I close my eyes and let my hand fall to my side. Trust. That’s what this is about. He knows it, and I do too. Trust that he’ll like my body when I’m no longer the smooth, sleek stripper he saw onstage. Trust that he wants me for more than sex. I don’t know much about trust. It’s a language I don’t speak. But I hear the sound of it, the heart of it, when I’m near him. I want this badly enough to try. I need him badly enough to shake with the effort.
“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the porch swing.
I sit down on the smooth wood, feeling the slats press into my skin. Sitting straight and prim doesn’t last long. With one finger under my chin, he lifts until I’m looking up—and leaning back. The bench creaks a little as I do, but I don’t doubt it will hold. Even if we fuck on this, it will hold.
Like the ballroom, like the Grand, everything in this place is built to last.
“Are you afraid?” he asks. He must feel me trembling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He places a kiss on my cheek. Then lower, down my jaw. On the side of my neck. “Afraid of me?”
After a beat, I jerk my head in a nod.
He moves along my shoulder, dropping kisses while his hand slides down between my legs. “Afraid I’m like my brother?”
“You’re nothing like your brother,” I say on a gasp, because he’s got his fingers against my pussy, rubbing gently, and it’s too much. Even this light touch is too much. How will it feel when he fucks me?
Kip kneels, watching my pussy intently. With a firm hand, he pushes my legs apart. Then he leans in and places a kiss on my clit. I buck my hips into him, but then he’s gone, leaving me bereft. I let out a soft whimper.
“He didn’t do this?” Kip asks.
“Never.”
Kip leans in and licks my pussy lips, and I shudder at the feel. I’m already strung out, tight and close to coming. Then he circles my clit with his tongue. “Kip.”
His eyes flash up at me. “You’re going to stay very still so you don’t get hurt. Just sit. Let me take care of you. Understand?”
I bite my lip. Not really an answer.
He presses two fingers inside me, and I moan. “What is it, Honor? Tell me what you’re thinking. Don’t hide from me.”
“He never did that either,” I whisper.
His fingers curl inside me, hitting a certain spot. “Did what?” he asks, voice low.
“Took care of me.” I tell him what I know he needs from me, just
like he gives me what I need. “You’re nothing alike.”
Kip doesn’t respond. He just leans forward and sucks my clit, twisting his fingers—hard—and I’m thrown headlong into orgasm, unable to buck my hips or fuck his hand, unable to move at all while he wrings pleasure from my body, as he pushes me over the brink and then catches my fall, making sure I don’t twist my stitches or hurt myself as I go.
“Why are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly before I can even catch my breath.
I answer him though. I wouldn’t dare not to. “Because I need you.”
I’ve always needed him. Even before I knew who he was, when I saw him in the Grand, I needed him to be real. Needed the promise of help, of relief, of safety to be real. I needed a savior. Not to get me out of danger. I ran away myself. I survived myself. I needed a savior, because I needed someone to care.
His lids lower. He looks like a big satisfied lion, licking up the cream I’ve spilled. He still has a bulging erection—it must be hard as steel, and painful too—but he doesn’t seem to mind. No, he’s far more concerned with sucking my sensitive pussy lips into his mouth, running his tongue down my slit, turning me on again when I’ve barely come down.
He doesn’t mind that I haven’t shaved or that I have scars on my body. He doesn’t mind anything about me. And I understand what he means now. I don’t have to hide from him. I don’t have to run and hide—not ever again.
Chapter Twenty
A week later I am still reading the large book of Rudyard Kipling’s stories. The old binding and yellowed pages hold the same appeal as this house, as the Grand—the same as Kip himself. Battered and beautiful.
Banging is coming from outside. Kip has been busy restoring the fascia around the house. I’ve been meaning to do this for years, he said to me. But I never felt inspired to until you.