Damaged and the Cobra

by Bijou Hunter

  Lark stopped dancing and watched me. What should have felt awkward didn’t because it was Lark. Everything felt right with her and I stepped closer.

  “Show me your bedroom please,” she said, resting her hands on my chest. “I want to know.”

  “Hell,” I murmured, nearly sweeping her into my arms and running to the bed. Instead, I used every ounce of self control to simply smile and take her hand.

  Once in the small master bedroom, Lark didn’t look around or make chitchat. She just stared up at me with those wonderful green eyes and waited. I sensed she wasn’t unsure about me as much as sex.

  “Have you been with a guy before?” I asked, caressing her lips.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Once.”

  “It wasn’t good though.”

  Lark shook her head and I saw she was nervous. “I’m not sure what to do. Like I know, but…”

  “If you keep looking at me the way you are, all you’ll have to do is say yes and I’ll do the rest,” I said then added in a whisper, “I fucking love when you look at me like you are.”

  When Lark smiled, it took all my self control not to take her immediately. No foreplay. Hell, no play at all. Just enter her body and make it mine.

  Instead of taking what I wanted, I gave Lark what she needed. Cupping her face, I kissed her softly, holding back all of my hunger. Her lips told me how behind her fear was a hunger too. She wanted it all, but didn’t know how to ask.

  Pulling off my shirt, I tossed it on the nearby dresser then reached to remove her shirt. Her expression stopped me. She stared at my tatted chest like in shock. My arousal made way for insecurity. If Lark judged me unworthy, I wasn’t sure I would recover. Everything I was rested in her hands.

  Lifting her gaze to meet mine, she stared wide eyed. “Your body is a work of art.”

  “Fuck,” I whispered, tugging her shirt over her head. “You’re killing me.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re too perfect and I’m afraid you’re a lie I tell myself.”

  “You think I’m perfect?” she asked, breathing too fast as she removed her bra and stood awkwardly. “No one’s thought that about me before.”

  Thinking of Cooper, I said what he might in such a situation. “That’s because I’m fucking perfect and they’re not.”

  Never before had I worried so much about losing control, but I didn’t think I could wait much longer to explore her body. Once Lark removed her jeans and panties, her awkwardness increased. Most of all, she didn’t know what to do with her arms, crossing and uncrossing them.

  I leaned her back on the bed and kissed her. As I kicked off my jeans and slid down my boxers, Lark tried to find a comfortable position.

  “I don’t know what to do with my hands,” she mumbled.

  “Baby, you can do whatever the hell you want with them.”

  Lark nodded, but looked nervous.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  Lark nodded again and I saw in her eyes how much she trusted me. Her heart was mine and I took this responsibility seriously. I could build her up or destroy her with what happened next.

  “Lark, I know you can’t see how beautiful you are. Trust that I see you the way you really are and not the way you’ve been raised to see yourself. Do you understand?”

  Tension easing, Lark smiled and finally found a place for her hands. Resting them palms down against my chest, she smiled up at me.

  “I understand. You’re beautiful too. Painfully beautiful and I want you.”

  Grinning, I kissed her and held back less than before. Lark wasn’t submitting, but meeting me in every kiss and embrace. Caressing the wet curls between her legs, I found her more than ready and we hadn’t even gotten started.

  “Say you’re beautiful,” I whispered, stroking her.

  “I’m beautiful.”

  “Good,” I murmured, kissing her jaw then moving south. “Say it again.”

  “I’m beautiful,” she whimpered as I sucked her hard nipple into my mouth. “Oh, Aaron.”

  Still caressing her clit, I sucked her nipples, pulling at the flesh until her hips bucked and I heard her cry out. Her gasps of pleasure were like music and I wanted to hear them again. I wanted to hear them always.

  With Lark watching me in such a pleasured way, I could barely roll the condom over my cock. She studied my face, never noticing my shaking hands. Her fingers were teasing her nipples like I had with my lips and tongue. Seeing her touch herself wasn’t helping my concentration.

  Once I was ready, her legs opened and she squirmed in anticipation. I nearly came at the sight of her so aroused, but retained my control a bit longer.

  Even hot and damp, her pussy was tight as the tip of my cock disappeared inside. Lark whimpered until I filled her then gave me a big smile. She really was making it impossible not to shoot my wad five seconds in.

  “I want you to be mine,” Lark groaned as I tested her body with a gentle thrust. “I don’t deserve to have what I want, but I want you anyway.”

  Frowning at her comment, I wished to respond with kind words. My control was gone though, leaving behind only hunger and raw need. Thrusting into her, I fucked Lark like I’d never fucked another woman before. It was more than sex. I was claiming Lark. She was mine and I’d kill anyone who took her from me.

  Chapter Twenty One - Lark

  Aaron’s tattoos were perfectly linked to one another like a masterly designed creation. As he rested on his back and hid his hands under his hard sexy ass, I explored his perfect body. Even knowing he wanted to touch me, I couldn’t concentrate when he got curious. Now, it was my turn to play.

  Over the left side of his chest was a large heart interconnected with the other tattoos. I traced it then met his gaze.

  “Pretty,” I teased then licked the heart and nearby nipple.

  “Shit, I’m using my hands.”

  “No, you’ll behave or suffer my wrath. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

  Aaron smirked. “Really?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “You’re a horrible liar. I like that in a woman.”

  Rolling my eyes, I kissed where his cobra tattoo wound around the heart.

  “The heart is for my girl’s name,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll have her name tattooed in the middle. That’s why it’s so big. I didn’t know how long her name would be.”

  Our eyes met again and we both thought the same thing.

  Four little letters.

  As Aaron smiled at me, I sucked at the flesh in the heart. “I was thinking about getting a tattoo of my man’s name just over my hooch in the shape of a key because he’s the only one who can open me up.”

  Bursting into laughter, Aaron gave up on keeping his hands to himself. “No more playing.”

  “You’re a control freak in bed,” I said as he pulled me against him. “Keep it up and it won’t be your name over my pussy.”

  “You had me at pussy,” Aaron moaned, kissing me until I couldn’t breathe. “Have I mentioned how much I love your nipples?”

  Glancing down as he cupped by butt and pulled me against his erection, I saw the same smallish breasts with very happy puffy nipples.

  “What about them? They’re weird.”

  Aaron frowned. “They’re unique. Cooper said I should paint you naked, but I didn’t know what you looked like. I imagined many different versions. The reality is better.”

  Leaning away from him, I shared his frown. “I don’t know what to think about any of what you just said. It was all a little weird. You and Cooper talking about me naked. You painting me naked. You comparing me with your fantasies.”

  Aaron bit his bottom lip and my pussy clenched at the sight of it. “I’ve been thinking about you for months,” he murmured as I slid up and down with his erection between us. “A guy is bound to think about the naughty bits and I really like your naughty bits.”

  “I thought about you too and,” I said, leaning to his ear to whi
sper, “it was so hard not to make noises alone in the dark with my hand between my legs.”

  “That’s it.”

  Aaron reached for the nightstand, but I guided him inside me. Groaning with pleasure, he used a hand to cup my butt. His other hand squeezed my breast with one of those puffy nipples between his fingers.

  “I’m on the pill,” I whimpered while adjusting to the sensation of being so full. “I should have mentioned that early, but I was busy drooling over your hot body.”

  Aaron kissed me softly as he rested on me on my back. “I can’t wait to teach you all these amazing positions, but we might have to wait until I have more control.”

  Tracing the heart on his chest, I lifted me legs and wrapped them around his strong hips.

  “Are you going to fuck me hard like before?” I moaned as he thrust once then twice deeply. “Don’t hold back. I’m sick of waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty Two - Aaron

  Lark slept curled up in the fetal position on the other side of the bed. I watched her for a long time, memorizing her features and surprised to find she had a splash of freckles at the base of her nose. They’d been hidden by makeup. After our midnight shower to cool off, those freckles were free to shine.

  I wanted to touch them, but Lark wasn’t a deep sleeper. Whenever I moved, her lashes fluttered and I thought she would wake. She never did, but I was certain if I allowed my fingers to brush over the spots on her fair skin that she would wake and I knew she was tired.

  Exhausted too, I couldn’t sleep. The desire to create woke me early and I eventually left the bed. Lark looked so fragile cocooned in the sheet. Even hating to leave her, I needed to get all of my emotions out on paper.

  Professor followed me out to the studio. Pollack considered coming along then changed her mind and returned to snoozing on the couch. Once in front the easel, I let loose.

  I sketched Lark smiling. Painted Lark laughing. Grabbed charcoal and drew her sleeping. My muse inspired me to create one image of her after another. Eventually, I sketched her expression when she had an orgasm.

  Hands covered in paint and charcoal, I sat down and stared at the pictures I’d created. As Lark looked back at me from all of my creations, I accepted what I had been hiding from all morning.

  I was in love with Lark.

  The fantasy of her had transformed into the reality of loving her. She was everything I hoped for all those nights when I wished to know her. Now, I knew her and she was better than the fantasy.

  Lark knew how to make me feel like a man, strong and protective. She also understood how to keep my head from lodging up my arrogant ass. Her teasing made me laugh and kept me in line. She was a tiny fighter and I wanted her to smile at me always.

  While I never loved Kristen, I also managed to see qualities in her that she never possessed. I had created an image in my head detached from the reality of who she was. As I wiped my hands on a towel, I wondered if I was making the same mistake with Lark. Could she really be as perfect in my mind as she seemed?

  Cooper said Farah’s flaws were perfect. Everything about her made him crazy and Lark was the same way. Was she my girl or a fiction I created? I was more than a little pissed how Cooper found his woman before I did. He didn’t need a muse. He never longed for that special girl. However, he found her and was living a happy life.

  I wanted the same. There was no denying this fact. I just didn’t know if I craved the dream so much I’d created a lie in Lark. Was she also embracing a lie to get away from the crap of her family? Were we fools to believe we belonged together? Fate fought to keep us apart, yet I couldn’t let her go.

  The door to the studio opened and Lark poked in her head. I hadn’t realized so much time had passed and I shouldn’t have left her to wake alone. She looked a little nervous then her gaze fell on all of my artwork of her. On the walls, leaning in corners, one sketch after another, the work made me look like a frigging stalker.

  Lark’s expression wasn’t difficult to read. Even with the fake smile on her face, her eyes were horrified.

  “I paint what I’m into,” I said, trying to seem casual. “You should see the number of paintings I made when I was really into meatball subs.”

  “This is how you see me?” she asked, staring at the most recent works, some still wet. “They don’t look anything like me.”

  Lark reached out to touch the blissful expression I drew of her. I wasn’t sure what she was saying. Did she hate the paintings? Did she think I was a creep? Was I not seeing the real her?

  “What’s wrong with them?” I asked, sounding like a hurt child rather than a twenty two year old man who spent the night claiming this very woman who now stared at me in shock.

  Lark glanced at me then back at the sketch. “They’re all so beautiful. I don’t look like that though. You made me seem better. I mean, that’s good, but I’m surprised is all.”

  The worry eased away and my shoulders relaxed. Smiling down at her, I caressed the bridge of her nose.

  “You have freckles.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t put on any makeup. I just saw you were gone and went looking.”

  “I like them. The first girl I ever had a crush on had freckles. Now, the only girl I want to ever have a crush on again has them. I’d say I got lucky.”

  Lark gave me a genuine smile. She looked at the sketch then her gaze rolled over my chest before returning to my face.

  “I can’t believe you can create such beauty.”

  “I can’t believe I’m finally looking at my beauty. You can’t see it, Lark. I know you can’t. Maybe it’s a girl thing or your shitty family or you do see it and are just fishing for compliments, but you are too beautiful to get right on paper. No matter how much I try,” I said, cupping her face, “I can’t make my art look nearly as perfect as you.”

  “Shit,” she whispered. “Did you just think that up because it was fucking brilliant?”

  Before I could answer, little Lark stepped up as far as she could on her tippy toes, pulled me down to her, and kissed me hard and deep. The girl claimed my breath like she’d already claimed my heart. No way was I imagining all of her wonderful qualities. I wasn’t that damn creative.

  Chapter Twenty Three - Lark

  Aaron loved to walk around shirtless and I overwhelmingly approved of his choice. Having seen the gym in one of the house’s tiny bedrooms, I understood how he kept so ripped. Every time he caught me admiring the view, I pretended to be looking at his tats. He wasn’t fooled.

  His little bungalow wasn’t what I expected when I imagined Aaron’s house. Passing by the front, I likely would have thought an elderly couple lived inside. The front yard was small and generic with grass and nothing else. Aaron clearly didn’t have a green thumb.

  Inside was remodeled and felt new and fresh. Aaron obviously wasn’t afraid of using bold primary colors. A red kitchen with black and white tiled floors. A black accent wall in the living room. My favorite was his chalk wall in what was likely meant to be a dining room. This was where he sketched out ideas and kept his grocery list jotted down.

  Despite the quaint vibe of the bungalow, the place was male. The big TV, the large comfy leather couch. No accent pillows or knickknacks, just art on the walls. In the gourmet kitchen were cookbooks on the shelf, yet everything so clean that I doubted he cooked much.

  Aaron was an artist in the body of a biker. He smiled easily like a sweet boy next door and glared often like a bad boy looking for someone to punch. His irritation was mainly directed at the sounds out on the street. Deputy Dickhead or someone else nannying the neighborhood.

  I stood next to Aaron as he glared outside. The front porch looked cozy and I wished to sit out there and watch the world go by. Of course, I was supposed to be at Bailey’s and I didn’t want anyone telling Larry otherwise.

  Eventually, we took sandwiches and sodas to the back screened in porch. As we ate lunch, the dogs ran around the backyard searching for something.

  “Rabbits,�
� Aaron said, answering my unspoken question. “We get rabbits running around here and the dogs think they’re hunters.”

  “Is there a reason you have Boston Terriers?”

  “Don’t you like them?”

  “I like any dog that likes me. Larry’s dog thinks I’m a rabbit needing to be hunted.”

  Aaron smiled, but his blue eyes held anger whenever I mentioned my stepdad’s name.

  “My mom breeds dogs. Not like a puppy mill, just as a hobby. She and Cooper are always talking dogs when they get together. He loves them big and scary. She likes them small and cuddly, but they’re dog lovers at heart. It’s pretty fucking adorable to see them showing each other pics on their phones.”

  When I grinned for too long, Aaron leaned over the table and kissed me softly. Returning to his seat, I felt my skin flush at the expression on his face.

  “Anyway, my mom had these two sickly runts that no one wanted. I took them since I had moved in here and the house felt creepy back then. Like a horror movie house. I thought something might come up through the floor as I watched the game. Figured if I had dogs, the monster would eat them first.”

  We both laughed as he glanced at Pollack chasing a butterfly.

  “The sad thing is I would try to save them. How lame is it when someone tries to save a dog in horror movie. Fuck. I hate when people do it, but I’d want to save the little turds. They’d expect me to save them too. They’d stare with those big eyes and how could I say no?”

  “I don’t even know them and I’d try to save them too.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a sweet dove.”

  “I’m not sweet.”

  “In my reality, you are the sweetest. I like my girls sweet. I also like when they can throw a punch. My delicate roller derby girl.”

  “Do you want me to show more of my moves?” I asked, wiggling brows.

  “Soon,” he said, smiling in an odd way. “I wish I could see you during the week.”

  “If you still like me by the end of the weekend…”