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His long arms blanketed mine, my hands resting inside his. “You fit me like a shirt. It’s a perfect mold.” I smiled to myself, feeling a blush heat my face. “For now,” I said. “I’m done growing, but you’re probably not.”
Too much of a story for people who didn’t need to know.
My stomach rolled as I looked up at his dark eyes staring at me like I was dirt. Like I was his mother.
And eight days later, he shows up on my mother’s doorstep. He hands her nine thousand four hundred sixty-two dollars, a Rolex, and some emerald earrings. And he takes me home with him.
“Keep looking at me like that,” Kai spoke up, “and we’re going to have problems.”
Fucking amazing, I thought to myself. I could take on a two-hundred-fifty-pound guy, but a twenty-year-old escort got me shy.
Hooding his eyes, he walked around me, toward the hallway. “We’re all out.”
“No matter how you cover yourself, it’s never enough. You’re beautiful.”
People will think what they want to think, not because they believe they are right, but because it’s in their nature to maintain that they are. By defending yourself, you feed the appetite for drama. By not, you’ve ended the conversation. You. Not them. But
Michael looked over at him. “We want what we want, right?”
And after a few more minutes, I participated and shopped and shit.
spanked her again and then kissed her hard, cutting off her cry. I rubbed the spot I hit, feeling her body slowly relax again.
To his side.
didn’t like people doing things for me. It was uncomfortable being taken care of. I wasn’t used to it.
But when you’re in the thick of abuse and still live with the torment in your head every day, it’s a little different. No one handles it. They just fake it better. How else do you cope with the terrible shit you’ve been through?
