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“Momma, it’s hot. She hasn’t drank anything today,” I said in her defense as Amber threw herself on the cheap, chipped laminate floor.
I felt the slap on Amber’s thighs as she screamed louder and looked up to me for help. My mother hit her again and again as I began to scream with my sister.
“Stop, please, Momma, stop!” I begged as Amber’s voice went hoarse before she let out another loud cry.
When she refused to let up, I dropped the rag I was using to clean the staircase and walked up to my mother as she continued to redden my sister’s thighs with vicious slaps. I reared back, struck her across the jaw with my open hand, and heard her surprised “oh” as she stumbled back. I was only eleven years old, but I knew then that I might be taking my last breaths. Still, I’d resigned myself to punishment of the worst kind. Anything was better than hearing my sister cry. My mother stood to her full height as I braced myself for her wrath. Thinking fast, I grabbed Amber and ran out of the house into the field, flagging my father down. Looking annoyed, he stopped his sad excuse for a tractor as he saw me rushing to him.
“Daddy, she’s doing it again. She’s hitting Amber over and over. You’ve got to stop her!”
“Taylor Jean,” he barked with an eye roll, “what have I told you about getting in your mother’s way!”
“She was hurting her, Daddy!”
He wiped the sweat from his brow as my mother screamed for me from the house, hell and fury in her voice.
“Get back inside and take your punishment,” he said, irritated.
Feeling the frustration roll inside of me, I couldn’t stop myself. “You ain’t no real daddy! You are chicken shit. A real daddy wouldn’t let her hurt us!”
My father’s shocked face didn’t stop me. “She’s a crack whore just like Aunt Stephanie said,” I unleashed as Amber cried in my arms. My father dismounted the tractor and stood above me as my sister trembled in my arms.
“You don’t like the way things are around here, missy, you can get.” I shook my head as he gripped my upper arm and pulled me toward the house.
“Daddy, please for once just tell her not to hit Amber. Please, Daddy.” I begged and begged to no avail as he dragged me into the house with Amber still in tow and deposited us on the living room floor. He looked up at my mother as a sinister smile covered her face.
“Handle your daughters,” he barked as he gave me one last look.
When the screen slammed shut, I looked on as my father crossed the drive back into the field. I swore from that day on I would never trust a man to protect me.
That Saturday, I was at home running on my treadmill and burning off a binge of tacos I’d partaken in the night before. I was on my third mile when I spotted a dark figure at the door.
“What the fuck,” I screamed as I tumbled off my treadmill and landed on the floor. I was on my feet in seconds as I looked up to a howling Daniello. He looked gorgeous in black slacks and a T-shirt.
Fire raced through my veins as I took the two steps to confront him.
“How the hell did you get into my condo!”
He raised a brow. “Not happy to see me?”
“Not at all and answer my question,” I snapped as his chuckle slowed, but his smile deepened.
“If I want in, I get in,” he smarted back as I brushed past him, my breathing heavy. I didn’t want him to see I was turned on. He stopped me and brought me back to him. I was covered in sweat, and he smelled like a man, and soap and heaven, reminding me of our last encounter. I wiggled to get away as he held me tightly to him and whispered in my ear.
“You thought of me,” he chided, feathering my hard nipple with his fingertips, his breath whispering over my goose bump covered skin.
“Let’s get something straight,” I said, still wrapped in his embrace, eyeing the alarm on my front door. It was lit green, and I couldn’t understand how he’d bypassed my system completely. “You are not welcome here anytime you choose. You want to pl—” My sentence was cut short as his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of my sweats. “Play,” I finished. “You make arrangements to play.”
“I want to lick your pussy,” he whispered as I involuntarily shivered in his arms. “A taste of you before I leave.” He scooped me up and carried me to my couch, taking off my sneakers. “I have been craving you, Taylor. Does this please you?”
I didn’t answer as he eyed me, pulling down my sweats and then my panties to spread my legs.
“Don’t send me flowers. I think you knew better,” I said as he kissed the inside of my thigh.
He paused his movements, his hands braced on my thighs, and his stare turning deadly.
“I do not fucking take orders,” he said with menace, his fingers digging roughly into my skin. My lips parted at his change in demeanor. He’d gone from playfully sexy to downright deadly in mere seconds.
And with the introduction of his wrath, the spark of need I was feeling turned into an addiction.
