Trust Me(25)

But not Kayla James.

She was a fucking warrior. And not one of those people who never had any hard shit happen to them and liked to brag about mental toughness. She was an actual, battle-tested warrior, and every time I tried to close myself off from her, that part of her called to me again.

I'd met tons of girls in my life. Some almost as sexy as she was, objectively at least. Great tits, luscious lips, pretty faces. But I couldn't connect with a single one of them beyond a laugh and a fun night out. They couldn't possibly understand what life had been like for me, or how, when I said I had a tough childhood, I didn't mean that I had a lot of chores to do or that my parents wouldn't get me that bike I wanted so bad.

What it meant to me was being hungry. It meant quitting high school at sixteen so I could get a job and save up to get my brothers out of foster care when I turned eighteen. Proms and football games and parties didn't mean shit to me. I was working back to back double shifts at the diner when everyone else my age was at homecoming. It was a choice, and one I never ever regretted, not even for a second. But it meant that I had nothing in common with any of the girls who met me. Girls who thought my "bad boy" image was fun, or cool. It would definitely have been less cool if they woke up next to me when I was in the middle of a night terror, body soaked in sweat as I dreamt of my mother holding me under the water in the bathtub until I passed out.

Now, though, as this girl looked up at me, face red with misery, chin lifted defiantly in spite of the humiliation that stained her cheeks, I felt like maybe she got it. Maybe it wouldn't scare her away. She was the daughter of Mickey Flynn and there was no fucking way we could ever make it work in the real world. But maybe we could be each other's salvation for a while. I could be a safe place for her to fall. She could be a person I could be myself with.

"Look, I understand if you want to go. It's super weird. I get it, and I won't be mad."

"Fuck that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean. Fuck. That. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here, and you and me are going to work this out. You down?"

She shook her head, brows raised, "I've tried. I swear to you, by myself, with a couple guys who tried to be patient.”

"But you've never been with me."

"You're setting yourself up to fail and that's not on you. It's not your problem to solve and I don't want you to feel responsible."

"I don't feel responsible. That cock-sucking piece of rat shit uncle of yours is responsible. But that doesn't mean I can't help you."

"I'm not some sad case in need of a pity fuck."

"Pity fuck? The only pity would be if I didn't get to fuck you because thinking about it is driving me crazy. I want you, and I know you want me. Now, the only way to make this a satisfactory activity for the both of us is to make sure we both get off. I'm a shoe in. I can barely watch you bend over without wanting to come. In order to even things up a little, we're going to take some time learning what you like. I couldn't live with myself any other way."

"What if I can't?"

"Then nothing's changed. We tried. Nothing lost. But what if you can?"

Her eyes shifted left and then right, and she crossed her arms over her chest. I held my breath, waiting for her refusal.

"Half an hour."

"I'm on the clock, now?" I tried to keep my tone light, but that definitely wasn't going to fly. Learning a woman's body took time and a half an hour wasn't long enough. "That's a little cold, no?"

"That's what I can do. Anything more than that, it's going to start to be like... a thing. If nothing's happening by then, what am I supposed to do? We'll be all awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t think I could take it."

I could tell by her body language that was the best I was going to get from her or else risk her walking away. I remembered the way her body had responded to mine back at the gym. I could still feel the wetness of her pussy coating my fingers. I could still see the way her eyes went wild and glassy as I closed my teeth over her nipple. My blood went hot and rushed south as I thought of doing all that again and more.

"Thirty minutes, then.” I nodded and rubbed my hands together warming to the idea and letting the chill that had soaked into my bones from our earlier conversation fade away. “Do we need to synchronize watches?"

She managed a shaky half smile, but she was definitely terrified of yet another failed attempt. Little did she know, there was no way in hell I was leaving this apartment until she came.

She laid back on the bed, stiff as a board, and closed her eyes. It was tough not to stare, because she looked fine as hell. Her tiny lace underwear barely covered the goodies, her full breasts strained against her bra and her legs, although not long, were banging. Fine, lean muscles lined her calves leading to trim ankles and those heels that she still hadn't taken off.