Chapter 22 #2
His hips snap forward, and I’m in fucking heaven. Ryell groans and curses, saying filthy things while he fucks my face. Spit leaks down my chin, making a mess of me.
“Take all my dick, baby boy,” he grits out. I peek up through tear drenched eyes, and our gazes lock, fire dancing in his stare. “So fucking beautiful with a mouth full of my dick. Fuuuuuuuck, such a good boy.”
A warm feeling flows through me that I’m good for my Daddy. I suck him harder, hollowing my cheeks and dragging my tongue on the underside of his shaft to get more of those compliments from him.
He growls as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. I watch as he unravels, pleasure evident in his expression. My hips hump into the air, needing some friction against my now-hard shaft. But I’m not worried about my impending release. I want Ryell to flood my mouth with his seed.
His fingers in my hair tighten as he pumps furiously, and with a roar, he unloads down my throat. His warm, salty essence fills me, and I swallow greedily.
I continue to suck on his softening cock, pulling every last drop of cum from him.
When he’s given me all he has, he drags out of my mouth, then rolls beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
I turn to him, licking my lips so I don’t waste a drop of his nut. “You okay?” I ask.
Ryell smiles, thumbing over the side of my mouth and collecting some of his cum that I missed. He pushes his thumb between my lips, and I suck on it, humming as I swallow.
He sighs as he drops his hand. “I’m okay, baby boy.” With a grunt, he sits up and stretches. “Come on, let me feed you.”
Ryell grabs me some clothes and helps me get dressed. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper when he slides the shirt over my head.
His smile makes my breath catch in my throat, like he enjoys taking care of me. “You’re welcome, boy. I got all the food you wanted from your grocery list. I’ll cook you dinner.”
We walk downstairs, and Ryell sits me at the table.
I’m surprised he brought me down here. When he got me food yesterday, he cuffed me and left me in his room. Maybe because he knows I can’t get away? Or maybe he trusts I won’t? I hope it’s the latter.
Ryell bustles about the kitchen, getting pots, utensils, and ingredients for dinner. “A one-pot meal would be better so we can sit and talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, thrilled that we can talk more.
He puts all the ingredients in the pot and turns it on medium heat, then he comes over to the table. After pulling me to my feet, he plops in the chair I just occupied, then pulls me onto his lap. I smile as I tuck myself close to him.
“Baby boy?” Ryell says, and I make a noise of acknowledgment. “What happened last night when you cried? Is it because you’re here with me?”
I lean back and shake my head while I audibly say, “No. I…I like being here. It’s probably stupid, seeing as how this all started, but I do.
You pay attention to me…after…those few days.
” I’m both sad and glad that Ryell doesn’t apologize or make excuses for what he did.
“It’s the polar opposite of what my life was like when I was younger. ”
“Tell me.” He prods gently.
I sigh and lay my head on his shoulder, not wanting to see him while I bare my soul. “I told you I was adopted?”
“Yeah. We’re both orphans.”
I look up at him. “You are?”
He nods. “I’ll tell you about it when I hear why you were so upset last night.”
Blowing out a long breath, I say, “I was given up when I was three. I have siblings, six of them last I checked, but I have no interest in finding them. I don’t want to be a part of that family, you know?
” Ryell nods. “Anyway, I went from a house full of kids, where I’m sure I got all kinds of attention and had someone around constantly to… not.”
“Why did your birth parents give you up?” Ryell asks.
I shrug. “I think because they had too many mouths to feed. I never asked when I was old enough to wonder. I just know that I wasn’t wanted and ended up in foster care.
I bounced around from home to home for about two years, not staying anywhere for more than a month.
I learned to live out of the garbage bags I was given.
“Then I was placed with the people that kept me until I was seventeen. They adopted me when I was five. I thought, since they were going to be my parents, they would love me, and we would have the happy home that I saw on movies. But they didn’t.
They were cold, distant. They used me as a prop for dinner parties, photos, and any social setting you could think of.
They only showed me attention when other people were around, but I craved it.
For years, I begged them to talk to me, play with me, love me.
After a while, they got tired of telling me no or to go away, so they started ignoring me.
I would talk and talk and talk, and they wouldn’t pay me any mind.
They’d pretend I wasn’t there. It was…hard. ”
Ryell’s grip tightens around me, and I appreciate the comfort.
“After about ten years,” I say, “I stopped trying. I could see the relief on their faces when I would enter and exit a room without a word to them. When I was sixteen, I heard them discussing how they regretted adopting a child and would have given me back after the first year if they didn’t think it would make them look bad to their friends.
They kept me so they could maintain their social standing. ”
“I’m sorry, baby boy. I’m here now. I won’t do that to you again,” Ryell says and kisses my forehead.
“Promise?” I beg, gripping the front his shirt. I need him to tell me I have nothing to worry about, that he would never ignore me, that he will never make me feel invisible again.
He plants another kiss on my forehead. “I promise, baby boy.”
I nod and finish up by saying, “When I was seventeen, they sat me down. I was surprised and wary, but I’m not going to lie, I was happy.
I thought they would want to start a relationship with me since I was in my senior year of high school, almost an adult.
I was wrong. They told me that as soon as I came of age, they were no longer responsible for me and would cut off all support.
I had two weeks of high school left, so I took off that night and spent that time on a classmate’s couch.
I went to the academy right after graduation, since they offered room and board. ”
“That’s terrible, baby boy. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Didn’t I?” I ask, looking up at him. “I wasn’t wanted by anyone, not my birth parents, not the people that took me in. Then you…you didn’t…” I stop talking and shake my head. “I haven’t had it easy. I’m just trying to find my stretch of happiness.”
“And I’ll give that to you.” He kisses me hard, and I relish it. I can’t help but believe him. The conviction in his touch, in his words, in this kiss…I believe him.
And I’m such a fucking fool for that.
Breaking the kiss, he pats my thigh, and I stand so he can stir the food. “Dinner is ready. Let’s eat on the back deck. It’s warm out.”
I help Ryell fix our plates and we head outside. It’s a nice evening, and I soak it up, setting my plate on the table so I can step from under the porch and get some sun rays on my skin.
“You’re not as pale,” Ryell says with a smile in his voice.
I turn around and give him a dry look. “It helps when I’m not locked in a dungeon.”
He barks a laugh. “It’s a basement, not a dungeon. A subtle difference in comfort, I think.”
I try to hide my smile, but I can’t. “You’re impossible.”
“Do you hate them?” he asks. He doesn’t need to elaborate.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “I’ve hated them since I was old enough to understand the emotion. I mean, who tells their kid, the one they were supposed to love, that they won’t take care of them just because they graduate from school?”
“They weren’t your parents,” he says with a shrug as he digs into his food. “And they didn’t deserve you.”
With a smile, I ask, “And you do?”
Ryell raises his eyes slowly, meeting my gaze straight on. “Yeah, Lane. I do. Just like you deserve me. Like I said, we’re both orphans. But at least I had my brother.”
“Your parents gave you and your brother up?”
“Jacob,” he says, and I nod, storing that information away.
It’s off topic, but I say, “You said he was older?”
Ryell hums. “He’s two years older than me.”
“How old are you?” I interrupt.
Ryell smiles. “Thirty-eight. And you’re thirty-two.”
“Stalker,” I murmur with a grin.
“A little.” He slides food into his mouth. After he chews and swallows, he says, “To answer your question, no, my parents didn’t give us up. My father killed my mother and tried to strangle Jacob, so I killed our father.”
I gape at him, not expecting that. “Wha…what happened?”
He sets his fork down and leans back in his chair.
“My dad probably never wanted to be a dad. He was a fucking asshole, abusive and an alcoholic. He used to beat my mom, and she would keep taking him back. He didn’t pay us much attention one way or another.
My mom did, though. She was nice. She had a pretty voice. I loved her, I think.”
I nod, hanging on to his every word. “What happened to her?”
“Dad shot her up with heroin mixed with battery acid.”
I gasp. “What the fuck? Why? He didn’t go to prison?”
He shrugs. “Can’t say why he did it. He was an asshole.
He could have been a psychopath, but he’d never seen a therapist or got a diagnosis.
He didn’t go to prison because he told the cops she overdosed, and they believed it, even though she had no history of drug use.
He had her body cremated so no one could really prove it. ”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“I’m sorry, Ry.”
He smiles and nods. “Thanks. We lived with Dad for another two years, with him using Jacob as a punching bag. Jacob hit back, but he knew he’d end our father if he went too far, so he never did much more than get our dad off him.
Jacob doesn’t like killing. He doesn’t like the blood or the mess of it, so he keeps his cool as much as possible because if he snaps, he won’t come back to himself until he knocks someone’s head off their shoulders. Literally.”
I swallow hard and nod. I might not fear Ryell will kill me right now since he hasn’t physically hurt me, but I haven’t met Jacob and don’t know what he’s capable of.
“When I was fifteen,” he says, “I came home from school and heard Jacob and my dad fighting. I mean, that wasn’t unusual, so I didn’t rush to see what was going on.
But when I got inside, I saw Dad on top of Jacob, his hands locked around my brother’s throat.
And Jacob wasn’t moving. I didn’t think; I just rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, came back, and stabbed my dad in the neck.
He let go of Jacob to try to stem the bleeding, but he couldn’t.
I got him right in the carotid. Even if there was a doctor a few feet away, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Jacob came to a few seconds later and gave me shit because I got blood on him. ”
I sit there and play with my food, trying to absorb what he just said.
Ryell murdered his dad. His own father. But his father also killed his mother and tried to strangle his brother.
He saved his brother from the same fate his mother suffered, and what would have happened to Ryell himself if he didn’t stop his dad.
“Were you okay? After?” I ask, searching his eyes.
Ryell stares at me in shock. “After I killed my dad? You’re asking if I was okay after a murder?”
I nod, though my stomach churns. He is a murderer, and he’s not absolved of that, but he was defending his family. I can’t fault him for trying to keep his father from offing his brother. “It had to be hard. He was your dad.”
“He was a cunt,” he says, and I bark an unexpected laugh at his words. “He was. He wasn’t a good person. After I killed him, we buried him in the woods about a mile from our house where no one ever went, not even hunters. He’ll never be found.”
“What happened to you and your brother after that? You didn’t have parents. Did you get taken by foster care?”
Ryell looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Of course not. We pretended nothing happened and kept up our normal lives until Jacob turned eighteen. Jacob got a job so we could pay the bills, and he went to a state school so I could stay in his care after he graduated. We reported Dad missing when Jacob turned eighteen, and a few years after not locating him, he was declared dead. That’s one of the main reasons we moved.
We didn’t want to be anywhere near his corpse. ”
“Where are you originally from?” I don’t detect an accent, but he also doesn’t sound like a native Californian.
“Kentucky,” he answers with a frown marring his face. “And I’ll never step foot in that state again.”
I hum. I’ve heard nothing good about Kentucky. If I ever find myself assigned there, I’ll put in my notice.
If I ever get another assignment.
Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “I understand why you killed your dad. He killed your mother and almost did the same to your brother.” Blowing out a long breath, I say, “Some people deserve to die.”
An evil, deadly glint enters his gaze as he squeezes my hand in return. “Yeah, they do.”