Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2)

by Verlene Landon

  In record time, Michael and the waitress—whose name he couldn’t recall—were hand in hand walking toward his room. The minute he closed the door, she was all over him. Fuck, it felt good to be touching and kissing a woman, but it also felt dirty somehow. It wasn’t until he felt her bare hand on his cock that he realized he wasn’t as into it as he should be.

  Whatshername gave him a questioning look. Rather than answer, he threw her to the bed and came down on top of her, grinding his hips into hers and biting her neck while he freed a breast and pinched her nipple. Dry humping wasn’t doing it for him, but it was for her, she was lost—keening and writhing like she was about to come. Michael figured if he could just keep going, he would want it eventually.

  He let one hand ride up her thigh and find its way under her polyester uniform skirt, only to discover she wasn’t wearing underwear. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman’s heat, his cock reacted, twitching and stirring to life, even if only slightly. Hell, at least that was better than limp. He put his fingers to work, playing her body like his Les Paul. In no time, she rode it out and was screaming his name while her pussy squeezed his digits. As good as it felt, and shit, it did feel good, he didn’t want to fuck her.

  What the Hell was that about? He had three quarters of an erection, a willing woman primed and ready to go, and he didn’t want to close the deal. He rolled off of—shit, what’s her fucking name?—and threw his arm across his forehead, moaning aloud when he realized which hand was there by the smell. God, he missed that scent, but it wasn’t whatshername he wanted to smell, it was a woman with raven hair and a name that tasted like Heaven in his mouth.

  Tori.

  “No, Wendy, but you can call me whatever you want,” whatshername, Wendy, said as she fisted his cock, which was still hanging out of his fly. That meant he’d spoken aloud, called for Tori when he had another woman in bed. He was no better than Tonya at that point.

  Not so gently removing her hand—shit, she had a grip like an ironworker—he attempted to rise and exit the bed. “Thanks for coming here, Wendy, I enjoyed it, but, I’m really tired and not up for finishing the night. I hope you understand.” She threw her leg over his hips before he could protest, placed her hands on his shoulders, arms locked and started grinding her dripping wet cunt up and down his shaft. How much can one man take?

  “It feels like you’re up to me, cowboy, at least well on your way.” Michael grabbed her waist to set her aside, but on her next downward stroke, she angled her hips just right and his semi-wood entered her. His hands flew to cover his face, “Fuck.” It didn’t feel bad, as a matter of fact, it felt good, physically. But he was still only half there in body and not at all in mind. He had to stop this. He did not want to have sex with this girl.

  “Wendy, I need you to stop.” His mouth was saying no, but his body was thrusting involuntarily each time she came down. A moan escaped his lips, and it encouraged Wen…her, to ride him harder. He couldn’t even think her name without being ill.

  She was not who he wanted.

  “No way, cowboy, you brought me here for a fuck and well, you’re giving me a good one. Shit, you’re big, even half erect you rock. Now let’s see if we can make you grow. You keep saying no, or whatever your fetish is, as long as you can make me come again, I’ll play along.”

  She thought it was a game? No, he really didn’t want to finish this. “Seriously, I want you to sto...” She reached around and squeezed his nuts, and he was a goner. His cock went full mast and he couldn’t help but thrust up rapidly and moan. “No, no, no, no, no,” he chanted, but it didn’t matter, she started contracting like a Chinese finger-trap and he fucking squirted like a champ with a name escaping his lips, “Tori.”

  Wendy fell onto his chest, exhausted and murmuring his praises, and all he could do was gag as his soft cock slipped from her body. What the fuck just happened? He didn’t want it, but his body wouldn’t listen. Could men be raped? He wondered. Surely they couldn’t, but that’s kind of what it felt like. Who would buy that this one hundred and twenty pound woman forced a two hundred pound personal trainer to have sex against his will. Besides, his body reacted, so he must have wanted it.

  He was yanked from his personal considerations when she kissed his lips. Michael threw her off him and she landed on the other side of the bed with a bounce. “You need to leave, now.” He jumped up and pointed to the door.

  “So, you’re not a cuddler. I can live with that. When can I see you again?”

  “Never, lose my number and this never happened. Now go.” Michael stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door. When he saw his face in the mirror, he hated himself anew. He thought his reflection couldn’t disgust him more than when he’d first discovered his inability to be a man, but he was wrong. Dead wrong.

  He’d just had sex with a woman without protection; a woman he didn’t want to have sex with at all. Not true, he did, until he kissed her. He knew the moment their lips met he didn’t want her or any other woman, except one. But, he’d had sex with her anyway, so he must have wanted it on some level, but now he hated himself for it. Lucky for him, he had three long months alone to cultivate and culture that hate in to epic proportions.

  Her voice floated through the door, “I’m leaving, but I won’t lose your number. I really like you, Michael. I don’t know what you’re going through, but give me a call when you sort it out. If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll call you.” He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he heard the room door click closed. At least he lived in Florida, a far cry from Tennessee, so all he needed to do was change his number if she called. Doubtful a waitress in a microscopic town could afford a ticket south. Thank God.

  Michael showered as best he could in the compact space. Even after the water went cold and the hour changed, he still felt dirty. He couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten his groove back but had zero control over it.

  He ripped the sheets off the bed before plopping down on the bare mattress in his towel. Sleep played hide and seek with him for a while but eluded him in the end. Finally, when the sun hinted at rising, Michael jumped up, dressed, and left the room for good. He never wanted to see that room again, or that town for that matter. After his ninety days, he’d probably not see much of the cabins either. Richard wanted to sell them outright, but Michael wanted to run them as rentals and keep them in the family, maybe generate enough income to maintain them and pay a management company. Hell, the only reason he was staying now was so Richard didn’t get it all and throw away their inheritance for cash. It was all Michael’s dad had to leave them, and he’d be damned if he was giving it up without a fight.

  Being tied to the source of some painful memories wasn’t ideal, and now to this town, too, but he couldn’t just toss his hands up and say screw it all. He was an adult, and adults did things they didn’t like to do all the time. At least he’d had the forethought to have the cabin stocked and John would be around the airport at the halfway point to run in any fresh supplies he needed. The more he dwelled on it, the better his outlook became. He needed this time, now more than ever.

  He returned the loaner car to the lot and waited inside the airport. Before he knew it, John was greeting him and loading up the Bobcat. The ATV was decked out to handle the typical mountain snow; the piece of shit loaner car, not so much.

  Michael pulled himself together, or tried to. “When’s the wedding?” The minute the words fled his mouth, he wished he could take them back. The disappointment that overtook his friend’s face was unsettling. Mostly, it was because he felt bad for John. But at the same time, he was doing a little happy dance inside. Not that he’d ever see Tori again. Even if he did, she wouldn’t want a weak man like him anyway—one who took another woman back to a hotel room when in his head it had been her, then changed his mind but didn’t have what it took to stop it. Weak, weak, weak. A woman like her would desire a strong man, not him.

  “She’s got a boyfriend, meeting him for some r
omantic getaway out at the lake. If you ask me, he doesn’t deserve her. Asshole just stood in the door, waving her in. Didn’t step a foot outside to help with her bags, and the snow was already ankle deep up there. Finally, when I realized he wasn’t just getting his boots or anything, I grabbed her bags. Asshole was already in the other room calling for her to come see his new watch or something. Total d-bag man, anyway, how’d it go last night, killer? How many woman of this small town are now singing your praises?”

  Michael cringed, his already-sour mood now rotted. “It was fine, now, can we get this show on the road and cut the chit chat?” Michael hated treating his friend like the enemy, but he couldn’t bear to think about last night, much less talk about it. Or, hear about Tori’s boyfriend, or, anything else for that matter. Maybe, he should ask John about last night, hypothetically of course. Just for some peace of mind or…something.

  Ultimately deciding against it, Michael loaded his bags. It was impossible for a man to be raped, end of story. He wouldn’t embarrass himself by suggesting such a thing.

  “Sorry man, it’s just I didn’t get much sleep and now, I’ve got a cluster headache starting and I need silence until I can get to the dark of the cabin.”

  John’s eyebrow waggle paired with a sympathetic smile told Michael he understood his predicament but misunderstood the reason. Fine by him, as long as John shut up, he wouldn’t be at risk of talking about last night and asking his friend the dumbest question known to man.

  Proving to be an intuitive travel companion, John was mum—not a word the whole time until he pulled up and helped Michael unload his bags. “I dropped Tori off not too far from here, hmm, small world. I’ve lived out this way for years but never came up here before. Nice area.”

  The nearest cabin not owned by the Brande family was about three quarters of a mile walking distance in one direction, and a solid three, around the finger, past the rest of the Brande cabins, in the other. Michael knew which way he would be heading for his morning runs to avoid Tori and her asshole boyfriend. Of course, that meant running past the cabin housing his brother, no way to avoid them both. However, that wasn’t a worry, the only way Richard would go for a run would be if he were being chased by something that wanted to kill him.

  Michael thanked John and watched him leave from the doorway. Once he was out of sight, Michael made his way to the back porch, letting his eyes drift around the lake, taking in a scene he’d thought never to see again. It was getting dark because of a storm and he could see the faintest flicker up at the main cabin, so Richard was already there. He did some quick calculations in his head on the probability of avoiding both Richard one-way and the dark-haired temptress the other. The numbers weren’t in his favor.

  It was highly likely he would run into one, or both, of them at some point over the next months. Just twenty-four hours ago, the thought of running into Tori gave him something to look forward to on this trip. The lake was about five miles around. He could run that every day, no problem. He’d had it all planned out—an accidental run in, an invitation to come in for coffee, and then who knows where that might have led. That was before Wendy and before Tori had a boyfriend.

  Before.

  Before seemed so much better than now—if only he could go back in time. He would be exhilarated by the possibility of running into Tori, Hell, running with her. She obviously worked out faithfully. He’d pictured them running around the lake in slow motion, watching her breath puff and plume in the crisp cold. Her skin would pinken from the bite in the air and her nipples would…

  Shit.

  He slammed the door in a vain attempt to shut out the world, and his own thoughts. It didn’t work.

  Richard was being, well, Richard, but even more so—more aloof and more of a dick than usual. His body language didn’t indicate their relationship would be changing, not in a good way that is. It was as if he were distancing himself, but maybe that was just her own paranoia for practically creaming her pants in the plane over Mr. Tall, Dark, And Do Me, whose voice was pure foreplay. She’d sat in the back of the plane and pondered how long it would take her to orgasm from just his naked body suspended over hers, caressing her with nothing but his just-long-enough, dark hair.

  Yep, it’s not Richard who is changing this, it’s me. She was no longer satisfied with the way things were, which, if she was being honest with herself, had been the case for some time. She was just loath to entertain the possibility until now. That’s why she put the kibosh on sex and the reason she knew she’d proceed with her family plans. Her life was moving forward, or rather, she was driving it forward—without him.

  She didn’t love him anymore, if she ever truly did, and he sure as Hell didn’t love her. It was striking her with such clarity that he positively never had. Even though these realizations had been coming to her for a while, apparently it took spending time with John—who treated her like a lady—and the walking, talking sex-on-a-stick—who didn’t—to be truly objective where Richard was concerned.

  Since she’d met Richard, her friends were emphatic he was wrong for her. Melanie and Erika went as far as to stage a mini-intervention of sorts, calling him mentally abusive. Tori had listened to them out of love, but they accepted her decision to be with him because of the same. She respected them both tremendously for speaking out, then dropping it and abiding by her decision.

  In hindsight, she wished she’d taken their words to heart, but Torionna Reid had always had a stubborn streak a mile wide. When her besties spoke truths she wasn’t ready to hear, she doubled down on her determination to prove them wrong. Real mature. Boy, would she have some crow to eat when she got back home

  Walker, her brother, hadn’t handled Richard’s marital status with the same calm—he was not even in the same zip code as calm. He found out Richard was still technically married and went ape shit. Everyone was surprised when Richard didn’t press charges and send Walker back to prison. That’s when Richard came clean about his not-so-ex, swearing they were married in name only for the sake of his daughters. They each led their own lives and carried on as if they were divorced, and for all intents and purposes, they were, except the paperwork. That had been enough for her, until now. Yeah, right, if that had been the case, why didn’t he cop to it in the beginning instead of waiting until he was busted? Tori was willfully ignorant where he was concerned. Was willfully ignorant, past tense.

  Family, complete with backyard bbq’s and beach trips, was what she wanted. She could’ve handled an ex and step-children, but she wanted to move forward with her life, her whole life. Not just business, but personal, too. Back when she’d set the no sex stipulation of their relationship, Richard had told her he decided to finally file for divorce, claiming he realized it wouldn’t harm the girls at that point. Since they maintained separate households and accounts, it really was just a piece of paper.

  Tori had been so out of touch with reality, she almost rescinded her new clause, until he claimed he didn’t have the money to file yet, but swore that it…them, was priority number one. He promised to scratch and save to make it happen, which he never seemed to do. Hello? How many clues do I need?

  So, needless to say, when she arrived to see that Richard had purchased the expensive Breitling, the exact one she was looking at as a gift—one she knew cost upwards of ten grand—she was livid. As she watched the smooth motion of the watch and Richard droned on and on about it, she saw her relationship withering away. Not the actual relationship, that had withered a long time ago, but the one she’d built up and gilded in her mind.

  “You can put a pig in a ball gown, but that don’t make it prom queen.” Her mom’s voice echoed in her head. Yeah, Francis Reid said ridiculous southern shit like that all the time. It rarely made sense to anyone but her. Tori thought she said half of it just to embarrass her kids and to make her dad, Frank, laugh. Tori hadn’t gotten a single one, that is, until now. Her relationship with Richard was a fucking pig in a prom dress, and she had voted that bit
ch queen.

  The guilt she’d felt over the hunk in the plane melted away. The tension over possibly breaking Richard’s heart and executing their relationship with her baby announcement died. Right there, in the middle of bumfuckingfrozensomewhere, she finally saw what everyone else did, The Dick. And she was a fool for not seeing it before. He had no intention of marrying her or starting a family. No wonder his marriage failed. When John came back with supplies in a month and a half, she would head back home, free of this relationship. She and her two BFFs would start their business and she’d lock Walker and Erika in a fucking room until they worked their shit out.

  Those two belonged together, unlike she and The Dick; she could see that now. Letting her gaze drift up from the watch to linger on Richard’s face, an involuntary smile graced hers. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers—not in a romantic way, but in a gesture of thanks. Tori was honestly grateful for him opening her eyes to the truths that had always been there.

  “What was that for? Does the watch turn you on that much, Sweetheart?” He dragged her close and gave her a look that once dropped her panties like lead, but now turned them into a chastity belt. “Why don’t you get on your knees and show me how sexy you think I am?”

  It was all she could do not to laugh. That should have pissed her off, but instead, it just drove home her decisions and confirmed so much more than she would openly admit just yet. “Now Darlin’, some fancy bit of bling isn’t going to redefine the physical nature of our association.” Yep, she channeled a bit of Val’s Doc Holliday.

  Tori looked him dead in the eye and told him the truth, if not the meaning. “It was more of a thank you kiss. That was for changing my life in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. And,” she winked as she disengaged and grabbed her bags, “I can guarantee you, by the time I leave this cabin, I will have our relationship exactly where it should be.”