. She finally glanced up at Jameson. He was breathing hard, his hands balled into fists, and he was staring down at Robert with wild eyes. Tate stepped up close to him and pressed a hand to his chest, sliding it back and forth. The same move she used to calm Ang down. Jameson's eyes moved to hers. Stared at her.
This is not a game anymore.
Jameson left to go find Sanders, who was staying in a guest house. Tatum walked a practically sobbing Ellie back to her own room. They sat on the bed and she rubbed her sister's back, waited for her to calm down.
“How long has it been like this?” Tate whispered.
“Forever. Since we got married. During the honeymoon, he got mad at me, hit me. He had never done that before,” Ellie sniffled.
Six years. Ellie had taken the abuse for six years. For the last six years, Tate had been begging men to push her around and call her dirty names. But never like that, not against her will. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders – something she never thought she'd do.
“Leave him,” she breathed. Ellie shook her head.
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