Imperfect

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Imperfect Page 6

by Cherry Shephard


  What happened with Stone this afternoon flashes in my head. He’d been a predator, pouncing in my weakest moment. Anger boils in my blood as I think of how he used me, then humiliated me. I shouldn’t go tonight, I should curl up under the blankets and just sleep it off. I’m too hurt, too angry . . . But it’s too late to back out now.

  Quickly applying a coat of pale pink gloss to my plump lips, I fluff my curls, selecting a few to pin back off my face. Pulling on a pair of knee-high, black leather lace-up boots, I complete the look with a pair of large gold hoop earrings.

  I’m ready.

  The club is jumping, and everywhere I look people are dancing. But I only have eyes for her.

  My cock has been impossibly hard from the minute I saw her in that tiny skirt. What the hell kind of game does she think she’s playing? Doesn’t she know every single man in the club has his eyes fixed firmly on her ass? This afternoon I’d fucked up. I’d wanted her so badly that I hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences until it was almost too late. She'd been fucking perfect, naked and spread across the back of that mechanical bull. I slip my hand under the bar and adjust my jeans as my cock grows long at the memory. She’d smelled amazing, and I’d wanted nothing more than to bury my face in that sweet pussy until I felt her come apart under my tongue.

  Instead, I convinced myself that she deserves better than a wounded, angry soldier.

  She’s angry, and I don’t blame her. My hand drifts up to touch the cheek she slapped today, a faint smile playing at the corners of my mouth. She’s a little wildcat, that’s for damn sure.

  I take a long swallow of my beer as I watch her dance with Ruth, trying to squash the jealousy that churns in my stomach as she grinds her ass against her friend . . . I wish it were my cock. She’s so damn beautiful that I can’t stop staring. My eyes narrow as I watch a slick, young man slide up beside her, grab her hand and spin her toward him. I see the shock on her face as the man grabs her hips and grinds against her. It takes a minute to find her rhythm but then Shannon is dancing with him, allowing his hands to grip her ass as they move. Her eyes seek mine out across the room. A silent challenge. I don’t need to be told twice. Draining my beer, I slam the empty can down on the bar as I stand up and make my way through the dancing couples. My eyes are fixed firmly on her. Shannon’s eyes widen as I get closer, and she glances at the drunken man still holding her. Does she think he’ll save her? I snort. Tapping the man on the shoulder, I indicate to Shannon. “Let me cut in,” I say, staring the man down. Unfortunately, the man is so drunk he doesn’t listen to reason. “Shove off, old man,” the guy slurs, turning his attention back to Shannon. I don’t ask a second time. The guy never sees it coming. When my fist connects with his jaw, he goes flying onto the floor.

  “What the fuck, Stone?” Shannon shrieks, staring at me. Her eyes are wide with shock, glittering with fury. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter gruffly, drawing her into my arms. She struggles against me, but I hold her fast. My large hand presses against the bare skin on her back and I close my eyes, not caring if she can feel my hard cock through my jeans. The music changes to a slow number, and I feel her begin to relax. This is what I want, what I’ve needed for so long. We sway in time to the beat and by the time she lifts her head up, there’s no question in my mind that she feels it. Her eyes have an almost dream-like essence as she looks up at me through her heavy fringe of dark lashes. She smells fucking delicious, a warm mixture of vanilla, honey and some kind of flower. Shannon tucks her head beneath my chin, and I breathe in the scent of her hair. Unable to suppress my desire any longer, I tilt her chin gently up, my eyes searching hers. Shannon’s eyes slowly drift closed, her lips slightly part, and I take that as my cue.

  I kiss her. Right in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other couples, I kiss Shannon as though she's a well in a desert, and I'm dying of thirst. All too soon, though, the kiss is over. Interrupted. I’m swung around by the arm and I duck, narrowly missing being hit by the drunken guy I’d punched just moments earlier. I watch, warily, as the guy circles me, staggering slightly on his feet.

  Fourteen years of combat training takes over, and I crouch down in a defensive stance as I wait for the man to make his move. People crowd around us and I can hear Shannon pleading with me to stop, but I’m already back in Afghanistan, facing down an enemy. The man dives at me and I expertly kick my right leg out, knocking the man’s legs out from beneath him. A slight grin forms on my lips as I dive on top of the man, punching him in the face and quite possibly breaking his nose. I’m in my element. This is me; this is what I was born to do. I’m a trained fighter, a born fighter. I feel the bones crumble like dirt beneath my knuckles, and the man’s head drops like a sack of potatoes.

  The club is dead silent, and I’m acutely aware of people standing around me, staring at the scene in shock. I gradually get to my feet, my chest heaving as I turn in a slow circle. My eyes fall on Shannon, and I flinch at the fury I see on her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she growls, her voice unusually loud in the silent club. I instinctively know I’ve done the wrong thing, but I’m not sorry for it. I watch as she kneels down next to the man and tends to his wounds. Another, older man also kneels beside her. “Keep the pressure on it,” he’s saying. “An ambulance is on its way.”

  “Should we call the cops?” a man yells in the background.

  “No,” the injured man says, struggling to sit up. “No, no cops.”

  “Shh,” Shannon soothes him, pushing the hair back off his face. “You need to lie still and wait for the ambulance.”

  I watch the exchange, a sick feeling settling in the bottom of my stomach. Why is she protecting this idiot who practically mauled her? And why did she allow it to happen? I have to get the fuck away from her. I feel her accusing eyes on me as I turn away and head to the bar, holding my hand up to the bartender for a fresh beer. “Are you sure that’s wise?” Keets asks, sliding onto the bar stool next to me. I look at my friend and swivel on the stool to face him.

  “What does it matter?” I ask, gesturing to Shannon, who’s back on the dance floor with Ruth. The injured man has been taken to the hospital under protest, and the club seems to be back to normal. Except for the scathing looks Shannon continues to throw my way.

  “I know it can’t be good to drink that much beer,” Keets says, gesturing to the bartender for his own drink.

  “Yeah, well, desperate times, my friend,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder as I grab my fresh beer and drain half of it immediately.

  “Why are you doing this?” Keets demands. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask. My voice is starting to slur, and I have to squint to see him in front of me.

  “I saw you out there,” he states, his face twisting into an ugly scowl. “Didn’t we have this chat the other night? She’s not for you.”

  “Dude, it was just a dance.”

  “You just punched the shit out of some guy for dancing with her!” Keets is livid.

  “I punched the shit out of some guy for pawing at her like she was a piece of fucking meat,” I yell as I stand up, towering over Keets on the barstool.

  “Why do you care?” Keets stands up, back in my face.

  “Why do you not?” I shoot back.

  We stand there in silence, neither one of us wanting to back down. Finally, Keets looks away, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. “Whatever,” he says quietly. “I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

  I attempt to calm down with slow, deep breaths. “I know, man,” I respond. “I appreciate it. But you need to stop. I’m fine, and I promise I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Shannon.”

  Keets nods slowly. “All right,” he agrees.

  We hug each other awkwardly, patting one another on the back as we part. Keets returns to the dance floor, and a smile spreads across my face as I
watch my old friend politely incline his head to Ruth and offer her his hand. My eyes move over to Shannon who stands there, a glare on her beautiful face as she looks back at me, not even attempting to mask her anger.

  I’m in deep shit.

  I’m fucking furious. Who the hell does Stone think he is? He can’t just go barging into a situation, all guns blazing and expect to save the day.

  Okay, I concede. If I’m perfectly honest, I wanted him to see that guy all over me.

  After Stone’s rejection of me in Saddles this afternoon, I wanted to prove to him … to myself, that some men find me desirable. I just never expected … that. He was like a caged tiger, all pent up rage and frustration. And lust.

  My pulse quickens as I think about that searing kiss. What did it mean? Was it just the heat of the moment, or do I have Stone wrong? Is he attracted to me after all? There was no denying the feel of his hard cock pressed against me as we danced, but if he is, why does he insist on fighting it? Does he think I want more? Hearts and flowers? He’s no Prince Charming, and I’m not Cinderella. If we were, this would be one fucked-up fairy tale. I slam my glass down on the small round table and stare around the darkened club. I can see Stone over at the bar, drinking yet another beer. How many does that make tonight? Nine? Ten? I’d lost count after five. My hair has come loose, and curly tendrils tickle the back of my neck. I impatiently pull the tie out and pin my hair up into a bun as I watch the couples still dancing. As I finish fixing my hair, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to the side, my eyes widening in surprise as I see Ruth pinned against the wall of the club by Keets, locked in a kiss so primal, so powerful it seems to charge the air. I almost feel like a voyeur as I watch them, and force my eyes away, back toward the bar. I see Stone as he sits there, talking to a man who joined him on one of the tall bar stools. There’s something eerily familiar about him, and as he turns, I see his profile. I suck in a breath.

  It’s Troy. What the hell is he doing here? What is he saying to Stone?

  I stand up a little too quickly, knocking over the chair, but I hardly give it a second thought as my eyes stay trained on Troy and Stone. It takes me just seconds to reach the bar, and then Troy looks up and sees me.

  “Ah, there she is now. I was just telling your new boyfriend all about you.”

  I can feel the blood drain from my face and turn my eyes toward Stone, sitting there with his back to me, looking into his half-empty glass. “What are you doing here, Troy?” I ask, looking back at my ex as he sits there with a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face. I wish I could slap that smirk right off him.

  “I heard you were back in town,” Troy answers, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a large mouthful.

  “Only for tonight,” I say, swallowing down my revulsion as he lets out a loud belch.

  “You sure?” he asks, putting his beer down on the bar and leaning toward me. I shiver and my breathing grows shallow as his fingers lightly caress the smooth skin of my upper arm.

  Still, Stone doesn’t move, or even acknowledge I’m here.

  “I thought maybe we could relive the good old days,” Troy is saying, his voice low as he presses closer to me. His voice is slurring, he’s clearly drunk. My pulse quickens in fear; drunk Troy was always the violent Troy. “You know,” he continues, “before you fucking left me like the little cunt you are.”

  Oh, God, I can feel his cock stabbing at my thigh through his pants. “I-I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I stammer, leaning away from him. He's still so intimidating, a reminder of the Hell I walked away from.

  “Come on,” Troy urges, his fingers now digging into my flesh. “I bet your friend here would like a turn. Why don’t you show him what you’ve got? I’m sure he’d love to know what a great little pussy you have. You might be a cunt, but at least yours is a pretty one.” Troy spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest. I feel his fingers close around the undersides of my breasts and I whimper helplessly. I’ve made a huge mistake, confronting him. I should’ve just left it alone. It’s too much. Tears roll silently down my cheeks. “Stone, please,” I beg quietly.

  Troy laughs, but something brushes by me and his laughter is cut off. He releases me and I spin around, my eyes opening wide as I see Stone holding him up by the throat, a murderous look in his eyes. “You like to hit women?” he snarls. His eyes are full of rage as he holds Troy’s throat. Troy’s eyes are wide with fright, his fingers clambering desperately at Stone’s large hand.

  “Stone, please,” I beg, my hand touching his arm lightly. “Let him go.”

  Stone glances down at me. “You want me to let him go?” he asks incredulously. “After everything he did to you?”

  I falter at that. He knows? How could he know? I don’t have time to think about that right now, though. Troy’s face is turning a strange reddish-purple color, his eyes bulging out of his head like a frog. I want nothing more than for Stone to squeeze the life out of this no-good, sniveling prick, but not at his own expense. “He’s not worth it,” I insist.

  Stone hesitates then releases Troy with a sound of disgust.

  Troy stumbles backwards, gasping for breath as he clutches at his throat. He looks so small next to Stone. Pathetic, really. “You’ll pay for this, you stupid bitch,” he gasps, staggering off back into the crowd. I release a loud sigh of relief as he leaves, feeling my heart rate slowly return to normal. I swing my gaze back and forth between the two of them before finally coming to rest on Stone. He looks furious. His scowl deepens as he sees me looking at him. “What?” he snaps.

  “What?” I repeat, my mouth hanging open as I stare at him. “Have you completely lost your mind?” I follow him out of the club, pushing past the bouncers and line of people waiting to get in.

  The parking lot is deathly quiet compared to inside. “Stone, stop!”

  I recoil as he rounds on me, eyes blazing. “What the hell did you expect me to do, Shannon?” he shouts, causing several passers-by to stare at us curiously. “This guy comes up to me in a bar and starts telling me all about his sex life with you, painting you as nothing more than a slut, and you want me to just back off?”

  I stare at him. I’d wondered what Troy said to Stone, but to actually hear it fucking hurt. I knew my ex was a scumbag, but this was a new low. Even for him.

  “Why did you stand up for me?” I ask in a quiet voice.

  “Why?” Stone repeats, confusion etched on his handsome face.

  I nod. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I don’t,” Stone agrees. “But I know enough about you to know how strong you are. You kicked my ass the day I met you.”

  I smile at the memory. “That’s true,” I say.

  “I know how important friendship is to you,” Stone continues, his voice soft and gentle. “You didn’t want to come here tonight, but you forced yourself because Ruth wanted you here.”

  I stare at him. “How could you possibly know that?” I demand. “I haven’t told anyone but—” Keets and Ruth. Shit.

  Stone nods knowingly. “Ruth told me,” he admits. “Don’t be mad at her; I half-guessed. The point is,” he continues, taking a couple of steps forward until he is standing directly in front of me. “You’re amazing.” He cups my face in his large hand, his thumb softly stroking my cheek.

  “But you’re clearly not attracted to me, you proved that today in the bar.”

  Stone releases a short breath as he stares at me. “Is that what you think? That I’m not attracted to you?”

  “You pushed me away this afternoon, and—”

  “I pushed you away,” he interrupts, his eyes darkening. “Because I wanted you too much, Shannon.”

  “You-you did?”

  He nods. “I wanted you then, and I want you now. You have no idea how hard my cock is for you; it’s like I have a constant hard on when you’re around. Seeing you, like this.” He gestures to my outfit. “It makes me want to bend you over the back
of my car right now, flip up that skirt and push my tongue inside you.”

  My breathing increases as the blood pounds in my ears. I clench my thighs together to try to release some of the pressure.

  “Is that what you want to hear, Shannon?” he asks, his fingertips lightly caressing my back as he winds his arms around me and draws me close, his breath hot against my ear. “Maybe you’d like to hear about the way I stroked my cock to you in the shower last night, imagining my hand was your mouth,” he kisses my neck as his hand slides down my front and beneath my skirt. “And then your sweet little pussy.”

  “Stone,” I moan helplessly, closing my eyes and tilting my head back as his fingers press against me intimately.

  “There you guys are,” Keets says behind me. I jerk away from Stone guiltily, my face flaming. I turn to face my friend and notice he’s holding Ruth’s hand in a rather firm grip. I suppress a small smile as my eyes lock with Ruth, and the younger girl ducks her head in embarrassment.

  “We’re just getting ready to go,” Stone states, jangling the car keys in his hand as he pulls them out of the pocket of his jeans, seemingly unaffected by what just happened.

  My head snaps back to him. “No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Huh?” he asks, a dazed look on his face.

  “You’re drunk,” I explain. “You’re not driving anywhere. Give me the keys.”

  “No fucking way,” Stone says, holding them protectively. “No one drives my car but me.”

  “She’s right,” Keets states, draping his arm across Ruth’s shoulders. “I’d rather sleep in my bed tonight, not the morgue.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping?” Ruth giggles.

  I roll my eyes and turn back to Stone, holding my hand out expectantly.

  “No one drives my car,” he repeats, looking a little lost.

  I step closer and gently pry the keys from his hand. “I know,” I say gently, giving him a small smile. I unlock the car and slide behind the wheel, adjusting the seat to my height as I wait until everyone else piles in before pulling out of the parking lot. As I drive, I find it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes on the road. They are repeatedly drawn to the rear view mirror, where I can clearly see Keets with his hand inside Ruth’s jeans. I press my thighs together and force my eyes forward. It lasts a few moments until I become aware of Stone’s eyes on me.

 

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