Always Wanting (Consumed)

The growl that comes from Blue’s throat is what brings me back to the present. I look down and notice my nails are biting into the skin on his stomach. I loosen my grip and look back at his face. The hatred and rage I see there frightens me after being in my scared state from reliving my past. He looks dangerous in this moment. I haven’t felt the fear Darren invoked in me in years. I became hard as an adult once I realized my addiction wouldn’t go away. I had to in order to protect myself after all the insulting comments I’d gotten over the past eight years.

Pushing the fear aside, I lift one hand and place it on his rough cheek.

“He didn’t rape me,” I tell him, wanting that look gone from his face. “He continued with his nasty rutting, doing it once a day for months and months. I don’t know why, but he never put it in me.”

“He raped you,” Blue says harshly. My eyes widen in shock with the vehemence in his tone. “He may not have put his dick in you, but he still raped you over and over again, Abby.”

“It could have been a lot worse, Blue,” I whisper.

His eyes flare, and his hands tighten on my hips. “It could have, but what he did was bad enough. Did you ever go to your parents or the police?”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not!”

Not appreciating his tone, I scowl and move to get up from his lap.

He grabs my hips and forces me back down. “Stay the fuck right there.” His features soften when he sees the heat in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, relaxing his tense body. Sucking in a lungful of air and letting it back out slowly, he asks more calmly. “Why didn’t you ever go to your parents or the police?”

Letting his behavior go, I answer. “Because I was thirteen, and scared out of my mind. My sister was eight years old, Blue. His parents were rich and influential, mine were the average working class that had both parents working forty hours a week. I couldn’t take the chance that he could get off on what he did and come after my sister.”

“How long??

?

“Seven months.”

The pulse at his temple ticks with my answer. I can see he’s trying to rein in his temper, and after several moments, he manages to.

“And he just stopped, all of a sudden?”

“He and his parents moved away. Several states over, I was told.”

He nods. “That’s why you think you have this addiction? Because of what that sick fuck did to you?”

I scoot back in his lap until I fall between his legs, and surprisingly, he lets me. I don’t know if he senses I need distance, or he needs distance himself. Either way, I’m grateful.

“I don’t know,” I tell him truthfully. “I think that it could have something to do with it. I had nightmares for three years after he moved away. Bad ones. Ones that woke me up in a cold sweat and had me rushing to the bathroom to throw up.” I frown when I think back to when my nightmares stopped. “My nightmares lessened when I started having sex. The more sex I had, the less the dreams came.” I shrug. “It could have been a coincidence, though.”

“But you don’t believe that?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, before he asks another one. “What about your parents? They didn’t question these nightmares? They didn’t do anything about them?”

I look down and run the edge of the sheet beneath my fingernail. “They didn’t know. I kept them a secret. Besides my close friends, you’re the only person that knows I had them.”

I squeak when he suddenly reaches forward and flips us around so I’m lying on my back with him partially on top of me, the sheet still tucked around me. I watch as his eyes run all over my face; my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my mouth and cheeks, before they settle back on my eyes.

“Do you know what happened to him?” he asks gruffly.

I shake my head slowly. “No. I just wanted to forget about him and what he did. After he left, I never heard from him again.”

My answer doesn’t satisfy him. I can see it in his eyes. The anger his face carried before is still there, but he’s trying to keep it in check on my behalf.

Still, he nods, then settles down on the bed, rolling me to my side so my back is facing him. He reaches over me and flicks off the bedside light. His arms go around me and he pulls me back against his chest tightly. In this one moment, I feel normal. I don’t ever remember a time I’ve felt normal.

“I don’t let the guys I sleep with stay overnight,” I murmur into the darkness.

His arms tighten around me even further, and his face goes in my hair. His hot breath reaches my neck when he says, “Just try to make me leave.”

I can’t help the flutter in my stomach at his words. “So… you’re staying?” I ask hesitantly.