Page 28 of Twisted 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.