“I could hear him breathing. And it started coming faster and faster, and the bed shook just a little. And then he gasped and sighed, and then finally he went back to his own bed.”
I pressed my fingertips to my eyes. “I didn’t realize until later that he was jacking off, but I do remember that I was scared. Not that he’d hurt me—not scared like that. But terrified that he’d know I was awake.”
“You don’t have to go on,” Cole said. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“No,” I said firmly. “I do. I mean, I don’t. Not really. I wish I could tell you without telling you. But I want you to know. I want you to understand. And—and in some weird way it feels good to get it out.”
“I’m glad,” he said, then squeezed my hand.
“Anyway, the next night we were still at that hotel. And I tried to stay awake. I like to tell myself that I planned to scream at him to keep his paws off me, but that wasn’t the truth.” I pressed my lips together, then sucked in air for courage. “And this is the part I really hate, because the truth is that I was ten and that meant that I was a walking petri dish of hormones.”
“And what he’d done was horrible, but it felt good.”
I looked at Cole in wonder. “Yes,” I said. “Oh my god, yes. And as I laid there faking sleep, part of me was scared he’d do it again—but I think a bigger part of me was scared that he wouldn’t.”
“That doesn’t make you bad,” Cole said. “You were a little girl.”
“I know. I do. But . . .” I trailed off with a shrug.
“I’m guessing he didn’t keep his hands off you.”
“You guessed right,” I said. “The next night he got into my bed again. And he touched me and teased me, and this time my fear was less. And that meant I felt more of what he was doing to me. And it felt pretty amazing, you know? All this incredible sensation that just flowed through me, building and building like roses climbing the wall of a sensual garden.”
I looked at Cole, but he said nothing.
“I liked the way it felt,” I admitted. “And I liked that this was what grown-ups did. And I liked that it made me feel special. But I also knew that it was bad. Shameful. And that he was bad. But that I was worse for liking it.”
“Jesus, Kat,” Cole said when I confessed that.
I shook my head. “I was a kid. I was just figuring stuff out. I’m telling how it was, not how it is.” I clutched tight to his hand. “But thank you.”
I slid back into the memories. Back into the story. Whether by plan or luck, Roger never got me so worked up that I reached orgasm. But the nights became a ritual, and damned if I didn’t look forward to it.
“And then there was this one night. I don’t know why, but he touched me longer, and it all kept rising up, the way it does when you’re building, you know? And I was right there, and I could tell that it was different this time. And part of me was terrified and wanted it to back off. But another part of me wanted the feeling, because I could tell something was happening, and I wanted to know. I wanted to feel.”
“You came,” Cole said, and I nodded.
“I tried to hold it in, but there was no way. I cried out, and my body shook, and when I opened my eyes, Roger was staring down at me.” I squeezed my eyes shut in defense against the memory. “He looked horrified. Disgusted. And I swear I’m surprised that his look didn’t reduce me to dust right then.”
“Kat,” Cole said, then raised my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. That was all he did, but it was enough. It gave me the strength to finish.