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“I don’t know. Maybe he was high.” She lowered her head to the bench. “Or maybe it was a dare.”
“Shit,” I cursed.
“All I felt was relief to know he was gone.”
“Turn around,” I ordered, dropping the flogger on the floor. “How could you keep something like this a secret?” I needed to know that first.
“I hated Bowie,” she spat, rolling to her side before she slipped to the floor, wincing as her tender bottom touched the floor. “His death became my gain.”
What the fuck did that mean?
“Explain.”
Her chin lifted. I knew that stubborn look.
Fine. I stood to my feet, walking her way with purpose. “Get up.”
“Daniel, there are some things you don’t want to know. Trust me.” She obeyed, giving me a pleading look.
“Oh? You think you get to decide?” My voice held an edge.
She knew she had pushed me too far. Laying on her back on the bench, she spread her legs wide. Her fingers dipped between her thighs, touching her pussy. “Fuck me, Daniel. Let’s forget all the bullshit. Please.”
I couldn’t do that even if she tempted me. “Not gonna happen. Not yet.” I pressed her back against the bench, my groin pushing against her clit. Sure, I had a raging hard-on, but I maintained control. “Tell me about Bowie.”
She bit her lip, almost drawing blood. “He used to come into my room and annoy me, break my stuff, and just be mean. My father never stopped him.” She turned her head to the side, dragging a heavy breath into her lungs. “Bowie got sick of me telling my father about it. He called me a snitch.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like the direction this story seemed to be headed.
“He snuck into my room one night. I was only twelve.”
Xenon’s words replayed in my head.A broken pelvis at twelve.
“What did he do?” I asked as my hands slid up her hips to rest at her waist. I had to keep touching her because the urge to destroy something consumed me.
“I didn’t know what sex was yet. When he shoved his dick inside me, I thought I was dying. It hurt so bad that I screamed.” Her voice wavered and she sniffled. “He covered my mouth, slamming his body into mine. I’ve always been petite. He was so rough, so much older and bigger than me,” she choked on a sob.
I pulled her into my arms, wishing Bowie was still alive so I could fucking kill him again. “I’m sorry.”
“My dad,” she whispered, burying her head in my chest, “He didn’t believe me. His perfect son Bowie would never do something like that, which meant I must be a whore.”
“Shit,” I cursed, holding her tighter.
“He wanted to teach me a lesson. To show me what my life would be like as a prostitute. That’s when he started sending his business associates into my room. A revolving door of men who raped a young girl and never saw a problem with it.”
“Fuck!” Her father was a dead man.
“That’s not the worst,” she admitted.
Xenon said she had an abortion at fourteen.
“Your dad touched you too, didn’t he?” I asked, hating myself for needing to know the answer.
“He would get drunk and stumble into my room, telling me how pretty I’d grown. I used to lay there, staring up at the ceiling as he rolled on top of me. And then Bowie would always come in after, getting his turn.”
That sick bastard!
“My father was drunk, never usually rough. Bowie liked to smack me around. He got off on making me do things.” She shivered.
