by S. J. Drum
He pumped his fist up and down his shaft in a slow rhythm while he waited for her to comply. Lucy looked around the room, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth while studying the windows—the blinds were drawn over but still allowed quite a bit of sunlight through. It looked like she might protest getting stark naked in his living room in the unforgiving light of day, then her gaze landed on the action of his hand. The head of his cock was a deep red and slick with excitement as his fist squeezed and worked the length.
He chuckled as he watched her strip in what must’ve been record time. A curse spilled from her lips as she hopped on one foot, struggling to remove a clinging sock. Her red-blond curls surrounded her face in wild abandon, her breasts heaved with each breath and her soft belly trembled as she stood naked before him. Timid but determined, Lucy Ellingsworth was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Dalton grasped her hand and drew her with him until he was sitting on the sofa, then urged her to straddle him. He traced the moth tattoo on her thigh before taking time to study every exposed inch of her.
“Dalton…” Lucy wrapped her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his study.
He shook his head and forced her hands to rest on her thighs. “Let me see you, darlin’.”
Small circular scars dotted her delicate skin in a line that began between her breasts and continued until it reached her belly button. Rage boiled within him and he worked hard to tamp it down, wanting this moment to be perfect for Lucy and unmarred by that bastard Ross. Dalton knew what those small round marks meant. Lucy had been burned, repeatedly, treated like an ashtray instead of being given the love and respect she deserved.
He wanted to inventory every last scar Ross had left on her beautiful body and make her tell him exactly how and when each injury had been dealt. Now, however, was not the time. Instead, he cupped her heavy breasts and thumbed the tips until they were hard and wanting.
With his tongue, Dalton teased and licked and suckled until Lucy writhed on his lap, panting and begging for more. Her hands clasped either side of his head while he worked her breasts. Wet heat slid insistently against his cock. It took a bit of persistence and creative maneuvering but he was able to retrieve a condom from his wallet without removing Lucy from his lap or removing his mouth from her nipple.
Dalton sat back, blowing a breath across the wet peaks of Lucy’s breasts. He used his teeth to rip open the condom package then held the rubber circle between them. “Put it on me.”
Lucy looked a bit uncertain but took the condom and set to the task, albeit with excruciating slowness, of rolling it over his throbbing cock. Once it was in place, she rose onto her knees and locked her eyes on his as she placed the head of his shaft at her entrance. They both drew in sharp breaths at the first contact.
Dalton gripped her hips, holding her aloft and keeping her from sliding down the length of his cock. With a tenderness he’d never displayed, he took her mouth in a melting kiss meant to give her the love and encouragement he dared not speak aloud.
Moving from her mouth to her jaw, then spreading kisses down her neck, he kept her restless hips from impaling her on him. When he closed his mouth around her nipple once more, she panted, “Please, Dalton. Please.”
He sucked the bud between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue while she wriggled and writhed her wet heat over the tip of his cock. With a grip he knew would probably leave marks on her hips, he pulled her down, sliding the head of his cock inside. He felt her walls spasm at the invasion just as he bit down on her nipple with enough force to administer a small amount of sensual pain. She moaned, her entrance slick with lust, as Dalton pulled her hips down and slammed his cock upward until he was fully seated.
Knowing he wouldn’t last long, he released her nipple and tucked his head into the curve of her neck while settling a thumb against the hard bud of her clit. Mindless with pleasure, Lucy moved atop him with a skill he hadn’t anticipated. She tightened around him, her back arching, thighs squeezing, and broke apart just as his balls drew up and he too exploded with release.
Lucy shook against him as he wrapped his arms around her, gathering her to his chest.
The house phone rang, startling them. When she tried to pull away, Dalton kept her snug against his chest and seated on his lap. He hadn’t even bothered to pull out of her yet. Whoever was calling could just fucking leave a message. The answering machine kicked on and Jed’s gravelly voice echoed through the house.
“Tried your cells, y’all didn’t answer. Better get your ass over here, man. Lucy’s parents are at the shop lookin’ for her and I smell trouble.”
* * * * *
Lucy drew in a sharp breath as her heart sped into an erratic rhythm having nothing to do with the incredible orgasm she’d just experienced. My parents? Here? Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, God. What if Ross is with them? I have to get away. Get away before he finds me and hurts me. Or worse, he could hurt Dalton.
She twisted within Dalton’s grasp, her gaze flying over the room, searching for her clothing. She tried to scramble off of his lap but Dalton held fast. “Let me go. I have to get out of here. My parents… You don’t understand. They’ll have me committed, locked inside some psych ward like a prisoner if that’s what Ross convinces them is ‘best’ for me.”
Lucy knew her wide eyes, panicked expression and naked struggling weren’t the best behaviors to showcase her sanity but having her parents in town, looking for her, triggered her flight response and there was no stopping it. She pushed against Dalton’s chest but his grip was solid. Though his eyes blazed with emotion, he outwardly remained calm despite the wiggling, naked woman on his lap. He wasn’t getting it. She had to run. Why wouldn’t he let her go?
Then, the oddest thing happened.
Dalton’s lips twitched and a smile began to draw up the corners. The act was so out of context, out of sync with her feelings at the moment, it stilled Lucy’s struggles. She watched in wonder as his chest began to shake and husky laughter erupted from the mouth which had so recently been wrapped around her tender nipples.
“Why are you laughing?” She slapped his shoulder without worry of retaliation. “This isn’t funny. My parents actually think I’m crazy. They think I hurt myself for attention. They drove all the way down here from Cincinnati and I guarantee it’s not because they’ve come to their senses and want to apologize over scones and tea.”
Another burst of laughter filled the room. Lucy glared.
“Scones and tea? Where the hell did that come from? Did you forget to mention your mother is the Queen of England?”
Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Now was not the time for grins and giggles. At least it wasn’t until Dalton messed it all up with his damned levity. “This is serious, Dalton. I never told them where I was moving and I didn’t leave a forwarding address. I pay Abigail and Jed in cash for the office space and use a post office box two towns over for my mailing address. Ross had to have told them where to find me. He’s up to something and they’re going right along for the ride like they always do.”
Dalton’s smile faded and though it had irritated her only a second before, now she wanted it back. He cupped the side of Lucy’s face with one hand, the rough surface of his palm and fingers helping to ground her in the present. She searched his gaze and hoped she could absorb even a tiny amount of the quiet strength she found there.
“No one will take you anywhere you don’t want to go. No one will keep you anywhere you don’t want to stay. Never again. Not while I’m breathing.”
Lucy wanted what he said to be true. But… “I believe you believe that, Dalton. But you’re just one man. One man who hasn’t known me long, against my parents and Ross, who’ve been in my life for years, forever. If they convince a doctor or a judge I’m crazy and in need of hospitalization or some kind of guardianship situation, I’d be under their thumb and within Ross’ grasp. How could you or I stop them?”
She wound her arms aroun
d Dalton’s neck, no longer trying to get away but trying to get as close to him as possible. She pressed her nose against the curve between his shoulder and neck, inhaling and memorizing his scent in case this was her last opportunity. With the thought of never seeing Dalton, never being held by him again, a knot formed in her throat and a vise squeezed her heart.
Dalton dug a hand into her hair and pulled her tighter against his chest with an arm around her waist. “You’re forgetting something, darlin’. You’re not alone here, not like you were back home. You’ve got friends who care about you, not just me, more than one person. Jed and Abigail, hell, even Dez, they’ll fight for you too.”
“Why? They barely know me.” Lucy breathed the words against Dalton’s neck, refusing to move from the safe shelter of his arms.
“Welcome to the South, sweetcheeks.” Lucy grumbled her displeasure at being referred to as “sweetcheeks” and Dalton chuckled before placing a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “Whether they’ve known you an hour or a lifetime doesn’t matter. They see the good in you and know the truth just like I do.”
Lucy wanted to believe all he said but time and experience had taught her people were unlikely to involve themselves in someone else’s problems. Neighbors, cops in Ross’ precinct, her own parents, they all witnessed proof of Lucy’s abuse and did nothing. For years. The people who had been in her life for years either denied the truth or simply didn’t care enough to intervene. Jed, Abigail and Dez seemed like nice enough people, but Lucy didn’t expect them to stick their necks out for a relative stranger. Still, she nodded as if she agreed with Dalton’s explanation.
She sat up straight, ready to confront whatever awaited her at Hart’s Ink. Dalton hissed when her hips moved and she realized his cock, still lodged inside her, had hardened while they spoke. She wiggled her hips again and smiled when he growled in response.
“Woman, don’t start something we can’t finish.” Dalton gripped her hips on a groan and gently lifted her off his lap before setting her on her feet. The feeling of emptiness that washed over her made Lucy want to crawl back onto his lap, onto his cock, and stay there for the rest of her life.
She watched as Dalton rose to his feet, pulled up his boxers and pants and tucked his still hard shaft behind his zipper with careful movements. A shard of humor pierced her worry. He hadn’t even taken his boots off, the jerk. Glancing down at her complete lack of clothing, she shook her head, wondering what had happened to the insecurities and cautious actions that had dictated her behavior for as long as she could remember.
Lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed Dalton pulling on his shirt and gathering her clothing until he knelt on one knee in front of her and tapped her left foot with one strong finger. Lifting first her left and then right foot while steadying herself with a hand on his broad shoulder, she allowed him to slip her panties on and pull them into place.
As Dalton dressed her, his tender ministrations planted a seed of hope within her heart. Maybe she did deserve to be loved and cared for. Maybe if she took a gamble and trusted this man, trusted a friend, trusted herself, she wouldn’t have a future full of running scared. She’d still have a past full of humiliation and violence, degradation and betrayal, but maybe her past didn’t have to dictate her future.
Dalton slipped her shirt over her head, placing his hands on her hips before settling his gaze on her face. His sawdust, leather and clean-sweat scent surrounded Lucy like a cocoon.
“You trusted me with your body, darlin’, now trust me enough to help see you through this mess.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and rested his palm on the side of her neck, his thumb stroking over the pulse on her throat. “I’ll stay right beside you when we face your parents, if that’s what you want. If you can’t deal or don’t want to deal with them, fuck ‘em. I’ll take care of it and you don’t even have to breathe the same air as them.”
Lucy drew in a deep breath and let it out on a slow exhale. Meeting his gaze, she made a decision. “We’ll do this together. It’s time I stand up for myself without backing down or running away. As long as you’re there with me, I can do this.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dalton held open the rear door to Hart’s Ink and ushered Lucy inside with a hand on the small of her back. The ride from his house had been silent and tense, the air in the cab of his truck thick with Lucy’s nervous energy.
“I don’t understand why we can’t wait for Lucy inside her office.” The haughty, feminine voice came from the direction of the lobby and rippled down the hallway. Lucy’s body jerked as if she’d been hit.
“The office is locked and Lucy ain’t in it. You got a key?” Jed, his voice low and rumbling, sounded slightly annoyed. “No? Then you’re waiting out here.”
Dalton and Lucy moved toward the sound of voices. The buzz of Abigail’s tattoo machine hummed behind the closed door of her studio as they made their way up the hall.
“She’s our daughter,” a masculine voice—Lucy’s father—growled in response to Jed.
Lucy stumbled a step and Dalton slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. Seeing her upset, feeling tension cause her curvy frame to tremble, pissed him right the hell off. He’d seen some messed-up shit in his life but this kind of betrayal, parents betraying a child by refusing that child their trust, this was a whole new level of fucked-up.
As they neared the lobby, Dalton heard Jed snort a disgusted laugh.
“Yeah, she’s your daughter, but she’s also a grown-ass woman and we’re talking about her professional workspace. You make it sound like she’s a teenage runaway.”
“You don’t know Lucy. She’s unwell. Her husband is worried,” Lucy’s father continued.
Dalton heard the rustling of movement and entered the lobby to find Jed pushing himself up from the stool behind the long glass counter.
In a voice stronger than he expected, Lucy broke into the discussion. “Ex, Dad. Ross is my ex-husband. And he gave up the right to worry about my wellbeing the first time he hit me.”
Dalton and Lucy came to a stop a few feet from where her parents stood. Lucy’s mom wore a pale-pink pantsuit, tan heels and carried a matching bag. Being the kind of man who didn’t care about women’s clothing, he couldn’t say for sure, but head to toe this woman’s shit looked expensive. Her hair was cut in a sharp bob at her jawline, smooth and shining and perfect, like even the hair on her head was afraid to step out of line. In contrast to her outward appearance, the woman’s eyes were rimmed with red and she trembled as if the stress of being forced to stand in the lobby of a tattoo and piercing parlor was too much for her to handle.
Lucy’s father’s gaze snapped to Lucy when she spoke. He was tall and lean and would have looked impressive for his age if not for his poor choice in clothing. The man had to be in his fifties and wore a pair of dark jeans with the kind of fake faded lines at the crotch that looked like whiskers, ironed and pressed to make a crisp crease down the center of each leg. A twenty-year-old would look laughable wearing those jeans, on this man they were ridiculous and a little sad. A button-down shirt, also ironed within an inch of its life, and a pair of shiny loafers completed the odd outfit.
Jesus. What must it have been like, growing up in a house with these two?
Her father’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Lucy to Dalton then shot his gaze to Jed before settling once again on his daughter. “Your mother and I are worried about you, too. My God, you didn’t even leave us your forwarding address.”
“Because I didn’t want you sharing it with Ross.”
Lucy’s mother held her hands clenched together at chest height as though praying for Lucy to see things their way. When she spoke her voice held a note of something, desperation or hysteria, which Dalton found disturbing. “Lucy, honey, you changed your last name, moved to another state, you don’t call, what are we supposed to think? Now we find you here with…with these people.”
When Lucy shifted like she was about to move away from him,
Dalton banded his arm around her waist tighter and squeezed her hip to let her know she was safe and staying right where she stood.
“I changed my name because I divorced Ross. I don’t want anything from that asshole. Not his last name. Not his money. Certainly not his fake concern.”
“Now wait just a minute, young lady. We know you’re not well but we won’t allow you to spread these lies about Ross. It’s one thing to tell your stories to us, your parents, it’s another to allow strangers to hear them.”
Up to this point, Dalton had been content to hang back and let this play out, allowing Lucy to take the lead. Now, not so much. “How long did Lucy live with you?” Dalton asked her father.
“What?”
“How long did Lucy live in your house?”
The man’s brows drew together, no doubt wondering where this line of questioning was going. “She lived with us until she turned twenty.”
“Two decades. During those two decades, how many times did Lucy throw herself down stairs to break her ribs, run into doorways to blacken her eyes, bash her own head against the corner of a cabinet?”
Mrs. Ellingsworth’s breath caught and her eyes widened. Mr. Ellingsworth clenched his jaw before responding. “None, that I know of. She could have—”
Dalton interrupted. “How many times did she cut herself, sprain her wrist or ankle or knee on purpose?” Lucy’s parents remained quiet. Dalton took a step toward her father, getting in his space. “How many times did she light a cigarette, press it to her own flesh, burn herself, for what? For fun? For attention?”
Mrs. Ellingsworth’s eyes shone with tears and she looked at Lucy as if this thought had never occurred to her. The look on Mr. Ellingsworth’s face said something entirely different, something Dalton didn’t like. At all.
“How many?” Dalton growled.
