Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

TAVISH

I stare down at my hands as my butt drops to my heels. I don't know what's wrong with me. This man is everything I've ever dreamed of. He takes care of me. He watches over me, and I know he cares for me. At least, I believe he does, and I'm acting like a fucking moron.

Tears roll down my face, and instead of sobbing because he's denying me orgasms, I'm crying like a spoiled brat. I dash them away.

"Red."

I gasp, looking up at him. My chin puckers as I try to hold back the deluge of devastation. I knew I'd ruin it. I knew it in my gut. Samuel, my dad, and Owen told me I was a waste of space and useless. Now Draven has just ended things.

Closing my eyes, I wait for him to walk away, leaving me alone in the world once again. Great, gulping sobs shake my body as I listen to him moving around the bedroom. A door opens and closes with a soft snick. Falling forward over my knees, my forehead hits the bed, and I flop over on my side, curling in on myself.

The bed dips, and I'm lifted into the air. Even though I know it's him, I'm afraid to open my eyes, scared I'm wrong, and it's someone else.

He shifts me, settling me so I'm straddling his lap, cuddled close to his chest with a soft blanket wrapped around me. He strokes my skin and hair, shushing me, and pressing kisses to my forehead and cheeks. Unable to help myself, I tuck my head under his chin.

"I don't know why he's wasting his time."

"Nae, Tavish. It is nae a waste. Whatever thoughts are swirling in that head o' yers, whatever ye are telling yerself, pojke, it's nae true."

I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud, but it doesn't matter. His words, even though they are meant to be a comfort, only make the tears and sobs return much harder and faster than before. He's wrong. I've known it all my life, I'm a problem. A hanger on. Only needed or wanted because of the information I can provide or hide.

More tears.

More sobs.

More gut-wrenching, soul-sucking misery.

I shut down. Locking out any outside influence, I let myself become numb to everything but the doubt and anguish at having fucked up so badly. The crying goes on and on. I can't seem to stop. It angers and frustrates me, which makes me cry harder because I'm sure Draven's going to leave me at any moment. Fear of that inevitability winds me up and strings me tight until I am stiff, every muscle clenched and refusing to let loose. I don't think I could move, even if it were a matter of life and death.

Through it all, Draven sits with me. Holding me. Petting and cooing at me like a parent would a child. His actions dredge up the last memories I have of being loved and comforted. I remember my mother doing this for me when I was little and hurt. This was something I experienced often because I was and still am a clumsy, accident prone mess. Unable to keep from it, the heat that radiates from him and the warmth of his embrace soothes me and it lulls me into a calm that allows the upset to settle gradually.

When the tears finally stop, I'm worn out. The agony of the last, however long, has drained me of energy and motivation. I feel like I should get up so he can get on with his life, but at the same time, I never want to move from this spot.

But I suck it up. My life has never been about love and comfort. I've never had an easy life. Hard decisions and shitty options are all I've ever had. I shore myself up so that Draven can walk away from this train wreck.

I swallow, pushing against his chest. His arms loosen slightly, but as I try to move from his lap, he says, "Where do ye think ye're going?"

I cannot bring myself to meet his eyes, but I know they're staring down at me. The man's gaze feels like a physical weight, one I've always loved feeling settles over me, but not now. Not after I've fucked everything up.

"Tavish, look at me. Please."

The soft, accented tone of his voice is so different from what it usually is. It reminds me of the voice you hear people use on skittish or injured animals. Not that I've experienced that in my life. I've not experienced much of anything in reality, but I've watched it on TV before.

I try to get up again, but those enormous hands of his, the ones I love feeling on my body usually, grip my hips. They're so big compared to my waist and hips. Gazing down at where he holds me, his thumbs meet below my belly button, and I can feel his fingers on my back. The tips of them are just shy of touching, but a deep exhale and I'm sure they would.

When I wiggle again, he says, "I dinnae ken what's locked you up, but unless ye safe word, I'm nae moving from this spot, and neither are ye until we talk about what happened."

Refusing to look up at him, I sigh and sit back on his thighs. His sigh echoes mine.

"I'm going to talk and ye're going to listen. Ye are young and inexperienced."

My eyes fly to his, rounded by shock. I open my mouth and his finger drops against my lips as his gaze follows suit.

"Nae. Let me have my say."

I nod and he continues, "Ye are innocent, Tavish. Ye've been used. I ken that, but sexual experience must be wanted. Desired. And ye dinnae. Aye, ye chose it, but nae really."

My lips roll over my teeth as I suck them into my mouth. I'm not sure I agree, but his finger is still resting on my bottom lip. His eyes, too.

"A forced choice is nae any choice at all, lad. And that's what ye're choice was. Then, after all those years o' abuse, ye get saddled with me. A broken, lonely, angry Dom too selfish to follow the basic rules in the lifestyle."

"No,"

"Nae done, lilla du. Still my go."

He waits, only continuing when I heave a breath and dip my chin.

"I have gone at ye as if ye are experienced and well versed in the lifestyle, but ye arenae. Ye've nae experienced everything in a normal, regular manner and that means ye dinnae know what yer limits are. Oh, ye may know the things that intrigue ye, but ye dinnae know if it will be something ye actually like. All o' that to say ye might be suited to someone else better, someone easier, nae a hard ass like me, but I'm nae giving ye up."

An explosion of the most amazing feeling bloomed in my chest. "You're not?" My mouth asks without my brain's permission.

"Nae. I'm nae giving ye up. Until ye tell me to go fuck myself, ye're stuck with me. Yer an amazing boy, Tavish. Beautiful and sensual. An exceptional lover. I'm proud to be with ye. Ye make me happy all on yer own, but ye also keep Simon alive for me in some small way, and I appreciate that so much."

"I do?"

"Aye, lilla du, ye do. Yer antics would have delighted him. He was more Daddy than Dom where I'm more Dom than Daddy. Ye would've been the perfect fit between two enormous Scottish Highlanders. So, there are times when ye do or say something and it's like I can see him right with us. Nae between us, but alongside us with our boy between us, where ye belong."

"That sounds nice," I whisper. "And hot."

"Before you have my cock forgetting I safe worded, I'll admit I have to agree. It does sound hot. I'm nae ashamed to say it's been a regular visitor to my dreams."

I chuckle. His admission lightening the mood and lifting my spirits even more.