“You will soon learn, just as he will, I am your God now,” he says as he slowly fills me with his cock, making me groan. “You’re mine, little bird. You always were.”
Tate tightens his grip on my waist and drives into me, causing me to cry out. Nearly everyone turns to find the source of the moans. They look just as surprised as I feel that I am out here getting railed over a banister by Tate. It feels so fucking good though. He is angled so that he is slamming into my g-spot over and over again. I push back, needing more of him. We fall into a rhythm togetherthat intensifies the skin-slapping noises. He fists my hair and pulls my head back to force me to look out at everyone as he fucks me.
“Fuck, Tate,” I moan loudly as I move through my orgasm. “God, that’s so good.”
“Fuck,Wren,” Tate moans and pushes deeper as he comes.
When he pulls out of me he immediately pulls my shorts up and turns me around. I am still panting when he kisses me hard. “Come inside and get cleaned up,” Tate says.
“Is this your house?” I ask as we walk inside. I can hear the whispers of the others that were on the porch with us, but I force myself to not listen. I don’t care what they have to say about it.
“It is.” Tate leads me upstairs to what I assume is his bedroom then to the bathroom. “Everything you need is in here. Come out and talk to me when you are done.”
“Okay,” I say simply. I get cleaned up and redressed before leaning against the bathroom counter to think.
I can’t let myself get distracted by good sex. Oscar has made it very clear that I belong to him and essentially threatened to kill me if I let another man touch me. This is two days in a row I have let another man touch me. He will say I cheated, even though I am not in a consenting relationship with him. For all I know, he just said that shit so I would be compliant and not fight him when he would fuck me.
Now that I have had sex with Tate, I am realizing just how much of a joke Oscar’s dick is. He hypes himself in the moment saying how much he knows I like his dick but really, I’m only moaningbecause sex when you’re dry hurts. That isn’t pleasure, Sir. You make me dry like the Sahara.
Tate said he left when I left. Obviously, he ended up here also, so that makes me wonder if he followed me. Tate, as Josiah, was an odd kid. He was just as quiet then as he is now, but he had so much anger back then. I never could understand why he was so mad at the world. I tried my best to make him not feel as lonely as the other kids did. He’s three years older than me but he was bullied by everyone of all ages, including adults. I was always nice to everyone because I understood how bad someone's home life could be. I knew Tate probably went through shit at home. No kid gets that angry and doesn’t have a reason for it.
A knock at the door makes me jump as Tate walks into the bathroom. “Wren,” he says softly.
“Did you follow me here?” I ask bluntly.
“Yes,” he says as he stops in front of me. “Even back then I knew you’d belong to me someday so I watched and waited for the right time. You needed time to adjust to life away from the church, just as I did.”
“So, you’ve been stalking me?” I say.
“You could say that,” he says with a smirk. “More so, I was watching over you. I knew what Oscar was doing to you. I got the shit beat out of me a few times by my Dad for trying to go to the police. I couldn’t get to you to help because your parents kept you locked away the majority of the time.”
“Oh my God, Tate,” I say quietly.
“When you left for college, I swore to myself that I would protect you. I tried to as a kid and failed, but I knew I wasn’t that person anymore. I focused on building strength and learning to fight so I could protect you,” he says as he takes my hand into his. “I don’t trust Oscar or that Church. I don’t trust that they won’t try and steal you away from me… So I made sure that no matter what… I can get to you.”
Tate runs my fingers along the skin just behind my ear. When he gets to my earlobe I feel something small just below the surface of my skin.
“You put afuckingtrackerin me,” I shout at him and push him back away from me. Tate snatches my arm and spins me to face the mirror. His hips press me into the counter as he grabs my chin to make me look at myself in the mirror.
“Tell me, Wren,” he says when I stop struggling. “Who makes you feel safer knowing your location?”
“That’s not the point,” I frown.
“It is the point,” he says as he extends my arm and places my fingertips on the tracker Oscar put in me when I was fifteen. I don’t know if it still works at this point, but I always assume it does.
“I know,” I say quietly. “He held me down and put it in my arm when I was fifteen. I think that’s how he knew when I got into town when Mom and Dad died.”
“I can’t stand the thought of him touching you,” he says with a stiff tone.
“You’re trying to protect me?” I ask. Obviously. That’s a stupid thing to ask. I’m not used to people being possessive and protective.
“I’ll be your devil and you can be my fallen angel, little bird,” he says as he cups my face. “He will fucking bleed for it if he touches what’s mine.”
“Take it out,” I say.
“What?” he looks taken aback for a moment.
“Take it out. Cut that thing out of my arm,” I repeat. “If I am yours, only you should know where I am. Right?”