Broken and Beautiful

by Ryan, Kendall

  Alexander rose and moved behind me, unbuckling his jeans as his eyes watched mine in the mirror. The crown of his cock stuck up over the band of his boxer briefs, and I licked my lips.

  “Do you want this?” His eyes hooded as he fisted his rigid shaft.

  I did, but I wanted more than that. Alexander had shown me that he wanted all of me. His desire wasn’t limited to my sex, and mine wasn’t limited to his either.

  “No,” I whispered, aware of the risk I was taking. “I want your body.”

  His image stilled behind me as he took in my words. “You don’t want that, Clara.”

  “There’s no part of my body you don’t want, right?” I waited for him to nod. He did so stiffly, but after his exhibition he could hardly deny it. “There’s no part of your body that I don’t want.”

  “Clara—” he began, but I shushed him.

  “I felt the scars. I know,” I spoke delicately, unsure how he would react to being reminded of that night. I could only trust my instinct. “And I want you. All of you, X. Your body—all of it—makes me so fucking hot.”

  A tenuous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as I repeated his own words back to him. He couldn’t argue with me, but uncertainty glimmered in his eyes. Alexander stepped out of his pants and kicked them toward the bathtub. His boxers followed, putting his magnificent cock on display. But my eyes were locked to his as his fingers gripped the hem of his t-shirt. I smiled reassuringly, and he drew it slowly up his torso, revealing the muscular slab he’d only recently allowed me to touch. I kept my face blank as the first scar came into view. Alexander hesitated, still watching me, as though any moment I might change my mind.

  “All of you, X,” I repeated.

  He tugged the shirt over his head, releasing a ragged breath as my gaze raked over his body. The scars snaked angrily across the left half of his ribs and up across his pecs. Raw and white, they’d faded some with time, but they were impossible to ignore. I stifled a shudder. I’d known it was a serious accident, but knowing and seeing proof were completely different things. It must have been a miracle that he survived, and yet the worst damage had been done to his soul.

  There was nothing standing between us now, and when Alexander’s hands grabbed my hips in a fierce hold, I parted my legs. I ached to feel him move inside me. I needed it. We needed it.

  “Take me,” I whispered, “and don’t be gentle.”

  His hand dropped out of sight and a moment later, his broad crown nudged inside me. Alexander pushed his cock cautiously into my cleft, pausing as I flowered over him. Then his hands were on my hips, forcing me down until I engulfed his thick shaft. Despite my request, his hips rocked with slow, deliberate strokes, allowing my body to adjust to his delicious girth. His hands slid across my stomach, circling and tightening across my torso as his thrusts deepened. Dipping to my neck, his teeth caught the curve of it, latching on as he continued to piston his cock until he was buried to the root against my sex.

  I wanted to see him, all of him, as he fucked me, so I bowed forward, pulling free of his hands. Sinking forward, I clutched the counter, gasping as he penetrated deeper. His eyes shut against his reflection, but I drank in his lean form as he drove into me.

  He was beautiful, and he was mine. The scars of his past didn’t scare me, they drew me to him. And he needed to know that.

  “Open your eyes, X,” I commanded in a strong, sure voice. He had shown me how he saw me, and I wanted to return the favor. “I want you to see what you do to me. I want you to see what I see.”

  Alexander’s eyes flew open, blazing with wildfire, and the pain shining in them stole my breath away. I pushed against him encouragingly and his pace increased. His fingers caught my hair and tugged it back, yanking up my neck so that my gaze was fixed to his. And when I couldn’t look away, he plunged hard into my drenched sex, impaling me on his cock. I cried out, pleasure wrenching through me as he continued his merciless onslaught. Our sights were locked on each other as the first surge quaked through me. I fought to keep my eyes open as the pressure mounted, aroused by the sheen of perspiration glistening across his carved body.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged. “All of you. Give me all of you.”

  A groan vibrated from him as he poured into me, flooding me with hot gushes, and I shattered, bursting against him with a rapturous cry.

  Collapsing against the vanity, I rode out the after-tremors, but Alexander continued to pound into me, moving with slick, desperate thrusts against my sensitive walls.

  “Alexander,” I pled, but he didn’t stop.

  “Need…need…” he grunted, his voice distant as he drove tirelessly into me.

  I recognized the fire burning in his eyes—saw his need to control, and I trembled as my sex swelled, smarting at the endless stimulation. The veins on his neck pulsed, a guttural noise escaping his lips as he came again. But he didn’t slow. He was lost, chasing the demons of his past with visceral, animalistic need.

  Wresting away from him, my sex swollen and full, I turned and folded my arms around his shoulders.

  “Brimstone,” I whispered, not only for my benefit, but for his as well. He thought he could outrun the past by controlling the present.

  “I need to be inside you,” he gasped, but I shook my head.

  This moment was too raw—too fresh—to ignore.

  His head dropped to my chest and he gathered me in his arms, lifting me to sit on the counter. When he finally looked up, the flame was gone from his eyes, and I saw through him, even as his gaze pieced me. We were stripped to one another, unguarded and vulnerable. He tenderly positioned himself against my battered entrance, pausing as his eyes asked permission. No longer hesitating, I sheathed myself to his root, knowing there was no other choice.

  Neither of us moved.

  Neither of us spoke.

  But we clung to one another motionlessly, woven together through shared pain and united by unspoken promise. We were defenseless, exposed, naked, and we could only face it together.

  20

  Sharing a bathroom with Alexander proved to be nearly impossible. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. I dabbed some lip-gloss on as Alexander lounged in his boxer briefs against the wall. Seeing him so relaxed around me—no longer hiding his body—meant more than I could express. I watched him in the mirror, drinking in his lean, muscular form.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to take you back to bed.” The playful tone in his voice made my toes curl.

  Yes, please, I thought. Then sighed. I was already half-dressed in my skirt and bra, and I didn’t have time to spare if I was going to get to the office on time. “Don’t even think about it, X. I’m going to be late already.”

  “I warned you that I’m a man who takes what he wants,” he purred.

  Before I knew what was happening, I was up over his shoulders as he carried me to my room.

  “Put me down!” I swatted his ass. “I’m late.”

  “Stop fighting me or you won’t make it in at all,” he promised me, a dark gleam flickering in his eyes.

  I couldn’t help wishing that he would make good on that threat.

  Alexander dumped me onto the bed and then dropped to his hands at my feet. Stalking up my legs, he caught the hem of my skirt in his teeth and dragged it past my hips. My teeth sank into my lips, a low moan escaping me as his bare chest grazed across my flesh. Despite the slight padding of my bra, my nipples pebbled into tight beads at the contact.

  Would I ever get enough of him? Of this? I couldn’t fathom it, not when my body still responded with uncontrollable lust every time he touched me. But now there was the edge of something deeper, something beyond the physical, when he touched me, and my chest ached as my emotions flooded through me.

  Alexander’s hands shoved my thong to the side and his clever fingers delved between my folds as he stroked in and out of my swollen cleft. “See, poppet? You’re still dressed.�
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  I forgot how to speak as his thumb massaged my clit.

  “Although this bra is vexing,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Your tits belong in my mouth. Don’t they, Clara?”

  A sob of pleasure racked my body at the thought, tightening my muscles as my body coiled, nearly frantic for release, but Alexander stilled. I rolled my hips, desperate for his fingers to continue their ministrations, but he refused.

  “Clara?” His mouth skimmed along my jaw, sending tingles down my neck.

  “Yes!”

  He met my affirmation with the plunge of his fingers, dipping and twisting deftly as he rubbed my clit. My body heated, a thin sheen of sweat developing across my skin, and I arched against him, grinding my hips against his powerful hands as my orgasm wrenched through me in violent spasms.

  Alexander brushed a sticky strand of hair from my forehead and kissed me softly. I was little more than a puddle under him, boneless and sated. It was impossible to consider going to work now.

  A knock at the door startled me out of my stupor, but Alexander shushed me and pressed his lips to mine. The second knock was more insistent, and he relented, helping me to my feet and tugging down my skirt. By the time I’d pulled on my shirt, my unexpected visitor was hammering on the door.

  There were only a few people who had the access code to our building and it wasn’t hard to guess which one of them was banging down my door. Sliding through the living room, I reached the door, stopping to momentarily compose myself—and mentally prepare. My mother flew into the flat, a stream of incoherent babble bursting out of her. Despite her distraught appearance, she was put together in pressed linen slacks and a matching jacket. I waited for a moment, but then I realized that she wasn’t going to stop talking without intervention.

  “And your father has been on the phone all morning, trying to get it taken down before you—”

  “Mom, I know about the story,” I butted in.

  “Of course you know about it,” she snapped. “Your photo is on the cover of every paper in London. He’s just trying to do a little damage control.”

  Damage control. I knew exactly what she meant by that. My parents had been controlling damage to their reputations for years. It was the nice way of saying bribing and threatening. I’d experienced being at the damage control center before, but now that I was an adult, I wasn’t having it. “I’d prefer that you let me handle this.”

  “You?” she scoffed. “Clara, darling, you aren’t thinking clearly. Your father—”

  “Doesn’t need to worry about this,” I cut her off. “I have things under control.”

  She looked as though she seriously doubted that, but she wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me until I gasped for breath. What was meant to be a comforting gesture only left me in pain—as usual. When she finally released me, I glanced nervously toward the hall.

  I needed to get her out of here.

  “I’m fine, Mom, really,” I promised her in a weak voice, ushering her toward the door.

  “That’s what you said before. When did you start seeing Alexander again? Don’t try to deny it! Your appearance with him at that ball has been all over the internet.” She wagged a finger at me, stopping only when she realized what she was doing. Clearing her throat, she straightened her silk scarf and changed direction. “We have people who can help you spin this.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mom.” A flicker of movement in the hall caught my eye, and I realized my bedroom door was no longer shut. Grown woman or not, I didn’t need the drama Madeline would unleash if she found Alexander had spent the night with me. “All I really want is to finish getting dressed. I need to be at work in less than hour.”

  She continued, oblivious to my attempt to get her out of the flat. “I called Lola this morning, and she thought that we might try—”

  “You called Lola?” I asked, not bothering to hide my disbelief.

  “She’s going into PR and she’s very savvy about social media,” Mom reminded me.

  “She’s twenty-one and she’s had fifteen majors since she got to university!”

  “Lola is set on public relations,” she said, completely dismissing my objection.

  “You know what?” I strode over to the front door. “I’ve got this. I don’t need you or Lola or Dad helping me out.”

  Mom wavered, tentatively stepping forward, her eyes fixed on the door, before she burst into tears. “You’re cutting me out of your life, Clara. You know how dangerous that is. Does he even know? Have you spoken with him since the story was leaked?”

  I wasn’t sure what made me angrier: the idea that she thought this story would affect how he felt about me or that she didn’t have my back. I’d worried enough about his reaction to the revelation, and Alexander had surprised me, even if it had taken all night for him to convince me it didn’t matter. Now my mother, the person who was supposed to show me unconditional love and support, was standing before me and confessing that she thought I was damaged goods.

  “He knows.” But it wasn’t me who finally answered her question. Alexander stepped from the dark hallway into a beam of morning light shining through the living room window. He had on the worn jeans and t-shirt he’d worn over to my house, but there was no doubt of his authority. It dripped from his voice and radiated from his confident bearing. Alexander was all man, and his stance dared anyone to question that. “You must be Clara’s mother. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bishop.”

  Alexander offered his hand, but she didn’t move. My unflappable mother was frozen to the spot.

  “Mom,” I prompted in a quiet voice. “This is Alexander.”

  She looked from him to me and back again, then launched back into her diatribe. “Well, I’m glad she told you. Relationships must be built on honesty. Don’t you agree, Alexander?”

  “Of course.” He nodded, flashing me a small smile.

  “I think it would be best for all of us, particularly Clara, if we had someone attempting to contain this story. I’m sure you agree with that as well.” She clicked her manicured fingertips together as she spoke.

  “Unfortunately from personal experience, I can tell you that it’s very difficult to control what they publish, whether it’s true or not,” he said wryly.

  Mom’s lips pinched into a scowl, and she shook her head. “We have to do something.”

  “I can’t promise anything, but I do have my best man looking into the circumstances behind the story,” he told us.

  I balked at this information. I’d told him I didn’t want him to get involved. “You shouldn’t be dragged into this.”

  “This happened because of me. It’s the least I can do.” The words simmered from him like a pot on low boil. Maybe Alexander wasn’t handling the uptick in my publicity as well as I thought.

  “Thank you.” My mother lunged at him, catching him in the same awkward hug I’d been victim to earlier, and I shot him an apologetic smile over her shoulder. She broke away from him and patted his shoulder. “It’s so nice to see Clara has found someone.”

  I cringed internally, trying to keep the smile plastered in place.

  “We’d love to take you both to dinner. Do you have plans tomorrow?”

  “Mom!” I snapped. Of course, she’d manage to pry a social obligation out of him immediately.

  “I’d love to,” Alexander said.

  “You’d what?” I asked in shock.

  Mom ignored me, looping her arm through Alexander’s and strolling with him toward the door. “I’ll arrange everything. You don’t have any food allergies? I’ll call Clara with the details. Harold will be so excited,” she said, not pausing once for confirmation.

  I followed them and opened the door for her, nodding enthusiastically as she continued to plan out loud. Five minutes later, I shut the door. Sagging against it, I dropped my head and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “She seems to be a bit of a handful,” Alexander said with a smile in his voice. />
  “I can get you out of this. Don’t worry about it.”

  Alexander’s smile faded into a frown. “I don’t mind going to dinner with your parents.”

  “Are…you…sure?” I asked in a strangled voice.

  “Stop staring at me like I need a straight jacket. Unless,” he paused and regarded me with a dark expression, “you don’t want me to go dinner with your parents.”

  “No!” I yelped, surprising him as much as myself. “Of course, I do, but I understand if you aren’t comfortable.”

  “Isn’t this what boyfriends are supposed to do?” he asked. “Meet the parents. Charm them. Earn the privilege to debauch their daughter.”

  Hearing him use the term boyfriend sucked the air from my lungs, and I stared at him, unable to speak.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, running his fingers through his tangled black hair as the worried, tired look he wore so often returned to his face. “Did I do something to upset you?”

  I swallowed against the raw feeling in my throat and shook my head. “Nope. I just don’t deserve you, X.”

  “You don’t,” he agreed, his voice growing husky. “No one deserves to put up with me.”

  I placed a finger over his lips, pressing close to him. “Don’t say that.”

  “Where did you come from?” he whispered. “Who sent you to save me?”

  I had no answer for him. There was only one way to comfort us both, so I crushed my lips to his. In a flash, he was in control, parting my mouth and plunging his tongue into my mouth. I lost myself, tasting him, reveling in him. My desire grew to an insatiable craving that rippled through my body and pooled between my thighs. I wrapped one leg around him and circled against him to relieve the intense pressure building inside me. Alexander’s arms closed around my waist and he broke away, breathing heavy and hot against my neck.

  “You have to get to work,” he murmured. “Unless…”

  I licked my lips at the suggestive tone in his raspy voice. “Unless?”

  “You want to call in sick and let me show you what a good boyfriend I can be.”