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I’ve seen how the other men treat their women. It’s predatorial, hot, and Grace’s got the bruises to prove it. When I asked her about them, she was open and told me that Brax gave them to her. She also told me she liked it.
I have to admit the thought of Screwy giving me some gives me a tiny thrill. Maybe that’s sick, considering all I’ve been through. Or maybe, it’s proof that I can heal. I choose Screwy. I want his mark on me, and I need him to show me how it feels to be owned by him.
Screwy holds back on me. I want this to be for him. He needs to know that he doesn’t always have to be gentle. He can be raw and rough. We can do things his way.
His palm pushes into my back and forces me even closer to him, and the thick head of his cock pushes at my entrance. The thin fabric separating us needs to go, so I hook my fingers inside my panties and tug them aside to give him access.
Screwy pulls me onto his hips, filling me with his entire length all at once. I’m not as prepared as I thought I’d be. He feels huge at this angle, bigger than ever, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out.
If he thinks he’s hurt me, he’ll stop, and it hurts too good for me to want him to.
His eyes pin mine the way they always do when he’s inside me. It’s overwhelming and intense. Like we’re the only living beings that exist, and the world outside could end, and we would carry on. But it’s us, and nothing from our past matters when his deep blue eyes take from mine. I see the darkness swirling in them like a storm. I feel a vulnerability that I know he doesn’t share with anyone else. And yet there is still so much about him that I have to learn.
He controls the pace and the force. His fingers gripping tighter at my hair while his other hand crushes the bones in my hip.
“Tell me I’m yours,” I whisper breathlessly, watching his eyes for a reaction. I get no words, but his thrusts deepen. His hips are crashing ruthlessly against mine now. He isn’t being gentle–he’s testing me. Seeing if he can push me, and I won’t let him down.
“You can’t scare me, Screwy.” I shake my head and remind him, swiping my index finger through the open wound on his shoulder. His thick blood coats my fingertip, and I swipe it across my chest to mark myself with it.
“Tell me I’m yours, now.” I decide it's time for me to test him, and it makes me feel powerful.
“Fuck,” Screwy groans, his eyes shifting from mine to look down at the red smear I’ve made along my chest.
“Tell me!” I shout at him, desperate to hear the words. I can feel myself tipping over the edge, my hips rotating to meet his hard thrusts. Suddenly he stills, his eyes finding mine again and his cock pulsing deep inside me. Warm jets coat me on the inside while the words I need to hear more than my own heartbeat finally release from his lips.
“Mine…” he growls, sucking in a breath and steadying himself by gripping the basin. “You’re fucking mine!”
I carry Lydia to bed, her sleepy little head resting against my chest until I lower her onto the mattress. “I love you, Cade Harrison,” she purrs as her eyes close, and there’s victory in her smile.
I feel like a fucking cunt for allowing her to feel happiness by my ownership. The truth is, it’s all I want.
I want her to be mine. I wanna lay claim to her the way all the others have their old ladies. But Lydia has spent the last three years of her life being told who owns her and fearing who will own her next.
I will not be her master, and I don’t care if it was at her request. I want to cut out my own tongue for telling her that she’s mine.
The girl needs therapy and stability. I’ve been so selfish in keeping her here and pretending that we got a shot at this life together.
It’s time for me to be a man now, to stand up and do the right thing.
Aged 14
“Beth, shut that dog the hell up.” I watch the flinch Beth makes when Rick puts his boot into Foxy’s stomach. She quickly scoops him up and kisses his head before shutting him out in the laundry room.
“I told you I’d cook,” she tells Rick, trying to calm his mood.
“Sit down,” he orders her, placing plates in front of her and Cody and then heading back to the counter for his and mine. I wait patiently while he takes his time, peeking over his shoulder at Cody and Beth in case one of them has gotten started. Rick’s always looking to serve a punishment. The last time Cody took a mouthful before grace, Rick thrashed his back with his belt right in front of us. It must've stung because me and Beth both saw real tears in his eyes while it happened, and he still has the welts on his back now, two weeks later. He even wears a top in the shower after football practice because he’s ashamed of them.
Eventually, Rick places my plate in front of me and sits beside Beth, taking her hand and lowering his head for grace.
I find it ironic that a man with a one-way ticket to hell would waste his time on such a thing.
When we’re done cleaning up the kitchen, Beth goes upstairs to take a bath, and Cody heads out to clear the chicken coops.
“See to that fucking mutt,” Rick orders me. Foxy’s been yapping all through dinner, the same way he always does when he gets separated from Beth.
I stare through Rick as I get up from the table, leaving my homework and heading to the laundry room. Foxy won’t come when I call him outside, so I lift him under my arm and carry him out to the woodshed, where Beth keeps his food.
I hate the idea of Beth being in the house alone with Rick. I’ve learned his pattern now. I know the nights he goes to her, and I’ve stuck to my promise. I listen out for him, I follow him outside, and I sit in the dark, scratching at the ground. Forcing myself to listen to what he’s doing to my little sister because it's torture.
