“My mother used me to pay for her drugs, Tate. She used all of us.”
I stopped kissing him and froze. My breath caught in my chest, but I forced myself to continue. His past made me understand who he was—why he lashed out in violence to scare away his inner demons.
“I wasn’t sexually assaulted like Malik and Mav, somehow I escaped that horror. But she did have one regular client who liked to inflict pain. That’s what got him off, hurting those who were smaller and weaker than him.
He would burn and cut me, never anywhere that couldn’t be covered—he didn’t want to get caught or have me removed from my mother’s custody, because then he'd lose out on all the fun. He’d come over and get high, have sex with my mother and then hurt me, locked alone in a room with him, for hours.”
“And she knew he was doing this?”
“He paid her extra for the ‘kink.’ That’s what he called it to downplay the abuse. I’d scream and cry for my mom and she’d turn the television volume louder.”
“How old were you?”
“I was about four years old. I grew up with an irrational fear of cigarettes and pocket knives…and women too.”
Rafa’s words should have shocked me,I didn’t understand what kind of woman would allow her child to get hurt, to watch it and not want to execute the person doing it. I thought about my own mother and how she was the complete opposite, kind, warm and protective. “How can I help you?”
“You’re helping by just existing. I’ve gone my whole life thinking that all women were like her, cruel, selfish, out to hurt me. Then I met you. You found a way to wrap yourself around my heart Tatum, and somehow I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you’d never hurt me.”
Chapter 9
RAFA
Tatum was so strikingly beautiful, naked and strong, her short haircut accentuating the graceful lines of her face. When she kissed my scars, I could feel a part of that little boy in me healing. I could see him in my mind’s eye, toddler chub and tow-headed, reaching out a hand to Tatum. Taking her hand, trusting again. Her mind worked like mine and Tatum understood me. She didn’t cower in fear or disgust at my scars and she didn’t act horrified that I’d killed someone in front of her. She seemed to accept every piece of me, every facet of my fucked up psyche. She swallowed even the jagged pills and no one had ever done that for me besides my two brothers.
I pulled her to me and grabbed the back of her neck. Her mouth met mine and any doubt that lingered was vaporized by our chemistry. Me and Tatum together were a perfect storm. I’d waited my whole life to feel like I belonged, hid behind a keyboard so no one could see my pain. I’d imagined belonging would come from a fight in the ring, a profession, or even my cabin in the woods. But belonging came from giving myself up, allowing myself to trust another person enough to share the hurt with them. Then magically, the hurt lost all of the power it ever held over me. In Tatum’s arms, in her kiss, I was released from carrying the burden alone. I knew in exchange that I’d do anything she asked for. I’d put my life on the line for her a thousand more times, I’d bend over backwards to see her smile, and I’d move heaven and earth to be able to wake up every day beside her.
I cupped her small breasts as I kissed her, drove my tongue deep and insistent into her sexy mouth.
“Tate, you drive me crazy,” I told her as I ravaged her neck, her ear, her collarbone. I grabbed her hand and placed it on my cock. She squeezed my rock hard erection through my sweats and I kissed her harder. My hands found her ass and I massaged and grabbed as I pulled her nipple into my mouth and sucked.
“Oh my God, I want to fuck you,” I said into her temple. I yanked her hair back and devoured her exposed neck, her chin, the soft skin behind her ear, before lifting her to me, her sweet center right on my cock. She wrapped her legs around me and I carried her to the bathroom counter where I’d washed her hair just last night.
“Tell me no, or tell me to slow down, Tate. Tell me something, because I can’t control myself.” My hands were at her waist as I set her down, I yanked her back, flush with my erection again and pulled her other nipple into my mouth.
“I don’t want you to stop. I don’t ever want you to stop,” she told me. Her voice was breathless, gasping as I bit down gently on her tender nipple. My hands found their way to her center and I began to massage her there, tentatively. I didn’t know a hell of a lot about female anatomy since I’d only ever paid for sex with escorts—and that wasn’t about their pleasure.