The Imperfections: A Forbidden Romance

by Sam Mariano

  It’s crazy, because we’ve only known each other for a weekend, but it felt like longer to me. Granted, they were a really immersive couple of days, and being with Brant feels so natural and comfortable, like I’ve known him for ages.

  Now I feel rejected and disappointed and unwanted and misunderstood, and it all stings.

  I also wish he had waited until after the movie to ruin my night with his awful talk, because once dinner’s over, I don’t feel like watching it anymore. I do the dishes since I imagine he’ll take me home first thing in the morning, and even though I’m mad at him, I want to leave the place clean. I worked hard to scrub this place until every surface sparkled; he might as well enjoy it for at least a day until he bachelors it back up again.

  After dinner, I can tell he’s ready to be done fighting, but I’m not. All those awful things he said to me don’t just go in one ear and out the other like he must expect them to since he thinks I’m some kind of idiot.

  When he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist at the sink, I ignore him. When he starts running his lips up and down the side of my neck, I reject the way my stupid body shudders with pleasure.

  When he murmurs, “You ready to watch that movie?” I have every intention of telling him I’m too tired and I want to go to bed.

  When I open my mouth, though, I can’t seem to find the words. As much as one part of me just wants to go to sleep and be done with this whole ordeal since he clearly is, the other part wants to make the most of my last night here. I can be mad at him after he takes me home and I have to get over him; for now, I might as well enjoy a few extra moments with the big jerk.

  We do watch the movie, and it ends up being a pretty bad idea. Everything that happens in it feels to me like a shadow of our weekend together, just without the happy ending. No, Brant’s not some rich investor in town on business, but I do feel a little like the hooker he only intended to pass a little time with, especially at the end, when she’s feeling things for him and they both want to see each other again, but he’s being a stupid dumb guy about it and she ends up having to go off on her own, just changed by their few days together.

  Since it’s a movie, of course it doesn’t end there. Of course he pulls his head out of his ass right before it’s too late and realizes he doesn’t want to go on without her.

  Since this isn’t a movie, that’s not how things will go for me.

  Since my story isn’t any kind of love story, Brant doesn’t take me upstairs, kiss me on the mouth, and make slow, passionate love to me. He doesn’t realize he’d like to keep seeing me, or that he was just being an ogre at dinner because he doesn’t want any other man’s hands on me—not just Theo’s—and it’s because he cares. He doesn’t realize it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with his sister or his lack of confidence in me and the choices I make.

  Instead, he showers alone while I pack my things in his bedroom. I put on the blue nightgown I wore the night he brought me here and climb into bed by myself. I curl up away from him and close my eyes when the bathroom door opens so he thinks I’m asleep. After the movie, I asked if I could turn my phone on and charge it overnight, but he wouldn’t let me.

  It’s confusing to be half prisoner, half guest, to be half lover and half stranger. Maybe I am showing my age, maybe it’s my inexperience that makes it feel so cold and detached, but I hate it.

  Brant climbs into bed on his side. He doesn’t move toward me, but I’m so aware of his proximity. I guess since I pretended to be asleep, I shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t bother me, but the longer he doesn’t touch me, the more anxious I get.

  Finally, I give up and roll over to face him. He looks over at me in surprise but doesn’t say anything.

  That’s all right, because my mind is full and I can carry the conversation. “What kind of girl do you like?”

  His eyebrows rise, like that’s maybe the last thing he expected me to ask. “Why?”

  I shrug. “Just curious. Am I anything like someone you’d date, or do you usually go for women who aren’t anything like me?”

  “I don’t really date.”

  That is at once disappointing and a relief. It’s a relief because that means it’s not necessarily personal—it’s not that he doesn’t want me, it’s that he doesn’t want to be with anybody—but disappointing because… well, I think I might have some kind of ill-fated crush on him.

  “Why not?” I inquire.

  “I don’t have the time or the interest, I guess.”

  “You don’t like having someone around to regularly have sex with? To have dinner with and spend your days off with?”

  “Well, no, I like all that.”

  “Isn’t that dating?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “What parts aren’t you interested in?”

  “Conversations like these,” he offers dryly.

  I give him a deadpan look. “Hysterical.”

  He cracks a smile, then scoots closer on the bed. “Where’s all this coming from?”

  It seems painfully obvious to me where it’s coming from, and I can’t believe it isn’t plainly obvious to him, too. “I feel like you’re like Edward and I’m your Vivian. You’re so used to being alone and stuck in your ways, you won’t make room in your life for someone else, even if she’s super flexible and you enjoy being with her. At least, I think you’ve enjoyed being with me this weekend.”

  “Of course I have.”

  “So, am I ever going to see you again after you drop me off tomorrow?” I demand.

  Seemingly at a loss for what to say, he answers, “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you know? It’s up to you, isn’t it? It’s certainly not up to me. None of this has been up to me. You just barge into my life and do whatever you want, and I’m perfectly accommodating, going along with everything, and still I get discarded.”

  Scowling, he echoes, “Discarded?”

  “It’s bullshit,” I state, annoyed at him all over again. I roll over, not wanting to look at him anymore, and haul the bed sheet up around me like it can shield me.

  It doesn’t. Brant scoots all the way over until he’s pressed up against me, then he slides an arm around my waist and tugs me tightly against his body. “You sure are crabby tonight,” he tells me.

  “I feel like I’m being dumped, and I didn’t even get the relationship first,” I tell him, just as grouchy as he accused me of being.

  “I think your pregnancy hormones might be making you crazy,” he suggests. “I don’t know where all of this is coming from. Everything isn’t up to me. I just offered to let you move into my cabin, didn’t I? I’d certainly see you on occasion if you did, but that’s up to you, not me.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I offer back more quietly. The reminder of his generous offer makes me feel guilty for being so mad at him, even if he did say some stupid things. He’s a good guy and he made me a thoughtful offer, it’s just… I want him to like me, and I can’t get past the disappointment of realizing maybe he simply doesn’t.

  Absently tracing shapes on my skin with his fingertips, he asks patiently, “What’s the problem, Alyssa?”

  “Maybe I want more,” I say quietly.

  “More,” he repeats, like he’s rolling the word around, trying to decide what it means.

  “I don’t want to be just your neighbor, or a problem you’re fixing,” I tell him, my heart practically pounding out of my chest as I say these things. I’m tempted to roll back over so I can look him in the face and observe his reactions, but I keep my back to him for just that reason. Maybe I don’t want to see his thoughts as they roll across his face, not about this.

  He’s quiet for a minute, then asks, “What do you want to be?”

  I swallow, resting my hand over his on my waist, then turn over to brave meeting his gaze. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too.”

  I scoot closer, sliding my smooth leg between his and wrapping my arm around his waist. “I think you’re a great
man, and I like being here with you.” I lean in, pressing a kiss to his chest, then I look up at him from beneath my eyelashes. “I like keeping your belly full and your balls empty.”

  “Christ,” he mutters, pushing his fingers through my hair.

  I feel his cock jerk against my knee, so I snake a hand down and wrap my fingers around it. I move my lips across his bare chest, kissing him where he lets me while I stroke his cock. “I think you like that, too,” I say with playful innocence.

  “Of course I like that,” he murmurs, pulling my face closer to his body.

  I follow his lead, kissing all over his chest as I climb on top of him. I wiggle my ass against his hard cock until I need to get beneath it, then I lift myself up, grazing him with my nightgown as I pass over it.

  “Take that off,” he orders gruffly, eyeing the garment like it’s something distasteful.

  I reach down and grab the hem of my nightgown, tug it off, and toss it on the floor. Completely naked now, I catch my breasts in the palms of my hands and watch the lust simmer on Brant’s face while I play with them. “You like these, Brant?” I tease.

  “You have perfect tits,” he informs me, not mincing words. “Absolutely perfect.”

  I beam with pleasure under his praise of my body, then I bring my breasts together and slide his dick between them.

  “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, throwing his head back against the pillow.

  I move my breasts up and down his shaft a few more times, then I tilt my head and lick the tip. When he groans, I release my breasts and grasp his cock with one hand and his balls with the other, pumping and massaging as I lower my mouth over him.

  I suck him for a few minutes then I pop off, resituate myself so I’m straddling him, and lower myself onto his hard cock until he’s fully impaling me.

  My insides are tight and twisted with arousal, but as I start to ride him, I feel the first trickles of relief. He feels so incredible inside me, his thickness stretching me every time I lower myself down onto him. I love how full I feel when his whole cock is inside me.

  I’m just about to lift myself and take him inside me so I can experience the sensation again when his hands suddenly lock onto my hips and he pulls me all the way off, lifting me and twisting me until I’m face down on the bed with my ass in the air.

  My heart pounds, but I keep my ass up and wait. After a few seconds pass and he’s still looking at me instead of resuming fucking me, I ask, “Are you—are you gonna take my ass?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  “Okay. Just please use lube if you do,” I tell him as he runs his hand over the smooth curve of my butt.

  “Haven’t decided yet. I want your pussy, but I don’t like there being a hole of yours that someone else has fucked and I haven’t,” he murmurs, sliding his hand under me and pushing a finger deep into my pussy. “I want to fill both holes full of my cum, to be perfectly honest.”

  “Do it, then,” I say, pushing back against his hand. “We have all night.”

  Brant sighs, and I look back at him, still bent over while he decides. “You’re an angel on earth, you know that?”

  I crack a smile. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “What am I not allowed to do to you?” he asks.

  I hesitate, uncertain what he means. “Is there something specific you want to do to me?”

  He shakes his head, holding my gaze. “Not really, I just want to know where your limits are.”

  I shrug to the best of my ability, given the position I’m in. “I guess I’ll let you know if I find one. I’m not all that experienced yet, but I’m pretty open to trying whatever.”

  “Not a lot of near virgins are willing to do anal,” he remarks, squeezing my ass then caressing it again.

  Smirking, I toss back, “You know that from all the near virgins you’ve had sex with?”

  That gives him pause. “Good point. Maybe I only assumed.”

  “Well, you know what they say about—” My sentence cuts off on a gasp as Brant slides his dick into me. He’s in my pussy, not my butt, so I guess he made his decision. “Assuming,” I finish, sighing with pleasure as I lower my face to the bed and keep my butt up for him.

  Brant holds on to my hips, pushing his forward as he buries himself inside me over and over again. I love each thrust a little more than the last, especially when I shift slightly and the pleasure of him pounding into me spikes so sharply I cry out.

  “Oh, God, right there,” I tell him, gripping the bed to hold whatever position I just accidentally moved into. I cry out helplessly when he drives into me again, my pulse quickening, my breath coming in short, desperate drags. “Oh, God, Brant.”

  “You like my cock, baby girl?”

  “So much,” I say roughly, struggling to even breathe properly. I can feel pressure everywhere as he rams me—obviously it feels best between my legs, but it’s tightening in my chest and my stomach, too.

  “You want more of it?” he asks.

  “Yes, please. All of it. Give me all of it.”

  Somehow, he drives deeper, and I just about lose my mind. My arms are flying everywhere as I flail and grab at the bed, meanwhile still trying to hold my ass where it feels the best. He drives home with every thrust and I cry out louder with every impact, finally screaming and clawing at the bed as he sends me hurtling over the edge. I cry out until my throat feels raw, Brant still fucking me, adding guttural groans and “Fucks” of his own, but I can scarcely hear him.

  My head buzzes, like that explosion was too much and I won’t be able to think or hear properly for a couple days. My legs are jelly now, so I can’t angle my ass like I was, but my body continues to be thrown back and forth on the bed as Brant continues to use me.

  Even sated, pleasure rolls through my belly at the thought. When he finally comes inside me, his fingers dig into my hips again, but I don’t complain this time. I welcome the bruises, because I know when I see them as I’m getting ready or showering back at home, they’ll remind me of the nights my body brought Brant so much pleasure, he lost control for a few seconds.

  He pulls out and rolls off me pretty quick, but he’s as spent as I am, so he doesn’t go far. He falls onto the bed beside me, then reaches over to grab me and gathers me against his chest. I go willingly, happily snuggling up against him so his hot skin is pressed against mine.

  “Fuck, I love your pussy,” he tells me, breathing hard as he comes down from that orgasm.

  “It’s a big fan of yours, too,” I tell him, sliding my hand across his shoulder and then hugging him tight. I can’t get close enough to him in these post-orgasmic moments. I crave the closeness so much, I’d crawl inside him if I could. His arms locked around me the way they are make me feel safe and protected, like nothing and no one could ever dare hurt me when I’m in Brant’s embrace.

  Of course, he’s probably the thing most likely to hurt me. Even now, I’m desperate for a deeper hit of affection. If he bent his head and kissed me while holding me like this, I’d be his.

  I guess that’s why he doesn’t.

  The reminder that he wants to fuck me but doesn’t want me brings me back down a little. Not far enough to completely ruin my buzz, not enough to pull me from his arms, but it tarnishes my happiness ever so slightly.

  We lie there tangled together for so long, Brant falls asleep.

  My body is exhausted, but as the bliss from the orgasm begins to fade, my heart grows heavier. I don’t want to fall asleep; I want to stay here just the way I am, wrapped up in Brant’s arms, our naked bodies entwined like we’re lovers. I guess in the most technical of ways, we are, but I can’t help thinking we could have had more. I can’t help wishing I didn’t have to tell him that, wishing he’d decide on his own that he’s not taking me back home because he wants to keep me here with him.

  Doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me, so I guess I’ll just try to stay awake and soak up a few more memories to take with me. Maybe I am an idiot for developing feelings for
him, but how was I supposed to help it? When he’s not being mean and stupid, Brant’s amazing.

  I sigh, letting my eyes travel over the strong planes of his handsome face. I don’t remember thinking he was the most handsome man in the world the night he showed up in my bedroom and I saw him for the first time, but that might’ve had something to do with me thinking he was going to kill me. When I look at him now, I can’t imagine looking at another man and thinking he could even hold a candle to Brant.

  Since my eyes are so heavy, once I’ve looked my fill of him, I rest my head on his firm pectoral muscle and close my eyes. I’m not going to go to sleep yet, just need to rest my eyes for a minute. Then I’ll resume memorizing Brant, just in case I never get to hold him and see him like this again.

  My heavy eyes drift shut and I’m filled with peace, listening to Brant’s strong heart beat steadily in his chest. It works like a lullaby, and before I know it, I’m out.

  9

  Brant

  I don’t relish sitting in Alyssa’s driveway, watching her fidget with her bag, looking kinda sad as she prepares to get out of my truck.

  “You got everything?” I ask, just to get some kind of response out of her.

  She nods her head but doesn’t look over at me. Pulling the charger I gave back to her out of the top of her overflowing bag, she says, “I think this was the last of it.”

  I nod inanely, but she doesn’t move. On impulse, I reach over and grab her phone.

  That gets her attention, and she looks over at me with a frown marring her pretty face. “What are you doing?”

  “Putting my number in here, just in case you need it for anything.” Once I finish typing in my information, I look over at her. “The cabin offer still stands, too. If you decide you’d like to try living on your own, just give me a call and I’ll start fixing it up for you.”