His Father

Sargent

Her legs are so long considering how short she seems to me. She’s stretched out on her belly on the couch, snoring so gently. Her hair is damp and braided again, it’s her signature look. One that suits her.

I remember the days I could sleep like that on a couch and it not bother my body. Even though I’m in great shape, better shape than I was at her age, I couldn’t do that now.

I’m about to wake her when she rolls over and tosses her hand over her eyes. Her shirt has risen giving me a glimpse of her stomach. It reminds me of last night and how easily she came undone on my hand. Her stomach tightened and quivered as her orgasm built. That piercing called to me, I needed to feel it, tease it, tease her. God, I’m hard. If Maddox hadn’t come home I’d have tossed her onto my bed and ravished her.

I want to right now but she’s sleeping.

“Tempest.” I whisper the name that suits her so well and crouch beside her in the dark, leaning on one knee on the floor by her shoulder.

My fingers touch her face, tracing the shape of her defined, shapely brows, the smooth curve of her cheekbones, the sharp edge of her jaw, then her lips. My thumb gently pulls on her bottom lip and releases it, making it ping back into place. It trembles with her next breath, making me smile secretly as I trace her chin, the underside, and then place a kiss on the dip in her throat.

I touch another in the space above it, then another, and another until my tongue dares to taste her skin. She’s fresh, clean, and smells like soap but she tastes sweet. I suck the lobe of her ear into my mouth when I hear her breath hitch. She’s not quite awake but I don’t think she’s fully sleeping either.

I dare to caress her thigh again, the inside of the leg closest, where her skin is the smoothest.

She starts to whimper in her sleep but it’s not the sound of pleasure, it’s the sound of pain. There’s a distinct change in her body language as she tenses, clamping her thighs down on my hand.

“No, no, please,” she begs, and my spine stiffens. I pull my hand from between her thighs as she starts to shake her head, her eyes still closed. “Don’t, please. Please. Stop.”

What the fuck?

“Tempest,” I say, louder this time. My hands hover above her as she writhes in her sleep, warding away some unknown monster. “Tempest?”

“No! Let go of me!”

I grab her shoulders and shake until her eyes fly open, tears swimming in them. She blinks rapidly and looks around sleepily but still tearfully. The tears fall as she takes me in, terror slowly melting from her body.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, unsure on how to approach this.

“Where am I?” she grumbles, pulling herself to sitting so the arm of the couch is at her back. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after nine, I just got home. Are you okay?”

Her lower lip trembles, but not like before. She shakes her head. “No.”

I wasn’t expecting that answer; most people would lie about their feelings. Not Tempest. “Was it a bad dream?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” she replies so quietly I hardly hear it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Talk to me,” I implore, wanting to take away this pain and turmoil in her eyes. She’s normally so happy, if not fiery, but still always happy. “Did somebody hurt you?”

“Yes.” Again, I wasn’t expecting the honesty.

“Who?”

She wipes her eyes on the back of her hands and replies simply, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I sit on the couch beside her, unsure on whether or not I should reach for her or call Maddox. Instead I think of the only thing I know that could help in this moment. “Tequila?”

Her smile returns but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “That will be yet another thing on the list of things I owe you.”

That hits me where it hurts because that’s not ever how I’ve felt. “Tempest…”

“No, I mean, I’ll pay you back for everything. Honestly. I’m not a freeloader. I’ve earned every penny I’ve spent to date. I would never have come if it weren’t for having that job and then I got fired. I’ve never been fired.”

She’s rambling. How do I make her stop rambling?

More tears fall from her eyes. How do I stop that too?

“And Maddox, he’s great, he’ll give me as much money as he can but I’ve never let him. Ask him yourself. I never have and never will take his money, your money… whatever… God… I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I’m a mess. I bet this is what you were dreading, seeing me in your hallway I feel so fucking hel—”