Burn in Hail(22)

He'd been home on leave, and I'd been so freakin' excited to see him that I could barely keep the excitement out of my voice.

What he thought was excitement for the tree lighting ceremony had  actually been excitement at seeing him home, healthy and whole.

"Then I thought about all those times that Krisney went to dances,  football games, and such. When people would ask her where you were,  she'd tell them that your father was strict, and wouldn't let you attend  school functions … or any functions where he couldn't be there."

I pursed my lips.

My father hadn't allowed me to go to those. In fact, he hadn't allowed  me to go to much of anything unless it was the grocery store-because who  the hell could get into trouble going there?

Apparently, I could.

That same day of the tree lighting, I'd gone to the grocery store, which  was where I'd seen Tate. My father had allowed me to go to the grocery  store by myself, but being the evil bastard that he was, he'd followed  me there.

He'd always been suspicious. Things that I thought were normal-like  saying hi to a man that had been deployed and had come home-were not  normal to him. What they were to him, were immoral.

I'd been talking to a man. I'd been having lustful thoughts about a man that he'd hated.

Hence why he'd beaten me so badly that I could barely stand for a week afterward.

Luckily, it'd been Christmas break, allowing me to hide in my house for  weeks and heal instead of going to school and having to explain away my  stiff gait.

It was bad enough that Krisney assumed she knew what was going on.  Though, she always assumed something much tamer than what was actually  going on.

Krisney thought that I just had a strict father-one that thought I should have short hair.

What she didn't know was that on any and every occasion that my father  saw fit, he'd teach me what he thought was the way of God. Thou shalt  not lust after a man. Thou shalt not have impure thoughts. Thou shalt  not curse, lie, or steal.

The one and only time that I'd cursed had been in the kitchen when I'd slammed my finger in a drawer. It'd been the word ‘crap.'

My father had heard it, and had come barreling out of his office while ripping his belt from his belt loops.

"The day that you wore those pretty clothes at the church picnic," my  stomach clenched. That time had been one of the worst that I'd ever  experienced.

Giving him hours to stew, to think about what he was going to do to me  as he waited for the church picnic to be over, had been one that I never  wanted to think about ever again.

I started to lift my shirt, yanking it up and over my head as I stared at him with a challenge in my eyes.

"I don't want to talk about this," I told him.

Then I started in on my pants.

I knew that a man could be distracted by sex, and that was what I needed-a big distraction.

I knew that my body wasn't beautiful.

Hell, it wasn't even cute.

I had stretch marks on my hips from my hyperactive growth as a child-at least in my mind's eyes.

I was five foot seven. If I had heels on, that was.

Five foot four if I didn't.

But apparently growing from four foot eight to five foot four in six months was enough to make my hips hate me forever.

Then there were my boobs.

They were too big for a short girl like me, and it was hard as hell to  find anything to fit them that didn't look completely at odds with my  small stature.

My hips were round, and my thighs left a lot to be desired.

They would never not touch, no matter how much I may want them not to.

And my arms-well the fat on them would always swing in the wind if I had the windows down.

But for some reason, Tate seemed to like my body.

He seemed to find the things I hated most, attractive.

"We're not done talking about this," he said as he watched me work on my  pants. "Not to mention I didn't invite you over here to do that."         

     



 

I froze with my pants halfway over my ass.

Then I felt stupid.

Bringing them back up into position, I started buttoning them.

I was going to cry.

Literally, tears were stinging my eyes, and I wanted nothing more to do  than go home and put this god-awful, shitty day behind me.

Tomorrow, I'd start over.

Tomorrow, I might very well look for a job somewhere else.

I knew better than to come home.

Stupidly, I'd let Krisney convince me, though. She didn't know about all  that went on with my father. I should've told her. Maybe then she  would've encouraged me to go to a different city.

Maybe then I'd be living the dream somewhere else, without my father  breathing down my back, or the allure of a man that I knew didn't really  want forever with me.

Tate wasn't a forever kind of guy.

Not that I didn't think that he wasn't capable of giving me forever, but  because I knew he didn't want forever. If Tate Casey didn't want  something, then he didn't do it. It was as simple as that.

I wasn't sure if I could ever move on from him …

A mouth slammed down onto mine, and I took a deep breath in through my  mouth, gasping in surprise at the ferociousness of the kiss.

"Get." He pressed another hot kiss to my mouth. "Out." Another, this one even deeper. "Of your head."

I moaned and felt my knees get weak.

I'd kissed men before, sure. But kissing men, and kissing Tate? That  wasn't a comparison I was willing to even entertain putting a number to.

Tate wasn't in a league with other men. Tate was in a league of his own,  one that only he could compete in. Honestly, it was unfair.

He had the power to take everything I had to give, and I wasn't sure he was willing to give anything back.

Did that stop me from threading my arms around his neck? No.

Did that stop me from pressing my breasts into his upper belly? Again, no.

Did that stop me from spreading my legs when his hand went down the gap in the back of my jeans? Hell no.

I was his puppet.

He could do anything to me that he wanted, and I'd do everything in my  power to make it easier for him. Why? Because I was a whore for Tate.

Other men, no. Tate? Hell fucking yes.

"Don't like to see your face lookin' like that," he told me, pulling back so that I could see his eyes.

My eyes were likely dazed, and I knew that he knew what he did to me.

Again, I did nothing. Said nothing.

"This look, though?" he grinned that devilish grin. "Fuckin' love it."

Hearing ‘love' come out of his mouth was damn near debilitating.

In fact, my heart was now pounding even harder, even though he'd done nothing but say a simple word.

I swallowed thickly when I felt the tip of one large finger swirl around the wetness of my entrance.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I bit my lip as I held my breath.

Everything inside of me screamed for me to urge him on, tell him anything to make him give me more.

But I knew better. Tate did what he wanted when he wanted. He didn't work on anybody else's time table but his own.

So when he just kept teasing-kept swirling that finger-spreading my  wetness further and further out in broadening circles, I did nothing but  spread my legs wider. I gave him what he asked for without actually  asking.

He growled low in his throat, and then dropped his mouth to skim over my brow.

"You're so short," he said. "It's a good thing I have long arms." He paused. "But it makes it hard to do anything more."

Before I could offer him an alternative, he took matters into his own hand, and picked me up.

With one hand still in the back of my pants, and the other around one  ass cheek, I did the only thing I could do and wrapped my short little  legs around his waist and held on while he moved.

My back hit the mattress, and he followed me down, crouching over me on the bed while continuing those maddening circles.

With the way I was practically lying on his arm, I couldn't see how that  was comfortable for him. He didn't seem to care, though.

"Lift your shirt, let me see those pretty, big titties."

I bit my lip and raised my shirt. When I went to lift my bra up next, he shook his head.

"Take them all the way off," he ordered. "You gave me the greatest tease earlier and then took it away. I want them back."

I stared at him, reading the earnestness in his eyes, and then reached  for my shirt and shucked it all the way up and over my head. Once I  threw it to the ground, I reached for the clasp of my bra, thankful that  I'd put the one on that was easy to undo.

Once I had the snap undone, my breasts fell free of their confines.         

     



 

The thing about women with big breasts like I had was they weren't cute.  They didn't stay nicely in shape, but fell heavily to the side, making  me so self-conscious that it was hard to not wince.

Tate, though?

He loved them. He worshipped them.

I cried out when I felt his hand leave from between my legs, but when he  brought those fingers up, covered in my juices, then rubbed those same  fingers along my nipples, I knew what he was going to do.

After sucking his fingers completely clean while staring straight into  my eyes, he dropped down to my breast, and sucked one peaked nipple into  his mouth.

He licked it completely clean, leaving it so engorged and hard that I  wanted nothing more than to scream, and then he moved to the other  nipple.