Roar by Aria Cage Read Free Book Online

They are easy rules to obey for a safe life. He loves me; he loves me a lot. Paul just shows it differently. We all do.
    Daddy loved me; Nate loved me; both completely different to the other, and I them. I miss my father even though he hurt me. I miss Nate, but I refuse to continue hurting him, and now I hurt Paul. My life is like a hurt locker, filled to the brim with the anguish I cause.
    We pull up to Paul’s. He says it’s our home, but nothing in there is mine. I brought my belongings, but most remain in boxes in the shed. I don’t mind, but it will never be home. The garage door opens, and we pull in slowly and meticulously, just like Paul. My body is shaking; it aches against the spasm as I keep a keen eye on Paul’s hands. I know what’s to come. I just don’t know when. That is a different kind of punishment.
    The garage door closes behind the car, and I cringe when he moves. But he opens his door and steps from the car, slamming the door behind him. Something in me wants me to stay in the car. Something deeper wants me to grab the spare set of keys from my bag and ram through the garage door back to Nona, back to Nate.
    What I do, is get out of the car and follow the stream of light that shines from the utility room. He isn’t there waiting for me. He isn’t in the living room either, and as I approach the hall, I see his office door is closed, only allowing a sliver of light to shine from underneath.
    My body sags in a sigh as I head for the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind me. I don’t lock it, because he doesn’t like that, and I’d rather not tempt fate.
    I don’t look in the mirror; I hate myself enough right now. I’m disgusting, and I’m a whore. I wanted Nate to touch me tonight. I want to love his body like an animal, like an adult would with little regard to rules. I’m so sick of rules even though they keep me safe. I’m so sick of hating myself, but that never stops. I strip and turn the water to the shower on, not caring that it’s too hot. The scalding water is a relief to my inner pain. I welcome the external version. I need the punishing Paul will grace me with.
    Under the scalding water, I wash the day away, and only stop to think about what I’m doing to my body when my nipples peak and I am panting against the pull in my belly. With soapy hands, I run them over the mounds of my body and back into the folds of my heat where my clit is stinging with need. I’m slippery, and it has nothing to do with soap and everything to do with imagining Nate’s fingers working me. I’m about to come, when a cold gush of air rushes across my wet, puckered skin. It’s then swiftly followed by a hard slap to the side of my head, careering me into the tiled wall. I see stars. I see blood droplets run with the water down the white tiles, mixing into the drain.
    “Who are you thinking about when you do that, Charlotte?”
    I’m shaking and bleeding, and too scared to utter a word even though silence is just as bad.
    “Are you thinking about him? Your fucking foster brother? That’s repulsive! Vile!”
    “No!” I scream the lie, cowering in the corner of the tiles.
    “Fucking lying bitch. You never move like that for me; you don’t moan my name or ripple beneath me. You don’t even get wet. If I don’t lube you, you’d rip us both to shreds with how dried up you are.”
    “Paul, please.” I know what I have to do even though I don’t want to. But he needs assurance; he needs to be pleased. I crawl to him, the water pummelling my back, my brain reeling against the pain. At his feet, I twist the fabric of his trousers in my fingers, silently begging for forgiveness. It’s not enough to help me; he kicks me in the ribs, and I fall back on my backside, trying to get a breath before my whimper erupts.
    “What makes you think I want your dirty, fucking whore fingers on me?”
    He has never been this mad at me, never. I want to plead for his forgiveness; I want him to hold me and