Page 65 of Double Dare
“I never meant to want you either. I tried really fucking hard not to.”
“And here we are. We running from it?”
“Not anymore. Deal?”
“Deal.” She kisses me.
Best night of my damn life.
Chapter 25
Cute and Kade are two words I never thought I’d use in the same sentence, but watching him sleep, no brood-line between his brows, the sun filtering in to make him glow, cute definitely fits. He’s peaceful, or something equally as pleasant, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this way. There’s a tension missing in his features, and up until this very moment, I don’t think I even fully realized it was there.
Looking around the room, I take a deep breath, not feeling as weird as I thought I would. I’ve never woken up to anyone but Jed in this bedroom. Until now. And waking up to Kade here is just as nice. Maybe he’ll start staying more often. I hope.
I settle in, not ready to wake Kade up yet. Thinking about how last night went makes a lame-ass smile split my face. I mean, really? Really? Fucking hell, that was hot. I knew Kade would bring his A game, but I had no idea the level of superiority he’d pull out of me.
Kade and Jed are similar in appearance. They have the same shade of dark hair, the same bright green eyes, the same cocky grin, and the same general build, even if Jed is a bit more bulky. And while they’re both into snowboarding, outdoor sports, fighting, and drinking whiskey, that’s where their similarities die. Their mouths whisper different desires in different tones, their energies pull different reactions out of me, and their love languages are different. Their eyes contain different passions and their minds create different dreams, but their ideas for the future might merge, wrapping both Kade’s blunt and creative thoughts with Jed’s fast and furious thoughts, morphing them into an image that works for all three of us.
Jed is powerful, authoritative and in control.
Kade is savage, extreme and playful.
Me? I’m soft and hard, tough and tender, and I think I love both their styles because they bring out different versions of me. Either way, they’re both aggressive and dominant, and it turns out that no matter who I’m up against, Jed or Kade, I’m also pretty damn aggressive, and shit, that feels good.
But come at me, shame train.
Two men? Sex with two men? Brothers? How fucking twisted and selfish am I? Is this how every person in a poly relationship feels at the beginning? I mean, probably not, right? Those who know they’re poly seek it out. It just sort of hit me in the face, smacked me upside the head, and forced itself into my life until it was all I could consider normal. Because I started out in a relationship with Jed, people are going to look at me like a cheater and Kade as a homewrecker. I know it. And that fucking sucks. Just because we started out as two and morphed into three doesn’t mean anyone is getting the short end of the stick. It just means this is the dynamic we want, even if no one else understands that.
“Stop overthinking and fuck me,” Kade groans, eyes still closed.
He has no limits. We were literally awake a few hours ago, fooled around a bit, had a ‘before sunrise shower,’ brushed our teeth and climbed back into bed to just be together. Now he wants to go again? I straddle his legs, watching his green eyes flutter open. The brood comes back, but there’s a bashful grin on his face. That shyness tamps down the harshness of his body art, and the blend is the perfect brew.
“Really? Now you want me in charge?”
His hands run up my thighs, and his eyes roam my naked body. When his fingers get to my scars, he traces the lines of them, lost in thought. He’s hard beneath me, so I grind down on him a bit before lifting onto my knees and lining up.
As I slowly lower down his cock, I tell him the story. “I was eighteen.” He holds my hips, watching my face. “I was at a resort, and when I went to the bathroom, I got drugged and taken. When I woke up, I was tied up in a hotel room.”
I inhale sharply as Kade pushes on my hip bones, changing the angle and rocking me on his cock rather than fucking me from the bottom. His eyes are still on mine, so I continue.
“I was…raped for three days. By a man. When the man wasn’t touching me, the woman, his wife, was…cutting me. Marring me. Making me less perfect because…my body is my downfall. My body betrays me and makes me a victim.”
“No,” Kade says. Nothing more.
“She wanted me marked up so I wasn’t desirable.” I hold his arms for balance, rocking on top of him. “I couldn’t believe a woman would do that to another woman. But she did, and I felt everything. The drugs wore off after a few hours, and then…and then I was sober for three days of…hell.”
Kade’s eyes are angry, but they’re also full of pride. He sweeps his thumbs over my hips, caressing me softly in encouragement.
“I turned into a coward. I begged. I cried. I offered them things I couldn’t give them just so they’d let me go. I asked for death. I begged for it. I cried for my dad.”
Kade’s breath comes out wobbly. He wants to tell me it wasn’t cowardly, that it was circumstantial and came from fear and defeat. I know this now. I’ve been through therapy and I’ve healed from this experience. I know now that it was a survival instinct, and I know enough not to be ashamed of it. Kade keeps his mouth shut but his eyes stay on mine, connected while he lets me tell this story while in control of the sex. I wonder if he knows how much that means.
“I was targeted because of my looks. I was a petite, blond slut begging for attention. That’s what they told me. They said my body asked for it, and the bikini I wore shouted my desperation at them. The wife hated me because of how I looked, but the husband violated me because of the way I looked. She told me I was sinful. That girls like me were the reason men were unfaithful. She said damaging my body was an act of servitude so I wasn’t the temptress men apparently thought I was.” A tear breaks free, but I’m not ashamed of it.
“Keep going,” Kade whispers.
“I felt unnatural. She told me I was wrong, and I believed her. I started to think maybe I shouldn’t have worn the bikini. Maybe I was asking for it. Maybe I should have covered up to be more…considerate.” I swallow the thoughts that ruined me at eighteen. “I felt dirty for a long time after that. Damaged and disgusting. And for a while, I almost thanked her for scarring me because every time I saw those cuts, those stitch lines and the mess she made of my body, I thought maybe she was right. No one would ever look at me the same, and maybe that was for the best.”