by Coralee June
Her eyes moved to look past me, and her fingers twisted in her hair. “They kept my hair down. That’s how he liked it. He’d shoot me up first. Then he’d sink his hand into my scalp and wrap my hair around his hand like a rope.” She moved her hands and demonstrated the move as she spoke. “He’d grab the ends in his fist, and then wrap it—once, twice, three, four times. It hurt.”
I ground my jaw in anger, but I knew better than to interrupt her.
“What the fuck was his name?”
My heart pounded. This was what Rocco wanted. But I hadn’t even been thinking about that when the question came out of my mouth. I wanted to know for me, not him. Because now that she was telling me this, I wanted to be the one to kill the son of a bitch.
“I don’t know his real name,” she admitted. “But I called him Pick. He would always come in chewing on a toothpick. Sometimes he kept it in his mouth the entire time.”
I’d stab toothpicks into his fucking eyeballs. Hell, I’d stab them into his dick until it looked like a fucked up kabob.
“I can’t stand my hair now,” she confessed. “I can’t sleep unless it’s braided or pulled back. I wake up feeling like he’s tugging at it, ready to start my hell all over again.”
I hissed out a breath. “So when I let it down and grabbed your hair…”
She took her fist and knocked her knuckles against her temple. “I can hear him even though I try to keep all of that sound muted. I can hear myself too. And every time I look in the mirror, I see his fist wrapped around my hair. He made me feel powerless. Like it was a leash he was using to tame me.”
Hearing that made me so angry I saw red. How fucking dare he try to tame the beautiful girl in front of me.
In the next blink, I was on my feet, pulling her with me. She didn’t stop me when I grabbed her hand and tugged her through the room. I yanked open the bathroom door and as soon as we were inside, I slammed it shut.
“Godfrey, what—”
Before she could finish her sentence, I had my arms on her waist, and I lifted her up, sitting her down on the bathroom countertop. She watched me with wary eyes as I dug into the drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.
Her eyes darted down from my face to the shears and then back again.
“Do it,” I told her, holding the scissors out to her.
“What?”
I grabbed her hand and pressed the scissors into her palm. “Your long hair was a method he used to control you. It made you feel powerless. Take your fucking power back, Rachel.”
She swallowed, and I watched the bile slide down her throat at the movement. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me like I was the smartest person in the world or someone there to terrorize her.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered before looking at herself in the mirror. “Everyone used to tell me it looked just like my mom’s. It’s one of the last things I have of hers.”
I didn’t have a heart. Men like me had that traitorous organ ripped from our bodies ages ago. But whatever was pumping blood through my chest crashed and burned right then. “It’s just hair. She gave you so much more than that,” I whispered while stroking her cheek gently. I didn’t know her mother. Didn’t know if she had been a coward like mine or a shitshow like her father. I didn’t know if she had been kind and compassionate or strong like Rachel was. But whatever I said seemed to be the right thing, because she lifted her fist up and wrapped the end of her hair around it like her tormentors did, and then she brought the scissors up and cut it off in one harsh move.
Each glide of the scissors was rough and blunt, slicing through the strands just above her shoulders in a crass way that represented every fucked up thing that had happened to her.
She went faster and faster. Snip snip snip.
The more she cut, the fiercer she became. Instead of doing it tentatively, she was hacking at it like her life depended on it. And maybe it did. By the time she was done, it was uneven and barely reached her chin, but it made her look like some sort of punk princess. She was beautiful. Stunning.
And she was strong, because she was cutting off the things that had hurt her. She wasn’t just cutting her hair. She was trimming away her experience and letting it fall to the floor like clouds of pale blonde smoke. She didn’t once falter.
“Do I look stupid?” she finally asked with a sniffle while staring at her own reflection. Piles of hair were littered on the floor around us.
“You look amazing,” I replied.
I wasn’t bullshitting her. I didn’t give a fuck about hair. Some guys got a hard-on for long, wild waves, but I was more interested in the way a woman carried herself, and right in that moment, Rachel Nomar looked like she could take on the world. It was a strangely intimate moment, being able to see her shed one of the things that had ruined her. My front row seat had made me hard as a rock. I loved seeing her grab onto her own reins and retake control.
“I look stupid. I should have gone to a hair salon,” she laughed, letting out a shaky breath.
“Trust me, it doesn’t.”
She shook her head with disbelief. “You’re just saying that.”
I grabbed her wrist with one hand and removed the scissors with the other before guiding her palm to the bulge in my jeans. “Does this feel like I’m just saying that?” I asked. “You’re fucking hot as hell, princess.”
She swallowed again, her lips parting on a sigh as she scooted closer on the counter and opened her thighs, inviting me to step closer between them. Her nimble fingers worked my clasp open, and within seconds, she had my hard cock out of my jeans.
“Just one more time,” she whispered, like it was something she was reminding herself. And for some unknown reason, that scared the hell out of me. It was right then that I realized I didn’t want it to have a limit.
Unfortunately, the world didn’t fucking care what I wanted.
Chapter Nineteen
Rachel
My head felt lighter as I stroked his cock. One more time. Just one more time with Godfrey Taylor, and I’d be over him. That was the lie I kept telling myself.
One more time to feel wanted and desired by this guy who somehow was so wrong that he made everything perfectly right.
“One last time,” I said again, making sure he understood.
For some reason, I needed Godfrey to know that I didn’t expect this to last. I had a long road of recovery ahead of me, and I cared about him despite trying not to. He wasn’t good for me. He wasn’t soft or sensitive. He was harsh, and he pushed and pulled in infuriating ways, and somehow, it was exactly what I needed. But I was terrified that if I asked for more, he would leave.
I looked up at him, stopping my movements as precum dripped from the head of his cock. Instead of answering me, he pressed his lips to mine. His kiss felt like a demand, but I didn’t know his terms.
“Kiss me back, princess,” he whispered, before reaching down to take off my heels. They fell to the floor with a thud, and he lifted me off the counter.
I worked my tight jeans over my hips. “Condom?” I asked.
“We won’t need one,” he whispered back before pulling away.
I was not having unprotected sex. No fucking way.
He must’ve seen the fire in my eyes, because he shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. I meant we won’t need one because we aren’t fucking.”
His words made every insecurity I had about myself and my body hit me like a truck.
“Oh. Okay. You...We don’t have to—”
He stopped me by bringing up his fingers to hold my chin. “Don’t for a second think that I don’t want to be inside of you and feel that pretty little pussy of yours, princess,” he said, comforting me in true Godfrey form. “I’m just not fucking you in this tiny bathroom while a party is going on downstairs. You deserve better than that.”
My mouth dropped open in surprise, and he took that opportunity to swipe his tongue along my bottom lip before biting down on the moan stuck in my chest.
>
“First time you got my hands. This time you get my mouth.”
Before I could reply, Godfrey was on his knees in front of me, yanking my jeans off the rest of the way, his face staring hungrily at the black lace panties I wore. I was nervous about him looking down there. It felt intimate, especially at the place I felt most dirty and used.
Growing uncomfortable, I moved to press my knees together, but Godfrey stopped me with a touch that was surprisingly gentle. “Don’t hide from me. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
I swallowed hard again, feeling my heart get caught in my throat on the way down. His hands trailed from my knees to travel up my thighs, and then he was hooking his fingers over the string of my panties and slowly pulling them down. When they’d fallen around my ankles, he pulled them the rest of the way off before looking up at me. “You need to stop, you just tell me. Okay, princess?”
I nodded slowly, feeling like I was in a trance. “Okay.”
Satisfied, Godfrey straightened up a bit to kiss me again, but it was different this time. Softer. Tender. And when he cupped the back of my head and threaded his hands through my now short hair, I didn’t feel that same panic. Instead, shivers travelled down my spine from how gently he was playing with the strands, until I was relaxed against him completely. Not once did he tug. He kept his touch gentle and comforting, showing me how good it could feel. I could have cried at how tender he was being, but I knew he’d stop if I did.
His tongue courted mine like it was a dance, backing up and then pulling closer, swooping in and then teasing back out. I found my hands delving under his shirt, my fingertips grazing against his hard stomach until I felt his goosebumps rise against his skin.
“So fucking perfect,” he said against my lips while guiding my back against the counter with his hands on my waist. I stripped from my top and bra as he roamed my body. He was fevered and hungry, just a kiss to my naked body had him falling apart, and that power did something to me.
He kissed my pebbled peaks, licking them in such a tentative way that I arched my back for more. I wanted him to bite me, to pull at my skin. I wanted to bruise in pools between his teeth. “God, yes,” I said with a groan, wanting nothing more than to beg him to fuck me here and now, despite his earlier words.
But before I could wrap my thighs around his hips and rock against him, he had me lifted up and sitting on the counter once more, the cool tile shocking my already sensitive skin. “I want you so bad,” he growled.
Once again, a thrilling sort of empowerment rocked through me. It felt incredible to be so desired and cared for. I’d been clinging to the idea that I was ruined by Pick, but I was baptized in the bloodshed. Born again in that dirty place that ruined me. I was new and imperfect and cherished.
His fingers pinched my nipple, rolling it around as he continued to massage my scalp. “I bet you taste sweet,” he began before sinking to his knees. “Time to find out.”
He pulled my knees apart and moved down to kiss my thighs, my knees. Each tender brush of his lips had my core squirming for attention. Most might not understand why I was plunging so recklessly into a physical relationship. But coping wasn’t lateral, it was a heartbeat, full of confident ups and downs and thudding pauses of weakness. I craved the strength Godfrey offered, and if it was wrong, I didn’t want to be right.
After teasing me some more, Godfrey finally kissed me right there, trailing a tongue up my slit as he moaned against me. “Fuck, Rachel, you taste like fucking honey,” he replied before devouring me. His velvet tongue dipped and tasted me, flicking up and down. I took hold of each and every sensation, clinging to it like it was a lifeline and Godfrey Taylor was my anchor. I watched him worship my clit with his mouth, alternating between sucking, tugging, and licking.
He started circling his tongue around my nub, sending shooting sparks of pleasure up and down my spine. I bucked on the counter, and he wrapped his hands around my thighs to keep me still. “Don’t you dare move, princess. This is my treat, and I want all of it.”
Those words, that dirty, filthy mouth of his, were coaxing an orgasm out of me. I could feel it building like the fire in my chest, smoldering us both until there was nothing left but his tongue, my cunt, and the orgasm that shattered us both. “God!” I screamed, louder than the music downstairs, louder than my thundering heart. Louder than all the fucked up demons that had been chasing me since the car crash.
Godfrey didn’t stop. He gave my too-sensitive bud another lick, like one orgasm wasn’t enough. “God, wait, I’m so sensitive,” I said, while once again trying to writhe and find some relief.
“Good,” he grumbled in a low, vibrating tone against me, bringing that height of pleasure and discomfort to an entirely new level.
Every swipe of his tongue had me jolting on the counter. I decided enough was enough, if I were going to come again, then it would be on my terms. Thrusting my fingers through his hair, I pushed him into me, smiling when I felt him chuckle. “Princess,” he moaned while working me even harder. I liked that he didn’t hold back. I reveled in the fact that he’d make me feel good no matter the cost.
My second orgasm wasn’t nearly as powerful as the first. It was a slow, leisurely echo that lingered long enough to make every damn muscle tense in shockwaves.
It went on and on and on until I was begging him, his name a plea on my lips like a broken record. God, God, fucking God...
I was so sensitive that his stubborn attention made me want to hop off the counter and straddle him. I wanted to make him beg me next.
When my body screamed at me to let the orgasm go—to stop the pleasurable torture he wrought with his tongue and lips, I reached down and yanked him up by his hair. He didn’t argue or fight. He could read me so well, I think he knew what I needed before I even realized it.
“Do what you want to me, princess.”
It was exactly what I wanted to hear. An animalistic sound erupted out of me, and in the next instant, I was on him. I knocked him backwards, and we both fell onto the bathroom floor, his head cracking against the tile and making him wince. “Ouch.”
I laughed a bit, but he didn’t push me away as I straddled him. He didn’t make any moves to get me off of him. Not even when my mouth came down on his, and I bit down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood. I did the same to his tongue, but he didn’t pull away for that either. Instead, he groaned in perfect male satisfaction when I started to grind my bare pussy against his cock, and the way my overly sensitive clit rubbed against him was enough to make my eyes roll in the back of my head.
But I wasn’t done yet. This was about Godfrey letting me have power in sex. This was about him letting me take out the wild aggression that I felt inside. For once, I didn’t have to tame the beast that was always riding me. He was giving me permission to let it out.
When he felt my hands trying to claw him through his shirt, Godfrey reached between us and lifted it off in one swoop, tossing it away. I raked my nails across his chest and abs, up and over his shoulders, marking him with raised scratches and making tiny beads of blood appear. I leaned down and licked them, and Godfrey hissed out a breath. “Fuck, yes, princess.”
When he reached down to fist his cock, I slapped his hand away and pinned it to the floor. I knew he could have easily overpowered me, but he didn’t. He just watched me with those calculating eyes of his, waiting to see what I’d do.
With my eyes on his, I kept my hold on his wrist and then slowly lowered my body until my head was above his cock. It was partially trapped behind the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and even though it jumped at me to be let free, I didn’t do it. I leaned in and gave it one, long lick around the head, letting some spit dribble onto the end before I closed my mouth over him entirely.
“Jesus,” he hissed. “I knew your hot little mouth would feel good around my cock.”
I licked and sucked the way I wanted, and he never once tried to bring up his hand to hold me down, or shove up his hips to thrust into my m
outh, even though he probably was dying with the slow way I was tasting him. He was letting me take and do whatever I wanted, without complaint, and when I let my canines scrape lightly against him, all he did was groan loud enough to make a wave of pleasure wash over me.
This right here? This was exactly what I needed.
I sucked him harder, faster, all while my one hand held down his, and my other continued to pinch and scrape and bruise his chest. I was marking him up and playing with power, and he was enjoying every second of it.
“Let me come, princess,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. I could hardly believe my ears—Godfrey Taylor was begging. It was unheard of. It was monumental, and it was for me.
To reward him, I slipped his cock the rest of the way out of his pants and started to bob around him, using one hand to grip the base of him. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”
I kept going, watching him as I worked, but right before he could come, I was startled by a loud banging on the door.
“Hey, asshole! Get the fuck out of there! Some people have to piss!”
With wide eyes, face tilted towards the door, and a dick in my mouth, I was so hopped-up on lust that it took me a few seconds to come back down to earth. My mouth slipped off of Godfrey, and he groaned, but this time, it was out of frustration.
“Don’t stop,” he pleaded once more, but I was already scrambling off of him and reaching for my panties and jeans to tug them on.
Shit. That guy’s voice yelling had me trembling and discombobulated, like I’d suddenly been woken up after sleep walking. I’d let go, but now that I was finding myself again, I wasn’t sure I liked the girl at the end of Godfrey’s tunnel.
What was I doing? I glanced at Godfrey and winced at the sight of his scrapes. The blood collecting on his lip made guilt claw at my stomach.
Fuck, what have I done?
