27. Monroe

TWENTY-SEVEN

MONROE

"You don't have to worry if you don't have tons of followers right off the bat," I say into the camera. "TikTok is just like the platforms we've discussed in the previous videos. It takes time to build a presence, but as long as you're using trending sounds and not overdoing it on the hashtags, you'll slowly see your views rise. Don't get discouraged, and make sure to download the free social media content creation kit on my website for ideas on how to get started. Thanks for watching and I'll see you in the next one!"

"Aaaaand cut!" Riggs yells through his cupped hands as if we're on a full recording set, instead of in our living room with a crew of zero, other than us. He stops the camera and runs over to where I'm sitting by the window, scooping me up into his arms and pressing his lips to mine. I squeal in response, throwing my head back with laughter as I wrap my legs around his waist. "You're a fucking natural at this, baby. I'm so proud of you. "

I'll never get sick of hearing him say that.

I got word last week that my LLC was approved, and immediately went live with my website. I opted to do a rapid release of my instructional video series so potential clients can see examples of my work before deciding whether or not I'd be a good fit for them. Today, I'm recording the third video, which I plan to edit and upload in the next few days. Web traffic has been better than I expected, and I even have a few consultations set up for next week. The encouragement I've gotten from Riggs has lit a fire inside me to make this business succeed, and I'm beyond grateful to have him in my corner.

"I was hard through that whole thing," he says, burying his face in my neck. I sigh, tightening my legs around him and feeling for myself that he's not lying. He walks us over to the couch, gently laying my head onto the soft cushions before lowering his body between my parted legs. Sparks go off behind my eyes as he grinds his erection against my throbbing clit, and suddenly, I'm famished .

I reach down, yanking at the waistband of his sweats, attempting to push them past his ass. "I need to suck your cock," I say on a breath, feeling like I might die if I'm not gagging on him within the next ten seconds. I'm frantic, bringing my feet into the mix and using them to assist in removing his pants. But much to my dismay, he stands, putting me face-to-face with the tented material. I go to reach for it, but he backs up, making me whine in frustration.

"Bring him back here!" I yell, kicking my heel into the couch like a child having a temper tantrum.

"Calm down, killer," he says with a snicker. "I wanted to get home to help you with this, so I skipped my post- practice shower. I can assure you that you don't want any part of me in your mouth until I'm clean."

I sit up, pushing my bottom lip out in a pout. He leans down, nipping at it before hurrying toward the stairs. "Give me fifteen minutes. If Tim stops by, hand him the tickets in the envelope on the entry table. I'm still secretly trying to buy his silence from when he found us almost fucking in the elevator." I cringe, anxious about the thought of looking the poor kid in the eye again after what he saw.

"Fine, hurry up," I say loudly, crossing my arms over my chest and throwing myself back into the cushions as I hear the door to his ensuite bathroom close. Unlocking my phone, I commit to doom scrolling until he returns, but not even five minutes later, there's a knock on the door. I stand, walking over to the table and picking up the envelope so I can get this over with. Damn Riggs for making me interact with this kid.

I'll be demanding extra orgasms for the inconvenience.

I don't bother looking through the peephole, swinging the door open and stopping in my tracks when I see who's standing in front of me. I flinch, fighting my instinct to slam it in his face while I try to figure out how he even found me.

"Dad?" I choke out. "What are you doing here?"

I haven't heard from this man in years . He cut off all contact the day I left, froze my bank account, and I'm pretty sure the only reason he allows my mom to talk to me is because she tries to get me to come home every time she calls. She's his way of keeping tabs on me now that he can't control my every move.

"I'm here to bring you home," he replies. "You've had your fun, but these games are over. I've just put in my bid to run for governor. It's time to come back to California and fulfill your duties to the Decker family."

I huff a laugh, because he's out of his mind if he thinks I'd ever return to that hell hole. "And what are those? Go back to Rolling Hills, marry some douchebag that isn't capable of love, and hate my life until I die? That might be good enough for Mom, but I deserve more."

Holy fuck, I can't believe I just said that.

"You ungrateful brat," he seethes. "After everything we've done for you. We set you up for a successful future, and you took off to blow it all on some shitty career that'll never get you anywhere. You think you're going to live a different life here? You think this guy gives a shit about you? He doesn't. He's probably fucking someone thinner, prettier and classier as we speak."

A devious grin pulls at his mouth as he steps forward, making me cower slightly. "Face it, Monroe. You're not enough on your own. At least we were raising you to be a woman who knew her place. Now look at you." He looks me up and down, his top lip curling in disgust. "He might be happy to have you as his whore, but it'll take more than a set of fake tits and a bad attitude to make a man like that love you."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Riggs booms, running down the stairs at full speed wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He puts his large body between me and my dad, and I can hear the bones in his hands crack as he clenches them tightly at his sides. I peek out, wrapping my fingers around the rock-hard muscles of his bicep, practically able to feel the blood flowing through his protruding veins .

My dad lifts his chin, but I can tell he's terrified as he attempts to look unaffected. "I'm here to speak with my daughter. She doesn't belong here. I'm taking her back home."

"Like hell you are," Riggs replies, his entire body vibrating with rage. "This is her home. She belongs with me ."

My dad scoffs, rolling his eyes. "You'll get bored with her. You'll cheat, break her heart, and I'll be back to get her. So, why don't we just make the exchange now before you realize she's nothing more than a warm hole to stick your dick i?—"

He's cut off when Riggs grips him by the collar of his shirt before shoving him to the ground. I stand there, unable to move or see through the unshed tears in my eyes as I watch it all happen like a horror movie on a screen. My dad scoots backward across the hallway, stopping when his back is against the opposite wall as Riggs prowls toward him, crouching down and speaking quietly.

"You're lucky I have neighbors, otherwise I'd beat your ass right here," he grits out. "If you ever try contacting Monroe again, I'll fucking kill you. I promise that nobody would miss your sorry ass—least of all, this angel of a woman you don't fucking deserve," he says, pointing a finger back in my direction but never taking his eyes off my father. "Now, get the fuck out of here before I call the cops, you piece of shit."

He stands to his full height, and my dad hurries to his feet before taking off toward the stairwell. It isn't until I hear the quiet snick of the door that I break from my stupor, choking out a loud sob. Riggs turns and rushes my way, catching me just as my knees wobble and give out. I claw at his bare chest, desperately trying to grab hold of something to ground myself. Swollen tears flow down my face as I attempt to catch my breath, but I feel like my whole world is caving in.

I knew deep down that my dad felt that way, but part of me hoped I was wrong. Now that I've heard the words, there's no denying that my own flesh and blood never saw me as anything more than a bargaining chip to become richer and more powerful.

Riggs carefully lowers us to the floor, pulling my trembling body into his lap and holding me tightly as I dig my nails into his skin. I let out heaving sobs, releasing every ounce of pain that's flowing like hot lava through my veins.

"Shhh, baby," he whispers softly, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe me. "I'm right here. I've got you." He kisses my hair as I continue to break in his arms, whispering gentle words that I can't make out over the sound of my own cries.

It seems like hours have passed before the tears begin to slow and I'm able to catch my breath, finally settling into his lap and praying that he never lets me go. If we never make it off this floor, I'd be perfectly fine with that, as long as it means I never have to know the feel of my skin not pressed against his in such a cruel fucking world.

"Monroe," he says quietly. "I'm so sorry I wasn't down here. I don't even know how he got onto our floor. I swear I'll make sure he never comes near you again."

"Don't be s-sorry," I stutter, still trying to calm down completely. "You h-had no idea that he even existed. I should've t-told you why I moved to Hope Harbor, but I didn't want to relive any of it." I drop my head back down, attempting to fight more tears as they threaten to erupt again.

"Look at me," he commands, lifting my chin. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. It doesn't matter."

I nod before nuzzling back into his warm chest. I want to tell him everything, but I'm too shaken up from hearing my father's hateful words to even know where to start. I can't force the conversation, but it needs to happen sooner or later. Riggs deserves to know the whole story—the reasons why I am the way I am.

"What if he's right about us?" I whisper, letting another tear fall down my cheek.

"Baby, no," he says, nudging me so I'm sitting up straight, facing him. "None of what he said was true. He was just trying to tear you down so you'd second guess everything you've done. We're solid. I'm all in with you."

I sniffle. "Yeah, you are now. But what happens in five years when you're ready to move on to someone younger? Or someone who doesn't push back every time she gets upset?" I pause, swallowing. "I know I'm a lot sometimes. What if the newness wears off and you decide I'm not what you want? What if I am only good enough to be your whore?" I whisper, shame washing over me at the thought.

"This is fucking crazy," he says, standing abruptly and taking me with him as he stomps toward the stairs. I try to pull away, but he only tightens his grip, not letting go as we make our way down the hall

"Riggs, no! Put me down!" I cry, kicking my feet in an attempt to make him release me. But he just keeps walking, not stopping until we're standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. He sets me down, holding me still so I'm face-to-face with my reflection. I'm shocked at my appearance. My eyes are swollen and red from crying. The skin between them is scrunched together from stress. My shoulders slump forward, and I look every bit as defeated as I feel. I turn my head, ashamed of how I allowed myself to be broken so quickly, but Riggs grabs my chin roughly, forcing me to focus on my own face in the mirror.

"Look at her," he demands roughly. "Tell me what you see."

"Please don't make me do this," I beg. "I can't." I don't want to tell him that after a few hurtful words from my father, I've lost sight of the girl I fought so hard to be.

"You can," he replies. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you do."

I stare, taking in my reflection before I speak, almost so quietly, that I'm surprised he can even hear me. "She's weak."

Without a word, he yanks the straps of my sundress down my shoulders, making me gasp in surprise. Pulling it below my waist, he releases the garment, letting it fall in a heap at my feet. He disappears for a moment, plucking something from the dresser before returning to his place behind me. It's not until I feel it gliding along my bare skin that I realize it's the permanent marker from the day I had him sign things for my charity basket. He takes his time writing something before looking up at me in the mirror.

"What else?"

I swallow, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. "She's not pretty enough."

He unfastens my bra, letting it drop alongside my dress before working my panties down my legs. I stare at my naked body, numb and hardly blinking as he returns the marker to my flesh and resumes writing.

"Again," he demands.

"She's a whore," I whisper, choking on the word as it comes out. Tears slide down my cheeks, and he growls in response, putting the marker to my skin again and writing out the word.

"Again."

"She's unlovable," I sob, dropping my face into my hands. My body shakes as I cry, but he doesn't allow me to hide it, spinning me to face him. He gathers my wrists in one large hand, pulling them down until they drop at my sides.

"Listen to me," he says firmly, cupping my face with the hand not holding the marker and smoothing my tears away with his thumb. "While you're looking at yourself and seeing all those things they've made you think you are, I'm behind you with the truth. I know the real you, Monroe." He grips my chin, turning my head so I can see the reflection of my back in the mirror. My sobs come harder when I see the words written in permanent ink across my body.

"They told you that you were weak, baby. But you aren't." He angles me so that the word STRONG is in clear view. My heart speeds up and I turn to look at him, watching his eyes as they fill with moisture.

"They told you that you weren't pretty enough, but you're the most breathtaking creature I've ever seen." He angles me the other way, and I turn to see the word BEAUTIFUL written below my shoulder blade. I stare at it for a few more seconds before he speaks again.

"They told you that you were a whore for wanting to feel pleasure, but you're a fucking goddess, Monroe. And I'll drop to my knees every day to give you what you deserve," he says, and I turn once again to see the word SEXY across my hip.

I've never felt more adored in my entire life as I stare back at myself, letting his words erase every negative thought that's ever been put into my head. I was conditioned from as young as I can remember to beg for crumbs of affirmation, always getting just enough to keep me desperate for more. My parents used that as ammunition to get me to do what they wanted, showering me with praise when I did what I was told. I caught on as I got older, but no matter how hard I tried to remind myself of my worth, I guess I didn't realize until just now that the damage they had done was far deeper than I ever knew.

He leans down, ghosting a gentle kiss over my lips, and I feel a tear fall from his cheek to mine. He pulls back, lifting my chin as he returns the marker to my chest and writes again. "Fuck anyone who's ever made you feel unlovable, baby. You aren't," he whispers, turning me to face the mirror. The word LOVED is in big, bold letters directly over my heart. I suck in a breath, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

"I love you, Monroe Decker," he says quietly. "And I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you how fucking special you are."

I spin toward him, barely able to hold the words inside for another second. "I love you too," I breathe, crashing my lips to his. I hear the marker hit the floor before his hands come up to my face, holding me tightly as his tongue slides against mine. I pour every piece of myself into the kiss, hoping he can feel even an ounce of the gratitude I have for him in this moment. He was right. This is my home. I belong with him.

When I got here, I pretended to hate this man. I made up a completely inaccurate persona of who I wanted him to be, so it would be easier not to fall for him when I had convinced myself he wasn't part of my plan. But I fell anyway, and now I realize that I'm stronger with Riggs by my side. He doesn't hold me back. He holds me up. I know I can achieve my biggest dreams with him cheering me on, believing with all my heart that he'll never let me down.

The kiss becomes frantic, and a dull throb blooms to life between my thighs as I become so needy for him that I can barely think. I reach for his sweats, pulling them down and dropping to my knees as his hard cock bobs between us. He steps out of his pants and boxers, and I dive forward, desperate to get him to the back of my throat as fast as I can. I open as wide as my jaw will allow, wiggling my head from side to side in an attempt to take his full length and fighting my gag reflex as his head pushes roughly against it.

"That's it, sweet thing," he grits out. "Take my fucking cock." He sounds like he's on the verge of coming already, and it makes me feel exactly like the goddess he sees when he looks at me. He pushes in deeper, reaching down to wrap his hand around my throat as he fucks it.

"There's that throat bulge," he says. "I fucking love feeling you swallow me from the outside. You're my sexy little cock slut, aren't you?"

I try to nod, but the way he's holding me prevents it.

"Be my polite girl and answer the question, Monroe. Are you my sexy little cock slut? "

"Mmhmm," I mumble as best as I can, involuntarily constricting against him as I do.

"Fuck!" he yells, pulling himself from between my lips. I stare up from the floor, breathless as I wait for him to tell me what to do next. "As much as I want to obliterate that tiny little throat, I need to fill you. Stand up."