by C. M. Steele
SCARRED
C.M. Steele
Copyrighted © 2016 C.M. Steele
All rights reserved. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemmblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book or any porttion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whattsoever without the express written permission of the publlisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“He needs to go to the hospital, Richard,” my mother shouted at my father. He had ignored her several times before he caved in.
“Fine. Get him ready….” I drowsily lost consciousness waking up in the car some time later. It was dark outside and we were on the road to the hospital. I heard them shouting at each other but couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was at that second when we careened with another vehicle. My mother’s cries ripped through the night air and pain shot straight through my body.
I was jolted out of my sleep covered in sweat and shaking while a cold moisture ran down my back. It had been fifteen years and nothing had shaken the nightmare that I relived night after night. I searched my body like I did every time. Yep. They were still there—the scars that marred my flesh. The scars that held the pain of my loss. I could still feel the burn of raw flesh being torn apart, the iron scent of blood permeating through the air, and the agony of the screams that ripped through the night. No amount of money, penance, or hatred could ease the guilt I lived with.
I asked myself, many times, questions that solved nothing. They only frustrated me more and more. How come I had to get sick? How come my mother insisted on taking me to the hospital in the middle of the night? Why would someone drink and drive? That night the fate of many people had been sealed. My parents were dead, the drunk driver died, and I had been permanently disfigured. My life had never been the same.
I stood facing my floor to ceiling window looking out at the city below. The city I loved and hated. It was beautiful and bustling, but I didn't get to enjoy it. It was still dark out; the city only illuminated by the incandescent lights. This was my favorite time to take walks and breathe in the summer air. I disliked the way people looked at me. Pity and curiosity shone in their eyes, making me regret being in their presence. With a life in the shadows, I managed to build and expand on my father's business empire that had been failing under my uncle’s watch.
Now I was one of the wealthiest men in the world but had no one to share it with. Frustration and misery became my constant. I wanted to chuck all the fears and start living before it was too late, but it was easier said than done.
I focused on my reflection through the glass. Overall, I was a good looking guy except for the scars on the right side of my face that continued down my body. There were several gashes that never healed quite right. During the day, most of my scars were hidden under the perfectly tailored suit, but with just my boxers on, I could see them all. I ran my hands down the cracked and scarred flesh feeling them tingle. Some of them had faded over the years. Many were not as deep as they’d once been, but my emotional pain had been permanently tattooed on me.
I decided to get dressed and head out for a run. It was a balmy morning even without the sun. Dressed in all black, I made the three-mile jog. It was a peaceful feeling and allowed me to clear my head. I saw the sun beginning to peek through the horizon, so I started to make my way back to my condo.
I was about half a block away from my place when I saw a bicyclist nip the jogger in front of me. Normally, I would have passed what was obviously a female, but something sort of like chivalry triggered and I stopped to lend a hand.
"Here, let me help you up." I extended my hand to her; her dainty hand slipped into mine and I felt a cavalcade of emotions. Perhaps it was the kinetic energy from both our runs that created that electric vibe coursing through me. With a simple, almost effortless, tug on my part, she was up on her feet.
She looked up at me and she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She had deep red hair tied up in a ponytail that highlighted her pale skin. Her lips pouted in frustration, then she looked up at me. I had to be at least a foot taller and a hell of a lot heavier. She was a beautiful little thing.
Her bright eyes met mine then everything changed; the current running through me was now one of anger. I saw the fear in her eyes as she gasped. The rage I felt was mixed with a whole new emotion— desire. I wanted her...in my bed. Her hair sprawled across my pillows, satiated and weak from me fucking her. The need to have her was more than I was comfortable with. She was perfect looking. Her eyes were a pretty green shade with a face pale as the moon and springy, red curls acting as its frame. Everything about her screamed siren, but she was no different than all the others.
Why did she have to look at me that way? I didn’t want her pity. Normally, I just tolerated it and went on my way but with her, I was hurt. So confused, I was about to leave her there when I noticed her hobble on one leg.
"Are you okay?" The thought of her actually being hurt made me insanely enraged. I looked down the path like I was still going to see that guy. I thought of calling some favors in and pulling the surrounding park cameras.
"I'm okay. I just landed a little awkwardly on my ankle. Thank you, sir,” she muttered, dusting off her bottom. I was so fucked in the head. Hearing her say sir only stiffened my cock and visions of her begging for my dick circled my mind.
I smiled at her. "I'm Dexter Price. You are?"
"I know who you are. I'm Elena Collins." Suspicion and curiosity kicked in. She knew who I was. Was this some attempt to meet me?
“How do you know who I am?” I asked. I wasn’t in the paper that often. Well, at least, my image wasn’t, but my business successes were duly noted. Lovely Elena looked nervous and shaky.
"Excuse me. I've got to go. Thank you again." She scurried off shaking the pain in her ankle away like it hadn't happened, leaving me standing there in confusion.
I should have stopped her. I walked back to my condo to get ready for work. The whole way back, I thought about her. Was she single or did she have someone? I had to know. “Damn, I should have stopped her,” I growled as the elevator doors closed.
~~~~
I woke up from another sweaty, heart-pounding, pussy-throbbing dream. He got to me again. In my dreams, he came to me and made love all night. It was insane. Of all the people I had a crush on, it shouldn’t be Dexter Price. I tried not to think about him, but every time I thought about my leg, he popped in my head. Since my leg constantly throbbed, I was lost to hours of just Dexter. We were connected by a fateful night but had never met before. Reaching into my bedside table, I took out my trusty buddy and from under my pillow, grabbed his picture.
I looked at his photo thinking he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen—even with the scars. His chocolate-colored hair and eyes were stunning. I heard rumors that he was hideous with all the scars, but from the few images of him I saw over the years, they weren’t that bad. My leg had terrible scars that looked worse than his face.
Something about him turned me on to the point that I needed to come at least once a day. Visions of him fucking me in every different way always sent me spinning into delicious orgasms. I moaned as the tip hit my clit, vibrating intensely, sending me into a mind-blowing orgasm. “Dexter,” I chanted his name from my lips.
It was still too early to be up with nothing to do, so I decided it might be cool to go for a run. As I got dressed, I thought about what if we met. It truly was only a matter of time. We lived
directly across the street from each other. After the hospital stay and living in an orphanage, I was adopted and my name legally changed. So unless he decided to keep tabs on me, I’d doubt he’d know who I was. Somehow I couldn’t see him doing something like tracking me down. All the reports in the papers talked about how busy and intensely dedicated he was with company and his charitable works. I was probably just a blip on the radar of his past.
I knew it was stupid to fantasize about a man who hated my family—a family that destroyed his, but the need overcame my sense. Breaking free from those fantasies was going to be hard considering, I could see his condo from mine. Even though the move near to him was accidental, I felt like a crazy stalker chick. I bought the condo after receiving a trust fund that someone had set up after the accident. After my eighteenth birthday, I received payments that would total twenty-two million dollars by the time I was twenty-one. Growing up in a modest home crowded with a large foster family, I wanted something just for me. The little condo at the Everett Towers was perfect, so I snatched it up and saved the rest of the money.
The only reason I learned that I lived near him was that I saw him going into the building. It made sense that he would live near his company, but I wasn’t thinking about it when I picked my place.
Since that day I spotted him, I had made sure to avoid him. Surprisingly, it was pretty easy. Seattle was a very busy city with people moving about all day. Avoiding a run-in during the weekday was simple since he was at work.
What possessed me to go on a run, I didn’t know, but I was fucking nuts for doing it. I wasn’t a runner. I just wanted to fit in with the community, and it seemed like everyone around here was out doing something on nice days. Jogging was already taxing on my body when that jerk knocked me down. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I was too old to cry.
I was taking a breather when, of all people, Dexter Price helped me up. My eyes met his and I gasped. He was sexier than I had ever imagined. I was so wet that I blushed thinking maybe he could tell. What if I smelled? I couldn’t check myself. By the look he gave me, I knew he thought my gasp was about how scary the scars were, but I didn’t even notice them. I was mesmerized by his eyes. They were looking at me like he wanted to know everything about me. I had to get away. A relationship with him would be an epic failure.
~~~~~~
It was two in the afternoon and I was sitting in my office, but my mind was still in the park. Elena, I said her name over and over in my head, enjoying the exotic beauty of it while I envisioned her stunning face. She had been a pretty little thing, and I meant little. When I helped her up, she barely reached my chest. I could have carried her where she needed to go. I should have. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d feel wonderful in my arms.
Shit, there it was again. I looked down at my slacks and I was sporting another stiff one. It took all my willpower to stop the need to stroke my cock. Not even the hottest, kinkiest fucking porno made my dick this rigid and thick.
I wanted to see her again, but I didn’t think I’d run into her again. She’d been injured, so she probably wouldn’t be running, but maybe I could find out more about her. I leaned back in my leather chair tapping a pencil against my desk, trying to come up with a solution to my dilemma.
It took a few minutes for me to find a way because all my blood still hadn’t returned to my brain yet. She said her name was Elena Collins. I could look her up and find out something about her. With my wealth, I had everything and anything at my disposal. Making one call should get me what I needed—access to my Elena.
“Hey, Duke, I need some information on a woman; her name is Elena Collins. Can you get it to me?” I knew he could. There wasn’t anything that man couldn’t do. He had his own firm in Boston but was working in Seattle at the moment for one of his clients.
“I’ll see what I can do. Let me get back to you in a couple days.” Two days seemed like forever. What if everything changed by tomorrow? She could meet the man of her dreams before I could buy her heart. I wanted to win that shit, but hey, I wasn’t attractive with all the marks. I looked like Two-Face. Alright, it wasn’t that bad, but it was the way I felt.
“Okay,” I said begrudgingly. I felt like a petulant child demanding that he give me my present now. I looked down at my desk pad calendar. Today was June 21st and I marked that day with the word “HOPE.” For the first time in so long, my heart felt alive. It thumped uncontrollably every time I thought of her, and it had only been two hours.
Chapter 2
I worked to the bone that night and the next day after trying to forget that I had to wait to see her. After working twelve hours a day, I hit my gym up, lifting the max and doing sprints. By the time I got to bed, I was exhausted and it didn’t take me long to fall asleep. As usual, my nightmare ripped through my sub-conscious waking me up harsher than an alarm clock. Who needed a loud beeping when I had busted metal and blood-curdling screams?
I woke up the same time as the past two days from my nightmares. With hope in my heart, I left to go for a morning run. Instead of going full out, I stayed close to where I saw her before—near the entrance closest to my condo. I’d been too confused to stop her from leaving, but this time, I wasn’t going to let her go until I secured her. She wasn’t out yesterday, and I wondered how hurt her ankle was. Did she need medical attention? She was limping hard that day.
I ran in a circle for an hour, but Elena didn’t show up. Damn, I had to go into the office today even though I felt like ditching. I wanted to be sitting at a café like a nutty stalker hoping to get a glimpse of her before following her home. I couldn’t, though, because I had an early morning meeting. My mood wasn’t fit for talking to potential clients. I didn’t need their business, but I offered to hear their proposal. Managing to focus long enough to listen to their ideas, I bought into it and made a deal. The rest of the day dragged on until I got a call from Duke.
“I’ve got news for you. You’re not to going to like it.” I could hear the frustration. He didn’t want to tell me something.
“Just tell me already,” I roared into the phone slamming my fists on the desk. First thing that I thought of was that she was married and I’d missed my shot. Fuck, I couldn’t handle the damn suspense. I was frazzled, horny, and lonely.
“She’s the daughter of Timothy McCoy.”
“What? No... fuck no. She can’t be.” Of all the people in the world, she had to be related to him.
“She is. She was three years old at the time of the accident. She’s eighteen now.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t. Damn it.” I had a big decision to make. Could I continue to pursue her, or should I forget that I met the first and only woman to make me feel anything other than contempt? Could I let go of that shiver of desire that coursed through me every time I thought of her? The answer was easy—no.
“Do you still want me to send you the file?”
“Yes,” I answered so quickly I barely let him finish his sentence.
I hung up the phone feeling fucked up. She was the daughter of the man who cost me my family and my future. I stared at my computer mindlessly, looking for answers on how to cope with the hand I’d been dealt.
Two minutes after we hung up, I had her file saved to my laptop and her photo printed in my hand. Looking down at her driver’s license, all I could think of was Elena was perfect. Who the fuck takes such a nice driver’s license photo. She was flawless and had kind eyes. I wasn’t good enough for her. I was too broken, but that was her father’s fault. I slammed my hand onto the desk, knocking my coffee cup off the edge and smashing it into pieces. On cue, there was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I called. My nervous assistant walked in the room a little concerned for my safety. There were always rumors going around that I was one bad day away from jumping off the building. I hadn’t actually ever thought about killing myself. I may have had a life that would never include a family, but I loved giving to others. I’d spent money on rehabilitat
ion programs and orphanages. Helping those without parents became a necessity for me. If I hadn’t had my jackass uncle, I would have been put in foster care even though I was wealthy. I would have been in the same boat as all those I help. It was a crazy, scary time, but I made it through semi-complete and with some family to rely on.
“Sir, I was just wondering if you were okay.” Her genuine concern lessened some of my frustration. She truly cared about me. I knew that from the first day she applied.
When I had asked her about my scars during her initial interview, she passed the test.
“So, Mrs. Brown, what do think when you see my scars?”
“Honestly. They’d catch anyone’s attention immediately. Just as any prominent feature on a person. If a woman with large breasts passed by, I would still notice them even though they hold no real interest for me. Even if you do not hire me, I want you to know that your scars are just a part of you. If they bother you, they’ll make others uncomfortable. If you own them, then others will see them as a part of who you are.”
“Damn, that was the best answer I’d ever been given. I don’t appreciate the cringing I get from some. Mrs. Brown, Kim, you’ve got the job.”
That was almost ten years ago. Damn, I was twenty-seven and had just found someone who I wanted to look past my scars.
“Yes, Kim, I’m fine. I’m going to go back home. I’ve got some things that came up. Please email with any important issues that need my attention.”
“Okay. Will you be in the office tomorrow?” I only took time off to do charity work at hospitals, so it wasn’t like me to play hooky.
“I don’t know yet, but you can still contact me.” I cracked a simple smile to ease her mind.
“Take care, Sir. I hope everything will be just fine.”
“Don’t worry, Kim. I may be a miserable asshole, but I’m not going to off myself. I feel a change in the air. For the first time, I’ve got a bit of hope.”
