Imperfectly Bad
Copyright © 2014 by A. E. Woodward
Cover Design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
Editing by Ryn Hughes, Delphi Rose
Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
I hand the scary looking guy my fake ID and hold my breath. It’s pretty crummy, but I can’t complain since it only set me back $25. Jenny knew a guy, who knew a guy.
The big dude looks down at the ID and back up at me. I know he knows it’s a fake but he obviously doesn’t give a shit, handing it back and nodding for me to follow him. I follow him behind the curtain and sit in a ragged, black, dentist-like chair.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks quietly once I settle back into the chair.
I look at her smiling and grab her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“So what are you getting?” the tattooist asks while prepping his station.
“I want her name, Jenny, in script.”
The guy looks over his glasses at me while he tinkers with his tattoo gun. “You sure, bro? You look awful young to be doing something like that.”
I look over at her and I know. I know I will never love anyone else like I love her. She’s all I ever think about. I don’t give a shit what anybody says—Jenny is all I’ll ever want. She’s my world. Now and forever.
Always.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“All right.” The man shrugs. “I’m assuming you want it in black.”
“Yep.”
He messes around with his gun some more and it starts buzzing in response.
“And where do you want it?” he asks, tightening a screw on the side.
I roll my sleeve up and point to my bicep. “Right here.”
The gun falls silent as she leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re crazy.”
“Only about you.”
The artist laughs before he kick starts his gun again. I know he thinks I’m stupid, young, and in love—and I am—but this is so much more than that. Jenny has showed me so much in such a short amount of time and goddamn it, I’m going to marry her. Sooner rather than later.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
I cringe as the needles dig in, watching as the black ink is injected into my skin. Her name slowly takes shape as he fills in the letters. A smile spreads across my face as I think about waking up everyday and seeing her name etched into my skin. She will be with me always, no matter what. And that makes me happy.
It takes him all of forty minutes to etch her name into my bicep, but she’s already etched herself into my heart. When he’s done she jumps onto my lap and covers me with kisses. “I love you.”
“Right back at ya, babe.”
Digging in my back pocket, I hand over a wad of cash to pay for his hard work. The tattoo guy mumbles some semblance of a good-bye but I don’t really hear it because I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Now what are we going to do?” I ask, rolling my sleeve back down.
“I’ve got a few ideas…” She grins and my heart swells.
“That’s good, because I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Having a bunch of friends who are all in relationships, sucks.
I missed the days of Shane, Tyler and I going to bars and picking up girls. Life was so much simpler back then. Not to mention way more fun. Now when I went out hunting I just felt like a total slimeball. All the girls at the bars seemed too young for me, and I was slowly beginning to question the morals I’d thought I didn’t have.
I was sipping my Scotch on the rocks, just about to give up for the night when a gorgeous raven-haired beauty sat down next to me. Stealing a quick glance at her, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was, even though she must have been barely legal. Seconds later I was locked and loaded, stealing one final look before going in for the kill.
“Why don’t you take a picture? It would last longer.”
Momentarily caught off guard, I turned my body toward her, a shit-eating grin on my face. “Well, I take notice when a beautiful specimen of a woman sits next to me.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re one of those guys.”
“Those guys?”
“Those guys that think they’re God’s gift to women. Those”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“dudes who are so emotionally damaged that they think the only cure is to be a dick to anyone with a vagina.”
I considered my options, weighing them carefully. On one hand, I could strike this up as a loss, pay my tab, and leave. On the other, I could consider this the greatest challenge in the history of challenges.
Decisions, decisions…
My eyes did a sweep over her body and I settled on option two. This was a challenge I was willing to accept.
“If the shoe fits.” I shrugged before motioning to the bar tender. Women loved honesty. It was a sure thing. “So now that we’ve agreed that I’m scum, you want to do a shot with me?
She put on a show—acting like she was annoyed, when really she loved the attention. There wasn’t a girl in the world that wouldn’t.
She sighed. “As long as you’re buying.”
“So what’ll it be?”
I shot Raven a wink and called over to the bartender. “My friend here and I will each have a Blowjob, Charlie.”
Her nose crinkled in disgust. “You even know the bartender’s name. How pathetic.”
This girl was a bitch, with lots of bottled up hate. Not that I was bothered. So much pent up aggression would certainly lead to some great sex. Deciding to ignore her low blow, I went straight for the jugular. Tit for tat, biotch.
“I like your dress.”
“Thanks.”
“Nice and tight, so I can see what I’m working with. And of course you can draw much needed attention from men. Oh so pathetic.”
She glared at me, grabbing her shot from the counter. Putting my hand on her wrist, I stopped her from lifting the glass to her mouth. “Oh no, sweetheart. No hands.”
“You can’t be serious?” she bit out.
“Dead ass.”
To be a good sport, I showed her exactly what to do placing my mouth around the glass and tipping back my head. I gave a little suck to get the whipped cream o
ut of the way and get the liquid moving.
“You’re too good at that. Anyway, isn’t that supposed to be a girly drink?”
Feisty, just like I liked them. Ironically enough, she reminded me of her, but I pushed those thoughts aside. It was always about forgetting her—not finding her in the girls I used.
Shrugging, I said, “I’ve watched lots of girls have Blowjobs.”
Adding in a wink for good measure, I finally got a smile from her before she leaned down, grabbed her shot glass with her lips and sucked it back in one fluid motion. Not so much as a drop escaped her mouth and I felt my dick jump in my pants. This girl definitely knew what she was doing. I couldn’t wait to get between her legs.
Once she was done, she stuck her hand out for me to shake.
“Heather.”
I took her hand, lifting it to my mouth and pressing my lips to her skin. She smelled like vanilla.
“Rob. Nice to meet you.”
Four Blowjobs later and I was getting my very own taxicab special. Her hand was crammed down my pants and she had me in a vice grip as she stroked. She went to kiss me, but I turned my face away from her, her hand stilled. “Don’t stop, sweetheart, just keep your mouth where it’s supposed to be.”
I expected her to be pissed, to yank her hand out and demand for the cabbie to stop, but she didn’t. She simply shrugged and went back to work. My eyes rolled back in my head and I focused on the feeling of her lips around me.
When we pulled up outside my apartment, she stopped long enough for me to pay the cabbie, but as soon as we were on the sidewalk she had her hands all over me again, licking my neck as we walked in the door. I let her know that I had a roommate and that he didn’t care to be woken up by my guests but she didn’t seem to give a shit.
Once inside, I took her by the hand and led her to my room. Without a word she took in the place, surely judging me as we went. Not that it mattered because I really didn’t give a fuck what she thought of me. It wasn’t like I was ever going to see her again. This was only about tonight and the relief that she would give me.
As soon as we made it into my room I pushed her up against the wall. With one arm against the wall, trapping her, I snaked the other hand up her thigh and underneath her all-too-tight dress.
“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”
My hand stilled as I realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I grinned.
“Dirty too.”
White teeth caught my eye as she bit her bottom lip. “You have no idea.”
With a sly chuckle I jammed two fingers inside of her, and she gasped in shock. When it came to sex, I didn’t spend any time pussyfooting around—pun intended.
“Oh, I think I do have an idea. And I think you’ve met your match.”
Moving my fingers in and out, I used my other hand to squeeze her perky tits. She was a hot little thing, and I was already considering a second round when she slipped up and tried to kiss me again. I pulled my fingers out and pushed my body against hers. A shocked look came across her face, her cheeks flushed with arousal.
“I told you once. Keep your mouth where it’s useful, and away from my face.”
“S-s-sorry,” she said in between heavy breaths.
I was pissed. There were rules for a reason, and I didn’t like it when bitches overstepped them. What was it with girls and always wanting to kiss?
“You want something to kiss? Kiss this,” I bit out, unzipping my pants.
Understanding my meaning, she nodded and fell to her knees to take me in her mouth. I groaned. Her mouth was like a vacuum. It was impressive, and that was saying a lot coming from me because I’d had more girls on their knees for me than I could count.
I let her work me up, getting me rock hard, before I guided her back on her feet. “Bend over,” I commanded, pointing to the bed.
Without a word she did as I asked. It was too bad she was hell-bent on kissing because otherwise I would have definitely liked a repeat performance with this one.
Kicking my pants off, I took a moment to admire her ass because, well, it was a nice one. With her elbows to the mattress she turned her face to peek at me over her shoulder and I slammed the lower half of my body against her ass. A nervous giggle escaped her lips. The thrill of the unknown always had them primed, and she was definitely humming with excitement.
With a firm grip on her hips, I pushed her skirt up to her waist, revealing a sight that I wouldn’t soon forget. A loud moan escaped her mouth as my hand slapped against her naked ass.
Primed. Just like I said.
Shifting my hips and pulling away slightly I rolled a rubber on. With the amount of pussy I saw you couldn’t be too careful. Let’s face it, these were hardly the types of women you’d want to bring home to mom, much less get knocked up.
That done, I pulled her up off the bed and positioned her ass so that it was perfectly lined up with me. My hand ran down her stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Cupping her breast with one hand, my other snaked around her thigh and found its way to her clit.
As her moans grew louder I increased the pressure, moving my fingers back and forth. Unable to cope, her body bucked against my hand as I built her up before pushing my way in. Feeling her tight and warm around me, I groaned. Beads of sweat glistened across her back as I teased with my fingers while slowly working myself in and out of her.
When I’d had enough play time, I picked up the pace and she cried out in pleasure. The faster I went, the louder she screamed and I knew she was close when I felt her clench around me. As she rode out her orgasm my head fell back and I smiled, slamming into her harder. Seconds later, when I found my own release, I gave her ass another hard slap, the resounding slap! echoing around the room.
I would never grow tired of this.
And anyone who thought I should was fuckin’ crazy.
Three days, that was my average. Three days before my skin started crawling and I needed another hit. By hit I mean another girl. Girls were my drugs. They had been for a while now. At least they were safe, well, as long as I made sure to wrap it.
The fact of the matter was that I had slept with a lot of girls. It wasn’t something I was particularly proud of, but there were worse things to be addicted to.
Tonight I’d chosen the grocery store as my hunting ground. The raven-haired firecracker from the other night had left me feeling dirty, so I was in the mood for something sweet. It was just a guess, but I figured women who spent their Friday evening grocery shopping were probably more innocent.
And I was totally in the mood for innocence.
Wandering the aisles I did some of my normal shopping, placing a few things I needed in one of those hand basket things then I took my spot by the cereals. Yes, the cereal aisle. You want to talk about innocence—it doesn’t get any more wholesome than cereal.
I picked up my box of Fruity Pebbles and stood there, pretending to study the nutritional information. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long before someone joined me. Someone up there must have been smiling down on me because the first girl to walk down the aisle was a solid “eight.”
With auburn hair and her nose and cheeks covered in freckles, she was definitely what I would call “cute.” The clothes she wore put her at college-aged, or certainly fresh out, and her hand basket was empty. She was definitely here to pick up her dinner.
And the best student dinner?
Cereal.
Told you—I was a genius.
She was likely homesick too. Missing out on a good home-cooked meal. Poor thing. But never mind, her night was about to get a whole lot better.
She stopped next to me and grabbed some healthy bullshit. Out of the corner of my eye I looked at her and my lips tipped upward in a smile. When I spoke, I kept my eyes fixed on the shelves, but I knew she’d know I was talking to her. They always did.
“I’m trying to convince myself that Fruity Pebbles are healthy.”
She giggled. “Yeah, sorry to inform y
ou but they’re not.”
She blushed, her face a shade comparable to her hair.
“Dinner?” I asked, turning to face her and gesturing to the lack of food in her basket.
“Am I that transparent?”
“No, I’m just a good guesser.” I stuck my hand out for her. “Rob,” I said as we shook hands. “And just in case you were wondering, I’m a fabulous cook.”
“Oh, really?” She lifted her eyebrows curiously. “Liv.”
“Really. And I just so happen to have just picked up the stuff for a fabulous authentic lasagna.” I was confident, and I could tell that she was interested. “Now the only question is your place or mine?”
The direct approach was a long shot. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
Who was I kidding? This was me.
It always worked.
“But we just met. I don’t even know you. For all I know you could be a ‘cereal’ killer.”
We both laughed. This girl was funny.
“We may have just met, but I can assure you that I am not a ‘cereal’ killer.” I used my fingers to emphasize the cereal. “I’m Rob Ziviani. I’m thirty-two, and a lawyer. I live with one of my best friends, Tyler, and he’s gone for the night playing house with his non-girlfriend. My other friends are married with kids. I’m just looking for a little company.”
Silence hung in the air as she pondered what I was saying before placing her cereal box back on the shelf and smiling.
“I guess your place sounds excellent.”
Liv was sitting at my kitchen table, looking nervous as hell. If I was going to have any chance of her loosening up she was definitely going to need some liquid courage. “Wine?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of Merlot from the rack. Elizabeth, Tyler’s non-girlfriend and proverbial life-ruiner, loved wine, and she was the only reason we kept any in the apartment.
Tyler was so whipped.
“Please,” she said, her voice quavering a bit.
With a practiced ease I grabbed the bottle and used our fancy corkscrew, that Emma had gotten me as a joke, to open it. She’d said it was just special for me so that I could open Elizabeth’s bottles for her. It was meant to be funny, but little did she know that it would actually become practical for me. As I poured, Liv’s eyes remained on the glass before I passed it to her and went back to preparing our meal. Coming from an Italian family I knew my way around the kitchen. Lasagna was my specialty.
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