by K. L. Jessop
There’s no pity in his eyes, but there is a sadness, and I can’t tell him any more of my story, not yet.
“So why all this frustration towards those that are willing to help you?”
“Because I’ve never needed or wanted anyone’s help. I’ve fought so hard and learned from a young age that people lie, let you down and hurt you. I didn’t want that for Charlie. I wanted to support my son on my own, give him the life I never had and prove that I didn’t need anyone else because in the past asking for help only meant having my heart torn apart and I didn’t want him to be a victim of that hurt and rejection.” I look down, trembling as I swallow the thick ball of emotion that’s suddenly caught in my throat. “But I couldn’t do it on my own and I hate that I’ve already failed him.”
Lifting my chin, he speaks, and his deep voice is laced with purpose and compassion. “There is nothing wrong with needing, wanting or asking for help, Tori. It doesn’t make you a bad person and it certainly does not make you a failure. If anything, it makes you strong.”
But I’m not strong.
My attitude is just a front, a pretend confidence hiding a strength I do not have and one I hide behind, an attitude that helped me survive. Until Lucas. All this energy I’ve used over the years in order to protect myself and remain strong has proven just how weak I am because when it comes to the man standing in front of me, my control is being taken away. It’s like he’s the key and I’m the undiscovered treasure chest that he’s desperate to open. Only what he’ll find on the inside is not pure gold and jewels: it’s nothing but damaged trinkets and broken pieces. And if I’m willing to share some depth of my past with him now, it’s only a matter of time before he learns the whole truth, and that is something far greater. For the first time since he got here, I circle my arms around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Make it go away, Lucas,” I whisper.
“Make what?”
“Everything bad. It all stops when you touch me.”
He lowers his head as I reach up on my tiptoes to reunite our lips, pushing his apart for our tongues to entwine. He lifts my leg around his waist, pushing his erection against my stomach. His arms raise when I remove his gym shirt and I run my hands down his broad back before slipping them into his shorts to grab his arse.
I’ve missed him.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this about a man I hardly know, but I do. I’m intoxicated with lust, lost in his presence and drowning in his influence. “What are you doing to me?” I whisper as a smile tugs my lips.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
His kiss is fast, consuming, coated with a longing that sends me crazy. Spinning me around, he pushes me over the back of the sofa, kicks my legs apart at the ankles and rips off my underwear.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas.
I bunch her dress up around her waist, stuff her underwear into her mouth to muffle the scream and slam into her from behind without so much as a warning. Releasing all the anger that’s been suppressed inside since I walked through her door. I knew I couldn’t argue with her. I knew I couldn’t grab her by the shoulders and shake her silly because that’s not the kind of man I am, but fuck me it was hard to stand and keep it together while she went all batshit crazy on me. I bite the back of her neck and yank the cup of her bra down and play with her tight little nipple, tearing the strap on her dress in the process. My body is on fire as I fuck her like it’s going to be my last. Balls deep, coated in her dripping heat and slapping against her arse as she mumbles for me to go harder.
I’ve no issue as to why her past has led her to this future—it doesn’t make me think any less of her—but I was right in what I said: she’s the one that seems to be struggling with it all. There’s clearly more to it than meets the eye, and I intend to find out what has her so fucking rattled and constantly assuming that I’m here to judge. How can I when I’m a big fucking let down and failed at the one job I promised I’d do? As much as I loathe the idea of Tori being in this situation—people and professionals on her back—I’ve no right to make comment on her poor living conditions or the fact that the money she brings home is hardly likely to cover her expenses. But if she so much as thinks I’m walking away from this, then she’s got another thing coming, because I can’t.
“Do you really think this bothers me? Would I be here now, fucking your tight little pussy, making you feel this good if I was bothered by where you live?” I grunt through thrusts. She doesn’t respond, just drops her head on a moan, grabbing the sofa with white knuckles as she trembles beneath me.
I rip the lace from her mouth. “Answer me.”
“No. No, you wouldn’t be here. But maybe it bothers me that you are.”
I place it back into her mouth and I fuck her in demanding thrusts, with a desire that I know sets her body on fire, with an urgency in me that I hope will figure out everything she’s making me feel. I snake my arm around and begin to play with her clit; she cries out with a shudder, bucking hard against me.
One night—one night of smouldering sex and multiple orgasms and I feel like I know this woman's body better than she knows it herself. She’s on her tiptoes as I push her to the edge, perspiration glazing her creamy skin, and the soft panel of her neck. I lick it away, in a long hot stroke, before giving her another bite. Her pussy grips my dick like a fucking vice and rips the growl of her name from my throat as she comes around me. My chest is tight, my legs pure fire with the burn that’s taking over.
“Tori. Fuck!” Her hand interlocks with mine that’s pressing against her waist; it’s an intimate connection but one that leaves me confused. Sometimes I don’t understand this woman at all. It’s like she wants me close but doesn’t know how to show it. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s why the defences come up and the attitude is fired. Has being alone all those years left her unable to understand her feelings? Because in the short time I’ve known her, I’ve learned quickly that she runs from her own state of mind. If she fears something, she runs. If she wants something, she runs. It’s like she doesn’t know what she wants or needs out of life and the only way she can deal with it is to bolt. She is strength and beauty wrapped in long raven hair and a body of art, but strip that away and she’s a fragile little thing that’s full of so much sorrow.
“This ends now, Tori. No more running. I don’t know what is happening here but when you want to run, you come straight to me, you hear me?”
She nods in response. I’ll tell her every day if I have to until she gets it in this pretty head of hers. It’s crazy how life can throw you a curveball and change everything. Not so long ago, it was me that was running and in many ways I still am. I should be scared shitless right now with the change she’s suddenly inflicted, but I’m not.
I bring her back to my chest so she’s upright and cover her mouth when she screams through the lace with the new position.
“You blow my mind, Raven Bird.” The heavy weight of my orgasm builds in my pelvis as she begins to tighten for a second time. I nip the shell of her ear with my teeth and circle her clit with an added pressure that has her exploding, shuddering violently, leaving her limp light frame falling apart at the seams and dragging my own orgasm out with each hard pulse that contracts around me.
“Jesus, Tori.”
I remove her underwear from her mouth and a rush of deep breathing follows. “Oh, God. I’ll ask you again. What are you doing to me?”
I grin and kiss the strawberry colour mark on her neck from when I bit her and repeat the same words back. “Like I said, I could ask you the same thing.”
“Having you close gets better every time.”
“Yet I still feel like you fight to stop it.”
“Because I’m trying to protect myself,” she admits.
I don’t like that comment. She doesn’t need to do that with me. Taking her chin, I turn her face to the side for her to look at me. “Believe me when I say that I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know,” she whispers. “And maybe that’s why I need to protect myself.”
What has happened to my little raven bird? There is more to her story, more to her past that often leaves her so open and vulnerable. I don’t like it.
Her hand comes to the back of my neck and I’m pulled in for a kiss that has tingles spreading across my stomach. She’ll never need to shield herself from me; I’ll never do anything to cause her pain. But my heavy heart gets the better of me, reminding me that I made a vow like that before and it ended in tragedy. Pulling out, I place my shorts back on and enter her small shower room, trying to shift the grief that’s suddenly expanded in my chest as I wet one of her washcloths under the tap.
“You’ve torn my dress you animal,” I hear her say, sounding rather amused.
“Your thong is unusable now too.”
“Lucas, I don’t have many clothes as it is.”
“It’s the price you have to pay if you want hot sex.” I grin, coming back out and stuffing her torn underwear into my pocket. She rolls those pretty eyes and I have to hold back from taking her again. Circling an arm around her waist, I place the damp cloth between her legs to clean her. Her chest rises with my touch and her bottom lip sinks between her teeth. The light from the small windows glimmers against her flushed skin, her eyes still liquid with desire and her lips red and puffy from my hungry kisses. She’s pure perfection and she has no clue.
“Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”
Her eyes widen in surprise and her lips part, but she quickly looks away. I never had her down as the shy type, but I’m proven wrong when her cheeks turn pink. I didn’t think being reserved was in her nature, but it’s there, I saw it the other night too when she trailed her fingers over my body, taking every inch of me in with great detail as though she’s never seen a man built like me before.
“No one has ever said that to me,” she whispers.
I thought as much, and I feel fit to fucking burst right now that I’m the one that got to tell her. Lifting her chin, I bring her eyes back to me. “Then I want to tell you every day for as long as you’ll let me.”
She holds my stare, searching for words. “I don’t run on purpose, Lucas,” she admits. “I just find things difficult at times and the only thing that makes me feel like I’m in control is to do the opposite of what I want. You need to understand that this is all new for me. Restarting, being a mum… and now you. Not so long ago, I had nothing. I was my own person, a sole carer of my own future, regardless of how dark it looked. Now, I have the opportunity to do good in life with people that seem to care, and it’s just taking a little time to get used to. I’m not making any promises, and I’m far from perfect, but I’m willing to try.”
Well if I wasn’t falling for her already.
“And that’s all I ask. Just don’t feel you have to shut me out.”
She pulls us over to her mattress on the floor and drops down to it. I kick off my trainers to join her, wrapping my arms around her as she spoons against me. We both lay silent under the summer sun that’s streaming into the room, facing a sleeping Charlie who is in his cot-bed huddled with his little blanket. Red cheeks dominate his cute face while tiny rosebud lips move in a sucking motion as they wrap around his thumb. I find myself smiling at how cute he looks. He looks so much like his mother apart from having fair hair.
“How old is he?”
“Two. Sometimes going on four years when he throws a tantrum.”
“Takes after his mum then?” I tease.
“Ugh, don’t even joke about it. I dread to think what he will be like when he’s a teenager.”
“Is he a good kid otherwise?”
“He’s everything. He was the gift I never expected and definitely didn’t deserve but has changed me in so many ways. I just wish other people would see the potential he has instead of focusing on the things he hasn’t got.”
I rest my head in my hand, so I can look at her, but she continues looking at her son. “How do you mean?”
“Lucy, our support worker, came around earlier to say that Charlie is behind in his speech development and needs to have extra support. I understand where she’s coming from and want the best for him, but he does so much in return for not using all his words and they don’t see that. They just focus on the bad and make me feel like shit in the process.”
So that’s what it was all about. Some brunette with an ID badge and organiser under her arm twisted the knife and walked out like nothing happened.
“Kids learn at different paces, babe. It doesn’t make you a bad parent.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m failing him?”
“Because someone’s just told you your boy needs extra help and you automatically think the worst. It’s natural to react that way: you’re his mum, he learns from you but don’t beat yourself up over it because it doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Just see what they have to say.”
“Do you think it may help?”
“Depends on what they are offering, but my sister was behind in her speech a little when she was a kid. Now I can’t shut her up.” I chuckle.
She turns to face me, eyes full of intrigue. “I never knew you had a sister.”
“I guess there’s a lot we still don’t know about each other.”
“True,” she whispers before a smile spreads across her face. “I bet you didn’t know I can be a little feisty.”
“No shit.” I grin.
“I’ve had to be. Life has been tough.”
An ache forms in the pit of my stomach at the thought of her being out on the streets, alone, cold and defenceless. Since she’s willingly given me the information, I’m hoping I can pry a little deeper without her walls shooting back up. “How long were you out there?”
Her eyes close briefly as pain covers her face. “I left foster care when I was eighteen, thinking I’d made the right decision. I wanted to be free. I wanted to find myself again and get back the control and the life that was taken from me when the decision was made to send me away. But the streets became too big and they ended up controlling me.”
“Were you always in care?”
“No.” The firmness in her voice tells me that I’ve heard enough, and I respect her wishes and don’t push her any further. This hard armour she wears makes sense now. The sheer determination and strength is admiring, yet I still want to dig deep and uncover all her hidden depths and flaws.
I trace my finger along the script tattoo she has on the inside of her forearm. It’s the smallest design she has but one that clearly has meaning behind the hidden words. “It’s Arabic,” she murmurs, watching me.
“Can you tell me what it says?”
“I suffered. I learned. I changed. I got it after I had Charlie because he gave me a purpose and a hope that I could find myself again. I knew when I first felt him move inside of me that I needed to do the biggest thing I feared.”
“Which was?”
“To just try.”
And there they are, the two words my Grandfather brought me up to believe in: just try.
If I hadn’t been able to tie my laces, I’d had to just try. If I hadn’t been able to ride the first wave, I had to ‘just try’ to catch the next one. Those two words and the belief behind them have stuck with me ever since. I regularly used them on Amelia and continued to tell her from the very day Megan and myself first found her on the floor of her apartment, broken and bruised. But it’s not until you’re put in your own brutal position that you realise how fucking hard ‘just trying’ really is. And for a while now that belief I had disintegrated, making me lose all faith. I don’t talk about my life in another country and the blood that’s been left on my hands. I don’t speak of the fact that since my return, I see a fucking therapist in secret because I suffer from night terrors and panic attacks at the slightest trigger. I don’t feel like a trier anymore: I feel like a failure and a total hypocrite when I say those two words to others.
“Sometimes people have to go through life, gain scars and deal with a damaged heart in order to learn who they truly are. Once you’re down, the only way back up is to just try and rise.”
She runs her finger up and down my arm, and a little smile graces her lips. “Your playboy heart is showing a rather affectionate side.”
“My grandfather taught me the means of a balanced heart when it comes to a woman. He said that there was the popular saying of ‘the way into a man’s heart is with food’, but that the way into a woman’s was with sweet words and tender loving care. God rest his soul.” I smile. Pops was a good man with even better values. How he put up with my Gran all those years though is beyond me. She’s as delinquent as they come.
“Sounds like he was a good man.”
“He was. It was what he said out of earshot of my Gran that had me grinning the first time I heard it though.”
“Which was?”
“That if a woman is having a rough day, you need to make sure you give her an even rougher night. Naturally, I’ve taken those words on board after just giving you a thorough roasting.” I smirk.
“I couldn’t agree more. Although, I wasn’t having a bad day.”
I give her arse a squeeze. “Liar.”
“I’m serious, that was nothing.”
“Well if that little outburst when I arrived was nothing and you not going all batshit crazy on me, then I really am in fucking trouble.”
Her beautiful giggle hits my ear as she pushes me onto my back to straddle me, coming in for a kiss before kissing a path down my chest, circling her tongue over my pierced nipple. I’m hard again instantly, my pulse rising as my hands glide up her thighs and under her dress before I give her arse another little squeeze. “You're starting to become my new addiction, Raven Bird.”
“You are already mine,” she murmurs.
I untie the elastic from her hair and run my fingers through it, letting the locks spill around her shoulders and onto my chest. There is so much I want to do with this woman. I want to take her out, show her off as mine. I want to spend time with her at the beach and if possible get her in the water. I want to make her laugh continually and let her heart run free and full of light. Yet, on the other hand, I want to keep her all to myself—just us, no other involvement. My beautiful little secret. My Girlfriend. “Will you go out with me?”