Redemption (Tattoos & Tears - Brody Book 1)

by Amiee Louise

  Raleigh

  I feel a needy ache between my legs, and I need him to take it away. I need him to erase Carter’s touch, I need him to replace it with his touch. I need him more than my next breath and by the possessive look in his eyes, he knows it. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud.

  “Brody,” I mewl, and he pulls off his t-shirt.

  I never get tired of the sight of him shirtless, he’s magnificent. His body is all muscle and hard rippling sinew, his physique has changed dramatically in the past few weeks. He’s well-built without being too bulky and heavy set.

  “Tell me what you want, Rae, I need you to say the words.”

  I don’t miss the rough commanding tone to his voice.

  “I want you, Brody,” I pant breathlessly, and he shakes his head with a cocky smirk on his face.

  “Ah, ah, not those words, kitten. Tell me what I need to hear.”

  “I need you to take it away, Brody, please take it away,” I plead, almost desperately, as I move towards him.

  I push him against the kitchen island and pull off his t-shirt that I am wearing and crush my lips to his in a searing, bruising kiss.

  My breasts feel heavy and yearn to have his hands on them. He pulls away briefly, as he leans down and expertly laps my nipple with his talented split tongue. I cry out at the glorious torture and the delicious, sweet ache between my thighs is almost intolerable. My pussy floods, as he continues his assault on my nipples and I feel wanton and shameless, writhing in agony waiting for him to fill me. This virile man, who belongs to me just, as I belong to him, he just can’t say it out loud yet. The look in his silver eyes almost pushes me over the edge, as I urge him with my eyes to take me, to fuck me like I need him to. I want him to erase Carter’s touch, I want him to take it all away. I try to focus on the searing hot pleasure that’s working its way through my body.

  “I need you in my bed, Raleigh, I want you to let me worship you.”

  I nod silently in agreement and let him lead me to his bedroom, both of us gloriously naked. We don’t say anything, and as soon as my thighs collide with the bed. It’s flesh seeking flesh, lips seeking lips and every one of my senses was on high alert tuned into everything that was Brody Hart. His long, callous fingers squeeze and ravage me like a man possessed. The smoky look in his silver grey eyes reminds me there was a storm brewing, and I was about to get very wet. My heartbeat starts to quicken and I briefly close my eyes, desperately trying to concentrate on the feel of Brody pressing himself against me. Focus, Storm, it’s just Brody. I open my eyes and look up at him, he gives me an encouraging wink, as he seems to be in tune with my inner turmoil. His erect cock seeks out my pussy and he slips into me with ease. My slick channel welcomes him in, as he shoves forward, his piercing bumping my cervix with each measured plunge of his cock. I try to focus on the intense, mind-blowing pleasure he bestows upon me instead of the rough, violent act that Carter subjected me to.

  “Brody,” I mewl breathlessly.

  “I know, I’ve got you, kitten. It’s just me, I’ll take care of you,” he placates softly and reassuringly, as if he knows what I need.

  He slows his pace and I lift my hips, rising to meet him thrust for thrust and he doesn’t take his eyes off me. This isn’t just a quick fuck, this is Brody Hart making love. He’s so gentle, I could weep. Somewhere in my sex addled haze, I’m vaguely aware he isn’t wearing a condom, but I push that thought to the back of my mind and focus on the intense pleasure he is reigning upon me.

  “Oh God!” I pant as he continues his slow, sensual pace.

  He cups my breast in his hand and gently starts to massage it in lazy circles.

  “You feel…fuck…you feel too good, kitten,” he grinds out as he increases his momentum with an expert swivel of his lean hips.

  “Mmm, fuck, Brody, I’m close. Jesus, I’m so close.”

  I writhe beneath him and he leans down taking my erect nipple in his mouth. He nips it softly with his teeth causing me to gasp. He releases my nipple with a pop and grabs my hips, slamming me forward onto his rock-hard shaft. His pace increasing with each careful drive. The piercing in the head of his penis rubs my g-spot in the most delicious way.

  “Do you like that? Fuck, you feel perfect around my cock, Rae.”

  He thrusts forward, and that’s all it takes to tip us both over the edge. I let out a scream and I explode around his throbbing cock.

  “I’m coming, Brody, oh shit! I’m coming!”

  My orgasm is intense and feels like a frenzy of simultaneous explosions deep within me.

  “FUCCCCKKK! Raleigh!”

  Brody growls his release, as he his warm seed coats my womb. He collapses spent on top of me and nuzzles his head into my neck.

  "You were the one that stopped my heart from breaking, Raleigh. Just you, I thought I needed other women to fulfil my needs, but in reality, all I needed was you," he whispers almost incoherently, and I’m not sure if he means it, or he’s still drunk on the post orgasmic high.

  I feel him stiffen, as he pulls out of me and I’m speechless. Was that Brody Hart admitting he loves me without using the ‘L’ word I long to hear? He gets up from the bed and wordlessly goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear the shower turn on and I’m still trying to get my head around his words. I was the one that stopped his heart from breaking? What the hell does that mean? He talks in riddles sometimes and I’m so fucking confused.

  I’m still trying to process what he said, when he comes out of the bathroom with a towel secured around his waist, beads of water still clinging to his lightly tanned, tattooed skin. I watch him carefully, as he dries himself off. He drops the towel, rubbing his short hair and as he turns around, I'm met with his broad, retreating back. I can't tear my eyes away from the huge black and grey tattoo, which spans his entire back. I can't make it out properly from where I'm lying, I’ve seen him naked so many times, yet I’ve never noticed the detail in any of his tattoos.

  "Stop looking at my arse, kitten, you'll give me a complex!"

  His tone amused and lighthearted. I chuckle softly at his quip and bless him for trying to take my mind off tonights events. I roll over into my stomach, my boobs squished against his cool, rumpled bed sheets.

  "Your tattoo is...amazing," I compliment.

  He turns to face me, leaning casually naked against the door frame, the light from the bathroom illuminating his perfectly chiselled face.

  "Thanks, Peyton did it, it was a work in progress, but it's finished now, do you want to see?"

  I nod and he moves closer to me, turning around so I can get a closer look. It is a huge black and grey lion, with four playing cards with the words “we cannot change the cards we’re dealt, just how we play the game” curved around the left side in bold script lettering. The shading makes the lion look realistic, majestic and fierce. The lines are crisp and clean, some thick, some thin, and I lie there in awe, as I reach out to gently trace the lines. Along the bottom of his back he also has the phrase “If I walk this world alone, then no one can hurt me"

  "It's beautiful," I say with admiration in my voice, my fingers gliding over the intricate line work. "Why the quote?" I ask curiously.

  I feel him stiffen under my touch and his gaze shifts to the floor, folding his muscular arms defensively across his chest.

  "I'm destined to walk this world alone, kitten. After all these years, everyone leaves in the end. If I'm alone, then no one can hurt me, the only person that has the power to hurt me, is me."

  His voice sounds so full of pain and I hate the self deprecating tone to his voice, it makes my heart hurt. Why would he think such a thing?

  "Don't try to figure me out. Even the shrinks can't figure me out. I'm a lost cause, kitten."

  I feel a lump form in my throat and I’m filled with a plethora of emotions. I can’t put into words what I’m feeling listening to him so full of hatred for himself and the world around him. He has to know that it isn’t like that anym
ore, he has to know that he has people that love him and care for him. He moves closer to me and I know he’s just trying to distract me with sex again. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him.

  “Stop, whatever you’re thinking, kitten, just fucking stop.”

  His voice dripping with seductive promise. I’m acutely aware that everytime I’m within touching distance of him, my body is on fire. I almost feel as if I would spontaneously combust if he even brushes past me. Every nerve in my body is tuned into his frequency and there isn't a fucking thing I could do about it.

  Everytime he pushes me away, I'm drawn back to him, like a moth to a flame or like a sheep to a fucking fox. I love him with every fibre of my being and I hate him with just as much passion and fire. I hate him for making me want him. I hate him for fucking pushing me away when all I want is to know him like Peyton, Lenny and the boys know him. I hate him for not accepting my declaration of love and most of all I hate him for making me feel as if I’m insignificant, that I don’t matter.

  My mum always told me never to trust a man who couldn't commit, yet she chose to stay with my dad after every affair, after every broken promise and after every torrent of tears she shed over him. Every time he would come home smelling of perfume that wasn’t my mums, every time he apologised with flowers and diamonds. Seeing them almost destroy each other and then put their relationship back together again, piece by piece. As soon as I left home at the age of eighteen, I vowed that my future relationships wouldn’t be as fucked up as my mum and dads.

  “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, kitten?”

  I smile at his tender nickname for me, as he pulls on a clean pair of heather grey boxer shorts with a black waistband. He climbs into bed and pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around me. I rest my head on his pec and snuggle into him.

  “Why did you end up in rehab?” I ask him curiously.

  It was a thought that has been bothering me for a while. I always had a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t entirely truthful about the real reason he was in rehab. He idly traces shapes up and down my arm and as I ask him that question, he momentarily stops.

  “You already know why I was in rehab,” he replies defensively.

  “I know, but I always had a feeling that you weren’t being entirely truthful about the real reason,” I admit candidly. “I know you were a drug addict; you were the stereotypical rocker in rehab. You were literally a fucking walking cliché!” I joke and he chuckles softly.

  “That’s me, the walking cliché! Yeah, I was a massive drug addict, I couldn’t function unless I had some chemical or another running through my veins. I…wasn’t in a good place back then, I was a mess. The path I was on I was going to be dead before I hit thirty-five, I didn’t want to be that person anymore. The truth is, the drugs were the main reason I was there, but the other reason was a woman, amongst other things,” he answers vaguely, with a shrug and I stiffen as he says those words.

  A woman? Well, Brody Hart, you continue to surprise me at every turn, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.

  “Don’t be jealous, kitten, it doesn’t suit you. You asked me for the truth, and I gave you the truth. I was in rehab because I was fucked up in more ways than one, I was in a dark place. I was battling a drug addiction and the woman I thought I was in love with, rejected me like I meant nothing. I felt like I was that scared, messed up kid, who was rejected by his mother all over again. She made me feel things I’ve never felt before, but she was never mine to begin with.”

  His voice is thick with emotion and I’ve never seen this side of him before. Maybe this could be a turning point for us?

  “What do you mean, she was never yours to begin with?” I ask, more than a little confused by his statement.

  “She was married, babe. I was the other man, and that made me feel so fucking ashamed. I was sleeping with another woman who would ultimately go home and share a bed with someone who wasn’t me and that made me feel fucking sick to my stomach.”

  He unwraps his arm from around me and I feel him distancing himself from me.

  “What was her name?”

  I ask meekly and don’t know why I need to know the answer to that question. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and runs his hand through his short hair.

  “It’s not important.”

  He dismisses my question and I feel more than a little disgruntled at his blatant disregard.

  “Tonight wasn’t about me, are you going to tell me what that cocksucker did to you? He put his hands on something that belongs to me!” he snaps agitatedly.

  “Do I though? Do I belong to you, because you sure do a good job of making me think I don’t?” I retort bitterly, and he turns to face me.

  “Of course you fucking belong to me! How could you even doubt that?” he barks, and I flinch violently.

  “Look at yourself, Raleigh. He fucking did that to you! He violated you and took you by force! How can you even just sit there like nothing happened?”

  He jabs his finger in my direction and I hide my face away. I can’t bear to see the look in his eyes.

  “Because if I let it affect me then he’s fucking won! Don’t you see that? Yes I feel like crumbling. I want to hide away and cry my heart out, but that says he’s won, and he doesn’t get to fucking do that to me, to us!” I yell bitterly, and it takes me a few minutes to compose myself before I can continue.

  “Do you want to know the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath? Carter fucking Leonard. What sets Carter apart from being a psychopath was the subtle way he'd manipulate me into believing everything was my fault. I couldn't do anything right, in his eyes I was in the wrong and everything I did, was purely to ruin his reputation and make him look bad. Everything with Carter was about image and keeping up appearances, which is why him and my mum got on like a house on fire. I endured that for months, months of him belittling me, mocking me, making me feel about two feet tall. After our relationship ended, we were forced to continue working together on "The Village." His character Connor Diaz was the soap heart throb and his on off relationship with my character Penny O’Shea was the hot storyline of the moment. Everyone was talking about the ‘are they, aren't they’, and it was high profile because we were a couple in real life too.

  Before the split, we made a sex tape, I’m not proud of that, but he manipulated me into thinking it was purely for our own private pleasure and like an idiot I believed him. After the split Carter, leaked it to the press by making it out like someone had broken into our apartment and violated our privacy. It would ruin our squeaky clean reputation and Carter was forced to make a public apology to the press and to his fans. He admitted we were no longer a couple, and I was painted as the bad person… the fucking Scarlett woman. I was suspended from my role on The Village and later fired for my part in the porn video and I fell epically from grace. It made me sick to the stomach that he could apologise like it was just a slip up and I was sacked. I was so fucking bitter and I wanted him to suffer for it. But being this weak willed woman, he asked me to give us another chance and like a dickhead I went back to him. He took me out to celebrate our anniversary and we all know how that night ended.”

  My voice shakes and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes, as he settles back down next to me. He pulls me into his side.

  “It has been an emotional day. I had my therapy session this morning, and I left there in tears. I went straight from there to the film set to continue filming, I was meant to go out on a girly night with Liv and Maverick, but they cancelled on me last minute. So me, Nick, Gavin and a couple of the crew members from the movie went to a pub near where we were filming. Carter turned up out of the blue, he blurted out that he was the one who’d been paying for my therapy sessions. Why the fuck would he do that, Brody? Why? After everything he put me through?” I ask, not expecting an answer, and Brody kisses my forehead tenderly, stroking my knuckles with his thumb.

  “I went to
call my mum to ask her if was true but we don’t have the best relationship. We’re opposites and we have a personality clash. She tries, but it isn’t with anyone's best interests at heart, only her own. She admitted it was true and she went on this tirade of how she wished Carter and me would get back together and give her the grandkids she’s always wanted. I went nuclear and hung up on her. How could she do that? How could she fucking let him take over paying my therapy bills? It’s not as if they can’t afford it! Jesus! I’d have paid for myself if I’d known! I was so fucking angry! I went back inside and got shitfaced. After I was suitably wasted, I decided I just wanted to go home and have a long soak in the bath and go to sleep. I left the pub, Cliff was meant to pick me up and take me home but he had car trouble. He called an Uber for me and a car pulled up at the curb. We were almost at my place, when I threw up unceremoniously in the back of the taxi, we argued, he kicked me out of his taxi and I ended up having to walk home. I was so drunk.”