TARA

I’ve been staring at the man I fell in love with before I ever saw him. Trent Calloway, a man I’m lucky enough to call mine. My mind is having a hell of a time believing I’m here.

I’ve always dreamed of being that girl who finds that guy who sets my soul on fire. This dark man is that guy.

Our relationship started out innocent. Until one day it simply wasn’t. I fell for a man behind bars. The man I accept for who he is, in spite of the things he has done. I love him, and no one can take that away from me. Not anyone. Not ever.

The urge to not blink, not look away out of fear he’ll disappear has me fighting back the tears of joy that are blurring my vision as Trent’s deep, dark, and masculine voice trembles through my skin and glues itself in every dark crevice it can find. It’s already sunk into my soul.

He didn’t put a stipulation at the end when he demanded me to get out of the car. Didn’t raise his tone in a way that frightened me. And it surely wasn’t one of those demands I’ve grown accustomed to. One to dominate and control my every move, my every breath, and to scare me into submission. No, he wants me for me. The woman who is coming into this relationship with secrets I should reveal before we do anything, and yet I’m unable to because for the first time in my life, I feel cherished.

When the dark desire of his eyes blazed across my skin and touched my flesh in a heated, heavy desire that rattled my insides, I moved as quickly as I could to get to him, and it still wasn’t fast enough. I’ve waited way too long, and the sound of his voice was more intoxicating than I’ve imagined. Deeply seductive. Dark and dangerous. But no danger was directed at me.

His looks, though, they are nothing like I imagined. My knees went weak, and my core pulsated to a rhythm I never knew about. I can still feel it simmering as it begins to boil, and he’s only beginning to touch me. His beard is thick; his hair is dark and long; and his eyes are shining brightly.

With every mile that Simon and I marked off in the car on our long drive here, I became more nervous. I had been waiting years to meet this man in the flesh. The man who thought so little of himself that there were times when I would receive his letters and say to hell with the consequences I knew would be bestowed upon me and leave. Fly to see him in prison just so he could see the truth behind my eyes when I told him I was as real as every word I wrote, we were real, and together we would work on destroying the demons from both our pasts.

I knew I couldn’t. You would think one man wouldn’t be able to stop me, and yet with the life I’ve led, the demons I carry, and the insecurities I hold within the confines of my heart, if I’d run without thinking this through, my husband would have found a way to track me down and kill us both. That’s why I turned him down every time he said to go to his mother. Luciano would have destroyed her, and Trent would have never forgiven me. He’s having a hard time forgiving himself as it is. If I were to have been added to that mix, Lord only knows where I would be right now. It sure wouldn’t be here looking at him.

Lucian is a powerful man. He has connections in every corner of the world. And even though he only holds on to me to parade me around, to make himself look good in the eyes of his peers, he’s done more damage to me than any one person deserves.

He’s destroyed my self-worth. Created a monster inside of me. There were many times I wished the demons would awake and give me the strength to kill him myself.

All of my concerns vanish for the time being the moment Trent swept me into his arms and carried me to his room. With one touch of his lips to mine, my body went up in flames. My past turned to ashes, and I became a different woman.

And now, as I lie beneath him completely naked, his eyes raking over my body, his fingers stroking my skin, his unspoken words caressing my soul, I know I’ve done the right thing. Together, Trent and I will find a way to make this work even though we are a chaotic mess. A tragedy just waiting to happen. Not a soul on this planet can come between the love we share. Not his past, not mine. Nothing. I won’t allow it.

Our stories are catastrophic. Neither one of us could make them up if we tried. Like the old saying says, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I pray with my broken soul that together we become whole.

“You are beautiful, and I’m not only talking about your body, Tara. I mean everything about you. I still can’t believe this. I don’t know if I want to spread your legs as wide as they will go, bury my head between them, or fuck you until neither one of us can think of anything else. Christ,” he says with an unsteady voice. He’s nervous. I am, too. He hasn’t been with anyone in years, and I haven’t had a man fuck me because I wanted him to. See, a mess.

“I want you to be you. The same man who promised me dirty, wicked things in his letters.” My speech comes out in a loud, rustling rasp. I’m so turned on. So in dire need of him to simply touch me.

Trent grins, and God, it is such a beautiful sight to see. A big, burly man whose face is covered in facial hair and whose dark locks hang to his shoulders smiling. He stands up tall, sheds himself out of his clothes, and my heart drops to the soles of my feet when I get a good look at him standing there. His lids are heavy over green grass-colored eyes.

He is perfection. Big and wide through the shoulders. Arms as big as my waist, and a cock that will more than likely split me in half if he fucks me in the ways he’s promised.

“You’ll take it. In your pussy, your mouth, and eventually up this tight little ass.” There’s my man. The dirty-talking guy who is screaming to be set free. He says so much more, but the words are misplaced right now as he runs a finger right down the crack of my ass, stopping short of my wanting core.

He doesn’t give me time to admire him as much as I’d like. He grabs my ankles, spreads me wide, and takes one long lick right up the center of my drenched pussy. His beard scraping across my bare skin. His hands letting go of my ankles and grasping onto my thighs. I buck clear off the bed. My back arches as his tongue works magic and creates tingles shattering all across my spine.

I’ve never felt anything so erotically intense in my life. I’m coming out of my body, screaming his name with adrenaline shooting straight to my heart. He assaults me with reckless abandon. Working his tongue, fucking my clit, and pushing forth a side of me I never knew existed.

“Trent. Oh, shit!” I scream and grab his hair as I press my hips further into his face. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and every sensation I’ve dreamt of knowing ripples through me. It starts at my toes, rises to my knees, surges through my core, and swells the further it travels up my spine. Tingling my head and making me lose my mind.

“Fuck. I’m going to eat this pussy for days,” he says, lifting his head from between my legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaving the rest of my orgasm all over his beard. Sexy as hell. As beautiful as the forceful presence surrounding this man.

Every part of me is trembling from what he’s done, what’s to come, and the things I want to do to him. Trent is a dangerous man. He’s done the unimaginable, the unthinkable, and yet the way he’s looking at me and the things we’ve shared with one another through all those letters are only the icing on the cake as to why I’m here. Why I’m able to look past those horrid details explaining why he has convinced himself he should never be forgiven. I have nothing to forgive him for. He needs to forgive himself.

I sit up. Trent watches my every move with complete concentration. He gulps, and a rumble rips from somewhere deep inside of him when I get on my knees and take his cock in my hands. I’d love to take him in my mouth and watch him fall apart. And I will. First, the need to have him inside of me overpowers any other desire, any other care. I need this connection with him, to see him up close, to move with him, and to take one more step toward freedom.

“You going to ride me, sweet girl? I know that pussy is tight, wet, and begging for a proper fuck. Come here.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, trapping me in between them. His cock is throbbing in the palm of my hands. The soft, silky head is already dripping. My mouth waters.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do if it gets you to continue to look at me like that,” I say honestly. No man has ever looked at me with love. It’s always lust with a thorough body scan, and Luciano eats it up until we’re behind closed doors, where his true colors show in the form of fists and fault.

But with Trent, it’s different. Especially when he lifts a brow, tilts the corners of his mouth, and shows me the most beautiful smile I’ve seen in my life. It’s a smile for me. I’m doing this to him. Me. Fifteen minutes inside of his world, and I’ve caught a smile that hits my soul in ways no one would understand unless you are experiencing it yourself. It’s beautiful.

“There’re at least nine inches of thick cock here. I’m nervous and excited all at the same time. But I’m ready to be fucked wild, to be stretched wide, and to have every inch of this throbbing cock inside of me.” I stroke him hard. Bend and kiss his chest. Straddle his waist and guide him to my entrance. I bless the gods who decided to over endow Trent Calloway with a big cock, a wicked tongue, and a heart that’s been saved for me.

“Fucking hell. Those dirty words coming out of your little mouth make me want you to wrap your lips around my dick while my hands fist all this hair and fuck your mouth.” Oh God. My pussy hits an all-new high.

“Who knew talking dirty would be a turn-on? Don’t worry, this mouth will be all over your cock. First things first,” I say and moan, my body relaxing with every inch of him it takes. He’s stretching me beyond the verge of pain, tossing me straight into another galaxy of human contact bliss.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tara, your pussy is warm, tight, and fuck, Tara, fuck!” he cries out on a deep, loud roar. His mind must tell his hands to no longer resist taking over, because he grips my hips and thrusts into me hard. He shifts, taking my legs, forcing me to wrap them around him, and returns his hands to my hips, driving into me with the force of a madman, plowing right through my ache. Rips right through my soul and fucks me as he promised. Hard, fast, and so incredibly deep that I feel him everywhere.

My body truly is being split in half. One part is screaming for more; the other is yelling that this foreign sensation rippling through me is too much. I’m spinning out of control, falling over the edge, feeling his breath against my ear as he continues to spread me open wide with every grind and pull of his rock-hard cock.

He shifts my hips, slams into me on a slight angle, rubbing up against my clit and adding to the building pressure until I’m not sure if my body or my mind can handle any more. “Trent!” I cry out. Tears of happiness start rolling down my cheeks and landing somewhere between us.

“One more time. Look me in the eye and say my name one more time.” His pleas undo me. I do as he asks. I open my eyes as wide as I can and place my lips ever so softly on his.

“I love you, Trent Calloway.”

“How much?” he grunts. Slams into me and tugs my hair. My head tilting back and his tongue snaking out to lick my neck. I know he’ll never hurt me, and yet I bite back the memories of having handfuls of my hair yanked out of my head until white spots are flashing in front of my eyes.

I shove them away and concentrate on every thrust in and out of me as my mind starts screaming at me to hang on for the ride because it’s going to be a long one.

“You going to let me fuck you in your ass?” he blatantly asks.

I’m so coiled up on his cock making me feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience that I don’t even realize he’s let go of my hair. Not until he stops his deep drives into my aching pussy.

“Answer me please, Tara?” The thought of it makes me nervous. I’ve never done that before, but I know he’s an ass man.

“Yes,” I moan, lifting my hips to ride his cock on my own. He leans back, rests his hands behind his head, and lets me take full control. I’m lost in him. Lost in the sensation of us. Connected with another human in ways I can’t quite understand yet.

I pull. He pushes. And then it happens, my first orgasm ever by a man who hasn’t taken one out of me only to make me feel dirty afterward flows through me. It feels like it’s never going to stop. I come so hard on his cock that white sparks circle around in my head.

“Beautiful,” he says, stills himself inside, and his warmth blends with mine.

“Shit. That was perfect. Did I hurt you?” he asks.

I want to cry. No man has ever asked if he’s hurt me before. I’ve only been hurt and hurt some more that it numbs me every time.

“No. You could never hurt me. I loved every second of it. It was everything I dreamed about.” I weep. Curl my arms around his neck and cry.

“Shh. Everything is going to be okay. I promise it is. We’ll get through this, Tara. You have to be strong. I won’t let him hurt you again.” Oh God. I don’t want to ruin this between us. I have things to tell him; I just don’t know where to start.

“I know. It’s just… He scares me. The things he has done or could do frighten me. I’m sorry.”

“You need to quit apologizing to me. Do you want to take a shower? It might make you feel better.” I shake my head. I need some time alone to gather my thoughts.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll wait right here for you.” Somehow, I pull a smile out. It may be coerced when he rolls us over and places me in the center of his bed, giving me a view of his naked ass when he walks away.

I sigh, smile, and become lost in the fact I’m in his home. I’m still lying in the middle of his king-size bed, daydreaming, when he steps out of the bathroom. His perfect body is now all covered up in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt.

“You're dressed?” I pout. The entire time he was showering, I tried drowning out everything Lucian and focusing on Trent. The way he makes me feel. The way he looks at me as if I’m everything to him. And even though every part of me wants to tell Trent that I would love nothing more than for us to jump in his car and run, I know I have to face my past sooner rather than later. It’s the knowledge that my past controls my future, and it now has me wound tight.

Lucian is going to find me, unless he’s stopped first. I know he will. I may never be able to escape him.

“I thought you might want to see the house. I can show you later if that’s what you want.” He stands next to me, tilts his head, lifts his hand, and strokes my cheek.

“No. I’d love to see it. We have forever, right?” I answer, hoping my words are true.

“We do. You sure you don’t want to shower before I show you around and we talk?” he asks, drops his hand, bends to pick up my suitcase, and tosses it on the end of the bed.

“I’m sure. I’ll need to decompress afterward. Besides, I smell like you. I’ve waited my entire life to have the scent of the man I love on me. I’m not ready to wash it away yet,” I say in hopes that the tension making a path from me to him vanishes from the air. It doesn’t.

“He’s never going to hurt you again, Tara; I promise you that. I’ll kill him first.” His shoulders tense. His corded muscles are flexing through his T-shirt. This isn’t going to be easy to talk about in person by any means. Some of the things Lucian has done to me weren’t something I could write down on paper. Now that the time has come to tell Trent one of the stories he needs to know, it’s going to be twice as hard to say out loud. He’s going to want me to give him details. He believes I’ve told him everything. For the most part, I have. I’ve just left a few very large important things out. One of the parts that will affect our future.

I decide right there to expose my deep, dark secret before he finds out after he falls asleep and my nightmares take over. I haven’t slept through a night in years. Every time I close my eyes, haunting images, visions, and tormented fear run through my mind. I’ve kept this from him out of my own guilt and shame. My own weakness that no one will understand unless you’ve walked in my troubled shoes. I scoot to the edge of the bed to retrieve something to cover myself up with out of my suitcase, allowing the sheet to purposely fall to expose my breasts and the bottom half of my stomach. Trent gasps in horror when he sees what the dim light from earlier didn’t allow him to see when he was admiring my body before.

“What in the fuck?” He’s at my side in an instant. Pushing me down on my back and running his finger along the four-inch faded scar just above my pubic bone. His touch stirs up the horrible thing I’ve done. I’ll never forgive myself for being weak. Tears prick my eyes. I fight them back the same way I’ve done almost every day for the past eight months. I was never allowed to cry in Lucian’s presence. Told to never speak of it again. And I knew if I did, I would be severely punished. There was one day I did. Decided to lash out. I provoked him, screamed at him, and laid all my guilt on the line just so he would beat me. Lock me away for days. Leave me to deal with my pain alone. I needed to know that what I allowed him to make me do was real. I needed the pain to ease my guilt and the guilt to soothe my pain. It never helped. Nothing will unless I know my little girl is alright.

“What the hell is this from, Tara?” he demands angrily. Trent spreads the entire width of his hand across my scar. The warmth of his concern mixed with the pleading in his voice breaks me. I’ve never told anyone else about this. I couldn’t. I’ve lived in shame for so long for being weak. For allowing a man to drag me down, scare me to death, that I agreed to the only good thing that came out of my sham of a marriage. I didn’t love Lucian when I married him. I married him at eighteen years old to escape a mother who hated life. Hated me for being born. She was a whore. A junkie. And she threw in my face daily the fact she had to spread her legs in order to feed me, bathe me, clothe me, and put a roof over my head. She sold me to the devil, and I gladly accepted.

I would have been better off if she had dropped me off on the doorstep of a church as a baby. Put me up for adoption. In a sense, I’m no better than she is.

“Answer me, Tara.” Trent’s tone is strained with worry now.

“I had a baby. She’s only eight months old. Lucian took her from me,” I answer through my tears. They begin to course through me. Hot, stabbing pokes everywhere. I have nowhere to hide from what I’ve done. I will always wonder if she’s being raised by good people or being abused. Is she alive or dead? Healthy? What, if anything, will the people she’s living with tell her about me? Will she hate me when she finds out? These are the questions that haunt me every single night.

“What do you mean, he took her from you? Why the hell are you only telling me this now? Fuck. You were pregnant when you were writing to me. You never told me. What the fuck, Tara?” My chest heaves. Nothing compares to how terrified I am right now. Not even all the times when Lucian would hit me, make me drop to my knees, and grip hold of my hair in order to make me look at him before he dragged me across the floor and threw me against any hard surface he could find. Or when he would take me by force. Nothing can compare to how scared I am.

Never have I had fear rage through my veins, bubble to the surface like this. I can’t have him angry with me. It kills me to see the face that a half hour ago was filled with love covered in pain now.

I wipe my eyes and peddle on. I refuse to believe he will ask me to leave him over this. He loves me, and I refuse to start us off without telling him about her. I want her back.

“He put her up for adoption. I have a daughter out there somewhere, Trent.”