I scoot off my cushion and move closer. “Esther, right?”
“Yeah.” She shrinks down in her seat.
“It’s a pretty name,” I tell her.
She scoffs. “You don’t have to be patronizing.” She slams the book between us. “I know it’s an old lady’s name.”
I eye her and all her thirteen-year-old angst. I remember when I was that age. My mom…I inhale, cutting off that train of thought. “It’s biblical. Your dad’s a preacher. It makes sense.”
Her blue eyes widen. “Thank you! Now if the jerks at my school could see that. I mean, hello, my brother’s name is Abel, for Christ sakes.”
“My name is biblical, too. Well, sort of. Not really, but kinda,” I stammer, realizing, I’m not good at making small talk. “My mom lived by this quote from the book of Matthew. For truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed—”
“You will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you,” she finishes.
I smile at her, my gaze trailing over towards the guys. Noah’s posture is rigid, and Abel has a goofy grin on his face. My bet is Noah is counting down the seconds until we get out of here.
“It’s not the same in every translation, but yeah, that’s me, Truly.”
Esther extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, Truly.”
After spending the rest of the afternoon in the water, we head back to our rooms to clean up for dinner. I step into the velvet wrap dress I’d bought on impulse from an Instagram boutique and twist in the mirror. My braids are piled high on my head, my make-up is soft and natural, and the dress fits perfectly. It’s a bit sexier than I’d like, but it’s either this or a pair of jean shorts, and I somehow doubt that would be welcomed at the table.
Noah steps out of the bathroom. His slacks hang open and his shirt is tossed over his shoulder. He pads towards me like a barefoot God, coming to earth to lay claim to the land. I stare at my feet, overwhelmed at his attention. His gaze sears my skin, and I shiver, not because I’m cold, but because of the intensity of my feelings for this man. This monster. How can I love him after everything? But I think I do.
I take an involuntary step back at the realization, but Noah’s there, like always, with his hands on my hips, pulling me closer. “You clean up nice, Little One.”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. “Not so bad yourself, Tedesco.” His mouth hovers over mine a second before he kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that’s cruel in its simplicity. A brief meeting of lips that’s filled with the promise of more. His breath washes over me, minty and sweet. I inhale his scent, wishing we could prolong this moment. I love this boy, and I want him to drown me in these kisses, but alas, he pulls away. Righting his pants and buttoning his shirt.
“We’re out of here, first thing.” He checks his reflection, running a finger through his floppy hair.
“Agreed.”
“And if I catch that dipshit, Abel, staring at your ass one more time, I’m going to break his fucking jaw.”
“Agreed.” I nod.
Noah takes my hand and leads me up to the main deck. The table is set and candles flicker. Noah’s mom and stepdad are the only ones at the table when we arrive. We sit and Noah’s hand rests possessively on my thigh. His mother eyes me with curiosity. “We didn’t really get to talk much before,” she says, lifting a glass of white wine to her lips. “How long have you two been together? I don’t recall ever seeing you at the house.”
“Only recently,” I respond.
“And he’s already following you around the country.” She tosses her head back in laughter, but it’s all for show. There’s no humor there, only theatrics, and it makes me feel like I’m three inches tall.
As if picking up on my mood, Noah drops a kiss on my forehead and shrugs. “When you know, you know.”
His mother sits up a little straighter, really assessing me for the first time since we arrived. Like she senses I’m more than just some girl he’s banging.
One by one, the rest of the party joins us. Abel plops down in the seat next to me, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. I lean over. “Dude, are you drunk?”
He grins. “Wasted. One of the deck guys slipped me a bottle of Jack.”
I roll my eyes as the staff brings out the first course. Reverend Jacob blesses the food and the conversation flows from one easy topic to the next. By the time we get to dessert, the talk turns to basketball.
“So, Noah, I hear you’re playing at Jameson next year?” the reverend asks.
Noah drags a spoonful of brownie through a glop of vanilla ice cream before responding. “Yes, sir.”
“Good program.” Jacob levels his gaze at us, a smirk stretched across his thin lips. “Not as good as the Longhorns, but I forgive you.”
“I mean, the Longhorns have a few weapons of their own this year. Maybe we’ll meet up in the postseason.” Noah chuckles, and his eyes twinkle with genuine enjoyment. As much as he hates being here, basketball talk always lightens his mood.
“Now, you’re talking.” The reverend lifts his glass and takes a tentative sip. “Abel played a little ball his freshman year of high school. Kid’s got raw talent, but he didn’t have the work ethic to go to the next level.”
Abel rolls his eyes. I can’t tell if the food has sobered him up or made it worse. “It’s not for everyone,” Noah says, taking another bite of his brownie covered with ice cream.
Abel lifts his hands like he couldn’t care less. “More like I’m not dumb enough to pursue it further,” he slurs.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noah’s jaw tenses, and his playful mood dissipates.
“Why would I put my body through that trauma for four years? When I graduate, I’ll have a six-figure job waiting for me.” Abel winks at me. I divert my eyes to my dessert, hoping like hell Noah didn’t catch it. “Two a day workouts? A curfew? No thanks.” He sways side to side in his chair, and I think the rest of the table is starting to catch on to what I knew as soon as he sat down.
“I’ve had a similar version of this conversation with him at least a hundred times,” Noah’s stepdad chimes in. “The boy is stubborn, like his dad.”
“I had a ball in my hand since I was old enough to walk, and my dad taught me the value of hard work,” Noah grits.
“Good man.” The reverend nods.
I can tell by the look on Noah’s stepdad’s face that he wants to say more, but he remembers that this is a business deal, and drudging up family history won’t help him secure the Montclaires as clients.
I poke at my dessert with my spoon, mentally counting down the seconds until we can leave this table. Abel leans into my side. “When you’re lonely next year because the superstar is too busy throwing balls through hoops, give me a call.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Noah tosses his spoon down and glares at Abel.
The idiot grins in response. I thought I lacked self-preservation skills, but this guy is clueless. “I’m just saying, you’re all ball is life; I can show her a good time.”
“That’s enough, Abel,” his mother warns.
“You wouldn’t even know what to do with her,” Noah retorts. His eyes go from whiskey to coffee, and I know that I need to take control of this situation before it gets any worse.
“Babe.” I grab his arm. “Let’s go.” We stand, and for a split second, I think we’re home free.
“Noah, a word.” His stepdad’s bitter tone cuts through the night air like an ax. His gaze lingers on the spot where my hand is connected to Noah’s arm. It feels like I’m a little kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar, even though I haven’t actually done anything wrong.
“Go to the room,” Noah barks at me. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” His shoulders straighten as he follows his stepdad up to the bunny pad.
“Well, that was awkward.” Abel chuckles. His mother tsks at him.
His father glares. “
Thank you for a lovely evening. We’ll be heading to bed now.”
One by one, the Montclaires retreat, leaving me alone with Noah’s mom. She doesn’t even bother looking at me when she speaks. “You’re nothing to him; just something he’s doing to piss us off. Don’t get too comfortable.”
My mouth drops open. It’s like she crawled into the deepest parts of my brain, picked apart my insecurities, and spoke them into existence. It’s the very thing I’ve been worried about from the beginning with Noah, and if his mom can see it, the person who knows him best in the world, what does it mean for our future?
Before I can formulate a response, a loud thud comes from the deck above where Noah and Richard went. A million scenarios flit through my head at once. Is he hurt? Did he hurt Richard? All I know for sure is that I need to get to him. I turn in that direction but pause on the first step. “You’re wrong, you know. He’s not with me to piss you off. He doesn’t care enough about your opinion to go that far.”
Her eyes narrow in my direction, but I don’t stick around for her response. I take the stairs two at a time, stopping at the top to hide from view. Richard’s back is to me, but I can hear everything they’re saying.
“I know you’ve got stars in your eyes, but pretty girls are a dime a dozen. Don’t fuck this deal up for me because you’re genetically predisposed to think with your dick.” His stepdad jabs a finger in his chest.
“Fuck you,” Noah seethes. “You aren’t half the man my father was.”
“The man who knocked up two young girls and then killed himself when he couldn’t handle the responsibility.”
I slap a hand over my mouth to hide the gasp. Devin never talked about his dad. I thought it was him being emotionally unavailable, but maybe it’s because it hurt too much.
Noah tries to shoulder past him, but Richard grabs him by the collar. “Listen here, you little shit. I don’t care if Abel tries to fuck that little whore of yours, I will not have you screw this up for me.” Noah pushes him. Richard raises his hand and it slices through the air, connecting with Noah’s cheek with so much force, I can feel it from across the room.
This time I can’t contain my gasp. I’m up from my hiding spot in an instant. “Don’t touch him!” I yell.
Richard turns to me and snarls. “Go back downstairs, you don’t belong here.”
Noah sandwiches himself between us. “Take another step towards her and I’ll throw you overboard.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“I’m not the same kid you used to use as your punching bag.” Both men eye each other, chests heaving, anger polluting the air around us. I cup Noah’s face. “Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow we’re getting the fuck out of here.” He nods reluctantly and follows me down the stairs without giving his stepdad a spare glance.
I fall into bed with a heavy heart. Dinner was brutal. I can’t help but feel sorry for Noah. The more of his scars I see, the more I understand him. There’s no way you can grow up with a man like Richard and not be a little psycho. I shower, wash off the remaining haze of the day, and change into my PJs
A calloused hand slaps over my mouth. “Quiet,” Noah grunts, his dark eyes peering down at me. I nod as he lowers his hand, and I do my best to quiet my frantic heart.
“I need it rough,” is all he says. His eyes are crazy and blood trickles from the corner of his lip
I lift my hand to cup his face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He shakes his head, his hands wrapping around my throat like ivy. “I need you.”
Everything in me is screaming run. I like when he’s rough, but this feels different. Almost like that night in the treehouse, but I find myself melting into him anyway. He’s hurting, physically, and my guess is emotionally too. If I can give him some peace, I want to.
His thumb caresses my throat and I lean into his touch. Into the pressure, the bite of pain. My body buzzes, struggling for air, yet his grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it gets harsher. My vision clouds at the edges. My fingertips dig into his hands. My legs sway. Just when I think I’m about to fall, he releases me, his mouth crashing onto mine as I suck in a breath. His kiss is brutal. His tongue thrusts into my mouth desperately, his hands planted on either side of my head. Our kiss is equal parts rough and needy. I cling to him as if he is the air he’s just deprived me of.
“Run,” he murmurs against my lips.
I blink up at him. Then, a split second later, I bolt, trying in vain to reach the bathroom. Noah is a world class athlete. He can outrun and overpower me without breaking a sweat, but he lets me almost get there. My hand touches the cool metal knob before I’m yanked back by my hair. “Not fast enough.”
“Let me go,” I grit, letting his depravity seep into every crevice of my body until it becomes my own. My heart races. The space between my legs throbs at his harsh touch. He yanks my head back, his free hand plunges into the front of my sleep shorts, and he groans when his fingers glide through my folds with ease.
“God, it’s like you were made for me.”
I turn, shocked by the tenderness of his words, but the moment is fleeting as I’m shoved into the door with so much force it slams closed. “On your knees.”
He fists my ponytail, dragging me to the ground so hard my knees hit the floor with a thud. Noah’s thumb traces my lips. I open for him, allowing him to insert the digit in my mouth. He presses it against my tongue. “You like being on your knees for me, don’t you, Tru?”
Wordlessly, I wrap my lips around his thumb sucking, showing him how much I like it. I’d never thought it would be something I’d be into—giving a blow job, certainly not after the way I’d been initiated, but here I am, in a dimly lit room with Noah’s parents across the hall, eager for the first briny taste.
Withdrawing his thumb from my lips, he makes quick work of his zipper, reaching inside his slacks just enough to free his cock. I bite my lip. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing Noah’s dick face to face. It’s as perfect as he is. Long, thick, corded. My mouth waters at the sight. Leaning in, I press a kiss to the tip, and I’m rewarded with a bead of pre-cum.
“Uh-uh,” Noah admonishes, taking my hair in his fist once more. I should have known it wouldn’t be a simple blow job. Not when he’s so wound up. He tugs hard, forcing my head back. “I’m in charge.”
He feeds me his cock, going deep, then shallow. I hollow my cheeks, creating a tight seal around his thick shaft as he loses himself in me.
Spit seeps from the sides of my mouth as his thrusts become more frantic, deeper. My nails dig into his thighs as he gags me. A few more thrusts, and he stills, spilling his seed into my mouth.
“Let me see,” he pants, yanking my face up towards him.
I obey, opening my mouth. His come spills down my chin. “Mine,” he says almost reverently.
I swallow what’s left on my tongue and nod. “Yours.”
The boat rocks gently from side to side as calloused fingers draw circles on my hips. Our limbs are tangled in the sheets. After Noah fucked my mouth, he ate my pussy until my whole body shook then fucked me from behind.
Boneless and sated, I curled into his strong arms and fell asleep. I’ve never felt safer, which is crazy, considering the man whose arms I’m cuddling in has hurt me more than anyone.
“What are you thinking about over there, Little One?” Noah asks, kissing me behind my ear. His arms tighten around me, like he’s afraid I’ll run. I should run, but I think he broke something in my brain that night in the treehouse, and now I’m just as fucked as he is.
“My scars.”
“Hmm?” His fingers trace the raised skin on my arm.
“The invisible ones. I wonder if my mother dying is the reason I let you do all the fucked-up shit I let you do?”
“But you like it, too,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, but why?”
“I don’t think you need a why. Some people just like kinky shit. There doesn’t have to be a deeper meaning or p
ast trauma behind it.”
“True,” I say. We are quiet for a beat as I allow myself to remember the night my mom died. “We fought because I was thirteen and selfish. She’d wanted to move back to Newton, and I wanted to stay in Chicago. I told her she was ruining my life and that I hated her. That I wouldn’t have any friends, and that I’d be miserable. The last thing I said to her was that I hated her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
A sob catches in my throat, but I force myself to continue. “She was texting me when the accident happened. She sent me a text, telling me to have faith and that it could move mountains if I let it. She hit send just before the collision. I still have the text. Sometimes I wish I could go back and not be such a selfish little brat. Maybe she’d still be here.”
“It isn’t your fault she died.”
“That’s what my dad says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
I lift my arm to show him the scar. “Nope.”
“And that’s why you like it when I’m rough with you? Because you think you deserve the pain?”
I nod, afraid to admit it out loud.
He’s quiet for a minute, then he grabs my hand and lifts it to his face, pressing my fingers into the scar on his chin. “The first time Richard hit me, I was ten years old. It was just before my dad died. I was raging out. I hated the whole world. I didn’t want to live with them. I wanted to live with Dad and Devin. He wouldn’t hear of it. Said I was ungrateful. Said he didn’t have to raise my dad’s bastard son, but he did. He punched me in my face so hard I fell backwards and clipped the corner of a glass table.”
I turn in his arms, my thumb tracing the faint red mark on his chin. “Before tonight, when was the last time he hit you?”
Noah turns and kisses my palm. “Graduation,” he says, and the confession hangs in the air like a poisonous gas. I struggle to suck in a breath, desperate to calm my raging emotions. “Soon, I’ll be at Jameson and I’ll be free. A full ride that has nothing to do with his money.”
Suddenly, I get why basketball is so important to him. It’s the key to his freedom. I process each little nugget of information. “I like pain because I feel like I deserve it. You like inflicting pain because it gives you power.”
Truly Page 19