Marquise

“Mom? Dad?” My confused little dude voice, asking for them to acknowledge I was home and stop whatever was happening. I could hear my mother begging him, telling him to let her come out and take care of me.

“Please, sir. Junior is home. I don’t want him to be scared.” It never occurred to me that I only heard my mom call my dad by his name when family was around.

“He is fine. You are going to turn him into a punk if you keep babying him. I am your concern. Me and the men you let touch my possession.” He growls that last part.

“Sir, I only did what you told me too. I live to please you. Sir.”“Shit!” Shaking my head, I head out to the backyard needing air to take the thoughts away. Again. I am not sure how long I’m out here, but when I turn around, she is standing behind me. She is looking every bit as scared as my mom always did. The feelings her fear causes to arise in me are not something I am equipped to deal with right now.

“Can you tell me your name?” I ask, walking towards her. The compulsion to be near her is overtaking my promise to myself not to overwhelm her. She backs away, obviously not wanting me to touch her. With nowhere else to go, she hits the wall. My hand reaches out to touch her dirty, beautiful face, before moving her hair aside.

“I know you don't have a reason to trust me ...yet. But you will, Goddess. You will. Until then, I will work every day to help you get used to me. To this, that is between us. Like it or not, you have met your future. Let’s go and get you cleaned up.” Not bothering to wait for a response, I scoop her up into my arms and walk towards the stairs. All the while I am telling myself to ‘Give her time, Marquise. She's not ready.’ But fuck if I can stop my cock from being hard as fucking stone. Hell, for that matter my heart isn’t taking a break either. I might have just met the only person to break through my guard with no effort.

God help her if she betrays me.Chapter TwoChrissyLess than six months ago, my entire life crashed on top of me, like a ton of bricks. I was seventeen when my life changed forever. My father was a Chicago police officer, who had been on the force for nearly twenty years. He made it to the rank of sergeant.

On one particular summer night, my father and his partner answered a call that turned deadly. His partner died that night and he was forced to kill the assailant. The assailant turned out to be a twelve-year-old girl with severe issues. There were a lot of things that my father couldn’t get over regarding what he had to do. A piece of him died inside each time he did his job.

One day he decided to do the unthinkable, by leaving me all alone in the world. I needed more time, more hugs, and more fights with them. It was all the things that I took for granted with my parents, and I wanted more of all of it. Nothing will ever change the fact that my father loved my mother so fucking much, that he killed her and then himself.

According to the note he left behind, he couldn’t live with himself anymore or without Mike, his partner and best friend, and wanted my mom to go with him. At the time, I wished he’d killed me too. I’ve had a hard time rationalizing and coming to terms with why he didn’t, but nothing good has come from trying to justify why he didn’t.

The apartment my parents rented was not amazing, but it was home until the day after the funeral when the landlord kicked me out. It was in one of those rent-controlled buildings, and he wanted to rent it for much more than my parents paid. The man was a huge dick about it, and I was out on my ass before I could blink.

I had to sell pretty much everything we owned. My dad spiraled downward the last four months of his life, and I had no idea. He gambled away his pension and 401k, leaving me with barely enough for the funeral expenses because their life insurance policy didn’t cover anything, because he stopped paying the premium. Then, like a friggin’ genius, I ducked social services. I had to. There was no way I was going into foster care for six months. I didn’t have any friends from high school, and even though I was on the streets I still managed to graduate on time. No girls liked me, and the guys only wanted what I was steadfastly saving for my future husband, so they quickly lost interest.