by Melody Anne
Table of Contents
Tattered
Copyright
Dedication
Other Books by Melody Anne
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Miranda
by
Melody Anne
Copyright
© 2018 Melody Anne
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed and published in the United States of America.
Published by Infinitus Incorporated
Editing by Karen Lawson
Dedication
This is dedicated to Sharon Cooper. We both have had a rough year losing our fathers, and I want you to know how special you are to me.
Other Books by Melody Anne
THRILLERS
Confessions:
Dance in the Dark - Novella - July 18th, 2017
Book Two - TBA
ROMANCE
Billionaire Bachelors:
The Billionaire Wins the Game
The Billionaire’s Dance
The Billionaire Falls
The Billionaire’s Marriage Proposal
Blackmailing the Billionaire
Run Away Heiress
The Billionaire’s Final Stand
Unexpected Treasure
Hidden Treasure
Holiday Treasure
Priceless Treasure
The Ultimate Treasure
Baby for the Billionaire:
The Tycoon’s Revenge
The Tycoon’s Vacation
The Tycoon’s Proposal
The Tycoon’s Secret
The Lost Tycoon
Surrender Series:
Surrender - Book One
Submit - Book Two
Seduced - Book Three
Scorched - Book Four
Forbidden Series:
Bound -Book One
Broken - Book Two
Betrayed - Book Three
Burned - Book Four
Unexpected Heroes:
Safe in His Arms - Novella - Baby, It’s Cold Outside Anthology
Her Unexpected Hero
Who I am With You - Novella
Her Hometown Hero
Following Her - Novella
Her Forever Hero
All I Want for Christmas - Novella
Becoming Elena:
Stolen Innocence
Forever Lost
New Desires
Taken by a Trillionaire:
Taken by a Trillionaire - Book One
Xander - Ruth Cardello
Bryan - J.S. Scott
Chris - Melody Anne
Virgin for the Trillionaire - Book Four - Ruth Cardello
Virgin for the Prince - Book Five - J.S. Scott
Virgin to Conquer - Book Six - Melody Anne
Finding Forever Series:
Finding Forever
Finding Each Other
7 Brides for 7 Brothers (Multi-Author Series):
Luke - Book One - Barbara Freethy
Gabe - Book Two - Ruth Cardello
Hunter - Book Three - Melody Anne
Knox - Book Four - Christie Ridgway
Max - Book Five - Lynn Raye Harris
James - Book Six - Roxanne St. Clair
Finn - Book Seven - JoAnn Ross
YOUNG ADULT / FANTASY
The Midnight Series:
Midnight Fire: Book One
Midnight Moon: Book Two
Midnight Storm: Book Three
Midnight Eclipse: Book Four
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Prologue
Mason
I’ve never claimed to be a perfect man. Who of us actually can? I wouldn’t think too many. But for those of you who might think I’m a cheater, a liar, or an abuser, you don’t know what’s been happening in my life.
You’ve heard Miranda’s story. Now it’s time you hear mine. I guess I have to take you back to the beginning.
It’s easy to paint a picture in black and white, but life is full of color. Just because we all do things differently doesn’t make those actions right or wrong. It makes us unique, it makes us human.
I try not to judge others. I’m imperfect though, so I fail at this task quite often. I want to be a person with more empathy, compassion, selflessness. I’m not. I’ve also changed so much in the last ten years of my life. I think I’ve actually come full circle if I’m being honest. There was a time I thought the moon rose and fell on me . . . then life had a way of humbling me.
Even as I have this thought I can’t help but smile. Humility is overrated. I much prefer to know who I am and know this world is a better place with me in it. That might make you think I’m vain and arrogant. No. It’s simply a reality. The world is full of winners and losers. I might have thought for a time I was in the second category. That might be a big reason why my life went in a direction I wasn’t prepared to take it.
I’m getting off track, though, so let’s get back to the subject at hand. From what you’ve learned of Miranda, you probably think my wife cheated on me. That might make you believe she’s the villain and I’m the victim. You’d be very wrong in your assumption. I’ll never be a victim.
Have I changed? Oh yes, I’ve changed. Do I have to take responsibility for the way my life has turned out? Yes. Did I cheat? That’s a tough question to answer. Were either of us truly cheating?
We were in a marriage that was no longer real, so were either of us at fault for what came next? I guess you can read my story and be the judge of that. You can make your conclusions whichever way you must. At the end of the day it’s my life, and I’ll live it how I want to.
In the real world lives get broken even when that’s not what we want. The bottom line is we have to be able to crawl into our beds at night, close our eyes, and want to open them again. If we can do that we can successfully say we’re living our lives in the best way we know how.
Just as Miranda told you, this isn’t a typical love story. This is real life. This is what happens when we open our blinds and let the world see inside our house. I’ll share it with you once, and then I’ll shut the curtains again.
I was dealing with demons I wasn’t able to share with my wife, and because of that I shut her out, and worse, I stopped seeing her. We shouldn’t
have gotten married. I can’t regret that we did because she was my best friend. I think the most tragic thing about this situation is that we can barely look at each other anymore.
How does someone so important to me one day become a stranger the next? I don’t know that I’ll ever get an answer to that question. I do know I stopped wanting Miranda, not because there was anything wrong with her, but because there was something broken inside of me.
We began to live separate lives, and we were both okay with that. Either I’d leave or she would, and we didn’t miss one another. We should have ended it right then, but neither of us knew how.
I remember the night I knew we wouldn’t make it to forever. I remember it clearly.
She’d been gone for a couple of weeks and we tried making love that night. We went through the motions, but there was nothing there — not for either of us.
I’m an incredibly sexual man, and I couldn’t find pleasure with her. That was the night I should’ve packed a bag and gone on my way. But I stayed. I stayed because I’d made a commitment. I’d spoken vows in front of my family and friends. I stayed because it’s what I thought was right.
I’m not sure why Miranda stayed. Maybe it was because she didn’t know how to give up. We weren’t protecting something sacred. We were only making each other into monsters, into unrecognizable people.
My final question is to ask is it really cheating if you no longer feel committed to the person you’re with? Maybe that’s the way a cheater justifies their actions. I guess each person will have a different answer to this question. I guess we’re so used to seeing the image others see of us that we don’t ever get to know the real person.
Everybody lies.
That’s a solid truth that can’t be denied. We all lie. And we all have sins. Are your sins any better or worse than mine? I doubt it. Let’s step through the looking glass and find out . . .
Chapter One
Now
She has no name. She needs no name. I circle her as she lies naked on the cold steel table. I draw closer and notice the visible tremble in her stomach. I notice everything. I don’t look at her face, but I know she’s lying there, trying to be perfectly still as I take in every single detail of her flawless body.
She’s a work of art on her own. But I will make her a masterpiece. My favorite brush is in my hand. I won’t begin until I’m ready. I’ve told her this might take all night. She was more than willing when I interviewed her, and by the quiver in her frame, she still feels that way.
She’s not my first human art project. But it’s different now. I’m no longer married; I no longer have to carry guilt over desiring another woman. I can do what I please with no regrets. I’m ready.
I dip the brush in red paint and the first touch of color gently flows across the center of her chest. A beautiful splash of color against ivory skin. She shakes and a small moan escapes her parted pink lips. I smile.
I move faster as I dip my brush in shades of red, pink, cream, and blue. I circle her luscious breasts, shading them with my brush. Her back arches off the table when my feather light touch goes over her hardened nipples.
“Don’t move,” I tell her.
“Sorry,” she says, her voice husky and weak. Her toes twitch.
Time has no meaning as I get lost in my art. She’s my canvas, and she’s utter perfection. I transform her body into a beautiful symphony of colors. She twitches on the table, but not enough to diminish the beauty of what I’m doing.
My brush traces across her hips, into that lovely V of her thighs, and I circle her sweet folds. She gasps. My body is hard. The art is nearly done. The pleasure can soon come.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Mason.” I don’t look up. I finish my final paint stroke as Bella walks up beside me. I feel the woman on the table tense.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Bella.
“I brought the photographer. You’re late,” Bella tells me. She knows better than to touch me right now. I’m in another place mentally — I’m in no way hers in this moment.
“I almost forgot,” I say, gazing down at the woman on the table. I finally look up to her face. Her eyes are closed, agony on her face. I’ve played with her for hours, turned her into a work of art and she’s hurting. She needs my hands on her. She needs the brush to be put away.
I move over to a shelf and pick up a shear scarf. I place it across her breasts, the silk muting the colors beneath it. I trail the end over her stomach, across her heat.
“Bend your right knee just a little, and plant your foot on the table,” I tell her.
She immediately does what I tell her. The silk flows perfectly. My job is finished.
“Have him take the shots, and then I want both of you out of here,” I tell Bella.
There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes, but she quickly masks it. I make this woman a lot of money. She will give me what I want.
“Of course,” she says. She looks at the man with the camera and we both step away while he draws closer. His camera flashes repeatedly for the next ten minutes. He looks through the images and smiles.
“Finished,” he tells us.
“See you soon,” Bella says. I can see how badly she wants to reach up and kiss me, but that isn’t going to happen. Not now. I’m the artist right now. I’m not hers. She knows the rules. She’s known them a long time.
She turns and leaves. I barely acknowledge the click of the studio door.
“We’re almost finished,” I tell the painted woman on the table as I move back to her, towering over her shaking body. She opens her eyes, passion shining straight at me.
“What’s next?” she asks, her chest moving rapidly up and down, making the silk across her chest flutter.
I reach out and take her hand, help her sit up. She slowly slides from the table, and I have to hold her in place since her knees are trembling.
“Time for a shower,” I tell her. “This is the most beautiful part.”
She follows me into the large room with a huge shower. The silk is sticking to her. She reaches up to take it off and I stop her.
“Not yet,” I say. I leave her standing there while I walk inside the shower and turn it on, getting just the right temperature. She begins to walk in and I stop her again. She waits.
Then I move over to my camera and set it on automatic. She looks at it uneasily.
“This is only for the paint,” I tell her. She lets out a breath of relief. We both know how this will end, and she doesn’t want that caught on camera.
I strip off my clothes; she looks down at my hard body and a moan escapes her. I smile. I know how I look. I also know how to bring pleasure to a woman. We’ll both be feeling good very soon.
I place her beneath the shower spray and tell her to stand still with her head arched. Then I step away. The water cascades down her breasts, over the top of the silk, and the paint drips from her in a mural of incredible colors. My camera captures it all.
When she’s nearly back to her original pallet, I smile.
“You can stop the pose now. The camera is finished,” I tell her, my voice low and husky.
She turns toward me, pleasure in her expression. Then she reaches out her hand. I move forward, the warm spray consuming both of us. I push her back against the wall and finally allow my lips to touch hers.
She’s greedy as her hands slide behind my head, holding me in place. I’ve been playing with her body for hours and she’s shaking in my arms. Her lips are urgent as she presses her lush body against mine.
I’m hungry. I’m so damn hungry. My body is throbbing with the need to take her. Neither of us needs much foreplay.
I consume her mouth as I reach down her slick back and grip her perfect ass. I pull her against me and my erection pulses with the need to plunge inside her. But she breaks our kiss and pushes against me.
&nb
sp; “I need to do this,” she says before dropping in front of me. I groan as my hands push against the shower wall. Her tight fist wraps around me as she takes my arousal deep inside her mouth and sucks.
We moan together as the water pours over us. She nearly makes me come when I reach down and tangle my fingers in her hair, pulling her away from me. Her lips are swollen, and I almost lose it again when she licks my pre-come from her eager mouth.
I quickly pull her up, turn the water off, and lift her. We’re both dripping as I carry her from the shower into the small room next to it. A bed awaits.
I toss her down, loving the sound of air rushing from her. I reach into the drawer and pull out a sleeve of condoms, slipping one on before I climb on top of her.
I devour her mouth again, her lips ripe and swollen. She tastes so damn good. My hands drift between us so I can finally squeeze her perfect breasts. I need to taste her. I break our lips apart and move down the smooth column of her throat and over the mound of her breasts.
Finally I get my first taste of her luscious pink nipples. First one and then the other. She’s moaning as she arches off the bed, begging me for more. We’re both in a frenzy.
“Please, Mason, please . . .” she begs.
“One more taste,” I assure her. I move down her body. There are still splashes of color on her skin here and there, places it managed to hold on. That turns me on all that much more. I run my tongue across her hips while spreading her thighs wide.
I run my tongue along her silken folds and taste every beautiful inch of her before closing my lips over her and sucking in a perfect rhythm. She screams as she begins shaking with her first release.
I don’t stop. I suck and lick and nip her swollen skin and she twists beneath me. I push three fingers inside her, preparing her for when I take her hard and fast. I want her body ready. She tenses for only a moment and then shakes as I push in and out of her, bringing her body to another orgasm.
I don’t let up, losing myself in her pleasure. She’s so damn responsive, so beautiful.
