4. Chapter 4 #3
I don’t want to. I don’t want him to see me like this—broken and desperate, needing something I’m too ashamed to ask for.
“Reese.” His voice sharpens. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes. He’s close, closer than I realized, his face inches from mine. I can just make out the hard line of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes in the darkness.
“Let me give you what you need.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
“You heard me.” His thumb strokes along my cheekbone. “You need something to calm you down. Something in your mouth. Let me give it to you.”
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice drops lower. “I’m telling you to take what you need from me. Use me, baby girl.”
The words send a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with fear.
“This . . . isn’t—” I’m struggling to find enough air to speak and press my hand to my chest. “You . . . don’t . . . have . . . to—”
“I know.” He shifts, and I feel him moving in the bed, sitting up against the headboard. “Come here.”
I don’t move. I can’t. My body is frozen between the panic still clawing at my chest and what he’s offering me.
“Reese.” His hand slides into my hair, gripping the roots, but not forcing me. “Stop thinking. Come here and use me for what you need.”
My body moves before my brain gives permission. I crawl toward him in the darkness, and he gently guides me to rest my head against his stomach. My breathing is still erratic and not coming fast enough.
One of his hands settle on my waist. “Now. I’m going to give you what you need. This isn’t about me. I’m not going to fuck your mouth. I’m not going to come. This is just for you. Understand?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He reaches down and frees himself from his boxers. Even in the darkness, I can tell he’s hard—thick and heavy and more than enough to fill my mouth.
“Whenever you’re ready.” His voice is steady. Patient. “Take what you need.”
I lean forward and wrap my lips around him.
The relief crashes through me like a wave.
My body sags as I take him deeper, feeling his weight on my tongue, the stretch of my lips around him. This is what I needed. This is what my body has been screaming for all day. Something solid. Something real. Something to fill the desperate, aching emptiness inside me.
My head rests on his stomach and I hold him there, just sucking the part of his dick that I’ve pulled into my mouth.
“That’s it, baby girl.” His hand moves to my hair, stroking slowly. “Just like that. Breathe through your nose and calm yourself.”
I close my eyes and let myself sink into the sensation. The panic is still there, lurking at the edges, but it’s fading now. Pushed back by the warmth of him, the taste of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing above me.
“You’re safe.” His voice is low and rough. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to hurt you here.”
I’m not sucking, not really. I’m just holding him, letting him fill my mouth, letting the weight of him anchor me to the present. The nightmare feels far away now. My father’s voice has gone quiet. Michael’s face has faded into nothing.
There’s only this. Only Tate.
His cock twitches against my tongue, and I feel him tense.
“Fuck.” The word comes out strained. “You feel so good, baby girl.”
His hips jerk once, involuntary, and he hisses through his teeth. I can feel the effort he’s making not to move, not to thrust, not to take what he so clearly wants.
But he doesn’t. He just keeps stroking my hair, keeps talking to me in that low, rough voice.
“That’s my baby girl. Taking exactly what you need.” His fingers tighten in my hair. “Not apologizing for it. This is what I want to see.”
I sink deeper, taking more of him, and he groans—a sound that’s almost pained.
“Jesus Christ.” His free hand grips the headboard. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”
But he still doesn’t thrust. Still doesn’t take. His thighs are trembling beneath me, his whole body taut with restraint, and he’s giving me everything while asking for nothing.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Long enough for my heart rate to slow. Long enough for the shaking to stop. Long enough for the memories to retreat back into their cage.
My jaw aches. I don’t care. All I care about is the weight of him on my tongue and the sound of his voice and the way he’s holding me like I’m something precious.
“Do you feel better?” His voice is hoarse.
I nod without pulling off, and he makes a rough sound.
“Good. Then come up here.”
I don’t want to let go. I want to stay here forever, in this space where he makes me feel safe.
He gave me that, without taking anything from me. I start to use more of my tongue, deciding he shouldn’t have to suffer through a painful erection because of my issues.
But his hand slides under my chin, tilting my head up, and I release him with a soft, wet sound.
He hauls me up immediately, pulling me against his chest, pressing my face into the curve of his neck. He’s still hard—I can feel him against my hip—but he doesn’t make a move, and doesn’t try to take anything.
“I would have—” I start.
“This wasn’t about me.” His arms tighten around me. “You needed something. I gave it to you. That’s it.”
“But you’re still—”
“I’m fine.” His voice is strained in a way that tells me he’s definitely not fine. “When you want me, you’ll have me. For now, get some rest, baby girl. And if you need to use me again, I’m right here.”
“Tate—”
“It’s okay, just sleep.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes. His body is hard and warm against mine, his heartbeat steady under my ear. I have never experienced a man who doesn’t take whatever he can get from me. Even when I’m the one controlling it, they still take.
My heart begins to race again thinking about what happens next. I’m attached. I don’t know how it happened, but he has me feeling things for him I never thought I’d be able to feel. And now he’s holding me like this and I don’t want him to let go.
But I don’t know if that is possible. Or real for him once he’s succeeded in killing my father.
He smoothes my hair again. “It’s going to be alright, baby girl.”
I allow myself to relax in his arms. The last thing I remember is Tate, his arms around me, his voice in my ear.
He saw the worst of me tonight. The broken, desperate thing I become in the dark. And he didn’t use it against me. He just guided me through it.
I don’t know if any of this is real, but I know that I really like being his baby girl.