Fear of Falling(90)

“As soon as he busted down the door, my aunt tried to pull me to the back bedroom to spare me. I kicked and screamed for her to let me go. I knew if someone didn’t help, he would kill her. When I finally wriggled free, I instantly regretted it.”

She took a deep breath, prompting me to stroke her hair. “My grandparents had a wall that was covered with a huge mirror. He…smashed her head into it repeatedly. Over and over again until she was a pile of blood and torn flesh on the floor. Even after he had beaten her unconscious, he just continued to kick her and call her disgusting names. And when his wild eyes flicked up to mine, he just…smiled. He smiled at me as if to say I was next; as if the thought of slicing me up until I was unrecognizable pleased him.”

“Fuck. Oh my God…” I had no words. Nothing could sum up the horror and fury I felt. I just squeezed her tighter. I never wanted to let her go.

Kami sniffled before pressing her lips to my chest. “My mother spent weeks in the hospital. Plastic surgery may have repaired her face, but she was never the same after that. He killed her. Whatever was left of my mother was murdered that day. She never smiled again. She never kissed or hugged me. She never told me she loved me. She just existed. I think a big part of her wished he really did kill her.”

“I’m so sorry, Kam. Shit, I’m…”

“Part of me wished he killed her too,” she whispered through a sob. “I could have mourned her. I would have been given the chance to grieve the loving mother that I once had. Not the empty shell that forgot I existed.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I was alone with my memories, Blaine. I had no one to help me through them, no one to tell me it would be ok. I had nightmares every night, and no one soothed me. No one told me I had nothing to be afraid of. Fear became all I knew. It was all I had.”

I pulled Kami until she was on top of me, and we were chest to chest. I needed her to see the severity in my face. “Kami, I swear to God that you will never feel that way again. As long as you’ll let me, I will be there to comfort you through every nightmare. To hold and kiss you every day so you never feel lonely again. To dry every last tear.” My thumbs brushed away the ones trickling from her impossibly green eyes. “Fear isn’t all you have. You have me. If you want me, you have me.”

Before she could answer, I covered her mouth with mine and swallowed the last of her sobs. Her hands gripped my hair while mine palmed her ass, slowly grinding her against my hardening cock. Kami placed her knees in either side if my legs, sliding slickness against hardness. I teased her opening with my erection, the friction to her clit causing her to moan and squirm. Fresh wetness covered my stiff length.

“I want you inside me,” she mumbled against my lips. “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, lifting her hips and easing her onto me as I delved into the softest, sweetest place on earth.





An hour later, after a shower that nearly led to me thrusting into Kami against the tiled wall, hunger steered us to the kitchen. Kami sat cross-legged on the counter, wearing my t-shirt and boxers. Though the clothes swallowed her petite frame, she looked unbelievably sexy, and it was all I could do to keep from taking her right there.

“How do you like your eggs?” I asked, pulling out a frying pan.

“Isn’t it like 11 at night? A little late for breakfast, don’t ya think?” she asked, stealing a grape from the bowl of freshly cut fruit I had placed in front of her.

“It’s never too late for breakfast. Besides, it’s my favorite meal. And the only one I can cook successfully.”

Kami smiled around a mouthful of plump grape. “So you mean to tell me that you live off of breakfast food alone?”

“Mostly,” I shrugged. “I eat at the bar a lot. And Ms. Patty or Mavis drop by with food throughout the week. I think there’s some leftover fried chicken in the fridge.”

Kami nodded while sucking fruit juice off her fingers. I was on her before she could even blink.

“Maybe one day I could cook for you,” she said breathlessly, feeding me a small slice of peach.

I sucked the juice off her fingers slowly, twirling my barbell against the soft pads of her fingers. “You can cook?”

“Mmmm,” she moaned, as I nibbled the inside of her wrist, lapping up the juice that had dribbled down her hand. “Yeah. I’m pretty decent. I used to watch my mom in the kitchen. I think it was what she considered quality time—her cooking and me watching.”

I abandoned her wrist and fished a piece of melon from the bowl. Teasing her tongue, I glided the fruit across her lips before sucking the nectar from her mouth.