How long before I had to run?
How long before he got tired of me?
He called you his old lady!
The voice in my head tried to make me see reason, but all I could see was my mother. Crying in her room after Steele left. After Freeway left. After Uncle Stephen left.
They all left her.
And then she left me.
King kissed my shoulder as he thrust his fingers in and out of me while his thumb circled my clit. I tipped my head back against his shoulder and let myself feel. Let myself enjoy what he was willing to give for as long as he wanted me.
His hands became rougher as he pinched and pulled at my nipple. My breathing quickened as he fucked me with his fingers. I reached up and put my hand on the back of his head as his lips moved along my throat.
“Come for me, baby. Let go and give me what I want.”
I didn’t want to give in. I wanted to be stubborn, wanted to hold out and make him work harder, but he was correct in hisassessment earlier. He had full control of my body, and when he commanded me to come on his hand, to let go of my tenuous resolve, I was powerless to stop it.
My hand grabbed a fistful of his hair as I dug my fingernails of the other hand into his arm. My body tightened, and lightning shot through my insides. King lifted me just enough so that only the tips of my toes touched the bottom of the tub, and the orgasm washed over me as I screamed out his name.
“Fuck, I love making you come. I was a goddamn fool for waiting so fucking long for this.”
His words were like ice through my veins. I told myself they were meant to be hot. They were meant to soothe me, and tell me how long he’d wanted me, but all they did was remind me of how long he had pushed me away. Until Steele was dead. Then he pounced.
Wait, that wasn’t true. He’d pounced one other time. The first time he kissed me. When Jingles had dragged me to the clubhouse and King pulled me into his arms and kissed me in front of everyone.
I should have been happy. I should have basked in the fact that he finally wanted me. But he didn’t, not really.
Because nothing had changed.
King set me on my feet. He grabbed my hands and placed them on the shower wall, crowding my body. His hands roamed over my hips and ass, and he kissed my back and shoulders.
He kicked my feet apart, and I let him. I wanted him to take me again, and I hated myself for it. I should be stronger. I should have held out longer.
Because nothing had changed.
And nothing would change.
When I felt him at my entrance, I should have said no. I should have turned around and told him to leave. But I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him right where he was.
And when he slid his long, thick cock inside me, I moaned like the whore I was. But at least now, I was his whore.
Just like my mother.
His hands covered mine, and his lips found my neck as his hips rolled into me over and over. I’d seen the marks on my neck. The marks he left on me. His mark. His brand.
It might be the only one I ever got, but I would wear it with fucking pride. At least, that was what the others would see. They wouldn’t see the girl inside. The one who hated herself for letting him use me.
I came off as this independent woman who had her shit together.
When really, I was just a little girl who missed her mom. Someone who never had a dad to teach her what a healthy relationship was. The closest I’d ever come was Uncle Stephen.
And even he left us.
I loved my mother dearly; she’d been my best friend. But I’d become everything I hated about her. I’d allowed myself to be swayed by a man who would never love me the way I wanted to be loved.
He said he loved me. And maybe in his own way he did.
