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I nodded. This definitely wasn’t something she’d be able to deal with right now. I wasn’t doing too well with it myself. I rested my forehead on Blake’s chest and closed my eyes. My thoughts were swirling, and I honestly felt like my head might explode.
“Stop it.”
My brow pinched. “Stop what?”
“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? You think I don’t know that you can’t help but compare the actions of Maxwell to the actions of Bale?”
God, I hated that he read me so damn well.
“You had a father who was too weak to fight to be in your life. Your mother’s husband, on the other hand, has been there for you in whatever ways he could. Under normal circumstances, that would be something you could treasure; it would make up for what you missed with Maxwell, and you’d happily think of your stepfather as your real father. But it’s not normal circumstances. The man who considers himself your father and claims to love you is sitting on death row, and thinking of him as your real dad would bring you nothing but guilt.”
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “I loved him so much when I was a kid.” My voice cracked.
“Of course you did. I’ll bet he gave you every reason to love him. I’m guessing all his letters made you feel adored and special. I think you are special to him in whatever way a person can be special to someone like him. You can’t feel guilty for once loving him without question—what reason did you have to believe that you couldn’t?”
I swallowed hard. “When I was seven, the kids in the playground—Libby Williams was one of them—told me that they’d heard their parents saying he’d killed lots of women. I told Michael about it. He didn’t confirm or deny it, just said I’d hear lots of things about him and that not all of it would be true. It bugged him more that they’d also said I wasn’t his biological daughter. He told me that, no matter what I heard, I should never forget that he was my dad and that he loved me.”
Lifting my head, I met Blake’s eyes as I continued. “Clear said the kids lied. And because he hadn’t admitted to killing women and he’d said that I’d hear lies about him, I chose to believe that what the kids told me was untrue; that it was one of many lies I’d hear.”
Blake’s hands gently framed my face. “You were a child, Kensey. No child would find it simple to reconcile a dad who was so loving toward them with a person who’d murdered women. You believed what made more sense to you and, yes, what you wanted to believe. If we were talking about another child, would you blame them for that?”
“No,” I admitted quietly.
“But the guilt is still there, and you feel like there has to be something wrong with you if you could ever have loved him; the fact that he claims to love you only reinforces that belief. But there isn’t a damn thing wrong with you. I believed Liza loved me. I didn’t love her back, but I cared for the person she pretended to be. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?”
I scowled. “No. She manipulated you and showed you what she thought would make you care for her.”
“Sound familiar?”
I gave him a withering look. “Shut up.”
“Because I’m making a valid point?”
“Yes.”
He kissed me gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Say it.”
“Only if you’ll say it too.” But his eyes dulled. I smiled weakly. “Not as simple as it sounds, is it?”
“No. But the difference between you and me is that I’m fucked up.”
I snorted. “You think I’m not messed up in my own special way? Don’t tell me the compulsive cleaning has escaped your attention, or that I often badly need to disappear into a fictional world and escape my own for just a while.”
“You channel your negative emotions into productive things. I always did the opposite.”
“That’s not true. Look at where you are today. Look at how successful you are and how much social and personal power you have. Climbing into rings and cages was just one way you channeled the anger and guilt. It wasn’t the only way you did it.”
Tightening his hold on me, Blake kissed me again. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, you should have done. I thought you were smart.”
His mouth curved. “I’m smarter than you.”
I gaped. “Hey!”
“You tried to fight the inevitable. Who does that?” He sucked my bottom lip. “You were always meant to be mine, Kensey. Never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you. Knew the first time I had you that I’d have a big fucking problem giving you up. No, I’d known before that, it just hadn’t hit me until then. I’ll bet you took your sweet time working it out, didn’t you?”
“To be fair, you gave nothing away. I could never tell what you were thinking.”
“I can tell you right now what I was thinking, if you want.” His smile turned wicked. “But you should know in advance that a lot of it was X-rated.”
“In that case, do tell.”
Blake’s finger traced the outline of my mouth as I knelt in front of him, dressed in only the shirt he’d ordered me to unbutton, sucking his cock so hard my cheeks hollowed.
I’d woken in the middle of the night with ideas for another book swirling around my head, leaving me mentally restless. Not wanting to wake him, I’d quietly slipped on his shirt and padded downstairs. Settling in front of the large windows, I’d began jotting down each of the ideas in my notebook.
No more than half an hour later, Blake had come downstairs, naked as the day he was born. His cock was rock hard and, well, it had seemed a shame to waste it.
One hand palming the back of my head, he watched through hooded eyes as I sucked him while fisting the base of his cock with one hand and teasing my clit with the other. He’d told me that if I wanted his dick in my pussy, I’d have to work for it—which should have pissed me off but I liked the challenge.
I’d tormented him for at least ten minutes straight before taking him in my mouth—I’d licked, nibbled, stroked, scratched, and kissed his balls, inner thighs, and cock. Eventually, he’d snapped at me to “quit fucking around and suck my cock.”
Even as I sucked him, I used my tongue to drive him crazy— flicking his frenulum, rubbing it along the underside of his cock, and dancing it around his length. Each time I hummed or swallowed around him, he cursed between gritted teeth.
Lubing my clit with yet more of my cream, I rubbed it harder. My own orgasm wasn’t far away. I could feel it creeping closer, winding me tighter and tighter, making my pussy wetter and hotter. The closer it came, the more frantically I sucked him.
A flush swept up my neck and face as the friction just kept on building. A fine tremor shook me, and I moaned loud around his—
“Don’t come.”
My eyes slammed on him, no doubt shooting fire.
“You don’t get to do that until I’m in you. Fuck, baby, you should see how hot you look right now … eyes sex-drunk, face flushed, nipples hard, finger working your clit, lips wrapped around my dick … Fucking perfect.”
I flicked his frenulum again, and he hissed through his teeth. “Lie on your back, Kensey, and spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you right here, while you’re wearing my shirt.”
