Earning Her Trust: Braxton Arcade Book One

by Adore Ian

  Marrin

  Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

  I knew I should’ve thrown out the IUD aftercare instructions. But no, instead I’d thought it’d be a good idea to hold onto them just in case.

  Damian waves the paper in my face. It must’ve fallen out of my purse in his apartment.

  I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he’s smug as fuck right now or the fact that I’m so turned on my feet refuse to move. Every nerve in my body is alive with anticipation. Every cell on edge, waiting for what he might do next.

  “At first,” Damian drawls, “I wasn’t sure this was yours. But after Mermaid’s little talk at the bar, and the way you’re looking at me right now, I think we both know the answer.”

  There’s no good way to have this conversation, so I dive in. “Fine. I got an IUD. Big deal.”

  His erection presses against my thigh. I stifle a noise.

  He smirks. “That’s not the question though, is it? The question is, did you lie to me about being on birth control to begin with?”

  “Jesus, are you serious? I was on the pill and switched. Sue me.”

  The arrogant look on his face morphs into something territorial and masculine. My pussy clenches, reminding me just how empty she is.

  Suddenly, I feel defenseless, weak. Too exposed. I struggle against his hold on my wrists and he lets go, stepping back but not away. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at my feet, wanting nothing more than to run away.

  I’m angry at myself for ever thinking this would be a good idea. Angry at the stupid look on Damian’s stupid face. At the fact he probably thinks this means he’s more to me than a fuck buddy—because he’s not.

  Liar.

  “You want me to take you raw?” His voice an octave too deep.

  I ignore the pounding between my legs and the overwhelming urge to submit to his dominant side. “Okay, we’re done. You can leave now.” I head for the door.

  “No, really.” He blocks my path, standing too close and holding my shoulders in his large, hot hands. Uncertainty mars his face. “I’ve never—” He cuts himself off and something gutters in his eyes, a memory maybe. He blinks it away and when it’s gone so is the confidence boost he was riding. It’s just us. Me and Damian. “I’ve always used a condom with my partners. You?”

  I stare and stare and—

  “Yes.”

  His forehead touches mine. I still. Heart pounding.

  Thumbs knead my shoulders and the moment feels intimate. Feels like everything I’d wanted to avoid. So I add, “It’s not a big deal. Just something I figured I’d try. No pressure.” I say the last part sarcastically while patting his shoulder as awkwardly as possible.

  He claims my mouth with a blistering kiss, and whatever wall I’d just tried to erect between us comes crashing down. Lips move over mine, hands move over my body, mine over his. It’s too much and not enough. It’s more than I’ve let myself want from him, but I’m powerless to stop it because I do want it. Want him—us.

  I’m addicted to him. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t addicted to him.

  There’s something desperate in his kiss, something confident, too. I know right then I want to feel him move inside me, skin to skin. Want him to claim me, mark me, come inside me. I want to share my body with him in that way, to know him in that way because…

  I trust him.

  Even though I know I shouldn’t.

  “It is a big deal,” he whispers, breath fanning my face. “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.”

  There’s no mistaking the shred of pain in his voice.

  “Okay.”

  “You’re mine, Mar. That’s the only way this ends.”

  I inhale sharply.

  Damian kisses me once more then steps back, grabbing my hand and leading me to the door. We separate before it opens. He walks in first and when all the warmth in my body goes with him, I know I’m completely and utterly fucked.

  10

  Damian

  “Christ on a cracker, it’s cold outside,” Vicky complains as she sits across the table from me, her white cheeks red from the nippy autumn air.

  We’re in a private study room on campus I reserved a few weeks back. Midterms are over, but finals are right around the corner at the beginning of December. It’s early November, but still, professors are already handing out instructions for final papers, and I’d rather start early and get it done right than wait until the last minute and get it done wrong. I need a good GPA if I’m going to get into med school.

  I move my backpack off the table so she has more room. “It is almost winter.”

  “I hate winter. Why can’t it be summer year round?”

  “It is in some places. Just not here.”

  She frowns and settles in.

  I wait a solid thirty seconds before diving into the real reason I asked her here. “I have a personal question.”

  She stares at her notes. “Shoot.”

  I tap my book with a pen. I don’t know why I’m nervous, Vicky and I have been friends since high school. She knows everything about my life, including the fact that I was abused. “You take birth control, right?”

  “Oh, wow.” She looks up. “It’s one of those questions. Okay, yeah, I take birth control. Why?”

  “So, like, outside of all the other benefits of birth control, have you ever used it so you could have sex without a condom?”

  “Uh, duh. Not when I was younger. Back then it was to keep acne off my face and manage the amount of blood in my pants each month. Periods in middle school are the worst.” She shivers. “Those were dark days.”

  “When did you finally have sex without a condom?” If anyone will call me out for an inappropriate question, it’s Vicky.

  “Not until Jayce.”

  That’s the answer I was hoping for. “Okay, so what was it like?”

  She leans forward, looking at me like I’m the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. “Damian, are you asking because you’re about to punch your v-card?”

  “Ha. Ha.” I chuck my pen cap at her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t.” She tosses the cap back. “Do you want me to describe what sex feels like with a vagina? Because I’m gonna be straight with you, that’s going to go about as well as you explaining what sex feels like with a penis.”

  “No. I mean what was it like for you emotionally. Society puts all this pressure on women when it comes to sex. I just wanna know if sex without a condom was, like, different to you.”

  She considers. And for a moment, I wonder if she thinks this has to do with the incident at that house party in high school I told Marrin about where I nearly had a panic attack. Vicky was there that night. She knows why I was so freaked out.

  “Yeah, I mean… any time anyone has sex, there’s potentially a moment where we brush up against everything society has told us to think about sex and our bodies,” Vicky says. “Like, we call first-time sex a loss of virginity when really it’s the gaining of an experience, you know? And when guys have sex, society applauds. When women have sex, everyone has a fucking opinion. It’s bullshit. Men also don’t assume as much of the risk when it comes to sex. So yeah, sex without a condom could be a big deal for some women I guess.”

  “What do you mean about risk?”

  “Pregnancy, for starters. Also, the lining of the vagina is thinner than the skin surrounding the penis, so women are more susceptible to getting infections. Sex is like…” She props her elbows on the table. “If I stuck my finger in your mouth right now, you’d have to trust that I wasn’t lying when I said I’d washed my hands, right? It’s flu season, you don’t know where I’ve been.” She wiggles her fingers like a mad scientist. “Now if I put a glove on and then ask to stick my finger in your mouth, it somehow maybe lessens the risk you incur. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “But it’s still intrusive. You’re still letting me inside your body. I could be wrong, but I think a
ny time someone lets another person inside them, there’s the possibility for power to shift, or be taken, from the person being penetrated to the person doing the penetrating. Couple that with thousands of years of patriarchal rule telling women our bodies are sexual objects to be dominated by men, and yeah, that can mess with your head a bit.” She tilts her chair back. “The first time I had sex without a condom, I had to actively remind myself that it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “How so?”

  “I told myself it didn’t mean Jayce and I were going to get married, or that he’d always love me, or that I was somehow ruined for any penis that might come after his. I wasn’t going to let that narrative taint my experience. I told myself that I was Carrie fuckin’ Bradshaw and that this was my body, my experience, and what I wanted. Jayce was a total doll about it, too. We’d talked about what it’d mean for us both and our relationship beforehand. I hope that answers your question.”

  “It does, actually,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “No problemo. Now can you please tell me you have bio notes I can copy because I have no clue what’s even happening in that class anymore.”

  “Sure.” I hand her my notebook. “One more question. I didn’t bring up the whole sex without a condom thing, my partner did. We already kinda talked about it, but do I need to bring it up again?”

  Vicky looks up like a bloodhound on a scent trail. “That’s up to you. If you feel everything's been squared away and you’re both on the same page, then you’re probably fine. But if you’re having doubts, especially ones related to what happened to you,” she says carefully, “then you might need to bring it up again.”

  “No, I’m good,” I say. “Thanks though.”

  “No problem. So, who is this mystery woman? I know you. You’re not unwrapping the mummy for just any Egyptologist—”

  “If you’re about to make a Brendan Fraser reference, please stop.”

  “Why? The Mummy is a great movie and Fraser is a national treasure.”

  Before I can voice my rebuttal, my phone vibrates. I tilt the screen, hoping it’s Marrin. It’s not.

  It’s my brother.

  Declan: You’re meeting us for Thanksgiving this year, right? Mom’s bringing her new bf. If I have to suffer them alone, I’ll kill myself.

  I groan.

  Damian: Where’s dinner?

  Declan: The lake house. It’s 2 hours from you. You’ve got no excuse. Don’t ditch me. I’ll never forgive you.

  Damian: I’ll see what I can do.

  Declan: I’m telling Mom you said yes.

  Damian: Do NOT.

  Declan: Too late. See you in a few weeks.

  I drop the phone on the table. “I hate Thanksgiving.”

  “Come home with me like you always do.”

  “Declan’s guilting me. They’re having dinner at the lake house and apparently Nadia’s bringing her new boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t know your mom was back in the dating pool.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Good for her.” She slouches. “Damn. I wanna go to your T-Day. My family is so boring, nothing exciting ever happens.”

  “I’d give up a kidney for boring any day. I already know how it’ll play out. Nadia will start the day with a glass of wine and a side of Xanax, and Declan will take the opportunity to drink everything not locked in the liquor cabinet. I’ll spend the holiday making sure Dec doesn’t drown in his own vomit, while Nadia and I dance around the topic of my abuse because God forbid we acknowledge we’re not the perfect family.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vicky says quietly. “You can always have Thanksgiving with me and my family. My parents love you, plus Jayce will be there. Come on, I’ll even let you pick my mom’s brain about gross OB-GYN stuff at the dinner table.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, but I don’t think I can abandon Declan.”

  “Then invite Jayce and me to your Thanksgiving. We can help run interference.”

  “Tempting. But I don’t think Jayce would forgive you for subjecting him to my mother.”

  “I don’t know,” she muses. “They say shared trauma really brings people together.”

  I laugh.

  Marrin

  I get home sometime after eleven o’clock at night and go straight to the kitchen. I’ve spent the last five hours waitressing at the 13th Floor and my feet are killing me. I haul open the fridge and begin rummaging through its contents but… Something is off.

  Abruptly I straighten.

  And find myself face-to-face with a magnet I did not put on my freezer door. It’s small and pictures a retro housewife holding a cucumber and a cocktail wiener with the caption “Size does matter.”

  I chuckle.

  Read it again.

  Then laugh so hard I cry.

  There is no question who put this magnet on my fridge. The question is when. It’s the middle of the week and the last time Damian was in my apartment was Monday night when we ran to my place because he needed more olive oil (which, for the record, I didn’t have). He must’ve put it up then.

  Have I really been so busy that I didn’t notice a magnet?

  My apartment is minimalist at best, empty at worst. There are no personal touches anywhere outside my bedroom. Partly because when I moved in, I wasn’t sure when I’d be moving out. And also because in the off chance I ever let anyone into my apartment, I don’t want to encourage them to stay. It’s inhospitable on purpose.

  Wiping my eyes, I pull out my phone.

  Marrin: It’s hardly fair comparing a cucumber to a mini sausage.

  I’ve eaten dinner and am stepping into the shower by the time he replies.

  Damian: Not when you’re the cucumber and all other guys are the mini sausage.

  Marrin: Who says you’re the cucumber?

  Damian: I think we all know I’m the cucumber, babe.

  Marrin: …

  Marrin: I don’t know. My jury’s still out.

  Damian: Would your jury like a demonstration?

  Marrin: Always. But, sadly, this jury is in the shower and on its way to bed.

  Damian: Shower pic? You know, for science.

  Marrin: LOL. Not a chance.

  I put down my phone and get serious about washing. I hear it vibrate several times, but I don’t look at it until I’m clean and dry and climbing into bed.

  Damian: :( But I’ve been a really good boy.

  Damian: Wait. Did you just now notice the magnet?

  Damian: Hellooo? Where are you?

  Damian: Hope you’re in the shower thinking of me.

  Damian: It occurs to me that I’ve never seen you in the shower.

  Damian: I think we should rectify this situation. Say… right now. Or tomorrow. Or sometime in the near future. I’m flexible.

  Damian: What do you say?

  I’m laughing as I text back.

  Marrin: Goodnight, Damian.

  Damian: You’re alive! How was your shower? I bet it was lonely…

  Marrin: Fantastically orgasmic.

  Damian: You were thinking about me weren’t you?

  Marrin: Nope.

  Damian: Wait. You’re lying. You don’t like masturbating in the shower.

  Marrin: You remember that?

  Damian: I remember everything we talk about :)

  Marrin: I’m not sure if I should be creeped out or not.

  Damian: Not creepy. You’re just that unforgettable. Soooo rain check on that shower date?

  Marrin: Goodnight, Damian.

  Damian: Night, Mar. Dream of me :)

  Marrin: I’d like to keep things nightmare free tonight.

  Damian: Pffft. We both know this cucumber occupies a starring role in your best dreams, babe.

  I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  11

  Damian

  The next few weeks are some of the best of my life. Marrin and I spend as much time together as possible. She’s slowly letting me in, and I’m finding that I like opening up to
her about my life.

  I haven’t told her the heavy stuff because I don’t want to freak her out, but I want to tell her. I think my old therapist would be proud of me. I used to get incredibly anxious about people finding out I’d been abused, to the point that I needed medication for a short time. I still keep an emergency bottle around just in case. But over time, and with a lot of therapy, I’ve learned to accept what happened and move on.

  I do think my need to tell Marrin is motivated by a bit of self-doubt. A part of me thinks that if I don’t tell her what happened to me, and she were to find out, she’d feel betrayed. Or as though I’d sold her on a version of me that doesn’t exist.

  I know that’s the wrong way to think about it.

  I don’t need her to validate me, but knowing she understands that part of me and still accepts me… there is value in that.

  Marrin’s keeping secrets, too. For as much as she’s opened up, she’s also made it clear just how closed off she is. We’ve had to talk about boundaries once or twice in the last few weeks. Once when I asked about her family, and once when I asked about her waitressing job in the city. Both times she got overly defensive and I had to remind her that I’m not familiar with her triggers and that she has to let me know where her boundaries are.

  Overall, November has been fantastic. On Saturdays we have breakfast in her apartment before I go to work. During the week when she’s working, I’ll show up on her break and try to beat her at Realm Quest. When she’s not working, we have dinner at my place or hers, and usually watch a movie. She is slowly educating me on film noir, which I’ve gathered holds a special place in her heart. We’ve even driven to campus together a few times.

  We haven’t had sex. Call me a romantic, but I want her to know there’s more between us than sex. I like hanging out with her. Sometimes that seems more intimate, too. We still make out and fool around, though. I’m not a saint and we both have needs.

  She still refuses to stay the night at my place, and I don’t push about staying at hers. I also haven’t seen her bedroom, and I’m fine with that. She did let me take her out to coffee once, but made a big deal about how we needed to keep a safe distance from one another and bring textbooks so that, if needed, we could make the excuse that we were studying together.