Page 6 of Look how well You take this C*ck

The last few weeks since moving in with the Hillards have been an awkward kind of hell. Cory doesn’t care about me one way or another, but Carly resents my presence. She doesn’t understand what it’s like not to have a mother, so when Clara offered for me to do some baking with her in that first week, I jumped at the chance. She had received the same offer from her mom but declined and grew angry after learning I hadn’t.

School has become a nightmare since Carly began spreading rumors, and honestly, most are true. It’s hard to deny that my dad has spent a decade murdering women, but he has. It’s been the subject of gossip since his arrest.

I try to avoid everyone now, but Damon has refused to allow me to withdraw from him. Even if some of his friends are wary about hanging out with me, Damon hasn’t wavered.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize Venom is nearly over, and Damon is snoring next to me. I shut the T.V. off and try to find sleep, but all I do is lie here, thinking of all the things that have gone wrong in my life and flinching from the whip of a leather strap that is only present in my mind.

When I can’t take it anymore, I quietly get up and grab a glass of water. The time on the microwave says it’s nearly four, and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep. I’m on edge and feel like any minute, I’ll be ripped out of this house and thrown into an even worse situation.

Chewing on my lip, I debate doing something I probably shouldn’t–going to Lars’ room and climbing into bed with the older man. I know it’s not fair to him. He doesn’t know me from Adam, and he certainly doesn’t owe me anything, but I want nothing more than to feel safe, and unfortunately for him, he offers that feeling. From the minute I let him into my house, I knew he was a safe harbor, and I want that.

No, I need it.

Desperately.

Checking that Damon is still asleep, I head upstairs, promising myself I’ll be out of bed before anyone knows I was even there. I just need a few hours of sleep.

Opening Lars’ door, I close it behind me. Tiptoeing to his bed, a crack in the curtains allows me to see him in the middle of the mattress. He’s flat on his back, hand resting on his bare chest, covers down to his waist, and I feel sure enough that I can get in and out without him waking up.

Pulling back the blankets, I crawl in tentatively, careful not to jostle him, before settling on the edge of the bed. I rest my cheek on the cool pillow, my eyes closed, and it doesn’t take long for my whole body to relax in a way it hasn’t since my mom was alive.

A few minutes later, I’m startled awake as a hand wraps around my waist, dragging me to the middle of the bed, where Lars buries his face in my neck. Tensing, I nearly bolt out of bed when he whispers, “Relax, sweetheart, Daddy’s got you.”

I blink. Slowly, at first. Allowing his words to process in my mind before tears leak freely down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” How does he know? I feel his finger on my cheek, wiping the moisture away as he kisses the back of my head, pulling me deeper into his embrace. I haven’t had anyone hold me in so long.

I’m overwhelmed and overjoyed.

“Thank you,” I whisper and drag his arm up my body, holding him so tight that he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. Which I don’t think he does since he forces his thick thigh between my legs, snug to my sex, as his own digs into my ass.

He’s hard.

For me.

“Sshhh, Ellie, just sleep. I’ll be here.”

I relax at his words, my mind shutting down as I give myself over to the rest he’s offering. Knowing that dropping my guard and sleeping is either the gravest mistake of my life or precisely what I didn’t know I needed.

Waking up alone isn’t how I imagined my morning starting. Not only because I had planned to be out of here before anyone else woke up but because I feel abandoned. Again. I understand it’s unreasonable. Lars doesn’t owe me anything, but I took him at his word that he’d be here. I thought he would stay with me until I woke up.

Opening my eyes, the curtains are the same, with a brilliance shining in the room, making it easier to see.

Lars’ room is more spacious than I remember. To be fair, I hadn’t paid much attention to it yesterday, but now, in the early light of day, I notice his minimalist style. There’s the bed, of course, with a long dresser against one wall. An oversized chair is placed next to it with a small, cushioned stool and standing lamp behind it. It’s cozy and welcoming.

As I sit upright, I notice a note on the night table. Picking it up, I read Lars’ manly scrawl, apologizing for leaving, but he was called into work, and there’s breakfast for Damon and me in the oven. Glimpsing the time on the alarm clock, I bet Damon is already awake and wondering where I am.

I just screwed up the only friendship that I felt genuinely safe in, and I hate myself for it. Refusing to cry, I head into the bathroom to clean up before going to look for Damon to see how angry he is.

Quietly walking downstairs, I hear the T.V. and hesitate before entering the living room. I didn’t realize I made any noise, but Damon turns back to see me and grins like he’s won some sort of prize.

“Breakfast is in the oven!” He’s…joyful?

“You’re not mad?” My tone is subdued, and that’s when he hits mute on the remote, gets up, and comes over to me.

“Why would I be mad?”

Guiding me to the kitchen, he has me sit on a stool while he grabs the food from the oven. My mouth waters for the plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and waffles.

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