by Dani René
I want to wrap myself around his body, inside his very soul. To connect myself to him so the pain eases. So that she doesn’t come back.
“I did come here to fuck you, to drive into you, and make you cry out my name, but before we get there, we’re going to talk.” He leans in farther, pressing his soft lips to the nape of my neck in a featherlight kiss. My skin tingles at the contact, making me dizzy with an ache deep in my belly. “Did you like that, Vixen?” he questions against the sensitive skin.
“Maybe,” I tease, but when he steps back suddenly, I see questions upon questions swimming in his gaze.
“Is this for me?” He grabs a bottle, handing me the other, and I nod. “Let’s sit.” The way he seems to take charge makes me feel safe, like he’d be able to cure me. To take away the demons plaguing me.
Once we’re seated in the living room, my legs curled under me and my bottle in hand, I watch him intently. The air in the room is thick with tension, but he tries to hide it.
It’s strange how people’s eyes hold so much. They think they’ve got a stoic expression, but their gaze speaks volumes. It shouts and screams at me. It reminds me of a day when I finally realized that what you see on the outside is not what’s hidden beneath.
“Tell me, Vixen? What is it that hides beneath that pristine exterior?”
Turning my attention to Brax, I watch him for a moment before sipping my beer. I never used to enjoy the taste, but slowly, I’ve grown to love it, and somehow, this seems to be getting me through.
“I’m a girl from a broken home. I’ve been on my own for years. There’s not much to me, Braxton. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. And do you know what they say about curiosity and the cat?” I quirk my mouth.
His eyes crease at the sides when a breathtaking smile plays on his full mouth. His lower lip is more prominent than the top, but they’re incredible. Feeling them on my body is like detonating a bomb — explosive.
Don’t get attached.
“Fuck,” I bite out in frustration. Pushing off the sofa, I place the bottle on the table and walk over to the window. The city below twinkles in the dark, but I know in that gloominess lies secrets—dark secrets. Vile and disgusting things people do that make me shudder.
I feel him before he reaches me, as if we’re magnetized. Soft, warm hands grip my shoulders; it’s not a commanding hold, rather a reassuring one.
Something inside me stills, waiting for him to make the next move.
You see, I’m trained now. I’m no longer a helpless little girl. So, if I’m ever threatened, I know how to defend myself. “I have so many questions for you, Vixen, but the first one is the most important. Why do you push me away?” The question fans over my heated skin. It prickles with yearning, with desire, with need for him, but I don’t let him see my resolve, my submission. My body is still, my gaze focused on the lights that hide the immoral acts that happen below me.
“Because it’s easier.” The raspy tone in my answer is evidence of his effect on me. It’s clear that my feelings for this man may be my downfall.
Even though I ache for him to be my salvation, I don’t know for sure if he’ll save me.
“That’s not an answer. You need to be honest with me,” he implores, his tone ragged and gruff in my ear, sending more heat skittering over my fevered skin.
“And what makes you think I’m going to be honest with you, Braxton? My life isn’t all fucking sunshine and rainbows.”
“I didn’t say it was. Mine is far from that. I’m not expecting you to tell me everything tonight, but if this” — he spins me around and gestures between us — “is going to work, you’ll need to talk to me. You’ll need to open up and let me in at some point because I’m not going to run away.”
“Braxton, please, just stop. Don’t ask me something you don’t need or want the answers to.” Pushing away from him, I stalk into the kitchen and grab another beer.
“Jesus, Tia, let me in!” His growl is right behind me, and when I pivot, his body is close. Too close.
“Get out!” My words echo around us, but he doesn’t listen. Gripping my hips in a viselike hold, he lifts me against his body and walks us backward until my body is flush with the fridge. I’m pinned between his solid torso and the cool metal on my back.
“I will not leave you. You want to fight. Let’s fight. Come on, slap me, curse me, do what you want, but I’m not letting you go.” The low, dangerous tone of his voice has my body pulsing with animalistic need. “You can’t do it, can you? Come on, Vixen,” he taunts, “you want me to hurt you? I’ll give you the best angry fuck you’ve ever had, and after that, you’ll answer every goddamn question.”
Without another word, he reaches for my jeans and unbuttons them, shoving them down my legs. His fingers tug the skimpy material of my thong, ripping it from my body. A gasp falls from my lips, and he gifts me a sexy smirk. “Brax,” I whimper, his name a moan, a prayer.
He doesn’t respond with words, and when I feel him impale me, I let out a mewl so soft and tender my body shudders. “That’s right, Vixen, you want to claw me, scratch me? Fucking do it. Because the only way I’ll hurt you is by fucking you raw.”
Braxton
The Past
My growl shudders through her slim frame as she trembles at my words. The slick heat taunts me as I slide into her body. It’s incredible. Long, manicured nails dig into my shoulders, just as I asked, as I commanded her to do. I’ve been gentle when we’ve been together, but today, that’s out the window.
I plunge into her tightness. “You” — thrust — “feel” — thrust — “this?” Her head bobs as she tries to nod. “This is me fucking you.” My hips slam her against the fridge violently. This isn’t sweet lovemaking; this isn’t even fucking; this is basal, a primal connection.
Her piercing blue orbs pin me with a heated glare. Hatred, anger, venom swirl like a maelstrom, and I don’t care because I know those emotions aren’t for me. She’s fighting something, warring against her past, which I’m about to drive right out of her with my dick buried deep in her tight little cunt.
“Oh, God!” she cries out, and I know she’s tumbling into the abyss. Her pussy clamps down on my cock, and I feel her arousal soaking me. My body trembles, and my orgasm skitters down my spine, my grip on her fierce, and I realize I’m probably bruising her, but I can’t stop.
Our bodies find euphoria together as I grunt one final time before emptying myself inside her. “Jesus, Tia, you’ll kill me,” I murmur against her neck. Her languid body molds to me, and her arms twine around my neck, pulling me closer as if I’m her lifeline and she’s washed away at sea. “Is that what you wanted, baby? To be fucked, rough and hard?” I question, placing a tender kiss on her lips.
“I just want to forget, and you keep asking me to remember.”
Her confession stills me, and her ice-blue eyes seem to melt. “I want you to trust me.”
Shaking her head, she lowers her legs. Her feet touch the floor, and she’s already letting me go. As soon as our bodies are apart, the cold freezes me. Tucking myself back into my jeans, I zip them up and regard her as she tugs on her jeans, leaving her ripped panties on the floor. “Trust isn’t something easily found in my world.”
“Is that why you were at the club tonight? Did you go there to find someone else?”
A wry laugh falls from her plump lips. She lifts the bottle to them, taking a long gulp of the alcohol I’m guessing she’s using to calm herself.
“Come on, Tia, do you want me here or not?” Nearing her, I reach out, half expecting her to pull away, but when she stills and allows me to touch her, the ache in my chest eases somewhat. Meeting those intense eyes of hers always sends me reeling, and when I cup her face in my hands, I hold her steady so she has to meet my gaze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been at work, and I came straight here. Perhaps you’re seeing me because you’re obsessed with me?” she quips, leaving me utterly confused because I’m sure i
t was her in the club tonight. “And yes, I do want you here, but I need your patience. I need you to let this go and stop pushing. Stop forcing me.” There’s rabid emotion behind her words, almost a feral growl. She’s adamant, so I nod. If I can get her to trust me first, she’ll open up. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Fine, no more questions. For now,” I warn her. “But let’s get one thing clear. I’m not letting this go. When you’re ready, I’m here.” My words are sincere, and I hope she can see the honesty in my eyes. Because nothing I can say will change her mind right now, so I’ll bide my time.
It’s been a few hours, and I’m still lying wide awake. Sleep evades as it used to so many times before. When I first found my parents, even when I was still in the army, things I saw used to leave my mind racing a million miles a minute.
That’s why I never stay the night with any woman. Not that there have been many, but as soon as it’s done, I leave. I walk out with no regrets. The idea of having them see what kind of tormented man I am doesn’t bode well. So, I pull on my clothes and leave. But with her, Tia, I want to stay. I don’t want to leave her alone.
Glancing to the side, I watch her in the dim light of the full moon. Her features glow beautifully. She looks like an angel. I wonder what dark secrets she hides behind those pretty blue eyes.
Her light colored orbs, mixed with her dark skin, are alluring. A beauty like no other I’ve seen, and I wonder about her parents, her heritage. I find myself wanting to know her more intimately than just the sex we’ve had.
I want to know if she’d take me home to meet said parents. If her father would hate me, and her mother would think I’m good for her. I am. I’m good for her, if only she would see it.
“Watching me sleep is creepy, you know,” she says sleepily. Her voice is raspy and sexy. Her eyes flutter open, and she regards me with a small smile on her full lips.
“It’s the only time I get to really see you,” I respond, my voice low. I scoot deeper into the bed and tug her onto my chest. Her body is warm; her skin feels like silk, smooth and soft.
“Why do you want to get inside my mind so much, Braxton? What if you find something you don’t like?” She lifts her head and watches me.
“Tia, I’m not the easiest person to be with. I have ghosts and demons that haunt me on a daily basis. But, if you asked me anything, I’d be honest with you. If you didn’t like it, I’d just show you other ways you could like me. A relationship is give and take. I just want to know the woman who seems so intent on hiding herself. I want to learn what makes you tick, what makes you fly apart, and what makes you want to hold on instead of letting go. You seem very intent on running, but I’m determined to catch you.”
She giggles, snuggling farther into my arms. Her finger traces slow circles on my chest, trailing its way down my torso and under the sheet. Her hand grips my hardening cock, and I let out a low, hungry growl. “How about I do this?” She moves down the bed, the sheet is gone, and her mouth engulfs the tip of my shaft.
Warm and wet, her lips wrap around me, swallowing me into her throat. Every. Fucking. Inch. I grip the sheet below, my knuckles white as I nearly tear the material when she hums. Lifting her head, she watches me. Our eyes lock, and her mouth pops off. “My mother is dead,” she informs, once again sucking me into her mouth. “My father should be dead.” She continues her story between giving me the best blowjob I’ve ever had and telling me about her family. “I grew up around a lot of hatred.” My concentration slips, and my eyes flutter closed. If this is her way of telling me her story, it’s not going to work.
Sitting up, I reach for her, pulling her off my now solid dick. She lets out a sexy yelp as I position her above me. Her heat slowly envelops me as she slides down my shaft. “My parents are both dead, killed by a monster,” I tell her as I thrust my hips up into her tight body. “I found them when I got home from my deployment.” I drive deeper, hitting that spot I know drives her crazy. She’s clawing at my chest, but I don’t care. “I’ve made it my life’s mission to find the fucker who did it,” I bite out, all the while her body tightens around me. “And I’m going to rip him apart.” My hips buck, faster and faster. Her breathing is ragged as she whimpers. Tears roll down her cheeks as I fuck her mercilessly.
“Braxton,” she cries out my name as her body convulses.
“That’s my Vixen,” I coo as I join her in bliss. My release shudders through me at an alarming pace, and my grip on her hips will leave a mark, but I don’t care because I want this woman, with everything I am.
Tia
The Present
“Did he tell you he loves you?” she asks, and I shake my head quickly. We’ve never spoken those words to each other; it’s been an unspoken truth. Those are the best. Quiet moments with Braxton calm me. They make me feel alive and real, and most importantly, normal. “Then you should tell him. Take the first step. Perhaps you should tell him about our sessions? About your prognosis, just for him to understand.”
“No, I can’t tell him. He can’t know how fucked up I am. I’ll lose him.” My confession startles me. I’ve never been scared of losing someone. My feelings have never been an issue for me. But Braxton seems to have cracked my shell. As scary as that is, I want him. He’s burrowed himself inside me, and I know I’m falling. Or have I already fallen? I can’t remember. I know he’s mine. I’m his.
“I think you should talk to him. If you want this long term, you’ll need him to understand you.” She’s right. She’s always right. But how do you tell someone you’re in love with them?
“And if I want this long term, I don’t want him disappearing because I’m crazy. Because I’m broken. Why would he want someone with fragments of her old self? Someone who sometimes can’t even remember where she was last night?” Taking a steadying breath, I try to envision what it would feel like if Braxton walked away and left me. What would I do? “I can’t even give him children. Do you know that? I’m no longer a woman. I can’t bear children after what they did to me,” I continue harshly, hatred dripping like acid from my lips, burning me as I spew the words. “My father made sure no man would ever love me.”
“I know he hurt you, Tia,” she coos, but it only angers me further.
“You don’t fucking know anything,” I bite out, and she flinches. “He fucking ripped me apart. My body is not whole. My heart is not whole. And my mind” — I let out a dark chuckle — “well, you know what my mind is like.” My grip on the chair tightens, and I feel my nails digging into the smooth, faux leather.
“Tell me.” She sets the notebook on the small table beside her.
“What?”
“Everything, I want to hear everything. I won’t note it. I want to look at you while you relive it. Let me experience it with you,” she affirms with a nod of her head, and my mouth falls open.
“No.”
“Tia, he made you believe what happened to you was your fault. How did he do that?” She tips her head to the side and watches me intently like I’m some kind of animal in a cage.
“He . . .” My words taper off as I try to figure out how the fuck I’m meant to explain it to her. Can I voice the words? “When my mother was killed—” Pain slices at my heart, but I take a deep breath and continue. “I mean,” I blink away the tears that burn my eyes. “After she was killed…” I take a long inhale, hold it, then exhale. “He told me my sister needed to go away . . . to school . . . That I’d be the woman of the house, and it came with responsibility.”
“So, you played mom and wife to him?” Her tone is angry and incredulous, but there’s no other way to explain it. She’s right. As wrong as it is, that’s what I was. I was only thirteen. Yes, deep down, I knew it was wrong, but with the drugs he pumped into me, I had no choice. I was compliant. Just like he wanted.
“Yes,” I croak. My throat is about to close and suffocate me. “He gave me a drink every day. It was a clear liquid. Strong and harsh on my young throat, but he told me it was good for me.
”
“Do you know what it was?”
“I didn’t at the time. When I turned eighteen, I escaped and started researching. I found out it was Scopolamine. It’s a drug used in Colombia similar to the well-known Rohypnol. Of course, my father had an array of these at his disposal. What Scopolamine does is wear the user down, leaving you with memory loss and sleepiness. You’re not able to . . .” I shut my eyes so tight I see white behind the lids as memories assault me. Not real ones though, just flashes, the pain and agony smarting my body.
“You’re not able to what, Tia?”
“Not able to fight someone off.” I open my eyes to regard her again as the truth falls from my lips. Her mouth gapes in a loud gasp that seems to echo through the room.
“So, he raped you repeatedly.” Her whispered realization has me nodding. “In your mind, it was wrong, but you had no way of doing anything.” Again, I assent my agreement in her deductions.
“I was just a girl.”
“And his friends, colleagues?”
“They joined in most times. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t have anyone I could talk to or ask for help. It was me against him. His power and money spread far in our town. They were strong, cartel, leading the human trafficking rings in the city I grew up in. I didn’t have a choice but to wait, to bide my time until I could fight back.”
“When you were eighteen.”
I nod. “Yes. I ran, packed what I could, stole some money from the safe, and made sure I couldn’t be found.” My voice is so small, so pained, when I look at her, I see it in her eyes, sadness and compassion.
“You’re safe now, Tia.” She smiles; it’s small but filled with a pity that chokes me.
I shake my head quickly, making myself dizzy with the movement. “I’m never safe. Not until he’s dead.”
The ding of the clock tells us my time is up for today, so I rise and grab my jacket. Shrugging it on, I make my way to the door. Stifling sadness wraps its claws around my heart as I twist the handle.