Broken Toy [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) (20 page)

“That bitch.”

“That’s the nicest of names I’ve called her over the years.”

“So she just robbed you of everything?”

She shook her head. “No.” A harsh laugh escaped her. “No, ironically, she didn’t. She kept excellent records. When I turned eighteen before I graduated high school, she took me to the bank to have the account turned over to me. She’d spent the money only on me, and there was still quite a bit left over, nearly thirty-five thousand. It helped me not have to work full-time during college when I got out of the army.”

“Still, I don’t understand how she could be so heartless.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Did she ever explain herself?”

She shrugged. “No. She felt she was completely justified. She raised me, never starved me. Took me to the doctor whenever I was sick. Always made sure I was in school and doing my homework. Made sure I had clothes.”

“She just beat you.”

“Not all the time.”

“You’re not making excuses for her, are you?”

“Hell, no.” She met his gaze. “Just because I can see her logic doesn’t mean I understand or agree with it. I’m well aware of her many faults. I’m also well aware that I could have been through a lot worse. I was never sexually abused. I was, in most other ways, taken care of.”

“Do you remember much about your parents?”

“Some. I wasn’t really allowed to talk about them. Especially my mom.”

“I take it she didn’t like your mother?”

“Noooo. Despised her. Maria blamed her for my grandfather’s heart attack, the one that killed him not long after my parents got married. My grandfather apparently hated Mom because she wasn’t Catholic and she refused to convert. Because he hated her, my grandmother hated her.”

“Wow.”

She nodded and, before she realized what she was doing, she rested her head against his chest.

It felt right.

He slipped his arms around her and turned them so he was the one leaning against the counter, supporting her weight as she leaned against him.

He felt comfortable, their bodies fitting together perfectly like this.

I wonder how it’d feel together in bed.

Maybe, if she was really lucky, she’d get to experience it at least once before he came to his senses about her.

* * * *

Rage seethed through Bill. He wanted a crack at Maria himself. If he ever got to meet the bitch, he’d be sure to give her a fucking piece of his mind.

“Is she still alive?” he asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Gabe mumbled against his shirt.

He held her closer, firmly, a silent promise to never let her go.

A promise he longed to say out loud and knew had to remain silent. For now, at least. It was too soon. Way too soon for deep emotional declarations like that to her. If he tried to move faster than she was ready, he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to walk out of his life without a look back.

The more he learned about her, the more he realized that her walking away just might break his heart, and he barely knew her yet.

Resting his chin against the top of her head, he said, “Gabriella Villalobos, you are a beautiful, wonderful woman. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I’ve been a lone wolf most of my life,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I know how to do this stuff.”

“Living up to your name?”

She chuckled and finally looked up into his eyes again. “Sort of, in a way. My grandfather was the first of his family born in the US. They were originally from Spain.”

“Did Maria speak Spanish to you?”

“Sometimes. She was from an American family. And she spent too much time trying to fit in with everyone at her church, I think. I learned more in high school and college than I did at home. I was fluent by the time I left the army.”

“Good training, huh?”

“Rosetta Stone.” She smirked. “One thing I learned growing up was how to be self-sufficient in a lot of ways.”

“What else did she do to you?”

He felt more than heard her tired sigh. “She was…stingy.”

“Cheap?”

“More than just that. My grandfather had good life insurance, but she made that last. She didn’t have to go to work after he died. You know, growing up in Illinois in the winter, it sucks having to walk around the house wearing three or four layers of clothes because she refused to turn on the heat until the temperature inside the house dropped below sixty degrees.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

He felt her relax in his arms a little. “It was one of the reasons I started crocheting.”

“Why?”

“To make myself afghans and sweaters. She taught me how to do it. It was the only hobby she had other than her church work. She made stuff and donated it. When I started doing it, too, it was a way to avoid her, even though we did it together.”

“How so?”

He tried to focus on her words as she snuggled even closer. She felt so right nestled against his body.

“Unless I was in church, or doing housework, homework, or crochet, I risked her ire. She’d criticize me during housework, correct me for not doing something up to her high expectations, but she vicariously took pride in my crochet. I got really good at it. Her church friends always praised my work, which she took personally in a good way, at least.”

“Raised her up in their eyes, or so she perceived?”

“Yep. She liked that. Liked the attention she got because her granddaughter was good at it.”

“I guess you never got normal toys.”

She snorted. “No. Buying books was only allowed if they were nonfiction or religious. I was allowed to check out books from the library. I received clothes and shoes. Practical things. She didn’t believe in ‘wasting money,’ as she called it.”

“I’m surprised you still enjoy crochet.”

“I enjoy being able to help others. And if I was crocheting, she left me alone unless I asked for help with something. Except for schoolwork, it was the only time I could ask her for help with something and she’d be patient with me. Otherwise, I risked punishment for a variety of things. Apparently she was raised by a very strict Catholic family, and her parents were from the ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ line of thinking.”

“Bitch.”

“Yep.”

* * * *

The protective, outraged fury in Bill’s tone warmed her heart. No one had ever sounded like that before on her behalf.

Ever.

Then again, even with her last boyfriend, in their months together she’d never revealed a fraction of her childhood to him as she had in the past few minutes.

She hadn’t trusted him as much emotionally.

With Bill, she felt…safe.

“I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m sorry.”

“No reason for you to be sorry. Wasn’t your fault. Looking back, in a way, I guess there are a few good lessons I picked up. I’m pretty cheap myself. It helped me out when I was in college and in life. And I’ve got a good work ethic.”

“But you never learned how to play.”

“Well, some might not say that’s a bad thing.”

“You need a balance.”

“That’s what my boss keeps telling me.”

“He’s right.” He tipped her chin up so she had to look into his eyes again.

Kiss me. Kiss me. Please, kiss me.

His lips deliciously curled in a playful smile. “I won’t force you to do anything this weekend that you don’t want to do. You want me to stop, just say ‘red.’ No bullshit. Got it?”

She nodded, her tongue reflexively wetting her lips.

“I like to be in control,” he continued, “but that doesn’t mean I want to be an asshole, either. Also doesn’t mean I want to run your whole life. I don’t have time or energy for that. I want you to
want
to let me do things. It’s no fun if you’re not willing. But you can’t pull some bullshit where we do something and then turn around later and accuse me of going too far. You have to speak up. I promise you, I will not get angry with you for coding. Ever. Are you willing to do that?”

She nodded.
Please, fucking kiss me!

“Then tell me what you want. What’s going through your head right now?”

It felt like she could barely breathe. “I want you to kiss me,” she managed to whisper.

His fingers gently clamped around her chin, firmly holding her in place. He slowly leaned in, teasing, until he feathered his lips across hers. Unbidden, her lips parted, a soft whine escaping her when all he did was lightly trail the tip of his tongue along her lips.

It took forever, endless, sweet torture as he finally pressed his lips to hers, kissing her in a way no one had ever kissed her before.

She’d already wrapped her arms around him, and now her hands clamped down against his shoulder blades, fingers ineffectively trying to dig in trough his shirt and draw him closer.

He turned them, pressing her against the counter and firmly holding her in place while still refusing to let her rush him. He took his time, gently, tenderly, slowly increasing the pressure, until finally what felt like hours later his lips crushed hers in a bruising, possessive kiss that threatened to take her knees out from under her.

Kissed before? Hell, she’d
never
been kissed before if this was the benchmark.

When he finally lifted his head she went up on tiptoes, trying to maintain the contact.

He let out a soft chuckle. One hand dropped from her back down to her ass. He grabbed a fistful of flesh through her shorts and squeezed. “Here’s what I want to do,” he said, his tone husky and dripping with lust. “I want to take you into the bedroom, tie you up, and explore every inch of your body with my lips until you’re begging me to make you come. Then I want to experiment with a little forced orgasm torture.”

“Huh?”

He grinned. “Make you come until you’re begging me to stop.” He pulled her body tightly against him, his bulge pressing into the front of her shorts through his jeans.

Her clit throbbed in response even though ingrained responses damped her enthusiasm a little.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Nut up.
“Can we please keep the lights off?” Fear swelled inside her as soon as the words left her lips.

His expression softened, his arms once again enveloping her, instantly transforming from demanding to comforting, cradling her against him and dissolving her worries. “Of course, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

She closed her eyes and listened to his heart thrumming away under her ear. “Thank you.” Of anything, that had probably been her greatest worry, that he’d want the lights on, or he’d berate her for her request. Her ex had always managed to make her feel stupid for wanting the room to be dark when they made love. Thought she was a prude for not wanting to share the bathroom or shower together.

He kissed the top of her head. “Sweetheart, this is what communication is about. You have to speak up and tell me things so I don’t do something wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“You said that already. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“Yes, Sir.” He froze, which caused worry to spill through her again. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He began nibbling the side of her neck again with his lips. “Nothing’s wrong, except that I just nearly came in my jeans.”

“Why?”

When he lifted his head, he wore a huge grin. “What you said.”

She thought about it, realizing the phrase had naturally fallen from her lips. “Yes, Sir?”

He grabbed her, his hand fisting in her hair as he crushed her lips once again in a bruising kiss that sucked all the air from her lungs and left her whimpering with need.

“That,” he said, his voice sounding throaty and deep, “is apparently the only thing you need to say to get your way with me. I won’t force you to say it, but dammit, I love the sound of it.”

This was new. This was something she never remembered feeling before with a guy.

Powerful in a good way.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, deliberately this time, and with a playful smile.

He grabbed her ass with both hands and ground his hips into hers. “You keep that up, you’re getting fucked right here and now. Even if I have to turn off the lights and bend you over the damn counter. It’s not nice to tease a guy who hasn’t been laid since before the last President was in office.”

His cock ground against her, and she really wanted to shove her shorts down and let him fuck her right there.

Then again…

She did just that, his obvious shock nearly making her laugh. Backed against the counter, she boosted herself up onto it. She still wore her shirt, and as long as he didn’t make her take it off, she’d gladly let him fuck her right there for the first time. She already felt her juices running, her cunt throbbing and screaming to be filled.

In a flurry of movement, he unfastened his belt and shoved his jeans and briefs down to his knees. He stepped forward then hesitated. “Dammit, the condoms are in my bag—”