Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) (7 page)

Sheepishly walking into the kitchen, I soon saw Parks placing something into the oven, still dressed in only a towel. Wow. A man cooking for me and wrapped in a towel from the waist down had definitely been a dream of mine at one point.

“You didn’t have to cook for me.” I didn’t want him going to any trouble for me. He turned around, still wearing that sexy sulk. I knew he had a scolding ready on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw me standing in the baby-doll, his face lit up pleasantly.

“Jesus,” he rumbled, his eyes rolling down the length of my body. He turned off the oven and padded over to me, barefoot and brilliant. “I didn’t think my cock could strain any more, but you’ve just proved me wrong.” As he approached me, I took a step back, and he stopped immediately. “Why won’t you let me see your body, Evelyn?”

The air felt like it’d been punched out of my lungs from that simple question alone. It was a big enough impact to make me feel breathless, light-headed, and hollow all at once. “What?” I acted casual, but Parks wasn’t stupid.

“Did you think I was withholding stripping you naked just because you told me no? I knew you were uncomfortable getting naked, so I obeyed your wishes, but now I want to know why you are continuously keeping the very thing that I crave away from me.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist and began mounting the stairs to his bedroom. “It’s nothing. Leave it.” I found his bedroom and headed into the middle of the room.

“Evelyn.” Parks had followed me, and his tone was stern and demanding, stopping my feet from moving. I closed my eyes with my back to him, but I felt him nearing. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me, pressing a tender kiss to my neck. “Let me see.”

I felt the oxygen that my lungs needed wearing thin. It felt like my chest was caving in. Every single beat my heart gave felt heavier, and blood rushed through my ears, my cheeks and face. “I shouldn’t be here,” I protested, rushing over to my clothes and gathering them to leave, causing a panic to swipe through Parks.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “I know you’re running because you’re afraid to want this, and so am I. But I’m staying and I’m begging you not to run this time.”

I looked around his bedroom tiredly, then towards the man who was making me want him far more than I thought I would. He was right, I was afraid to want him. Afraid of being happy because happiness was a curse. I dropped my clothes, feeling mentally defeated. “There is nowhere else to run.” I had no choice but to be strong and stay. I didn’t want my fear getting the better of me anymore. I wanted to conquer my demons, but in that moment I didn’t have the energy to fight.

Parks eased towards me and pinched the hem of the baby-doll. His intention was to pull it over my body, but panic and nausea overwhelmed me.

“Please. Don’t.” Tears stabbed at my eyes as I begged him not to expose me, but the other half of me wanted to be exposed to him.

“Shit.” A panicked look swept across his face at seeing a side to me that was rare, and he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t cry, Princess. Just let me in. Tell me what you’re scared of, and I’ll make it right.”

I abruptly pushed him away from me. “I’m ugly, Parks. If you see the ugly I carry around with me, you won’t want me.”

An aggravated frown ruled his features. “There isn’t anything in this world that could make you ugly to me, Evelyn. Understand?”

My eyes closed, and for the second time in one day, I let tears fall without trying to stop them. “I feel weak when I’m exposed. You don’t get it.” I walked over to the bed, needing to take a seat. Parks followed me and bent down in front of me, resting his hands in my lap.

“I get it more than you realise, but exposure is the one thing that will make us work.” He pushed a stray tear from my eye, but I turned away so he couldn’t see me.

“I don’t want you to watch me cry.”

Parks shifted his body, cupped my jaw with his hands, and made me look at him. “Evelyn, I would rather see you cry because I know there is a reason for it. A smile can lie and tell me you’re all right when you’re not. Tell me what I can do to make it better. No more lies.”

“It’s not the lies that are going to kill us, Parks; it’s the truth. And it’s not just the physical scars that hurt. It’s the mental ones.”

“Show me them all?” he asked patiently, waiting until I could pluck up the courage that I longed for to be brave and vulnerable. I tilted my head back, forcing tears to slip back into my sockets, and with a shaky hand, I took hold of the hem of my baby-doll. Keeping my watering eyes shut, I slowly pulled up the material to expose my stomach. My fingers were trembling, my lungs inhaling and exhaling heavily as I exposed myself. The grief-stricken gasp that left Parks’s mouth caused more tears to drop from my eyes.

“Princess, how…?”

I yanked the baby-doll back over my scars and bowed my head in shame. My shoulders juddered from my cowardly crying, and the more I tried to suppress it, the more my tears became unrestrained. I refused to tell him how I got the scars that covered most of my stomach. And even if I did want to, my sobs kept my words hostage.

I heard the creek of the bed as he sat beside me, then he cupped my cheeks, making me look at him. “Are they burn scars?”

My breathing caught because I was suddenly laid bare. More open than I’d ever been. My eyes fluttered open as I swallowed the lump in my throat that had prevented me from talking. Parks gently swiped at my tears, and I nodded. He closed his eyes on a shaky breath and sank to his knees in front of me. His head was in line with my stomach, and after a deep pause, he pulled the material up over my scars, over my head, and dropped it on the floor. He gently traced over my burns with his fingers as I wept silently, watching him. Without hesitation, he placed delicate kisses along the edge of my scars. He was kind and soft, but I winced at every tender blow his lips gave my wounded skin.

“Do you…do you think I’m ugly?” I whimpered pitifully.

He immediately stopped kissing me, pulled me down onto the floor, and cradled my body in his lap. “Listen to me, Evelyn. I have never set my eyes upon such beauty until I set my eyes upon you. You are stunning, inside and out. Your beauty to me is limitless.” My tears came heavily at his statement, and I sobbed into his chest loudly. “My beautiful, brave girl, please don’t cry.”

But I couldn’t stop. I was defenceless and exposed. Physically and mentally. It felt like I was sobbing for everything I had never sobbed for but should have. The anger towards my mother. My grandparents’ deaths. My scars. My addictions. My wrongs. The pain. The hate. The hurt. It all poured out of me in the form of heavy tears, and they wouldn’t stop.

“I’m going to make it better, Evelyn. All your pain and heartache. Tell me all of it, and I will make it go away.”

Parks held me tight until I stopped crying. His arms felt like my protective armour, and I never wanted to free myself from it. The thought was both harrowing and uplifting. I never relied on anybody. But it seemed I was leaning towards this man, clinging on to him because he made me feel wanted. Needed.

“How did you get them?” he asked gently. Drawing in a breath, I perched at the end of the bed, clutching the baby-doll to my chest. Parks moved over to me, refusing to leave my side. “Take your time,” he soothed, his thumb smoothing my shoulder.

I didn’t know where to start. “My mum was making me boiled eggs one time for my dinner. They were my favourite. Still are. Halfway through, she fell asleep because she was so drugged up and left the water still boiling in the saucepan.” Parks was already furious and I’d only just started. “She wouldn’t wake up, and I was so hungry. So I took it upon myself to take the water off the cooker, but I lost my grip. The pan was too heavy for me.” I was staring into space as I recalled the memory, but I felt Parks’s grip tighten around me. “I screamed so loud from the pain that it woke her up from her heroin sleep. My mother drenched a towel in cold water and told me to hold it on my stomach myself. But water is never the way to treat burns like the ones I had.”

“How old were you?” he asked, his whisper entwined with hidden pain.

“Six,” I breathed. “I can still remember the pain. I was in agony. Eventually, my neighbour heard my screams, and she took me to the hospital. My dad turned up an hour later. He was out stealing for his next fix but came as soon as he heard. My aunty was also called, and that’s when she said she’d had enough. She wanted me to go and live with her. But I wouldn’t go with her. I wanted to stay with my mum and dad. If I left them, they would’ve hated me because I would’ve gotten them into trouble. And I was desperate for their love.” Parks kissed my head soothingly, listening to every word. “My mum told me it was my fault for going near the cooker. I said I was sorry.” My head dipped. “I was so, so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He was tender, but I could sense the resentment he felt towards my parents laced within him.

“But she made me think it was. The burns left scaring because my mother wouldn’t treat them properly. She should have cleaned them up every day, changed my dressing, but she simply couldn’t be bothered. I was a six-year-old kid looking after my own burns.” I couldn’t tell him any more and remain strong, so I clutched at his chest and buried myself into the warmth I suddenly seemed to crave, crying silently.

“Princess.” His tone expressed distress. “No one should have to grow up that way and have to be the strong one. No child deserves a parent that is too selfish to take care of the needs of their own child. They are scum.”

“It’s not even half of what she did to me.” I sniffed, and his jaw clenched. Parks wasn’t able to bear the fact he was powerless against my parents. The damage had already been done, but he was in control of trying to help me get better.

“Tell me when you’re ready. But just know I would never hurt you like they have. Ever. And if they or anyone tries to hurt you again, they will be breathing their last.”

Parks held me for as long as I wanted to be held. Being in his arms was the reason I felt secure, protected. He was my saviour, my paradise.

After almost an hour of silence, I cleared my throat and asked for some clarification. “Do I still turn you on?”

His breath caught at my question, but then his eyes turned hot and eager. He whipped the towel from his body and exposed his almighty, erect cock, causing me to gasp inwardly.

“Does this answer your question?”

Jesus. I flew at him, knocking him down onto the carpet. He accepted the crash my lips made into his as I kissed him fiercely, fighting my tongue into his mouth and lapping it against his.

“Evelyn.” He breathed my name with tenderness when I straddled him like an animal who’d just caught hold of her prey. He squeezed my arse cheeks with his big hands, pushing me between his thighs. “Ride my cock, Princess.”

“That’s what I intend to do.” I tilted back and hovered over him, taking his length into my palm. His head fell back as he bit his lip, groaning from his throat. I pumped him in my hand, then guided him over my entrance. Just the tip of his wide crown dipping into me was enough to form a yelp. “Oh…God,” I whimpered, sliding myself down his length, allowing him to fill me the way he always did.

“Hmm. Fuck, baby. I’ve missed your sweetness.”

His sexy words caused chills, but my attention was drawn to where his cock filled me. I began to move, pulling Parks into me so his head nuzzled into my neck. I felt his breath against my throat as I ground my hips, rocking back and forth, needing deeper penetration.

“Wade. You feel so good.” My words were ragged from his touch. I was prisoner to his hands as they alternated between supporting my back and clutching at my arse as I gyrated to pick up momentum.

“I need to see you,” Parks ordered roughly, lying back so he was in full view of my body. My mind was cut in two. One part was panicky, scared, and conscious of my body being bare to him; my scars, my weakness, and vulnerability. But the way his lustful stare pierced into me, and the way he bit down hard on his lip as he glanced over my body, growling so low and appeasing, made the other half of me feel confident. He made me feel sexy, and that hindered my weakness, but I was still hesitant, and he sensed it.

“I won’t tell you again. I want to see you. Ride my cock, Evelyn.” His erotic words bit at me and pushed me into motion, slapping away and banishing my thoughts of insecurity. I began pushing off my toes, sliding his cock out of my cleft, and slamming down so damn hard our bodies collided with a sensual thud. The sounds of my arse and thighs brushing against his body were erotically hot, and it made my determination soar. I clasped my hands around his thighs and began to bounce up and down, picking up a fast, determined pace. Hot sweat dotted over my skin, my cheeks heated and flushed, and I felt pleasure build inside me. The sexy grunts, the soft curses, and the mastery in the way he moved caused my chest to tighten and twist with desire.

He reached between my legs and pressed two fingers against my clit, immediately spiking my need to climax. His fingers against my clit withdrew that power from me, making me feel weak. I dug my fingers into his thighs as I slid myself up and down his cock. My stomach contracted, my mind blacked out, and it became impossible to move as I was about to come.

“Let me hear you, Princess.” My moans were loud, drawn-out, and unmanageable as I climaxed against his fingers and around his length. “Your sweetness clenching around my cock is fucking heaven,” he growled. I smothered his mouth with my lips, moaning into them. Then I began to
really
move, fucking him, pushing vigorously off my leg muscles. He wanted to talk, wanted to moan, but I suppressed his words, sucking them up with my tongue and kissing him with as much drive as I was taking him.