Flawed

by Tracy Wolff

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No good deed goes unpunished, right? Because right now, it sure as shit feels like I’m being punished, my cock so hard that it aches as it leaks against my stomach. And still I give it one more try. Still, I give her one more out.

  “Tori, love, this isn’t what you need right now. This isn’t—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat, try to start again. But she beats me to it.

  “Don’t you want me?” she asks, her eyes wide and guileless as she stares up at me. “Or are you too disgusted by that stupid video?” This time, it’s her voice that breaks. “Is that it? Am I damaged goods now that the whole world has seen me fuck another man?”

  “No! Of course not. How could you even think that?”

  “How could I not think that? I’m throwing myself at you and you can’t get out of bed fast enough.” Her lower lip trembles and finally she pulls away from me as she wraps her arms around herself.

  It’s what I’ve been wanting all along, to put some space between us so that the haze of sleep and sex and need can dissipate a little. But looking at her now, like this, eyes downcast and entire body shaking, I know that I’ve made another miscalculation.

  “How could you think I don’t want you?” It’s my turn to reach for her, my turn to pull her into the shelter of my body as I press hot kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. She’s been so open with me, so honest, that I can’t help but do the same. “I’m so hard I can barely function. All I can think about is sliding inside that sweet pussy of yours and riding you until you come half a dozen times or until you pass out from the pleasure, whichever comes first.”

  Her eyes widen, her tongue darting out to lick suddenly dry lips as she swallows convulsively. For a second I think I’ve finally managed it, think I’ve finally scared her away. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to climb out of bed. Instead her hands slide up my back to my neck so that her fingers can tangle in my hair. And then she’s pulling me close, pulling my lips down to hers.

  “So do it already,” she whispers right before she takes my mouth in a kiss that rocks my whole fucking world.

  Chapter 13

  Tori

  I’m trembling by the time Miles finally gives in, my whole body shaking with a combination of need and fear that is as much arousing as it is daunting. When I woke up plastered against him, all I could think about is that I wanted him, really wanted him. Not just because he’s here and I desperately want something to get me out of my head as the nightmare of yesterday comes flooding back, but because I want him. I want Miles Girard.

  More, I need him, every part of me craving every part of him.

  That’s the frightening part of the equation, the part I’m not so sure about even as I open my mouth to let him in. I have sex for fun. I have sex to forget. I have sex to prove to myself that I can feel—and to prove to my father that I don’t give a shit what he thinks of me. None of them are the best reasons, but they’re honest. They’re real.

  But this? Having sex with Miles because everything inside him calls to everything inside me? Having sex with him because I need to feel him against me, inside me? That’s a totally new experience for me and it makes me nervous even as it excites me.

  His hands come up to cup my face, and the feel of his fingers brushing against my cheeks sends shivers across my skin and down my spine, making every hair on my body stand straight up. I gasp a little at the sensation, start to pull back a little before I go into sensory overload.

  But Miles chooses that moment to deepen the kiss and I end up burrowing closer instead of pulling away. My fingers come up to his chest, curl against the hardness of his bare chest. He moans a little and I repeat the motion, gently scratching my fingers down his pecs and relishing the play of muscles beneath my hands.

  Miles groans then, his hands sliding around my head to tangle in my hair. He yanks a little, his fingers tugging hard enough to make me gasp as a crazy sexy blend of pleasure and pain courses through me. He just laughs, and takes advantage of my open mouth to dart his tongue deep inside.

  I’m not usually big on this kind of kissing—it’s too deep, too intimate, too raw—but with Miles I can’t get enough of it. I open wider, kissing him again and again and again as I savor the heat of him.

  His body may be rock-hard against mine, his fingers digging urgently into my scalp. But his mouth is warm and tender and more gentle than I’ve ever experienced before. More gentle than I deserve, probably. I love it, just like I love everything about this kiss. The softness of his lips, the seductive slowness of his tongue as it slips against mine, the sweet, sweet taste of him—like crisp apples and soft summer rainstorms. Like desire and connection and everything else I’ve gone too long without.

  I want more of it, more of him.

  It’s been so long since I’ve wanted a man like this—if I ever have. Mind hazed, body on fire, nerve endings screaming for the pleasure I know he can give me.

  Desperate now, totally caught up in the flash and the fire, I slide my hands around his body and dig in, raking my fingers down the bare expanse of his heavily muscled back. And what started out gentle turns ravenous in the space between one breath and the next.

  Hard, hungry, filled with a desire I haven’t experienced ever, Miles’s mouth devours mine—and I let it. Let him. More, I crave it like a junkie searching for a fix. Lips, tongue, teeth—he uses them all on me until nothing matters but the feel of him against me, above me, inside me. Until he is all that I want, all that I need. Everything, in this moment, that I have to have.

  “Tori.” He growls my name—low, deep, animalistic. The harshness of it whips right through me, lighting me up from the inside. Making my whole body feel like New Year’s Eve and the Fourth of July rolled into one.

  I whimper at the sensation, then open to him. I give him everything that he demands, and take what I need in return.

  Power. Passion. Pleasure. So much pleasure that I’m drowning it.

  His tongue is between my lips now, licking at the roof of my mouth before tangling with my own. And somehow my hands are in his hair now, my fingers twisting in the cool silken locks in an effort to pull him closer, closer, closer. To pull him all the way inside me.

  Miles groans at the sensation, his mouth growing hotter and harder against mine as he delves deeper. As he demands more, demands everything.

  Desperate for breath, I rip my mouth from his for one second, two. But he’s having none of it. He follows me, biting at my lips with sharp little nibbles that have my nipples tightening to the point of pain and fire gathering low in my belly. Then he’s sucking my tongue deep into his own mouth, stroking his own tongue along the length of it until all I can feel, want, taste is him. Until the nightmare of yesterday fades and every reason we shouldn’t be doing this disappears like so much smoke.

  Then he’s sliding his tongue between my upper lip and my gums, fluttering it softly and lighting me up like a bonfire—all light and heat and comforting, sensual warmth pouring through me. Enveloping me. Stoking the flames bursting to life inside me until I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to spontaneously combust right here.

  It scares me a little, the pleasure he can bring me so easily and the need I have for more of it. More of him. Suddenly I feel exposed, open to him in a way I don’t open myself to anyone in bed or out. I don’t like it. Don’t trust it—more, I don’t trust myself.

  Once again I rip my mouth from his, sucking large gasps of air into my starving lungs as I try to gain some kind of perspective—and some kind of control—over this fire that’s raging between us. But I’m too far gone for perspective, too far gone for control, my body crying out for anything—everything—he can give it. And more. Always more.

  The truth comes to me, then. That there’s nothing I can do to fight this thing between us—nothing I would do to fight it even if I could. All the sniping, all the veiled insults, all the heated dislike between us over the last year was just leading us here to this insane moment.
<
br />   To this insane pleasure.

  It’s that knowledge, that understanding, that finally has me letting go, has me giving in to the maelstrom. My hands tighten in his hair and I tug once, twice. Again and again, harder and harder as I struggle to get closer to him. To take what I want from him and give him what he wants in return.

  And still he won’t yield control, still he hangs back a little, controlling the kiss—and the pace—when all I want to do is run headlong toward ecstasy. Frustrated, desperate, determined to make him need as I do, I bite down on his lower lip hard enough to have him snarling.

  “Fuck, Tori.” And then he’s on top of me, pinning me to the bed, his body straining against mine as he settles in the V of my legs. His cock—hot, hard, huge—pushing against my sex with each sharp thrust of his hips.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he snarls as his hands tangle in my hair, forcing my head back and baring my throat.

  I do what he asks and the feel of him nearly sends me over the edge, despite the fact that we’re still separated by his shorts and my yoga pants.

  His mouth is at my throat now, and he’s ravaging me with his tongue and teeth and lips as he sucks and licks and bites at me again and again. I know he’s leaving bruises, know he’s marking me in a primitive way I would never expect from the smooth, coolly distant engineer I’ve known for so many months.

  But there’s nothing cool or distant about him now, nothing that speaks of control. No, he’s as wild as I am, his body hot and seething with the same need that threatens to overwhelm me.

  “Fuck, Tori,” he growls against my lips as his hand slides down to squeeze my ass—and to pull us so tightly together that he’s almost inside me, despite our clothes. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock pushing against my slit, the tip rubbing against my clit with each rock of his hips.

  It feels good, so good, orgasm beckoning even though he’s barely touched me.

  His other hand is still in my hair, forcing my head back so that I’m completely open to him. Pleasure bursts inside me as his mouth skims down my neck to the hollow of my throat, and my hips lift and lower in time to the blood roaring through my ears.

  He moves lower still and before I can prepare myself, Miles’s mouth is closing over my nipple. Even through my tank top, I can feel the warmth and the wetness of him, the incredibly seductive heat of him.

  I arch against him, pulling him closer as pleasure tears through me. He’s not gentle with me, not now, as he runs his tongue in little circles around my nipple. As he sucks and bites at it until I’m once again walking the line between overwhelming pleasure and sweet, sharp pain. And when he pulls me deep into his mouth—tank top and all—I let out a strangled moan.

  Then I’m pushing at him, gasping “Stop,” as the need to be skin-to-skin with him rises up and nearly overwhelms me. Suddenly nothing matters but feeling his skin—hot and slick and naked—against my own. “I need—I need—”

  “What, baby?” he murmurs, lifting his head to look at me with those piercing blue eyes of his. “What do you need? What can I give you?”

  He’s still touching me as he speaks, though, flicking the sharp edge of his thumbnail back and forth across my already sensitive nipple again and again and again.

  It’s too much, everything is too much right now and I let out a strangled cry as my body shoots straight over the edge into an orgasm that is somehow overwhelming and still not enough, all at the same time.

  My head thrashes back and forth on the pillow, my body arches up against him, and tears leak from my eyes as pleasure spirals through me. It goes on and on and on even as my hips rock against him of their own volition, looking for more. Needing more. More pleasure, more contact, more of Miles.

  When I come down a little, when I can finally manage to open my eyes and pull a strangled breath into my lungs, it’s to find Miles balanced on his arms above me, his eyes glazed and mouth slack as he watches me convulse. And then he’s sliding a hand between my back and the bed, bowing me up like an offering as he whispers, “You’re so fucking responsive, baby. So fucking good for me. I love it.”

  I whimper at the praise and at the hot look in his eyes as he once again lowers his head to my breast. “I can’t,” I gasp, twisting against him. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

  “You can,” he tells me with a wicked grin. And then he’s lifting me up a little more and ripping my tank top over my head with one smooth yank. “You will.”

  The cold air on my still-damp nipples only makes me ache more, and this time when I open my mouth to beg him to put me out of my misery, all that comes out is a high-pitched, incoherent whine. It must be enough, though, because suddenly Miles is growing still above me, his beautiful eyes going midnight dark, midnight dangerous.

  Need flickers in their depths and for the first time I can see that he’s walking a razor-thin wire of control. Can see that he’s as turned on, as desperate, as moved by all that’s happening between us as I am.

  Knowing I’m not alone in all this, knowing that he’s as lost and out of control as I am, makes it all so much easier to bear. More, it makes me want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given me, makes me want to push him to the brink of his control and then push him past it.

  With that thought in mind, I lick my lips, then watch as his gaze follows my every movement like he’s a starving man and I’m the only sustenance around. I do it again and revel in the groan he doesn’t even try to hold back. Do it once more, just because, and this time I allow my tongue to linger on my lower lip as I eye-fuck him right back.

  Lightning crackles in the air as we stare each other down and I can feel the heat of it rip through my body, through my veins and muscles and heart and soul, through every single part of me until Miles is all that I can think about, all that I can feel.

  He’s pulling harder on my hair now, everything getting fiercer and stronger as he starts to spin out of control. But each tug only makes me wilder, too, makes me more and more desperate to feel him against me, inside me, all around me.

  Dazed with desire, filled with a need that I’m afraid will never be satisfied, I push up onto my elbows and lean forward until I can capture his mouth with mine. And then I kiss him with everything inside me, pouring all the heat and need and confusion in me straight into him.

  Miles takes it all, takes everything I can give him and demands more. He demands everything and as I yield to him—as I give him everything that I have and everything that I am—I can’t help wondering if it will finally be enough. If, for once in my life, I will finally be enough.

  Chapter 14

  Miles

  Lust tears through me like a goddamn Molotov cocktail, burning, smoldering, threatening to rip me apart in one powerful conflagration. From the moment I felt Tori come, it’s been building exponentially inside me, growing faster, burning hotter, threatening to spin completely out of my control.

  I want to slow it down, want to pull back a little so I can take care of Tori. So that I can pay attention to every single detail and make sure that she gets what she needs from this. From me.

  But distance is impossible with Tori wrapped around me, her delicate fingers pulling at my shorts like they contain the answer to all her problems. All I can do is feel and want and take whatever I can get. Whatever she’s willing to give me.

  Pulling away from her questing hands and mouth, I stare at her breasts with hungry eyes, my mouth actually watering with the need to taste her—for real this time, with nothing between her skin and my mouth. Her breasts are small, like the rest of her, but perfectly formed and so firm my palms practically itch with the desire to feel her. Bending my head, unable to wait one more second, I take her nipple in my mouth and suck at her hard enough to have her trembling and arching against me.

  Tori cries out as her hands slide up my chest to tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. “Please,” she gasps, rocking her lower body against me. “Please, Miles.” Her voice is high-pitched and breathy,
and it shoots another ball of adrenaline through my system.

  “I’ve got you,” I murmur against her skin before flicking my tongue over the velvet hardness of her nipples again and again.

  “Please,” she says again. “Please, please, please,” until it becomes a mantra that swims in my blood, beats in my brain.

  “I’ve got you,” I say again, and this time my voice is little more than a growl. The need to slide down the bed, to take her in my mouth and taste her sweetness, is creating a wicked urgency inside me, one I know I won’t be able to resist much longer. But I want to push her a little farther, take her a little deeper, make it so that she loses herself so completely that she forgets everything for a little while. Everything but this.

  Everything but us.

  “I need you,” she says, her voice breaking on the words, and it’s what I’ve been waiting—no, dying—to hear. I almost swallow her whole as my mouth closes around her nipple with a fierceness I wouldn’t have tempered even if I could have.

  It isn’t long before her hips are bucking harshly against me, the muscles of her stomach contracting as her fingers twist painfully in my hair. The small hurt only makes me more desperate, though, and I hold her there for long minutes, suckling one nipple and then the other until she’s nearly incoherent with need. Until she’s almost as close to the edge as I am.

  She tastes amazing—like spicy cinnamon and warm vanilla. It’s a combination I doubt I’ll ever get enough of, one that is slowly and completely driving me out of my mind.

  There’s a part of me that wants to take her right now, to shove my shorts down, rip off her too-tight yoga pants, and plunge inside her like my sanity depends on it. Then again, maybe it does.

  Even so, I’m not ready for this to end so soon, not ready to let her off the hook so easily when I’ve spent the last year wondering what it would take to get her into bed—and what it would be like once I got her here.

  Now that I know…now that I know, I’m glad I didn’t before. The knowledge would have tormented me, would have driven me crazy every time I saw her.