Promise (33 page)

I don’t need encouragement, I’m right with her, our tongues racing from zero to sixty with her at the wheel.

It’s breath and lips and arms, and my brain has turned into the damn Kama Sutra imagining everything we can do for the next few hours.

She’s hurting. I can feel it and, for whatever reason, when it comes to her, I want to turn any negative feeling she has into pleasure. Pleasure that ends with me inside of her and the sound of her begging for more.

Only, she’s taking point on this charge. Her hands are tearing at my suit. I’d certainly shown respect at Dad’s funeral and dressed to show. Now, more than anything, I don't want to break away from the kiss that she’s started, but getting a tailored suit, shirt and tie off while still keeping my tongue in her mouth is challenging.

I practically snap my already tortured neck pulling off the tie. Babygirl works the buttons down my shirt until she gets to the last two, and then I chuckle because she tugs, popping off the buttons and sending them shooting across the table and floor as tiny projectiles.

She’s on fire, and this time, I have no desire to pull her out of the flames that have my name written in them. The image of her bedroom walls covered with flaming portraits hits me like a fist, but I push it away, knowing right now is not the time for that distraction.

It’s my turn, and our kiss is rocking us both as my hands work trying to figure out how to free her from the soft fabric of her dress. It wraps around her curves like a dream. Even when she walked into the funeral home, I couldn’t help my horny ass from taking notes about how she filled it out in all the most spectacular places.

I turn into damn Yosemite Sam with a silent “Eureka!” when I finally get the knot in the belt around her waist to give. I’m tearing and pulling, then she stops our kiss dead, and her lips leave me hanging.

She looks up at me with clear desire, but there’s something else there. The mixture of her innocence and lust is about as much as I can take.

“What, babe?”

There are bellows of rage coming from down below. My dick already set on autopilot, ready to spend the next couple hours inside her.

She pulls her pink, shining lips off to the side like she does when something is bothering her.

My neck pops as I jerk a few times, waiting for her to tell me what the fuck just stopped the runaway kiss she started.

Her hands move down until they are flat on my chest, her fingers start tapping, and she makes this little clicking sound with her tongue.

“
What
? I’m waiting. Whatever it is, spit it the fuck out. I told you, I want all of you, remember? Every thought is part of everything. Every worry. Give it to me, and I’ll deal with it, whatever it is.”

She takes a deep breath, and I see her eyelids flutter.

“I think you’ll be mad.”

Lips.

To the side.

Again.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But the build-up is starting to piss me off, so let’s get it out and deal with it, whatever it is.
Promise
, look at me.”

I pinch her chin, pressing up until she has no choice but to look at my face.

“I’ve never said this to a girl in my life, so listen. I’ve falling hard here. Like a greased pig down a slide. Everything you have and everything you are feels like part of me already. I can’t think of anything you could say that would change that.”

I see her swallow, and I can’t stop thinking about her lips and all the wonders they possess.

“I didn’t work late last night.
” She blurts it out like one long word, and I stay steady, waiting for whatever is coming next.

Because something is most definitely coming next.

“
Aaaaand
. . .” My voice is clear but deep. Something is coming, and it doesn’t take any fucking spidey sense to detect I might not be as happy as I was thirty seconds ago.

“Okay, well.” She makes a little sucking sound with her cheek, and her eyes drop away from mine. “I
did
work late but not at Windfield.” Another pause, nose crinkle. “I have another job. I told you that, maybe you don’t remember. I didn’t want you to know what it was, but I need the money.”

“Keep talking.” The room gets warmer, or it’s just the heat rising up from my gut because I’m sure as shit losing my happy.

There are a few jobs I can think of that would elicit this conversation, and all of them are pissing me the fuck off. My head is spinning because of those jobs. There are a few that would have me tearing the fucking roof off this place.

“See, you’re getting mad. I can tell.” She tries to pull her face from my fingertips, but she only earns both of my hands on either side of her head, my thumbs hitching just under her jaw, fingers at the back of her head.

“I told you, and I’m a fucking man of my word. Whatever it is, we will deal with it. I didn’t say I might not ever get mad. I’m saying we will deal with things then move on. I don’t fucking hold onto stuff like this, but I need to know, and I need to know right fucking now because I’m getting pissed with the damn delays. The next sentence out of your mouth better have all the pertinent information. Job, place of employment, your duties there. I’m not fucking joking.”

I can’t help my hands from tightening on her face. She needs to know playtime is over.

“It’s called Club Paradise.”

BAM.

I grew up around here, and I’m a straight guy. Those two things nearly guarantee you know Club Paradise.

I clench my jaw until there is popping in my ears and my teeth are making cracking sounds, but I wait for her to lay out the details before I decide what’s coming next.

Maybe she’s a bookkeeper. Or a cook. Back of the house. God, please, let her be one of those.

“I’m a dancer. I strip.”

Game. Set. Match.

Just the idea of some random dude giving her the eye when we walk down the damn street has my chest puffed and my fists ready.

This?

This is fucked up, and it’s all I can do to just maintain for a few seconds while I process the fact that this girl, who I’m damn near as in love with as a guy can get, has men looking at her fucking naked on a stage while she performs for the sole purpose of their pleasure.

That blows my fucking mind.

For their pleasure.

The very next thought I have is, what the fuck else does she do there? I hate myself for the thought, but it doesn’t fucking stop me from having it.

“
Is that it
? You dance. That’s fucking
it
, right?” My voice is thick with rage that is bubbling up, and her eyes widen, and then she pulls her brow together.

“
Yes.
” The indignation in her voice is not helping her cause. “What else do you
think
I do?” She can turn from Carolina peach to adolescent brat in a blink.

“That shit doesn’t work with me so you can just shut it right the fuck down.” I glare at her, and the fire in her eyes dims a bit. “Let’s deal with this one thing at a time. First, don’t fucking talk to me like that. I can smell bullshit, and when you put on that pissy face, that is exactly what it is. Bullshit. You won’t intimidate me, and I don’t back down, so let’s just cut out the drama in the future.”

I take my hands off her face because they are a little too close to wrapping around her throat, and although I do see a little fun time choking in our future, that shit is not going to happen when I feel like I am right now.

My displeasure is rising, but my mind continues to work its way through the situation. I resolve that my ire is not so much about the job. I get it; something in her life told her that was what she needed to do to reach some goal.

But, she lied. About where she was going.

That is my damn hot button. I will not tolerate lies.

As soon as my hands drop, she takes a step back, and her arms cross over her chest. I certainly would have hoped an “I’m sorry” or “I made a mistake” would quickly follow the information she just dropped on me, but I guess there are more lessons to be taught here than I expected.

“First of all, you can drop that little pissy ass smirk off your face. It is far from helping your cause. Second, I’m hurt. I am. I don’t hide that kind of shit. I’m hurt you lied to me. But, I’m more hurt that you didn’t think to add that you’re sorry. That you have some level of remorse. Not for the job, but for being dishonest.”

A bit of her bravado melts, and her shoulders lose their hard-set squareness.

“I am sorry.” Her eyelids drop, and she starts looking at my shoes.

I’m standing shirtless with my belt already undone, and I swear I can see the way my heart is practically charging through the left side of my chest.

Like I said before, this girl has flipped switches inside of me I didn’t even know were there, and right now is no exception. I know exactly what she needs.

“You’re sorry. Well, there’s more that you need to learn here. I know you’ve been able to get away with a lot of bullshit, Promise. Trust me, I know the skills you have to hone to live the life you’ve lived. That
we’ve
lived. You don’t need those now. Not with me. But, it’s going to take some deprogramming, and you need to understand I’m going to do that for you. Because for once in your life, I’m the person that wants what is best for you. Not what is good for me. I want all of you, and I’m willing to do what’s best even when it isn’t pleasant.”

I can see the wheels spinning in her head. You don’t live in the system without developing some defensive skills. I get it. I’m here for the long term, and I understand. But, whatever it took to survive back then will not serve her well now, so it’s best to just get those old bad habits out of the damn way.

She looks up at me, and my heart melts like snow in July, but I hold steady. This is for her, not for me.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Beck. Deprogramming? I told you the truth. I told you what I did, so what’s the problem? If you don’t want to be with me, just tell me. I’ll go.”

I hear the words, but more than anything, I hear what’s behind them. The art of manipulation is subtle, but it’s not working on me.

Her hand moves to cover her mouth, and something inside of me shifts. I do not just want to love her. I want to protect her, and that means from everyone and everything—including herself.

Words are not what we need right now. I’ve never even considered what is about to happen next, but at this moment, I know one hundred percent, it is exactly the right thing to do for the both of us.

I can see that little girl that lives inside of her. She’s shooting poison arrows at me from her eyes, but I see past that shit. She’s scared, and she knows she fucked up.

She wants to know if I care enough to deal with it. To follow through. Any chick in the past, I’d have my back turned and be walking away right about now, but that didn’t even occur to me with Promise.

My baby girl has had that from everyone else in her life. She’s not going to get it from me. As much as she might try to push, I’m staying put.

I’ve got her wrist in my hand, and she’s dragging ass behind me as I walk to my makeshift bedroom.

She turns on the attitude when I get her over to the bed and flip her over my knee.

It takes her about two seconds to realize what is about to happen, and she starts fighting like a Tasmanian devil. She kicks and screams like a mad hornet, but I flip her dress up and tear her panties off, all while holding her down with my other arm.

Three swats in, she’s not trying to get away anymore but the sounds coming out of her echo like a toddler in the throws of an epic tantrum. I let her scream it out and lay down the last few whacks harder than the first.

Her body curls over my thighs, jerking and rising up along with her screams. Her ass turns cherry red, and I can’t help it.

My dick is as hard as cold rolled steel.

“Stop, please.
I’m sorry.
Don’t . . .” She’s crying, and that little girl sound in her voice pulls at my heartstrings.

Her hand comes around, palm up, to cover her already ripe ass, and I know the lesson is over. “It’s so hard to trust anyone. You have to know that. The way we grew up. I know myself. I’m not proud of everything I do, but I can’t stop it sometimes. I’ve never trusted anyone.” She starts sobbing into my leg, and my heart falls down around my feet like shards of broken glass.

“Shhhh, all over. Now come here.” I get my hands around her waist and help her up because her legs are shaking. I pull her onto my lap where I’d brought her to kicking up dust a minute ago. I manage to get her straddling me so I can finish this off and we could both move the fuck on.

She latches on with her arms and legs and buries her face in my neck, and I almost lose myself.

“Listen. Okay, that’s done. You needed that. That’s my way of helping you reset that shit. We’ll get rid of those old habits. I’m here for you, babe. You are also quitting that job. No fucking way are you doing that anymore.”

“I need the money.” Her voice steadies. “I have an attorney, just as a back-up in case Jeremy can’t figure things out in time. And I need $5,000. Dancing is the only way I’ve managed to save anything, and even so it’s not much. If I give up this job, I will never be able to pay. So, I get it, you don’t like it, but to be honest, it’s my life, and I need the money.” The petulant child is gone, and this mother bear comes in her place. I feel the pain and desperation coming from her.

Even the thought of her going back there has my skin burning and my hands ready to tear flesh from any fuck that looks at her like a damn piece of meat. That’s all mine now, and no one will ever disrespect her again.

“How would it look if the court found out you were working in a place like that? Huh? Jeremy would for sure turn tail to Lydia or hold that shit over you.”

The soft breathing that was warming my neck a minute ago stopped dead, and I felt her body lock up.

“Babe . . . I felt that. What?”

“Jeremy knows. He comes to watch.” Her words, muffled into my neck, sets my fucking hair on fire.

Big damn surprise. That fuck.

“Yeah?” Her body stays stiff, and I wait because I’m pretty damn sure she has more to say.