Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mase
Imade a fucking mistake.
I crossed a line that I’d repeatedly marked and underlined, telling myself over and over not to get too close to it. But every smile, every accidental touch, every spot of loneliness that she filled inside me drew me closer.
As soon as Jayne unlocks the cuffs, I bound to my feet, running both hands through my hair, my stomach in knots.
Fuck. I need to clean everything. I should wash the bedding, shower . . . leave.
Shame washes over me. Not only because I let myself have sex with her, but because I wasn’t worthy of being the person she trusted with her body after so long. I took that position, and I shouldn’t have.
My thoughts stumble over themselves until my eyes land on Jayne, who is watching me with wariness.
“Are you okay?” she asks, pulling at the hem of her sweater to try to cover herself, briefly pulling my attention to her legs, and reminding me how much I wanted to touch them.
I’ve never tugged so hard against the cuffs before.
I wanted to feel the pulse fluttering in her neck, suck her hardened nipples into my mouth while squeezing the soft flesh surrounding them.
I wanted to feel her wet on my fingers and find out what she tastes like.
But I also wanted to hold her down, pin her hands above her head, and swallow her cries.
“You’re going to turn out just like that fucking loser.”
My stomach clenches, muscles tightening.
With rough hands, I pull off the condom and throw it in her trash, tucking myself away.
She wouldn’t want me if she knew.
I should have told her, given her all the information, before she gave me her body.
On anxious legs, I pace a few steps, rubbing at the back of my neck.
“Mase?” I turn to face her. She needs to leave. I want her to stay. “Do you, um . . . regret what happened?”
“Yes,” I answer, watching as she deflates and folds in on herself, cutting me up on the inside. “But not for any reasons you may think. Sex is . . . complicated for me.”
Jayne slides off the bed, pulling on her discarded panties, trying to arm herself and hide the hurt. “I was assaulted, then avoided sex for ten years. If anyone understands complicated, it’s me.”
I nod, biting my cheek so hard that I taste blood. I don’t want to tell her, but she should know, especially after what we just did.
Jesus, I’ve avoided this for years, and now I’m about to unload my dirty secrets because they rose too close to the surface, unable to remain hidden.
They shouldn’t be hidden from her.
“I never wanted to be like him,” I blurt, pulling in a ragged breath.
Jayne shifts on her feet, confusion crossing her face. “If this is about Jacob, you—”
“Not him. The man who raped my mother.”
She’s smart, so I’m pretty sure she understands my meaning when her eyes drop to the ground in thought, then fly back up to meet mine again, slightly widened.
“My sperm donor,” I clarify, just to be sure.
Deafening silence rings through the air while she stares at me, processing. “You . . .”
Whatever question she had floats away into nothing, but I’m sure I know what it was. I need to keep going or I’ll chicken out.
I stare at a spot on the wall. “My mom was fifteen when it happened. And because she decided to keep me, her parents kicked her out.”
Jayne’s next breath comes out as a whoosh, but I can’t look at her right now.
“My very first memory of my grandparents is them telling her that I must take after my piece of shit father, because I looked nothing like her or them, and that I’d probably end up just like him.
” I swallow, thinking of them peering down at me.
“That memory is from when I was four years old. I didn’t even know him or what he’d done. ”
Back then, I always wondered why they didn’t want to play with me, just an innocent kid who wanted their attention.
I remember the way they used to look at me, like I was the dirt on the bottom of their shoe, like I had done something to offend them.
“Whenever we saw them over the years, they’d repeat it. They said I was from a rotten tree, and that it would eventually show in my core.”
My gaze flickers to Jayne. Her mouth is hanging open, like she still doesn’t know what to say, but she hasn’t fled yet, so I walk to the chair beside her bed and sit, leg bouncing, hands clasped together.
My pants and shirt are still open, but right now, I don’t give a fuck.
“When I was thirteen, I kissed a girl in class, who apparently didn’t want it, when I thought she did. My mom was called to the school, and I was given a warning. It was this whole big thing that everyone heard about.
“My aunt turned up at our house that afternoon, and I guess Mom had told her what happened as well. I heard them arguing; heard every word that was said . . . My mother had been raped, and I was the outcome of that heinous act. I finally understood why her family didn’t like me.”
Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling. It was the day my world was turned upside down.
My mother was horrified when she realized I had heard them, and she tried so hard to make me feel better.
But the damage was already done.
“As my aunt was leaving, she grabbed my arm, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, ‘You’re going to turn out just like that fucking loser.’ I’d heard that line said about me before to my mother, but it took on a whole new meaning that time.”
“God, Mase.”
Standing again, I rub at the spot my aunt had grabbed and pace a few steps, unable to keep still.
“I told one of my closest friends about it. He wasn’t allowed to hang out with me after that, and neither were my other friends, except at school.
But other kids started teasing me, calling me the mistake, and telling girls to stay away.
I learned pretty quickly that people don’t like sons of rapists, especially when the son shows signs of taking after him, and I started withdrawing into myself.
” I drop my hand. “Mom moved us away, cutting off all contact with her family.”
Turning back to Jayne, I notice her gray eyes have turned misty, like a rain cloud ready to release.
I want to make sure she understands what she means to me, even if she chooses to leave after this. “I hadn’t kissed anyone since then . . . not until tonight.”
Jayne places a hand to her chest, the mist turning to full-blown tears. Her eyes ask what her mouth doesn’t.
Yes, she was my first proper kiss at the age of twenty-eight.
I dip my chin.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mase. For how you were treated. For your mom. For her horrible family, and how wrong they were.”
She attempts to close the distance between us, but I step back, because she doesn’t get it yet. Even if she were to stay after knowing the first part, she won’t after I tell her the rest.
“They weren’t wrong.”
She freezes, a million questions swimming in her confused eyes. “What?”
“They weren’t wrong,” I repeat, my voice low.
“What do you mean, they weren’t wrong? I don’t understand.” Her brows knit together. “Are you . . . are you saying you’ve—”
“No.” My gut rolls at the thought.
Shoulders lowering a fraction, Jayne attempts a small step. “Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that sometimes, the thought of holding you down . . .” I pause, letting those words hang in the air because I can’t fucking say it out loud. “I’m sure you can figure out the rest of that sentence.”
A lifetime passes before she finally answers, her voice a whisper. “It turns you on.”
I nod, looking at the ground, chewing on my hacked-up cheek some more. “I mean, that’s probably how it starts, right? Thoughts like that.”
It’s silent again as that horrible truth sinks in.
The idea of rough sex, of gripping, holding, fucking . . . Sometimes I want it, and I worry that I’ll like it so much that I’ll get carried away. I am just like him.
I lift my eyes to find hers still filled with tears as she stares at me.
Does she think I’m repulsive? Does she regret having sex with me now?
I expect her to be appalled and leave immediately. I’m just as bad as Jacob and the nightmare she’s endured ever since. I’m everything she should hate.
But she doesn’t leave. For whatever reason, she lingers, unspeaking.
I widen the space between us, then decide to continue dumping my nasty secrets on the floor in front of me. She might as well have the whole picture so when she does finally leave, she won’t be left wondering about any missing pieces.
“Control is key for me. I avoided sex for the longest time because of thoughts like that. Then I figured it would be better to take care of my sexual needs so I wouldn’t succumb to any of the dark desires.
” I clear my throat, so fucking uncomfortable.
“I started occasionally paying a woman, who I requested use handcuffs on me. I didn’t touch her; she just gave me a release. ”
Jayne’s gaze falls to the cuffs still attached to the bed frame, mind turning. “That’s why you wanted to use them,” she guesses. “Not because you thought I needed them.”
“It was both,” I rush to say. “I wanted you to feel safe—needed you to.”
“I did feel safe,” she says softly.
Well, I’m fucking grateful for that, at least.
I run my fingers through my hair and continue, “Deep down, I know that sex is a regular part of life, but it never has been for me. It’s always felt like I was doing something wrong and dirty, like I shouldn’t want it, and I definitely shouldn’t want anything rough.
I feel like I’m a dirty pervert . . . a predator. ”
“No, Mase.” Jayne steps a little closer, her stormy eyes focused on me. I was fucking helpless to resist the way those eyes had looked at me earlier, with so much trust and want. “I know disgusting perverts, and believe me, you are nothing like them.”
She takes one of my hands in hers, and I want to pull it away. Why does she still want to touch me? “I made you dance for me because I couldn’t control myself.”
“What? No.” Her forehead creases as she shakes her head. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t already want to do. I wanted you before that.”
“But that was before you knew what I am.”
“And what are you, Mase?”
“My father’s son.”
A soft sigh leaves her as she looks down at my hands, still shaking her head. Her gentle fingers brush over the red rings around my wrists. This is the first time they’ve left marks like that.
“Did it feel wrong for you tonight?” she asks.
Goosebumps trail up my arm from her light touch. “It felt wrong to want you as much as I did,” I answer honestly. “But it also felt so fucking right. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted to help you overcome your fears.”
“And you did. All you’ve done since you came into my life is help me, Mase. I’m sorry I didn’t see that it was hurting you tonight.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” She needs to understand that she didn’t do anything wrong.
“Apart from you, I’ve only been with the one woman I paid.
I never allowed myself to entertain any thoughts of women like that.
Never allowed anyone to get close like I did with you.
Never kissed anyone. Never touched anyone.
Never wanted anyone as much as I want you.
And losing even a bit of control like I did tonight fucking scared me. ”
My eyes drop to her pink, bow-shaped lips that lured me in for a taste.
I pull my hands free of hers, feeling the need to move away from her.
Touching her led to more.
“How can you stand to be so close to me after what I’ve told you?”
I can barely stand to be in my own skin.
I spent years as a teenager running away from myself, only for my past to catch me in other ways, like when Jacob was arrested.
Jayne lifts a slightly shaky hand to my cheek. The action makes me both want to lean into it and move out of reach. “Because I don’t think you’re the evil person you believe yourself to be.”
“You should.”
“No.”
Her warm fingers glide over my chilled skin, trailing from my jaw to my neck, before she locks eyes with me again.
Despite the tears there, she looks determined, stronger than she has looked since I met her again in the club.
This is the real woman under the scars, who’s been making appearances these past couple of weeks.
“I’m no therapist, but I’ve done my research on sexual trauma.
A lot of it, actually. And while our circumstances are quite different, I do believe you’ve experienced trauma.
” My brows dip, but she keeps going. “One thing I learned is that we all process our experiences differently.” She breathes in deeply.
“Do I think you’re a sexual predator? No.
But maybe you developed a sort of rape kink so—”
I yank my head back at that, my heart pounding and stomach turning. “A rape kink?”
Jayne takes a step back, sensing my need to fucking bolt.
“It’s more common than you think and nothing to be ashamed of.
It’s often a way for someone to rewrite what happened to them and regain their sense of control.
And maybe, in your case, doing it rough is a way you can experience it in a controlled way, so you know you’re nothing like him. ”
I huff through my nose and shake my head. She’s wrong.
And even if she weren’t, it makes me a pretty sick fuck to develop that after where I came from. I’m a sick fuck either way, I guess.
“I could be completely wrong on that, and maybe you just like rough sex, which plenty of people do, by the way. But Mase, I don’t think you’re bad. Plus, I’ve been living with you for weeks now, and you’ve never once made me feel uncomfortable.”
“Look, you’ve barely had time to think clearly. But once you do . . .” You’ll avoid me just like everyone else who knows what I am. I stalk to the door and grip the frame, lowering my head before looking at her over my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have touched you without you knowing the truth.”
A sad look fills her eyes, and now she’s the one to look away. Maybe she’s finally getting it.
I never deserved her.
Someone like me never could.