Tara Sivec - Worn Me Down

“Please, don’t be mad at me, Gwen. It would kill me if I knew you were mad. I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear,” she cries.

I shake my head at her, leaning back in my seat as I try to process the words coming out of her mouth.

“I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you. I’m just… I don’t understand. Jesus Christ, Ellie! You know what he’s like. You need to stay away from him,” I demand.

Being angry at the things William did to me is nothing compared to the rage I feel knowing that he could be doing the exact same things to my best friend. She’s sweet and kind and he knows this. He knows this and he would do everything in his power to take advantage of her good nature. I can’t let that happen, I won’t. He’s already dressed her up like a Barbie doll that resembles the old me, what more is he forcing her to do? Did he put her up to calling me? Did he come with her to Nashville? Does she know about the letter he sent to Emma? I don’t want to believe that Ellie would ever be a part of something that could possibly harm Emma and me, but I also never thought she would get in bed with that bastard after everything she watched him put me through. William obviously knows how much I care about Ellie and he’s decided to get closer to me by using her. It’s sick and disgusting and I can’t believe Ellie doesn’t see it.

“You don’t understand, Gwen. He’s different now since you left. He’s changed,” she pleads.

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Sure he has. Just like he swore he’d changed every single time he pushed me down the stairs or broke one of my bones. God dammit, Ellie, you’re smarter than this!”

She shrinks back into her seat and for a moment I feel awful about the way I’m talking to her, but I can’t stop myself. She needs to see how bad this is. He’s practically turned her into a walking replica of what I used to look like. Why can’t she see this?

“He’s not the same person anymore, Gwen. He got help for his anger issues, he’s calm and he’s a better man now. He wants to be a good father for Emma. He wants you to trust him so he can have her back in his life. If you would just talk to him, you’d see how different he is,” she explains.

So different that he’s sending creepy, hostile pictures in the mail addressed to his six-year-old daughter and making my best friend come here to plead his case.

Right now, I can’t even stand to look at Ellie. I’m scared for her and I feel betrayed. It’s more than obvious that William put her up to this and it makes me sick.

“You know what, I think I’ve lost my appetite,” I mutter, throwing my own napkin on the table, grabbing my purse and getting up from the table.

I walk out of the restaurant and away from my best friend, wondering if I’m ever going to be able to trust anyone ever again.

The sound of the door opening and closing wakes me up. I glance behind the couch to see Gwen angrily toss her purse onto the kitchen counter and stalk into the kitchen. She flings open the fridge door so hard it bangs against the counter behind it.

Looks like someone didn’t have a good dinner. Hopefully she’s in a chatty mood because I’ve got some questions for her. I fell asleep on the couch next to Emma thinking about all of the possible things Gwen had went through before she moved here and none of them left me with a good feeling.

I gently move Emma off of me, get up from the couch and reposition the blanket around her as she sighs and rolls over. A weird feeling tugs at my heart as I watch her tuck her hands under her cheek. She’s so small, so vulnerable and trusting. She’s obviously seen some not-so-good things in her short, six years and yet she’s happy and full of life. She believes without question that the people who love her will take care of her and keep her safe. She deserves to have a childhood without worry and without scars, so unlike my own. I have an unnatural urge to wrap my arms around her and never let her go, make sure nothing ever harms her and protect her at all costs.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I am NOT father material. I’m not even uncle material.

Not liking the direction of my thoughts, I back away from the couch and the sleeping little girl and head towards the kitchen.

I make it in there just as Gwen closes the fridge door, pops the top off of a bottle of beer and chugs half of it.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, I lift my eyebrow at her when she turns to face me. “Did they run out of dessert at the restaurant or something?”

She studies me silently for a few seconds before slamming the bottle down on the counter and charging towards me, determination shining in her eyes.

I put my hands up in surrender. “I was just kidding about dess-”

Her hands clutch onto the front of my shirt and she hauls me to her, bringing my lips to hers. When I hold completely still in shock, she takes it further by opening her mouth against mine just enough to glide the tip of her tongue across my bottom lip.

Every thought in my brain heads south, right to my dick. I forget about the questions I’m determined to make her answer and all of the reasons why this is the worst fucking idea in the entire world. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her roughly against me, sliding my tongue into her warm, wet mouth and groan as soon as I taste her. Our tongues immediately tangle together, pushing and swirling, vying for dominance as we both drive harder and deeper into one another. She lets go of my shirt, moving her hands up to clutch large chunks of my hair and my palms slide up under the back of her shirt until I feel smooth, warm skin.

This is such a stupid idea. Everything about this has bad news written all over it, but I can’t bring myself to care. Gwen’s mouth is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted and I want more. Without breaking the kiss, I spin her around and press her up against the front of the fridge, one of her legs immediately coming up to hook around the back of my thigh to hold me close. Pushing my tongue deeper, I bend my knees and slide the hard-on straining against the front of my jeans between her legs. I’m always in a state of semi-hardness whenever I’m in the same room with her, but the need that coursed through me as soon as I felt her lips against mine is off the charts.

She whimpers into my mouth and shifts her hips, sliding herself against me roughly until I’m damn certain I’m going to come in my jeans like a fucking fifteen-year-old. The sounds she makes, the heat from her body and the way she completely lets go with abandon drives me insane.

I knew from the first moment she called me an ass that kissing her would be like a fiery explosion, neither one of us surviving without getting burned. She’s mouthy and she’s stubborn, but there’s a vulnerability buried deep down inside that makes me want to take care of her, consume her and protect her at all costs.

Keeping my hand under her shirt, I slide it around, over her rib cage and move it up until I have her lace covered breast in my hand. Feeling the weight of it in my palm makes my dick throb and I instantly want to bury myself inside of her. Without breaking the kiss, she arches her back slightly, pushing herself against my palm, wanting more. Using the tips of my fingers, I tug the edge of the cup down roughly until her naked breast fills my hand. I run my thumb back and forth over her nipple until I feel it harden, then circle my thumb around it, over and over until I hear her whimper into my mouth again.

Her hips are still moving against me, faster and harder now. I gently suck her tongue into my mouth, using my thumb and forefinger to pinch her nipple, rolling it between my fingers. I swallow her cries of pleasure, bringing my free hand down to clutch her ass and help her move against me. I want to pull my head back and watch her come. I want to see her face flush with release and her teeth press down into the soft skin of her lip as her orgasm rushes through her. I want to see it all, but I can’t bring myself to stop kissing her. I hold tightly to her ass and help her slide herself against my dick that gets impossibly harder each time she makes a little sound of pleasure in the back of her throat. I continue kneading her breast and sliding against her until I can tell by the way her hands grip tighter to my hair and her hips move faster against my cock that she’s seconds away from coming apart, straining for release.

“Mommy, what are you doing?”

Gwen and I freeze, our lips separating, but my hands still firmly attached to tits and ass. I would be perfectly fine keeping them there for a little while longer, but she resumes normal brain function much faster than I do and yanks my hand out from under her shirt before shoving me away from her.

Keeping my back to Emma so that my dick can go back down to non-horny size, Gwen moves around me and rushes over to Emma.

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t be awake, it’s late. Come here, mommy will put you to bed.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Gwen lifts a sleepy Emma into her arms and rushes out of the room without one glance in my direction. Once they’re gone, I let out the breath I’d been holding since Emma’s voice doused a bucket of cold water all over my dick. Moving over to the counter, I rest my palms on top and drop my head down between my shoulders.

What in the fucking hell was that?

She comes in here pissed off about something and without even saying anything, drags me up against her and kisses me. Sure, I was an equal participant once the shock wore off, but what the ever-living hell was that? What made her suddenly decide I was worthy of her affection instead of her wrath?