Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) (16 page)

“
F
uck
, Torionna, your pussy is perfect. You’re perfect.” Control shattered, Michael started fucking her like there was no tomorrow. She was vocal, and fuck it all if he didn’t love that. If she got any louder, he would come before he brought her to another orgasm, and that would be a sad thing, indeed.

He snaked his hand around her body and started stroking her in small circles above where they were connected, letting his eyes take in the scene in a slow track so he could commit the sight to memory. In case he screwed this up somehow, he wanted this tableau burned into his retinas, so every time he closed his eyes, he’d see a negative relief of her head bouncing back and forth in time with his increasing pace—mouth open into a perfect O, as sexier than fuck sounds just continued to pour out. The rippling of her ass as he pounded her pussy harder and harder was a work of fucking art. God, he wanted to wreck her for other men.

But more than the sights and sounds, as fanfuckingtastic as they were, what he wanted to hold on to most was the feelings. The tidal wave of emotions flooded him with a sense of peace and home; things he never thought to feel in such a wholly consuming way, least of all not with a woman. But fuck it all if he didn’t have the overwhelming sense of rightness taking over his entire being—mind, body, and soul.

As his orgasm was barreling down on him, he realized he needed to find a way to keep her forever. If he lost this woman, his soul would be doomed to wander this life aimlessly for the rest of his days, never to find home again.

Home was no longer place to him, but a person. Tori was home. Wherever she was would be the only place he could truly feel at peace. As long as he could come home to her, everything else would be gravy.

That thought ramped up the tingle starting at the base of his spine. His balls drew up toward his body. Tori was on the edge too, her body was tightening with that sweet tension. He just needed to pull her over the cliff with him and they could base-jump to pleasure together. Ripping his hand away from her clit was hard, but he knew what she needed. Gathering as much wetness as he could with his thumb, he brought it around to that sweet little rose that was begging for attention, and purposefully worked it in.

She went off like a rocket, chanting his name as a prayer and tightening like a vice on his dick. The contractions of her slick walls fucking pulled the orgasm right out of him.

“That’s it, Princess, take it all. It’s all yours, babe.” He was pounding into her body with such force he thought they might actually go up in flames, but she was milking every last drop from him. Even as they both floated back down to Earth, he couldn’t stop grinding into her body, just with less urgency than before. He removed his finger from her ass and brought his arms around her, to ease them both to the bed, without leaving her delectable body.

She was all sweaty and panting; he fucking loved it. “That was amazing,” she seemed to force out between gulps of air. Turning her head to the side, she made eye contact. The love he saw there swelled his chest. Her delicate hand brushed his damp hair off his face. “You were amazing. A girl could get used to this.” Sincerity was written on her face. Just as he was getting lost in the purity of the moment, she blushed and smiled. Then, she turned away, tucked her hands under her cheeks with a sigh and closed her eyes.

Contentment, she was feeling it, too. Now
that
thought swelled his heart
and
head. The fact he could bring a woman as amazing as her to the heights they just shared was a major fucking turn on, causing his cock to harden again.

Michael was an asshole, but not so big of one that he wouldn’t give her a rest. She was clearly spent. Disengaging from her body brought a sense of loss he hadn’t expected, but he knew it was only temporary. He padded to the bathroom and tossed the condom in the trash. He then washed his hands and wet a washcloth with warm water. Returning to her side, he began to remove the outer evidence of their coupling. No one felt romantic waking up from a power nap with the remnants of condom lube between their thighs.

Tori gave a few grunts and a cursory protest, but relented as the sleep drew her deeper and deeper. Once she was clean and tucked in, Michael just stood there looking down at her. He stayed there so long that the cleaning cloth went cold in his hand. Taking in her angelic appearance as she snored gently, he was hosting warring emotions. The marks on her neck were darkening, and that pissed him off. Where did that asshole get off putting his hands on her like that, or saying the vile things he did?

Torionna Krystle-Carrington Reid was none of those things. She was the polar opposite in fact, at least with him. That gave him pause and he scolded himself for coaxing her into his bed so soon after the bastard had tried to kill her. But after everything that happened, he needed to cling to something real, and he felt she needed to reaffirm she was alive and desirable, too.

Tracing her silky soft cheek with gentle fingers, for a moment, he could see how good it could be. How good they could be together for the long haul. Picturing her bouncing a kid on her lap, their kid, made him want. Just want, so much. But, as much as he wanted to be in a good place, as much as he tried, the truth was, he wasn’t.

He turned sharply on his heels and tossed the washcloth in the sink. Then, he built up the fire, looked back at the only good thing to enter his life in years, and locked himself in the bathroom. Turning on the shower was the only way to mask his tears, as the inner turmoil ripped him to shreds. If only she’d come at a different time, maybe he could be the man she deserved. Right now, he was just faking it.

He hoped he could convince her to stay the rest of his mandatory time here—sheltered away from the intrusions of the real world. At least for the next two and a half months or so, he could pretend he wasn’t a broken man—one who wasn’t impotent for the better part of a year, one who wasn’t strong enough to say no, one who was whole and healthy.

Michael was damaged goods, and Tori didn’t deserve that, especially not after Richard. He’d keep her and enjoy the coming months with enough relish to last him a lifetime. But then, he’d set her free. If this Doctor Beckett was all he was cracked up to be, maybe, just maybe, he could at least pick up all the pieces of himself, offer them to her on a silver fucking platter and her love could help put them back together.

T
ori woke feeling delightfully sore
and…alone? The fire was throwing off enough heat that she was able to toss the covers aside and pad on bare feet to her suitcase for a nightshirt and shorts without freezing her ass off.

She shivered, but not from the cold, from the absence of Michael tucked behind her and the rock hard ominous feeling that was settling in her gut. The sound of the shower registered in her brain just as she finished dressing. She tiptoed to the bathroom door with plans to enter stealthily and strip off the clothes she just donned to join that sexy hunk of a man in the shower.

Shower sex as a rule wasn’t all that, but with Michael, she was willing to bet it would be better than expected. If all else failed, shower blowjobs were very enjoyable, indeed. With her hand on the knob, she stopped short. The combination of the locked door, soft sobs, and Michael’s voice brought her up short.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, she started stepping away, but his words halted her retreat. Chastising himself in a hushed tone, he flung insults and judgments that were heartbreaking. From what she could make out, it was about the rape. God, he was berating himself. Ugly words said with such conviction, he really thought he was asking for it.

The urge to break down the door and wrap him in her arms was a desperate need on a biological level, but that would cause him more harm than good. Michael was not the type of man who wanted her to see him in this vulnerable state. Their relationship, as it was, wasn’t to the point where he felt safe sharing these feelings with her, as evidenced by the locked door and running shower.

Wanting to protect him from accidental exposure, yet still halt this damaging punishment he was engaged in, Tori tiptoed halfway back to the bed. Then, she strode forward without a care if she made a sound with her steps and called out for him, “Michael, are you in there?” Then, she rapped on the door naturally.

“Yeah, babe, just a minute. Gotta towel off.” It was a lie, but it was one he needed, so she made her way around the kitchen counter and fixed two mugs of cocoa. God, she could just fucking kick herself six ways to Sunday. She knew better than to be intimate with someone that fresh off of a life-changing event. Not to mention his recent trauma, and hers.

Christ, the one time in her life she’d let her lady parts lead the parade, she’d fucked up royally. She was just so unreasonably attracted to Michael, her brain shut down so her libido could hop in the driver’s seat. All she could hope for now was to minimize the damage. She really did pray that Doctor Beckett could help him, even if she never got to witness his healing. Maybe after Richard left, it would be best if Michael moved up to the big cabin, that way she could be here for him, emotional support and get to know him as friends, but not drop her panties like they were aflame every time she saw him.

Michael exited the bathroom, and she offered him a steaming mug of chocolaty goodness. She noted the wetness of his eyes and the dryness of his hair, but she didn’t let on. For a brief moment, she felt blessed to have been gifted some genuine, non-tainted, time with him—a brief moment or two when his demons had fled, cowering in the corner somewhere and letting him just be him, free and unencumbered by the weight of his pain. It was obvious he hadn’t been overly burdened with such times, and by the look of self-hatred creeping into his eyes, he wouldn’t be in the near future either, but one day he would be.

It would start with moments like the one they shared, small chunks of time where he could live in the present and not the past, causing his demons to scurry away into the shadows where they belong. At first, they’d return, but the more often he ejected them, the longer they’d stay away. Eventually, they’d cease returning at all. He’d be free.

No matter what she had to give up to make that happen—sell her soul to the devil or rip her heart from her chest—she would ensure the look of freedom returned to where it belonged, even if she never got to see it up close.

“So, I peeked outside earlier, and let’s just say it’s a good thing I brought in a week’s worth of wood before my run yesterday, because the snow is three feet deep with twice that in drifts, easy.” Michael spoke with a casual manner and sipped his hot cocoa without a care in the world, but the lie was visible in every inch of his body. How could she break through to him? Just enough to get him through his mandatory stay, then she’d let him go. If he came back once he was healed, yada-yada-yada.

“Well, drink up, Wingman, we’ve got some energy to burn off and it looks like we need to do it inside.” She downed the last of her cocoa, rinsed her cup, and tried to get past him to the couch. Lightening swift, he had his cup on the counter, halted her progress, and had her pinned against the wall in no time flat. The fire left in the wake of his relentless lips was too much to bear in silence. A moan escaped her with force as her knee involuntarily began caressing his sweatpant-covered hip and bare flank before she exerted control over her own body.

“Burning energy sounds like an excellent way to spend some time.” His hands were everywhere seemingly at once and his lips chased them. “Besides, what an excellent way to stay warm.”

At last, she was able to separate from his irresistible body and make her way past him, explaining as she rummaged through her bags, “As yummy as that sounds, I was thinking more of a traditional energy burn.” She retrieved her workout clothes and jump rope and held them in the air like baby Simba. “Since we can’t get in a run, I thought we could move the furniture aside and do some body weight exercises and cardio? Just think of it as…snow day Insanity and me as Shaun T. Now, I’m going to gear up, then we’ll move everything aside and get to it.”

Brushing past her on the mission to clear the floor, he leaned in close and whispered, “Oh, honey, there is no way in Hell I could ever confuse you with Shaun T.” His voice dripped with seduction, causing a shudder to starburst out from her belly, and coaxing a surprised sound from her with a slap to her ass as he whistled innocently and started sliding furniture to the walls.

Turning at the bathroom door to glimpse his rippling muscles at work, she was shocked to catch him eyeing her with that masculine appreciation twinkling in his eyes. Accompanied by a low whistle and a slow head shake, she was tempted to toss her gear to the ground, sprint for him, wrap her legs around his narrow hips, and grind her exercise out for the day.

Instead, she made her way into the bathroom and shut the door, shouting behind her, “Get to work mister, I’m not going to go easy on you.” She was hoping he would find a focus with working out, since that was his thing. Focus that didn’t revolve around sex, or Richard, or his rapist, or Tonya, or Shane, or any of that bullshit, and he didn’t disappoint her.