Twisted Perception (Flawed #2)

by T. L Smith

  “You. You’re beautiful.” I blush, not just at his words but the way they’re sincerely spoken.

  “You trying to get into my pants, Mister? You know it’s easier than that.” I wink at him.

  “You like to deflect, did you know that? You use your appeal, that’s why you do so well in your work.”

  “Will you kiss me on this date?” I ignore his comment and need to know. I’ve missed lips on me, in particular, his lips.

  “No,” he says simply.

  Chapter 35

  Finally, it’s Monday. I’ve worked all weekend, over twelve-hour shifts both days. I need to hire someone to help out with the financial side of things. It’s taking away my sleeping time and I haven’t had sex for weeks, so to say that I’m excited about tonight is an understatement. I’m horny as a bitch in heat.

  He texted me today, the only thing I’ve heard from him since Friday night, telling me to meet him at his house at seven.

  I pull up in his driveway. I’m dressed for sex—my skirt is high, my boobs are pushing up out of my shirt. I knock once and then the door opens quickly. He stands there in his jeans, without a shirt, making me want to pin him to the floor right then and there. He looks back, then back to me, then his watch. It makes me feel odd and I knit my eyebrows together in thought. Am I on time? Why does this feel like I’ve intruded all of a sudden?

  “Aria,” he says, and then I hear her voice.

  “Come back inside, it’s getting cold.”

  I look past him to see who that voice belongs to. I know that voice. Gabrielle sits on the sofa in his sitting room. She stands as I enter. She has only lingerie on, nothing more. I look back to Mika, his face is tight and lines are drawn on his furrowed forehead. I feel betrayed and my face must mirror my feelings as his hand comes to my arm. I look back at him in jeans, no shirt, muscles, tattoos and he looks like he just stepped out of the shower.

  “Obviously you weren’t expecting me,” I say, smiling at Gabrielle, then I turn and walk back out. He follows me down the path to where my car is parked. I turn to face him, not really knowing what to say or do. I give him a little smile and kiss his cheek, then climb into my car and drive off. No words are spoken as I don’t give him the chance. I’m gone just as fast as I came.

  I’m not even a few minutes away from his house when lights are flashed behind me. I look down at my speedometer and notice I’m not speeding, but then I realize it’s not a police car behind me. I pull over not getting out when my door is pulled open forcefully. Mika stands there, just the same way he was minutes ago, still shirtless.

  “It’s not what it looked like,” are the first words from his mouth. I want to laugh, I obviously don’t know much about relationships, but that line, that line is terrible, and usually leads to lies.

  “It’s fine Mika, fuck who you want. I’ll do the same.” I reach for my door trying to close it, but his body blocks the path of me doing so.

  “I was showering. She was there dressed like that when I came out.” His hand reaches up to his hair, he pulls it then looks back at me. “Come back,” he asks pleading, “please?”

  “Did you fuck her?” I ask, his head shakes immediately.

  “Did you want to?”

  Again, his head shakes. “Come back. Don’t make me drag you.” I smile at him, the possibility of him being naughty fills my head.

  “Fine,” I say. He leans over and touches my face, his fingers brushing my cheek.

  “You look like an expensive hooker, one I want to sink my teeth into.” My breathing picks up.

  “You couldn’t afford me,” I tease. His hand comes away, his eyes now dark and hungry.

  “I would sell my soul,” he says, closing the door and running back to his car.

  I follow him home, driving fast. He climbs from his car and waits for me. I run up the stairs, the night air cold on my legs. He walks in, and I follow and there’s no sign of Gabrielle anywhere.

  “Hungry?” he asks. Walking to the kitchen, he grabs plates from the oven and takes them out placing them on the table. He sits and gestures for me to do so. I start eating the beans. I’m not particularly in the mood for food right now. I’m only eating because he’s cooked it.

  “Tell me something sad,” he says, cutting his steak. I put my knife down and think about what to say.

  “I’m afraid that I will never love. They say it’s the best experience in life, but I think it’s cursed.” I shrug my shoulders.

  “You’ve never been in love?” he questions.

  I shake my head. “Have you?” I ask, leaning forward, waiting for his reply.

  “Yes.”

  “Was it cursed?”

  “I think most great love stories are,” his reply comes in a whisper.

  “Do you still love her?”

  Just a simple nod is all I get.

  “Tell me something beautiful,” he says, repeating the conversation from yesterday.

  “I think your eyes are beautiful, they remind me of chocolate. Dark and stormy.”

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks me.

  I think about that question for a second. He’s never once has asked for permission. He hasn’t ever needed to. I guess tonight has been different, our relationship has taken a different turn.

  I nod my head. He stands, dropping his napkin on the table. He walks to me, offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me up, my body crashes into his. He places one hand on my hip, the other on my neck, then he looks at my lips. They’re red, bright red. He leans in slowly, a feather soft kiss touches my lips. Grabbing his hips, I hold him to me.

  His mouth is slow at first, just soft kisses. My hands dig into his hips, asking for more. His lips kiss harder, he starts opening his mouth kissing me opened mouthed, and then his tongue enters mine. He tastes like wine and I kiss him back with a feverish passion. He pushes his hands through my hair, pulling strands to move me to where he wants, the way he wants me. His hands release me, he pulls back, leaving me panting and standing alone. He stands in front of me, lips swollen and gorgeous.

  “Are you only wanting sex, Aria?” Mika asks, the way he says my name makes it clear that this is about to get serious.

  I don’t know how to reply so I stay silent, considering the options in my head. I do want that, I want sex so bad I can feel it about to take over my body. But then I think of the weird feelings I’ve been having for him. For only him, never for someone else, so I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to call it, whatever this is.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. I wipe my lips feeling the lipstick smudged around my lips.

  “I like that.” He smiles, stepping back into me. I hold up a hand stopping him.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “You don’t lie. Well, actually, you hardly do. You don’t have much of a filter, so when you say you don’t know, I know it's true. There’s something more you just don’t understand it yet, but Aria, don’t worry.” He picks me up.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he walks me up the stairs.

  “To my room, so I can devour that pussy of yours.” I clench—tonight is going to be fun.

  *****

  His hands are in my hair and he pulls hard. He just ate my pussy like a motherfucker and I’m now on top of cloud nine. He grunts when he pushes into me, using my hair as leverage. My hands are rough on him pulling him to me, scraping my nails up and down his back feeling the skin peel back as I do. He cries out in pleasure, both of us liking whatever’s happening between us. He leans away, my hands falling from his back, and he flips me over. I’m completely naked, he’s ripped my clothes off and stripped out of his jeans. We’re on the bed in seconds, passionate, crazy, touching, grabbing, pulling at each other as much as possible.

  My knees come up and I’m now on all fours. His hand pulls my hair again, he slides into me easily, as I’m already wet from seconds ago. He shudders entering me, I feel him shaking. He stops and grabs a chunk of my hair pulling my neck
backward. Leaning over me, his chest to my back he slides his tongue up my back stopping at my neck and sucks hard right at the sensitive spot where my neck and head meet. I lean my head to the side to give him more access. He takes it and kisses roughly up my neck then to the side of my mouth. He dips his tongue in my mouth then pushes in me hard making me gasp, giving him room to enter his tongue all the way. I suck on it then he slams into me again. My mouth hangs open each time he does this.

  “You’re falling for me,” he says, then drops my hair, making my feelings come to life.

  He’s right. I am.

  “You’re in love with me.” I gasp again as the words leave my mouth, pleasure assaulting me with each thrust.

  “I am.” No more words are spoken.

  He rides me all the way to pleasure heaven. Soon we collapse, him lying on top of me and breathing heavily.

  “So, worth the wait?” I mumble into the pillow. He reaches down and tickles my sides. I laugh and wiggle underneath him trying to escape.

  He doesn’t let me get far as he pulls me back to him, trapping me, then kissing the top of my head.

  “Stay with me?” he asks. I nod my head and soon fall asleep, trying to not let what we’ve spoken about consume me.

  Epilogue

  Aria

  Weeks pass and we steal each other’s company as often as possible. He’s asked numerous times for me to move in, to stay with him. I can’t do that yet, the feelings he causes scare me. There are only two situations when we don’t spend the night together—when I work late and he has work to attend to. If I’m not at his house, he’s at my place. We don’t text message each other, we’re not one of those couples. Our relationship consists of being there when we’re together. Nothing else matters. I can now officially say I have a boyfriend though I’d never tell him that. He’d laugh at me like he did the first time I asked if that was what we were.

  He calls me his sex slave, which in a way I am. Who would have thought that someone could want sex more than me? Who loves it as much as I do and can please me every time? I found him and he makes me happy each time his head is between my legs and, of course, other places. He makes me delirious when he smiles at me, butterflies seem to take flight, excited for what’s to come.

  He hired me an accountant so now I don’t have to work such long hours, which I think he did to please himself more than me. So, now I’m with him more. I’m not complaining I needed one.

  The club is thriving. I make enough so that I could hire someone for everything I do and more, but I don’t. I like it there, I like the atmosphere. Mika usually comes every night I work, waiting outside near his car until I finish. He doesn’t come in. It doesn’t interest him to see my men dancing and fucking.

  I see him when I finish. He stands next to his car talking to Jessa, who now lives with Jagger and me. Our mother came out of rehab, she’s doing better, but Jessa doesn’t want to be there anymore. She sleeps on our couch or in my bed when I stay at Mika’s. She’s been bartending at my work a few nights a week. Tonight was one of them.

  He sees me and straightens his stance against the car, holding out his hand while still focusing on Jessa. I slide in between them, his arms enfolding me. Jessa rolls her eyes and waves goodbye. He leans down and kisses my neck.

  “Move in?” he asks again.

  Every time I see him he asks. I don’t know if I’m ready yet, but now I think I just might. Jessa can have my old room.

  “Sure,” I say, stepping away from him, he grabs me in time before I escape. Spinning me so his mouth comes down on mine.

  I like him, a lot.

  I may even be falling in love with him.

  Holy shit. Where did that come from?

  Mika

  She lives with me, I got her and trapped her. Making her mine for eternity, because now that I have her she’s never going to be able to escape. She is mine.

  My beautiful, twisted, woman. The woman who no other man could contain, let alone control, is mine, and I’m pretty sure she loves the everloving shit out of me even if she won’t speak those words.

  A month of living together has proven to me she does. The little things she says and does, it’s in her touch. I tell her as much as possible that she’s mine and that I love her. I accept that she can’t say it, I wouldn’t be with someone like her if it were easy. No, she is far from easy.

  I think I’ve loved her from the minute I saw her in that alley, so strong, and so different. I’ve never encountered someone like her, so fierce, so driven, so scary. That describes her all wrapped into one neat package.

  One day I will make her mine forever, claim her in every way possible, but for now I will bide my time and enjoy every second that she gives me. Even if I end up with an arrow in my ass at the end, it will be worth it. She is worth it.

  Our story isn’t over, it will never be. This is just the beginning of our crazy train, and we are riding it all the way to the next station.

  Thank you so much for taking your time to read Twisted Perception, I would love it if you could leave a review on the site you purchased from. Thank you for taking a read on the wild side, thank you a million times over.

  Love

  T.L Smith x

  End of book shit bahaha.

  The thank you’s. They are always the hardest part aren’t they? So many to thank, and at the end, you’re always afraid of missing that one person. So let's give it a go. If I missed you, please message and abuse me, I’ll add it to the next book if I remember LOL. Most of you know I love writing strong women, I don’t do it intentionally, it’s just how they come out. I think woman hold the power, keep that power girls. You are strong, beautiful and courageous. Never forget.

  My readers—Wow! You actually read my books. This still surprises the shit out of me that someone buys my books, leaves a review, and sometimes loves it. So thank you so much. x

  Bloggers—You are rock stars, literally rock stars. You pimp, support, all for free. THANK YOU.

  My Dark Angels, love your dark little hearts. x

  My Beta girls—Thank you. Kayla, Kristy, Casey, Elaine, Chloe, Danielle, Angi, Carol, Jess, Nadia. Thanks for helping me making my book the best it can be, couldn’t do this journey without you.

  A massive shout out to Wendy Syposs Litz—You! You…I have no words for you. You pimp and support like a freight train. WOW. So glad to have you in my life girl.

  Stacey & Marika - thank you so much for your constant support. Thanks for helping me get my name out there.

  Kaylene—My fabulous editor. Thank you for helping me make my words pretty. Love you. x

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  Melissa Jane

  Copyright © 2014 Melissa Jane

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Prologue

  “How long do you think this gringa will last?” The heavy Mexican accent invaded my throbbing head. “I give her two days.”

  “That’s two days longer than your mama, puto,” said another man, his snide remark encouraging sniggers from the others.

  “Eh, fuck you puto! My mama is a saint, don’t talk about her
like that.” Still bitter over the insult, the first man fired off a rapid string of Spanish insults which only incited more jeering and laughter from the others.

  “As if I would date your mama, bro. I got some hot mamasita rolling around my bed every night showing off her moves and sexy body.”

  “Oh yeah, puto?” The offended man sounded skeptical. “Who? What’s her name?”

  “You know her,” the other said, antagonistically.

  “Don’t game me, bro. Who is it? I bet it’s that regordete chica from the east barrio.”

  “Nah, bro. My girl, she not fat. Curves to die for, you know what I’m sayin’? Smooth skin, ripe plump breasts...”

  “Mierda, puto. You couldn’t pull anyone, even regordete.”

  “True bro, ask your sister.”

  “My sister?”

  There was a brief pause while the man slowly comprehended the words then the air erupted once again. “The fuck you talk ‘bout my family like that? Watch your back, culo!” the insulted man threatened. Clearly, he was not entertained.

  “Your wife does that for me.” The response brought more snorting and mocking from the group of morons surrounding me.

  “You’re dead to me, bro!”

  Of course I couldn’t see who these men were – not that I cared to. I was living in a blackened world courtesy of a hood over my head, its itchy fabric grating against my sweaty, irritated skin. A noxious smell – a combination of stale alcohol, urine and sweat – filled my nostrils and burned my lungs with each breath.

  While the men around me continued their crude banter, insulting each member of the others family, I tried in vain to ease the relentless pounding in my head. The restraints around my wrists and ankles prevented any movement. Pins and needles ran a vicious circuit through my limbs and I hated myself for bringing the aggravated sensations to life.

  The vehicle took a sudden swerve to the right, causing my body to roll twice on the floor and onto the feet of my captives.