Own (Need #3)

by K. I. Lynn

  Glowering at me with an adorable pout on her face, she presses the cotton ball to my face.

  Right on the small but deep cut on my cheekbone.

  I hiss through my teeth. “Goddamn it woman.”

  “You want to keep talking shit about my ex-lay, when it’s your ex-cockslut that’s the real problem?”

  I’ve slept with many women. God help me, I have. But only one has ever inspired that much venom in Kira.

  Only one ever deserved it as much as she does.

  “What the fuck is Jennifer doing?”

  She doesn’t answer, instead placing a bandage on my cheek. Then, she stands and goes to where her small overnight bag is so she can get her phone. She pulls something up on it and hands it to me.

  “Why am I looking at Jennifer’s timeline?”

  “Scroll down a little.”

  I do and without thinking about it, I start reading the most popular post out loud. “Incest is disgu—” The rest of it registers. My first urge is to fling the phone in my hand across the room. I have to remind myself it’s not my phone.

  My second urge is to hunt down Jennifer’s jealous, petty ass and hurt her.

  I don’t care what she does to me, but this is more a direct attack on Kira than anyone else. Jennifer just added herself to the list of people I’m going to ruin for fucking with my woman.

  “You see?” Kira asks, arms crossed.

  “Do you want to stop being with me because of this?”

  “No!”

  Her quick denial soothes the beast.

  “But we have to be so damn careful now, Brayden.”

  I place her phone on the couch and move to stand. On my way up, I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about any of it. I’ll take care of it.”

  Her arms wind around my neck. “How?”

  I nuzzle her cheek and walk toward my room. “I told you not to worry about it, baby. Just know this: no one’s going to fuck with you or what we have together. I won’t let them.”

  “Brayden,” she whispers. “Your tone . . . You’re scaring me a little.”

  I should. Deep down, I know how far I’m willing to go to make sure everything is okay between us. I’m not a nice person when it comes to protecting Kira.

  “I don’t want you getting into any more problems because of me.”

  “Baby, stop. We’re going to be fine.” I’ll destroy anyone in our way in order to ensure it.

  And I won’t give a fuck who that person is. My father, Jennifer, anyone that comes between us? They’re going to meet a side of Brayden Hunt they’ll wish they’d never seen.

  It was almost five in the morning by the time we got to Brayden’s place, the sun was just cresting the horizon. When my eyes crack open, it’s no wonder that his bedroom is lit up from the sun shining in. Morning passed right over into afternoon.

  I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care, because Brayden and I are tangled together. A mass of limbs carrying out the base need we share—the need for skin on skin. The need to be close. To be together.

  In this small window of harmony when it’s just us.

  I can already tell his apartment is going to become our sanctuary. The place we can be without restricting those needs.

  The last time I was here, I did the walk of shame out the door, but today is different. Turning my head, I place a kiss on his chest. The small touch stirs him and fingers begin to lightly caress my arm. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t deepen it, just relishes in the feeling. Drawing his hand up and down as he leans to kiss the top of my head while I trace the tattoo on his chest.

  The atmosphere is different, but I can’t put my finger on why.

  “Morning,” he says in that gravely tone that makes my knees go weak.

  That is when I understand the difference.

  Peace.

  Because I’ve come to embrace what I fought against. Without my struggle against this, there’s peace and tranquility. Even if it’s just while I’m here, in his room.

  Just me and him.

  Just us.

  None of the bullshit that’s waiting outside the walls.

  I let out a contented moan. “That feels good.”

  He mimics my sound. “That’s my favorite thing.”

  “What is?” I ask.

  “Making you feel good.”

  I roll my eyes and press against his chest to sit up.

  I’m about to crack a joke, but my jaw drops instead.

  His torso is sprinkled with colored marks, his face still swollen and crusted with dried blood, not to mention the bruises and black eyes.

  Guilt floods back in. I’m the reason he looks like a human punching bag.

  Granted, I’m certain Austin looks the same. They were both out for blood, trying to settle a score in a match I unwittingly set up.

  “Do I really look like that much of a horror show?”

  I can only nod, my eyes flittering around. Last night, he said it didn’t hurt. I didn’t believe him then, and I certainly won’t if he says it again this morning.

  Reaching up, his thumb smooths at the patch of skin between my brows.

  “Stop.”

  “But it’s my fault.”

  He blows out a breath and moves to get up. “It was going to happen sometime.” I can hear him grunting and groaning, see his arm hugged against his side.

  “Brayden . . .”

  He holds out his hand, a strand of black hair falling into his face. “You’re so worried about me? Help me clean up.”

  I lace my fingers in his as I slide off the bed. It’s all surreal. Like a dream I’m about to wake from . . . minus the damage done to him.

  But the heat of his hand in mine, that pulse that dances between us, reminds me that it’s real.

  I follow him into the bathroom and turn toward the sink as he turns on the water in the shower. A scan of my reflection shows smeared mascara, giving me a raccoon-like effect. Hair’s a mess and there’s a bite mark on his favorite spot, the bottom of my neck.

  His arms wrap around my waist while we wait for the water to heat. I moan as his lips kiss up my neck.

  It’s a standard size tub and generic shower head, but as we get in he makes sure the water is shared. Though split between us, the warmth soothes the tension I woke up with, washing it away.

  After splashing some water on my face, I look up only to find him staring at the ground.

  “What?”

  His brow scrunches. “I feel like I’m vibrating with anxiety waiting for you to run away from me.”

  Last night changed many things between us. Forced me to face things I’ve been avoiding, feelings I didn’t want to have.

  Because they’re hard. Not the feelings themselves, but what goes along with having them.

  Reaching up, I cup his cheek in both hands, pulling him down until his forehead is resting on mine. His hands move to my waist and I stare into his eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I feel the tension leave him with a sigh, his body relaxing against mine.

  With everything that has happened, his biggest fear is me leaving?

  I really have been the biggest bitch, even if it was deserved.

  Reaching to the side, I grab the soap from the dish and rub it between my hands to create a lather. Soap in hand, I press it against his chest and move it around. He lets out a small moan as I work my way over his skin.

  It’s soft and hard at the same time. Full of warmth and strength. A body full of love and tenacity.

  Just thinking about it makes me want to be wrapped in his arms. Surrounded by him, letting his love soak into the core of my very being.

  I want it. Him. All of it.

  I always have.

  Once done with his chest, he takes the soap from my hand and mimics my movements. Only this time I’m the one moaning from the feel of the way his fingers dance around, flexing against my skin, building the heat in the sho
wer.

  Trails of washed out red flow from the cuts on his face and scalp. Pulling him under the water, I gently run my thumbs across the dried patches of blood, rinsing them away.

  An innocent, sensual shower takes a turn the second I feel his cock press against my skin. Just the feel of it sends a shiver through me. It’s a feeling I force myself to ignore for multiple reasons, the biggest being the soreness between my legs. I need a break.

  But I can’t leave him like that.

  I lather up my hands, my breath speeding up as I reach forward and wrap my fingers around him.

  “Holy fuck.” He lets out a gasp and jumps, his eyes popping open as his hand slams onto the tile to steady himself. “Kira . . .”

  I say nothing, but glance down, my tongue peeking out to lick my lips at the sight. My fingers slide up and down in a slow motion, gaining speed as he steps forward, bracing his other hand against the shower wall.

  I let out a hiss when my back hits the cool tile, forcing me to arch and a ripple of cold to circulate my skin, making my nipples harder.

  Letting out a shaky breath, he reaches out and places a hand on my hip. Distracted by his mouth closing over my breast, I don’t even notice his hand trail around and down until two fingers slip into my pussy causing me to gasp for air.

  I slap at his hand. “Ah-ah.”

  Out, but then right back in, the palm of his hand digging into my clit. “You need to be cleaned here as well,” he says as he releases my nipple. A flick to make me shake, then a nip with his teeth before switching to the other one.

  It’s a battle I’m losing, burning in the pyre created by his touch. He kisses up my chest and neck, his mouth right next to my ear. “Empty out any leftover come so I can fill you with fresh.”

  My head falls forward onto his chest, and my eyes flutter, threatening to close. He knows all my weak spots, his long fingers pressing, working me, pushing me until my legs begin to shake.

  “No. Stop.”

  I let go of his dick and push him back. His hand slips from between my thighs. “I’m not coming without you,” he growls.

  Looking up, I’m met with a heavy-lidded, intense gaze, green eyes seeming to almost glow. His cock is so hard the head is red, bordering on purple.

  I stare into his eyes as I grab hold again, one hand on his shaft, the other cupping his balls as I stroke him again. “Just let me do this for you.”

  His mouth drops open in hard breaths and pussy pulsing groans. I can see the strain in the tendons on his neck. It’s difficult for him. Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to mine and rests both forearms against the tile, caging me in.

  “Kira . . .” His chest expands and contracts, the tempo rising. “Kira, baby . . . Fuck!”

  I squeeze down a little bit harder, twisting as I pump up and down. Silky, hot, and hard, and from the sounds he’s making, ready to burst. His hips flex in tempo, straining to get closer.

  His brow scrunches, muscles tense. “Baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come all over you.”

  My pussy fucking clenches and comes a little just from those words being said in his deep, breathy, sexy tone.

  I’m no longer holding his balls. They’re pulled so high, his cock harder than I’ve ever felt him, hotter than I ever imagined skin could be.

  A roar leaves him, his expression a cross between bliss and agony. Hot, wet drops land on my stomach and breasts. Again and again with each explosive pulse. I watch in fascination and a perverted desire as he marks my skin with pearly drops of his being.

  When I look back up, he’s staring down at the same erotic paint job I was. His chest heaves with labored breaths, one hand moving from beside my head to the thick liquid slowly sliding down my skin.

  “Mmm, you look so good covered in my come,” he says between breaths as he slides it around.

  I push against his chest. “Perv.” Stepping forward, I get my first taste of the warm water in minutes. It falls over my back and hair as I give him one last look of his handiwork before turning in the spray, letting it all wash away.

  He lets out a little groan behind me. “Baby, that was art you just destroyed.”

  I feel his fingers ghost around my hips, then around to caress my stomach.

  “Guess you’ll just have to create another masterpiece later.”

  Hums vibrate against my neck. “I like that idea.”

  “I thought you would.”

  “What do you want to do today?”

  I lean my head back to look at him. “You mean this afternoon, since we slept through the morning?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We can order some food. Watch a movie.”

  “I’m going to have to head home some time.” I point out.

  He shakes his head against me. “No. Don’t ever go back to that place, to that poison.”

  “I can’t leave my mom alone with him.”

  He’s silent, seeming to have no response. “She will be soon when you move up here.”

  I lean forward to shut the water off, completely struck by his words. Fuck. I hate that he’s right. Me going to school leaves her without a buffer. I wish she would just leave Steve. I wish she wasn’t so emotionally dependent on him, because he’s not good for her, and I hate what he does to break her down.

  “Fine. One more night, but then I have to go.”

  He smiles as he hands me a towel. One more night won’t make a difference to Mom and Steven, but I know, after everything, it will with Brayden. There isn’t a want in him for me to stay—it’s a need.

  It was hard to leave Brayden the next day. Forced myself out of his arms, kissing his half-awake lips before heading out and driving home.

  Brayden won’t be alone for long. Ryan is headed up with his car, Dana following behind.

  There will only be a short, but very long day until I see him again.

  “I’m home!” I call out as I enter.

  “In here!” Mom answers from the other room.

  Thankfully, I don’t hear Steven, and I find Mom alone in the living room folding laundry.

  “Hi, honey, did you have a good time with Jenna?” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t seem genuine.

  “Yeah, with everything that was going on . . . ”

  “It was good you weren’t here.”

  I scrunch my brow and take a hard look at her. She looks drained. Completely emotionally and physically drained.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmm?” She looks up, a blank look in her eyes.

  What did he do to her?

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  Stepping closer, I stand next to her. She’s still taller than me, making me the forever midget of the family. Ryan always gives me shit about it, but I still love the idiot.

  I watch as she swallows hard—her tell that tired isn’t what’s wrong and she wants to avoid the conversation, but I’m not going to let it slide anymore.

  “What did he do, Mom?”

  Something’s wrong, off with her. This isn’t the woman I know. She seems scared, and after the last few months and getting samplings of Steven’s anger, I worry that he’s crossed lines that I won’t allow.

  “We just got into it this weekend, honey. It’s fine. Really.”

  “Fine? You know I hate that word, right? You’re not fine, Mom. Why are you still with him?” It’s not the first time I’ve asked her, but each time she looks more and more run down. I wonder how far he’ll push her until she breaks.

  Her brow furrows. “I can’t leave him,” she whispers.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  Her arms drop back down into the laundry basket. “It’s not that simple, Kira.”

  I continue to stare at her. “Okay, then figure out how to make it simpler. I’ll help. Ryan will help. You have us to help you, so let us.” For almost as long as I can remember it’s been just the three of us. We were all we had. “You just have to talk to me.”
>
  She quirks her brow at me and I get a glimpse of just how large the bags under her eyes are. “Aren’t these my lines? I’m the mother.”

  I shrug. “Doesn’t mean you’re Superwoman. Everyone needs help sometime.”

  “When did you get so wise?” she asks.

  “The life of a teenage girl.”

  “Well, daughter of mine, I have a stack of clothing for your wise ass to put away.”

  I plaster a smile on my face as I take the basket from her outstretched arms. “Thank you, mother dear.” I turn and head toward the staircase, smiling as I hear her chuckle. Hopefully, in the smallest of ways, I made her day just a tiny bit better.

  I barely get to the top of the stairs when my phone starts going off. Not just one text message, but five before I even reach my room.

  Dropping the basket to the floor, I pull my phone from my purse.

  They’re all from Jenna and they keep pouring in.

  Oh, my God! I’m going to fucking kill her!

  Where are you?

  Are you home?

  I’mma cut a bitch.

  She’s screwing with the wrong motherfucker.

  CALL ME!

  The blood in my veins runs cold. Such a strong reaction can only be the result of one person’s actions.

  My hands shake as I press the screen, the breath caught in my chest as the phone connects.

  I don’t even register that the ringing stops when a loud noise causes me to pull the phone from my ear.

  Gibberish at supersonic speed and shrill tones has me lost. I can only make out one or two words, but it’s enough to make the ground fall out from beneath my feet.

  “Jenn” and “Facebook,” are the most prevalent after “Bitch” and “Cunt rag.”

  I’m to my desk, waking up my computer while I continue to decipher Jenna’s ranting. The minute it takes to boot up and login seems like an eternity. Each second hours, minutes as days.

  Facebook up, and it’s the first thing in my timeline, staring me in the face.

  “You want what you can’t have, little girl. Enjoy it while it lasts, because once your dirty secret is out, you’ll never be able to show your face in town again. #DisgustingBitch”

  My stomach turns and I can feel the bile rise in my throat.