Reparation (17 page)

Now, as she was remembering some of their more adventurous times together, it was like opening her eyes. She stretched out on the bed, bent her legs at the knees. Remembered the first time he had told her he'd slept with another woman; other
women
. Two. At once. Pretty hot. She walked her fingertips across her stomach, pushing her t-shirt out of the way. Let the cool air in the apartment wash over her skin.

Remembered the time at her parents' house, when she had him screw her against the wall, making sure Ellie and Robert heard everything. Remembered the time in the bathroom on his boat. God, that time. It had been quick for them, but hot. Hotter than anything had been in a long time. Her finger tips crept down to the waist of her leggings.

After Jameson had come back from vacation and found out that Ang had been in the house. Worn his clothing. Had almost slept with Tate. Jameson had been onto her, her little plan. After going down on her like it was his job, he had flipped her onto her stomach and practically pounded her through the mattress. She'd thought she'd had whiplash for the next few days. She closed her eyes as she worked her fingers under her leggings. Under her panties. She could hear his voice, like he was in the room.

“
Starting without me, baby girl? Very naughty
.”

Only for you, Mr. Kane. Anymore, it's only for you.

It felt like a lot longer than three days. She'd spent most of the last day with Ang. For the first time since ..., since Jameson had reentered her life, she felt like she was back to the same old friendship she'd always had with Ang, just minus the sex. It was nice. It was amazing. She actually cried a little when he left to go home. He called her a stupid cow and kissed her goodbye.

Sanders pick her up, but instead of driving her straight home, Tate convinced him to stop and have dinner with her. She apologized for making him feel like he had to leave, and explained that she had just wanted some time. Some time to pretend to be the “
old her
”, so she could figure out exactly who the “
new her
” was and what that person wanted.

“Did you figure it out?” Sanders asked. She smiled at him.

“I think I did.”

By the time they pulled up in front of the house in Weston, it was after seven o'clock at night. She had guessed that Jameson would be in a foul mood, and Sanders warned that he would be in a foul mood, but she didn't care. She was actually excited to see him. Be in his presence. The couple days apart had rejuvenated her. Made her really like him again. Sometimes, loving a person was easy, the heart went and did that all on its own. Liking a person, however, was a little more difficult. That involved the brain. And the brain was a fickle bitch.

He wasn't waiting for her at the door, as he had a tendency to do whenever she was tardy. In fact, the whole house was mostly dark. She made a face at Sanders, laughing at him as he carried her bag upstairs. Then she crept down the hallway, to the only light source in the house.

A fire was raging.

“Hello,” Tate called out softly, edging into his library. It was her first time entering the room, since he had dumped her in there, that her skin didn't crawl.

“You came back.
Shocker,
” Jameson commented. He was sitting in one of the wing back chairs, facing the flames. So close, she worried he'd burn his feet.

So, the same spot as always.

“Ooohhh, there's a tone. Someone is feisty already,” she teased, walking over to the couch and plopping down on it, folding her legs under herself. He didn't move.

“Just surprised. It had occured to me that this was all an elaborate ruse, a way to sneak out of my clutches,” he told her. She laughed.

“You give me too much credit. Wasn't Sandy talking to you? I was a good girl, all week,” she assured him.

“I highly doubt that, and sometimes I think Sanders is working
for
you, and
against
me. Though he did inform me of a kiss,” Jameson said.

“Such a tattle tale.
Yes
, there was a kiss. I hope he also told you that I put a stop to the kiss, and told Nick that I wouldn't be running away with him to his castle in Arizona,” she stressed.

“There was some mention of that. Mostly babbling. I try to ignore him when he gets to the facts.”

“Obviously.”

“
Shut up
.”

“Nothing happened, Jameson. I'm
here,
” she pointed out.

“Yes. And you could've been here last night, but you chose to spend it with
Angier,
” he practically spit out Ang's name. Tate laughed and began taking off her scarf and jacket.

“You know, for such an amazing man who is always going on and on about not worrying or caring or any of that bullshit, you're awfully insecure,” she told him. He finally turned his head towards her, his jaw visible below the wing of the chair. She leaned over the back of the couch, folding her arms.

“
Fuck you
, Tatum. It's post-traumatic stress, from dealing with
you,
” he snarled. She snickered.

“Such a
bitch
.”

She was provoking him on purpose, so she didn't move when he got out of his chair and stalked towards her. She had missed him all week. She wanted him,
now
. She was ready to let go, to give in to him. He had won, after all. She was finally ready to admit that.

“Care to say that again?” he growled, coming around the couch to face her. She turned around, settling back onto her heels.

“Bitch. I called you one. As in,
you're acting like a little bitch
. You won, Mr. Kane. I'm here.
He's
in Arizona.
Ang
is at home. But
I'm here
, with you. So stop being a
bitch.
”

His fingers were around her throat instantly, forcing her back into the couch at first. She sighed, her hand gripping his wrist, fingernails digging into his skin. The harder she dug, the harder he squeezed. She gripped as hard as she could.

“Someday, you will learn to
watch your fucking mouth
around me,” he hissed.

“Probably not, Kane,” she wheezed out. “You should probably just get used to it.”

“I don't have to get used to shit. So was he any good? Still boring? How about
Angier
? I know he was always a fave,” Jameson said. She managed a laugh, though it sounded more like snorting, and she trailed her free hand across his chest, gripped onto his shirt.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me,” she whispered. He glared at her, but the pressure on her neck loosened a little. She was able to sit up.

“No shit.”

“Aw, poor baby. Sexy secretary not hot in bed?” Tate cooed at him.

“I wouldn't know.”

“Please. I don't believe for an instant that you spent all week alone, especially after firing her,” Tate snorted. He rolled his eyes.

“I fired her because she couldn't file for shit, Tatum,” he snapped. “I'm not entirely sure she even knew how to read. And while usually stupid women tend to be good fucks,
no one
is as good as you.”

She yanked on his shirt and pulled him close, kissing him. Electro-shock therapy, all over her body. Something she hadn't allowed herself to feel, in a long time. She gasped into his mouth, struggling to climb to her knees on the couch. She wanted to be closer; much, much,
much
closer to him. As close as she could possibly get.

He let go of her throat and quickly pulled his shirt off. He had barely tugged it free of his head before her hands were on his chest, scoring his skin hard enough to leave red dashes on their way down. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her forward, his tongue invading her mouth as he pressed his body against hers, forcing her back into the couch.

“Please,” she realized she was whispering as she fought to kick off her shoes. “Please, Jameson. Please.”

“Apparently little Nick wasn't very good, if you're already begging for it from me,” he chuckled, yanking her shirt over her head.

“Why do you always want to talk about other men when we're fucking? If you want to fuck men, Jameson, it's okay. Can I watch?” she asked while he tried to pull her pants and underwear down. When she lifted her hips, he smacked her on the ass.

“I wouldn't even let you watch me fuck myself, you stupid bitch. You don't deserve a treat like that. Where the fuck were you all day?” he demanded, yanking her clothing free and throwing it over the couch.

“Downtown, with Ang. Then dinner, with Sanders,” she told him, chucking her bra across the room while he slipped out of his own pants.

“I don't like waiting.”

“See? Such a whiny bitch.”

“
Watch your fucking mouth,
” he hissed, slapping his hand down between her legs. She gasped, and then his fingers were soothing the sting. Slicing through her, like butter. She moaned, letting her legs fall open to him. “Jesus, Tate. I was expecting a battle when you came in here, not an easy fuck.”

“Kind of one and the same with us,” she panted. He slapped her again between the legs and she shrieked, almost coming right then.

“Something's got you all riled up. Did your day with
Angier
get you all excited?” he asked, burying his middle finger in her. She squirmed around.

“No.”

“You're awfully wet.”

“I usually am.”

“Not without reason. What set you off, hmmm?”

“You. Just you.”

“
Good answer.
”

His hand was on her breast bone then, pressing her down into the couch. Forcing her down. He propped one of her legs along the back of the couch, and then he was slamming into her. No hesitation, just hips meeting hips in an instant. She shrieked, her hands flying to her breasts, squeezing.

“Oh my ...
fuck,
” she groaned as he immediately began pounding into her.

“
Fucking slut
. Spent all day with him. Tried to fuck him in
our
bed. Probably tried to fuck him in
my
condo. Who the fuck do you think you are!?” Jameson demanded. She had her other foot touching the floor and he grabbed that leg, held it out away from her body by the knee, forcing himself so deep inside of her, it felt like he was interfering with the rhythm of her heart.

Like that's anything new. Remember the first time you saw him? Heart attack.

“Originally, I wanted to fuck him in
here,
” she taunted, and the hand on her chest moved to her throat. He wasn't playing around, no butterfly kisses with this hand – he practically squeezed her neck in half.

“
You wouldn't fucking dare,
” he hissed.

“Didn't have enough time.”

“
Stupid whore
, didn't have enough balls. Fuck.
Fuck you
, Tate. Fucking always making me do things I don't want to do,” Jameson growled, his grip on her neck loosening.

“I think you
always
want to do these things,” she cried out.

“
Always,
” he moaned.

“I couldn't do it, though,” she whispered.

Why is it that sex always makes an honest girl out of you? Why can't you just fake it, like everyone else?

“Of course you fucking couldn't. I
own
this pussy,
you stupid cunt
. You thought you could use it without my permission?
Wrong,
” he informed her.

“I know, I know,” she breathed. The hand on her throat finally released her, and she gasped in air, only to moan again when his fingers moved to her nipple, pinching it hard.

“I
made
this pussy. It has belonged to me for the last seven years,” he whispered, letting go of her leg and leaning down on top of her.

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She felt him press his forehead against her temple, his teeth bared against her cheek.

“
Mine
,” he growled.

“
Yours,
” she agreed.

“
Stupid fucking whore
, doesn't even know who she belongs to.
Slut. Cunt
. You said you wished I didn't exist.
Fuck you,
” he swore, and she gasped as his hand let go of her breast and slithered between their bodies.

He was talking about when she had screamed at him in the hospital. She was shocked he even remembered the things she'd said. That he ever remembered
anything
she said. It must have hurt, to have stuck with him for so long.

“I didn't mean it,” she told him, then gasped again as she felt one of his fingers sliding inside of her, right on top of his dick. He was not a small man.

So. Fucking. Full.

“Of course you didn't fucking mean it. I
created you
, you
came from me
. If I didn't exist,
you wouldn't fucking exist,
” he snapped. Realization suddenly dawned behind her eyelids.

Not Satan. Not Lillith. Eve was created from Adam's rib. We're part of each other. That's why I can't get away. That's why he can't get away. I'm not his subject, he's not my lord and master.
We're the same
.

Getting philosophical during sex usually wasn't her thing, but apparently it worked for her, because Tate came so hard that when she bit down on his earlobe, she drew blood. He roared and pulled back, his fingernails biting into her throat as he grabbed it, forcing her down onto the couch. He held her there while she shook and cried, her whole body ripping apart around him. He finally stilled, but she didn't stop coming for another solid twenty seconds.

“No,” she breathed when she finally felt like she could again. “No, I wouldn't.”

Without a word, he picked her up from the couch. She squealed, clinging to his shoulders as he walked them across the room. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, until she saw that he was walking around the desk. Back to where it all began. He practically dropped her onto it, forced her back down hard against the wood, and began thrusting into her again.