Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Capone had offered to put me through therapy in case my lack of a sex drive was trauma-related, but I declined the offer. I didn’t want to open up about what happened to me again. Not that the guys hadn’t been able to figure it out for themselves when they found me, but I’d told the club what happened to me about a year after I’d been rescued. I didn’t want to trauma-dump on a complete stranger, even if that was what they were there for. There was no sense in ripping open those wounds again. April only knew because I’d given Capone and Tank permission to tell her, and the only reason I had given that permission was because I didn’t think it was fair that she didn’t know why one of her men would probably never have sex with her.
Just as I knew what had happened to her and all the hell she went through, she deserved to know what happened to me, too.
I’d been a sixteen-year-old kid when Capone and Tank had taken down the sex-trafficking ring I’d been thrown into when I was twelve. It was bid night once again, and I was on the stage, my hands bound in front of me. I’d been on my knees, my head bowed in submission. I was completely naked, cum leaking out of my ass. The last man who’d purchased me had given me back just in time for me to be put on the stage again. Bruises were littering my body, and a chain was wrapped around my neck like a collar—just tight enough to hurt when I swallowed—and there was a bar on the front of it that named me five-six-two.
Tank had quickly gotten me off the stage as Capone and the rest of the club took out everyone in that room. I’d been shivering, terrified of the big, muscular, tattooed man that was carrying me out of the room. Tank had cradled me against his chest, but it didn’t stop my teeth from chattering. He’d done his best to soothe me, but it hadn’t really helped.
He brought me straight to the clubhouse and proceeded to get in the shower with me, bathing me until I managed to tell him I felt clean again. It wasn’t until I realized he truly didn’t mean me harm that I began to trust him a little bit. Without a single word, he’d tugged one of his shirts over my head after our shower and laid down with me in bed, holding me. I’d fallen in love with him that night.
It’d been the first time in four years that I’d felt safe. The first time in four years that a man touched me and didn’t want to hurt me. And when Tank realized weed calmed me, he’d name me Smokey because I refused to tell anyone my real name.
I didn’t want to remember it. Tank now knew it was Gage, but he agreed to keep it to himself. No one else knew. Not even Capone. It was the only thing Capone didn’t push for.
Tank and I had bonded that night, and even now, I was a little closer to him than I was with the other guys and even April. But none of them were upset over it. They understood.
Tank and I had formed a trauma bond. And that was much different than the bond I shared with everyone else.
“I lost you for a minute,” April murmured, trailing her lips over my jaw.
I turned my head, capturing her lips with mine. She smiled into the kiss. “Sorry, baby,” I whispered. Her tongue tangled with mine for a moment before I pulled back, pecking the tip of her nose. I brushed my hand up her back beneath the oversized shirt she was wearing, and she shivered, arching her back to press her breasts against my bare chest.
“I love it when you touch me like this,” she said softly.
I hummed and handed her the blunt, letting her take another hit. When she did, she gripped the back of my neck and pulled my lips to hers, letting the smoke curl into my mouth. I growled and kissed her a little harder, inhaling the smoke into my lungs before I softly blew it back into hers.
“That’s hot,” Tank rumbled from next to us, making April jump.
I pulled back from April and blew the rest of the smoke out of my mouth as I looked up at him. “Mornin’,” I rumbled.
He gripped my chin and pulled my lips up to his, kissing me soft and slow. My chest ached at his gentle touch, and as if April sensed it, she slid her hands over my chest, pressing her palms flat over the rapid beat of my heart.
Without a word, Tank settled himself behind me on the picnic table and wrapped his thick arms around both me and April, holding us. He rested his chin on my shoulder, smiling at our woman. “You look pleasantly high,” he teased her.