Vandal

“Ow!” she shrills. “My back.”

I pull away from her instantly, snapping out of the fucked up frenzy I’m in. What is wrong with me? “Fuck! I’m sorry, I forgot about your tattoo. I’m sorry,” I repeat, apologizing for so much more than just hurting her back. I’ll say it a thousand times.

She turns on her side, away from me, crying into the pillow. Her fingers that just moments ago were clinging to me are now clenched to the blanket. I stroke her hair, hoping to soothe her. “I’m sorry, Tabi. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know … please … I want to be alone.”

The words slice through me like a burning blade. She wants to be alone to think about him.

I reluctantly leave her in my bed, alone with her grief and nightmare. Grabbing the blanket from the couch, I go out to the back deck and settle myself in one of the lounge chairs under the pitch-black sky that is riddled with gem-like stars and a bright crescent moon. All is quiet except for the chirping of crickets and an owl in the distance. Sometimes being out in the night calms me, and I sure as shit need that now.

Katie. Tabitha heard her crying, and I want to know where my baby was. Was she trapped in the car? Thrown out into the road? I want to force Tabitha to tell me everything she remembers, where she was, and where the sound of the crying was coming from. I want to grab her and demand that she tell me what she saw, what else she heard. She must remember more.

I can’t do any of those things, though. No normal bystander would ask those questions, and she’ll know I either have something to do with it or she’ll think I’m some kind of fucking lunatic for asking crazy questions.

If I dwell on this I’m going to lose my mind over it. I want a drink so bad right now I can practically feel the burn of the alcohol just thinking about it. Or I could take a pill and let it pull me to sleep—anything to make this pain go away again.

Don’t do it.

Think about Tabitha instead. Focus on her.

Breathing deeply, I close my eyes divert my thoughts. My head is twisted like a pretzel over this girl. I have no right to feel jealousy over her deceased husband. I may have distracted her for a few days, but she is still grieving and missing him. Reliving the accident in her dreams is not helping. I know too well what that feels like.

I brought her here to make her forget, give her something new, and now I don’t want to be the distraction, because distractions are temporary and unfulfilling. For the first time in my life, I want more than a quick fix. I want to be more than a quick fix for someone, or a novelty item for them.

I hate that Tabi’s in bed alone, haunted by her own awful memories of the accident. She’s crying for the man she loved and lost, a good man that deserved her love. A man who isn’t the monster of her nightmares.

That’s me.

Vandal

When I wake up the next morning, she’s lying on top of me, snuggled under the blanket. She must have come out here in the middle of the night after I fell asleep. She came to me.

I stretch my cramped legs, and her eyes flutter open.

“Hey, you.” I tuck her hair behind her ear so I can see her face and wrap my arm around her. “What are you doing out here?”

She snuggles into my shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Tabitha. I was being an asshole.”

“And I was being overly emotional, as usual.”

“You’re allowed to be. You’ve been through a lot and I’m probably not helping.”

She props herself up on her arm to look me in the eye as she talks. “That’s not true. I know I’ve only known you for a few days, but you’ve woken me up a lot. Here’s the thing …” She fingers my necklace, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. “I want to say this the right way, but I don’t know if there is a right way.”

A burn spreads from my stomach straight up to my heart as I come to the realization that she’s going to leave and she’s trying to say goodbye.

“I’m just gonna say it the best way I can right now, okay? Nick and I had a really special relationship.” Ugh, I don’t want to hear about Nick. I don’t want to hear how much you loved him. “He was a good guy, he treated me great, he was polite, and he was always in a good mood. That’s just who he was, and he was easy to love. Everything with him was just easy. There were no fights and no guessing. I know that I will never find someone like him again, or be able to love someone like that again.” She swallows and chews her lip. I want her to stop talking before the bad part comes. I don’t want to hear the we can be friends spiel.

“I don’t think I could ever be in a relationship like that again without always comparing it to what I had, and missing him. It would never be fair to put someone else through that.” She stares at me and shakes her head a little. “But you … you are so different. You’re moody and mysterious, and you’ve got this … this thing about you that just makes me want you. You bring me out of myself. You’re unpredictable and a little bit scary, but you’re also protective and make me feel safe. The kind of relationship you want is so deep and dark and sensual. It’s all so raw and challenging. It’s not comfortable and easy. That’s what I need. Something totally different than what I had. That’s what I want.” She pauses and plays with a lock of my hair, twirling it between her fingers.

“I don’t know where this is going or if it’s gonna last, and I know it’s too soon for either of us to be thinking about it right now, but someday, if it happens, I could see that with you,” she says, peering up at me from beneath her bangs.

“Shit. I thought you wanted to leave.” Letting out a big sigh, I grab her hand and link her tiny fingers with mine. “So, yeah. I could see that too. With you. Maybe someday.”

A shy but happy smile dances across her lips. “Is it weird we’ve only known each other a few days? Does it feel a lot longer to you? Tell me it does, or I’m going to feel stupid.”

“No … it feels longer to me too,” I agree, reminding myself that I stalked her for a few weeks before actually meeting her.

She crawls on top of me and straddles me. Cupping her hands on my face, she slowly leans into me and kisses my lips.

“I want you,” she whispers.

“Then take me.”

She wiggles out of her panties and then reaches down between us to push my pants down. My cock is already rock-hard just from the words she spoke. She wraps her hand around me and slowly glides it up and down before lowering her sweet, tight pussy onto me. Sucking in a breath, I grab her hips, reminding myself not to grab her sore back. She lets out a faint moan as she takes me into her, her hands splayed on my chest for balance.

I never let a chick ride me. I always have to be in control. But having her on top of me, watching her slowly move above me with her eyes closed, pouty lips parted, and her head thrown back, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather have done to me.

Leaning back, I let her take control and do all the work, giving her the freedom to enjoy herself at her own pace, even though the urge to grab her by the hips and bounce her up and down hard on my cock like a pogo stick is very tempting. There is something draw-dropping about seeing a shy woman come out of her shell, gain confidence, and harness her own sexuality. I ain’t gonna lie: I haven’t met many shy women, but this one here—she fucking dazzles me.

***

“Ugh! I don’t know if I can go through this again. I’m still sore,” she whines as I set up my tattoo gear on the table.

“We can wait a day or two if you want. I’m not going to force you.” I gently lift her shirt to check out the ink I did yesterday, and it looks fuckin’ hot as hell on her. The feathery wings are some of my best work.

“It’s gorgeous,” I tell her. “Once this all heals up, it’s going to be sick.” I run my finger slowly down her spine and dip my head down to whisper in her ear. “Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you so I can watch these wings flutter on your back when you come.”

She turns her head to me. “Oh, so that’s why you wanted wings on my back?” she teases as I pull her shirt up over her head.

“Maybe …” I reply, grinning.

“I thought it was because you’re setting me free.”

“That too. So, are we gonna do this or do you want to wait ’til tomorrow?”

She flops down in her chair and turns away from me. “No, let’s get some done. I’ll suffer through.”

I grab Sterling and shut him in the bedroom with a bunch of his catnip toys, and then put my mp3 player into the speaker dock so we can listen to some tunes while I work on her.

Pulling on my black latex gloves, I study the ink from yesterday. There are a few areas I will go back to later to add in some additional shading for depth. I love my art to have a lot of dimension and realism.

“Damn! I forgot how much it hurts!” she yells when I start on her. “I feel like you should put a leather belt in my mouth for me to bite on.”

My cock strains against my jeans from that visual. “I think I might do that, darlin’. Only not for this.”

“I’m not going to think about that right now. So your brother is a tattoo artist?”

“Yes.”

“And he plays the violin?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of talent for one family.”

I let out a little chuckle. “If you only knew.” I wipe her back with a white cloth. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have an older sister.”

“What’s she like? Are you close?”

“She’s the opposite of me. She’s tall and gorgeous—she always looks absolutely perfect. She married this mega-rich guy and lives in a mansion and drives a Porsche. They have twins, a boy and a girl, who are equally perfect. I don’t see them often; she’s way too busy being a socialite to be bothered with her awkward little sister.”