Chapter 19
Newton
I”ve always been an advocate for free will. I”ve been hard-pressed to find a situation where I”d say that someone should be forced to do what they don”t want to do, but watching the pain on Brielle”s face when Beth refused to speak with her made me want to step in front of the woman before she could walk away and urge her to listen.
It wasn”t my place. Brielle might be staying in my bedroom out of fear, but I”m not her champion. It”s not my place to interfere with the issues between her and the other woman.
I know that Beth came from a small town in Texas that hasn”t been touched by all the bad things that happen to others around the world. Being abducted and held prisoner is a big deal to anyone, but possibly more so for Beth, considering the level of protection and distance she”s had from bad things.
I imagine that”s hard for Brielle to understand, simply because she was forged in a life of abuse and torture. They weren”t cast from the same mold, and that may be hard for Brielle to wrap her head around.
I pull her tighter even though her tears stopped long ago. She”s sleeping now. Although I”ve tried to close my eyes and let the darkness carry me into repose, it isn”t happening for me.
Kincaid wants me to get closer to her, and I know how easy that would be with the way she acted when I got back to the room today. She wasn”t happy to have spent most of the day alone. She wants me here with her. All it would take would be a few nudges in the right direction, and I”d have all her confessions. I could easily relay those back to Kincaid. It”s not that the man wants me to betray her trust. He just doesn”t want the vile creature that is Nathan Adair back out on the streets. He doesn”t think Brielle is evil, just that she”s protecting herself by not providing evidence against Adair. In doing so, other women he”s had abducted are continuously being hurt.
The problem is that I want to be closer to her. I like her in my arms. I like the fact that she wants me here with her.
I want her confessions to be because she trusts me with them not because I”ve done something to manipulate them out of her.
I spend hours holding her, listening to her breathing, before my eyes grow heavy. I don”t fight sleep the way I would if I were in bed with anyone else. Brielle isn”t a threat to me physically. My heart, on the other hand, isn”t safe with her. She”s too broken, too tortured by her past to ever be capable of truly caring for someone.
I shove away those thoughts. That is not what this is about. I”m not looking for anything like that, and I need to stop letting my mind wander in that direction.
My hand sticks to the filthy carpet when I try to scurry backward away from the imposing man.
”Leave him be, Aaron,” the woman says. ”Come back over here.”
The guy sneers at me as if a seven-year-old is some sort of competition to him.
It”s not me he has to worry about where she”s concerned. If anything, he should hate those needles she puts in her arms every day. Those are the real competition for everything else in her life. I learned long ago that my mother hated me. Kids at school have good moms, and I ended up with the one who often forgets she even has a son.
Movement in the corner catches my eye just as my mom falls back on the filthy mattress, her eyes locked on the ceiling as if the cracking sheetrock above her head holds all the answers she may have about life.
Sad brown eyes watch me from across the room, and my heart kicks up a few notches.
Instead of coming to me and swooping me up in her arms, the woman who promised me that I was safe simply watches everything unfold. She doesn”t block my view of my mother shaking violently on the bed. She doesn”t offer a napkin for the foam pooling in her mouth. She doesn”t try to stop the cussing man who darts from the room.
My mom”s shaking stops and the woman in the corner just stares.
I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing it”s all in my head. That woman did rescue me. She did protect me. She kept every promise she made.
I jerk awake, warm hands on my skin, and for a split second, I forget where I am.
Her eyes widen when I try to scramble away.
”You were having a nightmare.” Her voice calms me some, but I know from experience that my heart will race for a while as I attempt to escape the grasp the nightmare will continue to have on me.
”Sorry,” I murmur. ”I can”t control them.”
”None of us can,” she says, sadness in her voice borne from familiarity.
A second later, she”s hovering over me, her eyes locked on mine.
We didn”t turn on the light when we came in earlier. I was too focused on trying to get her to calm down, but the moon outside glowing through the curtains provides just enough light for me to see the intent in her eyes before she lowers her mouth down to mine.
I know better.
I know I should put a stop to this, but the nightmare has left me feeling broken, and less than a man. I”d use just about anything as a distraction right now.
Normally, after a bad dream, I head out back to the gym Cerberus has on the property, but she”s in a vulnerable state as well. The last thing I want is to cause her even more trauma.
The first kiss is tentative and slow, as if she”s trying to determine if I”m going to urge her away like I did before.
I groan into her mouth, the swipe of her tongue making my heart race for different reasons.
I lift my head, wanting more of her, my hand tangling in her hair. I resist the urge to grip a handful. I want to possess her, not frighten her.
She sucks in a deep breath through her nose when I wrap my free arm around her back and line her entire body up with mine.
I know she can feel how hard I am, but when her hands start to shake, I know that she”s also scared.
”I want you to want me,” I whisper when she pulls her face back far enough that she can look me in the eyes. ”I don”t want to do this if it”s because you feel like you have to. You owe me nothing, Brielle. I need you to understand that.”
She swallows, and I gear myself up for the rejection. I wouldn”t ever try to get a woman to change her mind. If it takes persuasion, it shouldn”t happen.
”I understand,” she says, her teeth immediately digging into her lower lip.
”You”re sure?”
She nods, and although it”s enough for me to take things further, I know with every cell in my body, that taking things all the way can”t happen. She”s had enough people taking from her, and I won”t be another man on that list. I don”t ever want to be compared to Nathan and Xan. I”d rather die a million painful deaths.
”I need you to tell me if you want me to stop.”
Her eyes dart away from mine, so I release her hair so I can urge her to look at me.
With my palm on her cheek, I wait until I know I have all her attention.
”You control this situation. I want to give. I don”t want to take.”
Her eyes search mine for a long time, and I wonder what she sees in me. I pray that it”s a good man, someone so different from the men she”s had in her life prior to me that it makes me unrecognizable. I don”t want an ounce of similarities.
”Okay,” she whispers.
It”s what I need to roll her to her back and press my lips to her neck. Her fingers tangle in my shirt, and I pull back long enough to pull the thing over my head and throw it to the floor.
Our lips meet once again, and she chases my mouth with hers when I change the angle. The need I feel coming off her is addictive, but I can”t get fully lost in it. I wouldn”t forgive myself if I missed a cue from her that she wants to stop.
I lick her neck, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone before moving lower. I watch her face, the way her mouth opens a little when I pull up her shirt. My hands skate over her warm skin, but the gooseflesh trailing along after them makes me look up at her.
”Still okay?”
She nods, swallowing, her hands running up my arms.
I press my lips to her lower belly, instantly becoming obsessed with the way her stomach sinks into itself. Her hands tangle in my hair, but she isn”t urging me away.
Pushing her shirt up to her chin, I kiss the swell of her breasts over the top of the cups of her bra before pulling one down and instantly wrapping my lips around her peaked nipple.
Her gasp rolls into a moan, and I swear my cock is leaking in my jeans.
“Still okay?” I ask, pulling back, once again, to look down at her.
”Feels good,” she whispers.
”Want more?”
She nods once again.
”I want to taste your pussy, Brielle.”
”Really?” she asks, disbelief tainting her tone.
”Yeah, baby, I do.”
She chews the inside of her lip before speaking.
”It”s really weird with all of these pauses and breaks.”
”Maybe,” I agree. ”But I”m not going to just take what I want. I need you to want it too.”
”And I have to say the words?” She shakes her head. ”That”s too strange for me.”
I take this into consideration.
”How about you don”t have to say the words, but I need you to tell me to stop.”
”I can do that.”
”It”s important to me that we don”t go any further than you want to.” I press a finger to her lips when she opens her mouth to argue. ”It”s about what you want and need. This isn”t about me.”
”If you don”t want to—”
”I want all of it, baby, but you”re driving tonight.”
She thinks for a moment, considering.
I”m not being exactly truthful. I know how far things will go tonight if she allows it, and even if she wants everything I could possibly give her, I know there are lines I can”t cross too soon.
Instead of using words because those seem hard for her, she reaches for the waistband of her leggings.
”Let me,” I tell her, shifting my weight so I can pull her sneakers from her feet first.
She pulls her hands back, locking them together and letting them settle on her lower stomach.
”Right here,” I tell her, moving her hands until they”re both on my skin.
Not only do I crave her touch, but I need to be able to tell when her mood shifts. I trust that she wants to tell me when she”s ready for me to stop, but her trauma and the abuse from her past may prevent her from actually doing it. I wouldn”t be able to handle it if she woke up tomorrow and regretted what we”re doing.
”Jesus, that”s pretty,” I praise when I tug down her leggings and panties at the same time, revealing that spot of heaven between her legs.
Her swollen clit peeks out, the tip of it glistening with her arousal. I swear my fucking mouth waters for a taste of it.
I keep my eyes locked on the center of her as I pull her clothing free and toss them onto the floor.
I kiss her knee, urging her leg up and to the side.
My tongue traces her inner thigh, but she grips my hair when I”m a few inches from her pussy.
I look up at her. ”Need me to stop?”
”I… this… are you going to bite me?”
”Do you want me to bite you?”
She swallows, and I can see the battle within herself. One part of her mind is telling her to look away, but she fights it. Jesus, this woman is amazing and strong. She”s a warrior, and that makes me want to be that much closer to her.
”I don”t want it to hurt.”
A slow smile creeps across my face. ”I promise it won”t hurt.”
Her grip on my hair loosens, but I don”t move a muscle until she releases me completely.
”Ready?” I ask, my tongue slipping out to moisten my lips. I become a little more obsessed when her eyes lock on my mouth. ”I need you to say it, Brielle.”
”I”m ready,” she pants.
”You”ll tell me if you want me to stop.”
”Promise.” The word is breathy, and I can tell by the way her fingers dig into my arm that she”s done with the talking.
The scent of her meets my nose, and I become ravenous, so hungry for her that I have to take a moment in an attempt to get myself under control.
She”s different from every other woman I”ve had, and I need to keep that in mind. I can”t get completely lost in her. It could be detrimental to both of us.
”If you don”t want to—oh God.”
Her tone changes the second I suck her clit into my mouth, trying to ignore the wave of goosebumps that swim on every inch of my body. My cock aches as I swipe my tongue up the center of her, the sounds she’s making instantly committed to memory.
I press my hips into the mattress, knowing there”s a very good chance I”ll blow my load in my fucking jeans before this is all said and done.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, but she”s pulling me toward her body rather than trying to shove me away.
The tangy sweetness of her coats my tongue, and I swallow it down before diving in for more.
”Beck,” she moans, and the sound of my name on her lips while she”s feeling so much pleasure has instantly become my favorite sound.
I”m one lucky bastard, I realize, when she begins to chant it over and over and over. She doesn”t stop until her muscles lock up and her pussy convulses against my tongue.
I stop when her hand falls lifelessly to the bed at her hip. I look up, the moon highlighting the pink in her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
I crawl up her body, my mouth pressing kisses to every inch of available skin before getting to her throat.
I know I should stop her when her hand runs down the front of my jeans. I have to pull back when she lifts her leg and locks it around the back of my thigh.
”That”s not happening tonight.”
I groan when she rolls her hips against me, the warmth of her pussy almost right where I need it.
”I want you to feel good,” she whispers, but her leg falls away.
”I do feel good,” I assure her.
Her lips form a flat line, so I try and kiss her disappointment away.
”Don”t pout.”
She rolls her eyes, and the levity right now is exactly what we both need.
My resistance cracks a little when she pushes me to my back and reaches for my zipper.
”Did you already come?” she asks, tracing the wetness on my boxer briefs with the tip of one finger.
”Leaking,” I pant, rolling my hips up to chase her hand when she pulls it away.
”That”s—”
“Embarrassing.”
“Sexy,” she whispers, her hand reaching for me once again.
She pulls down the front of my boxers, my aching cock flexing to reach up at her.
“Je-sus,” I say, in a way that sounds like it”s two words when she wraps her hand around me.
”This is impressive,” she says, sounding a lot more confident than she did when we first got started.
”You”ll make me come,” I warn, arching my neck back, head pressed hard into the pillow when she runs her hand down the length of me.
She doesn”t say another word or make another sound as she swirls her thumb over the tip of me, collecting my precum. I swear I”ll explode if she lifts it to her mouth, but she doesn”t. She uses it to coat my cock so the glide of her hand is easier.
”Brielle,” I pant, my voice weak and begging.
In the next breath, my cock kicks in her hand, cum erupting from the tip. If it didn”t feel so fucking good, I might be embarrassed with how quickly she took me over the edge.
She strokes me through it, a small smile playing on her lips.