Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Tracy Lorraine

  “No.”

  “No?” I step toward her again, and she takes another back until she bumps up against the island.

  “No.”

  “Well, I don’t have a TV, so that’s out. Is there anything else I can interest you in?”

  Her eyes drop from mine in favour of my chest, and, in my need to get closer, I lift my arm behind me and drag my shirt up and over my head. Her eyes feast on me, getting darker and darker by the second.

  She bites down on her bottom lip as I step right up to her. Her soft breasts brush against my chest and my cock hardens for her.

  “Corey,” she moans, reacting to the simple touch in the same way.

  “What is it you want, Vix?”

  “Y-You.”

  “Fuck.”

  Taking her cheeks in my palms, I tilt her head back and slam my lips to hers. They part immediately, her tongue coming out to dance with mine as if she’s as desperate for this as I am.

  It’s been almost a week since I was inside her, and that’s too damn long. She’s been the only thing I can think about since I met her; not having her again was never a question.

  My hands drop to her arse so I can lift her onto the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist, lining us up perfectly, and we both moan into our kiss, desperate for more.

  I push the fabric from her shoulders before wrapping my fingers around the bottom of her tank and pulling it up her body.

  Our lips part, but only for a second. The moment the fabric is clear of her face, she’s reaching for me once again.

  I kiss along her jaw and down her neck as I palm her still lace-covered breasts. She moans above me as I pinch her already pert nipples through the fabric.

  My name is a plea on her lips, and it makes my head spin with desire.

  “Fuck. I need you.”

  “Yes. Yes,” she chants as I slide my palms up her thighs, taking the fabric of her skirt with them until it bunches around her waist.

  “These are pretty,” I say, running my finger over the damp lace between her thighs as she squirms about on my kitchen counter.

  “Oh God. More. Please.” Her legs widen as she tries to find my friction.

  “That’s it, my little vixen,” I encourage. “Tell me what you need.”

  “I-I need you. I need everything.”

  Slipping the fabric aside, I run my finger through her wet folds and her head falls back in pleasure. Making the most of the opportunity, I fix my lips to the sensitive skin of her neck and suck and lick as I slide my fingers deep inside her.

  “Oh God. Oh God.”

  With a hand on the small of her back, I slide her forward to allow me to push up higher into her. I want to find the spot that makes her scream.

  “Corey,” she cries when I hit it and start to up my tempo.

  I kiss down her chest and over the swell of her breasts, but I need more. Releasing the clasp of her bra, I watch in delight as the fabric falls from her body, revealing her tits to me. I waste no time in leaning forward and sucking one of her rosy pink peaks into my mouth.

  She tastes even better than I remember. I lick and bite while I fuck her into a frenzy.

  “Come for me, Vixen,” I demand between kisses. In only seconds her walls clamp down around my fingers so tightly that it makes my cock weep and she screams out my name into my empty flat. Suddenly, this place doesn’t feel so cold, so depressing. She’s only been here a few moments, yet she’s already brought colour and life into a place I avoid at all costs. It’s too much of a stark reminder of my reality. I might look like I’m living the high life in LA running Zach’s newest studio, but the man behind that mask is a very different story.

  She’s barely come down from her high when I pull her into my body. Her legs automatically wrap around my waist, and her arms cling to my shoulders as I move us toward the back of the flat and my bedroom.

  Once again, she doesn’t take any notice of her surroundings as her lips land on my rough jaw and kiss down my neck. She grinds her hips, knowing full well that she’s pressed up tightly against my length, and a growl rumbles up my throat.

  The second we’re in my room, I throw her down on my bed and watch as she bounces a few times before I reach out to remove what’s left of her clothing.

  “I need you naked. Now,” I warn as I pop the button on her skirt and drag it down her legs. Her knickers follow, leaving her gloriously bare and waiting for me. “Better, much better.”

  She pushes herself so she’s sitting and resting back on her palms. She allows me the time I need to get my fill, although I already know it’ll never be enough. I could stare at her all night, but I know the second she leaves in the morning that I’ll want to do it all over again. It’s fucking unnerving.

  Before I’m ready, she scoots over to the edge of the bed. I want to tell her to go back, but the moment her fingers brush the skin above the waistband of my jeans and boxers, all thoughts leave my mind.

  “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?”

  I open my mouth to reply, to tell her that I want nothing more than to watch her suck my cock deep into her mouth once again, but all words leave me when she releases my jeans and pushes everything down my hips. My cock springs free and she licks her lips as she stares at it like it’s her next meal.

  She doesn’t bother fully removing my remaining clothes. Instead, she wraps her fingers around me and leans forward.

  “Fuuuuuck,” I groan as she licks the tip of me. I thread my fingers into her red hair and hold her in place. Her huge chestnut eyes find mine and something happens in my chest. Something that tells me that I’m never going to be able to let her go.

  Fuck.

  My thoughts are lost when she leans forward, sucking my length into her mouth. I hit the back of her throat before she pulls back and licks around the tip once again.

  “Fuck, Harlow.” She smiles around me at my praise and, thankfully, keeps going.

  Long before I’m ready for it to end, my balls draw up and my cock twitches violently in her mouth. She doesn’t miss a beat in swallowing me down.

  Fuck, this woman has me on my knees and she has no idea.

  Unable to bear not touching her, I crawl over her body, forcing her to scramble up the bed.

  “You’re right,” I mumble against her neck.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You’re not a princess. No princess sucks cock quite like that.”

  She barks out a laugh, the sound making tingles erupt in my body. “Have a lot of experience with that?”

  “Oh yeah. I was a regular visitor at Buckingham Palace back in the day.” I tickle down her side and she squirms beneath me.

  “I can just picture you having afternoon tea with the Queen.”

  Looming over her, I take one of her nipples in my mouth before kissing down her stomach.

  Pushing her legs wide, I lick up her seam as she sighs in pleasure.

  “I much prefer dirty princesses.” The vibration of my voice makes her moan seconds before I seal my lips around her.

  She’s screaming once again in seconds. It seems sucking me off got her all worked up.

  No sooner has she come down from her release that I grab a condom from the bedside table and slide into her scorching wet heat.

  Now this place really feels like home.

  “Promise me something,” I ask when we both fall down onto the bed with heaving chests after our second round.

  “Sure.”

  “Promise me that you’ll still be here in the morning.”

  She turns to me, her dark eyes going all soft. I hate that my words might be giving her ideas about the future, but for the first time in my adult life, the prospect of waking up to a woman doesn’t freak me the fuck out. The last thing I want is her running off again. I’d much prefer her to be right here so we can start our day properly.

  “O-okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You’d better make it worth my while though,” she says with a wink, maki
ng me laugh.

  “Oh, you can fucking guarantee it, Vix.”

  Rolling her over, I press my lips to hers. If she thinks she’s sleeping yet, then she needs to think again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harlow

  A pain in my side drags me from my sleep. I blink a couple of times in the darkness, trying to figure out what it was and where I am. When it happens again, everything comes back to me.

  “No,” Corey cries, his arms flailing around like he’s trying to grab something. “No, let me help. No, let me go.” His voice is deep with emotion as he continues to fight his imaginary demons.

  I scramble so I’m sitting on my knees beside him.

  “Corey,” I say gently, reaching out to touch him.

  He throws his arm around once more and it connects with mine, making it go dead immediately. Understanding the pain he’s in right now, I rush to try to drag him from his nightmare.

  My heart aches for him that whatever it is that causes shadows in his eyes during waking hours also disturbs his slumber.

  “Corey,” I repeat louder in the hope of dragging him from his nightmare. “It’s okay.” I put more pressure onto his chest as I shake him awake.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice broken and distant. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you awake?” I ask, although I’m not surprised when he doesn’t respond. That apology wasn’t meant for me. It’s for whomever he’s dreaming about.

  I lie back beside him once he’s settled, but I can’t switch off. Just those few simple words from whatever is haunting him stir up memories of my own. Of the people I couldn’t save and who only found themselves in danger because of me.

  A sob rumbles up my throat as my loss hits me full-force. I’d have hoped that after all these years it would have been easier, but it never is. I came to the conclusion a few years ago that the pain and regret are just something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

  Pushing myself from his bed as quietly as I can, I grab one of his shirts that’s been abandoned on the floor, but before I pull it over my head, I gather it in front of my nose. His smell takes me back to being encased in his arms as I drifted off to sleep last night. I’ve slept in a bed with other people more times than I can count, but I’ve never fallen asleep in a man’s arms before.

  It was as comforting as much as it was unsettling.

  I’ve only known this man a week, yet he’s somehow managed to wriggle his way behind the armor I wear on a daily basis. He’s becoming an addiction I’m not sure I want to break anytime soon.

  I look over at where he’s sleeping. He’s on his back with one arm thrown over his head. His lips are parted, and his dark eyelashes rest on his cheekbones. One leg is out of the covers, revealing the mass of ink down almost the entire length.

  Pulling his shirt over my head, I walk over to him. I may have seen him naked on two occasions now, but I’ve never really had the chance to study his art. As I get closer, I notice something that’s passed me by the last two times. The tattoos on his left leg aren’t just artwork. I drop to my knees, feeling like a bit of a creep for studying him when he’s unaware, but the rippling and stretching of the skin beneath the ink draws me in.

  There are scars, and a lot of them.

  I gasp at the severity. He’s done a fantastic job of covering it. You’d never know from a distance that anything was amiss. Hell, I didn’t notice and I’ve slept with him twice. The artist that did all of this is incredible. There’s a Union Jack, dog tag, a gun, and other army paraphernalia inked onto his leg along with a series of names. Most of the ink is in black, but laced through it all are bright red poppies and the script Lest we forget. My breath catches and tears burn the backs of my eyes at what he must have been through.

  Standing, I silently back away from him and leave the room. When he told me about being medically discharged last weekend and about losing some of his guys, he said it so lightly that I didn’t really think about what that meant. But seeing that has reality crashing down. No wonder he’s so closed off about love and his future. He’s probably just trying to get through each day. My nightmares must pale in comparison to the things he’s seen, the things he’s experienced.

  The small hallway is void of any furniture or possessions, and I wrap my arms around myself as I make my way down to the kitchen and living area.

  I didn’t have a chance to look at my surroundings when we first arrived here last night. I was too consumed by him. But now I see that this apartment isn’t a home. It’s just a place he exists in.

  I chew on my bottom lip as I look around the bare space. There’s an old couch and coffee table in the middle of the living area along with a small, empty bookcase. There’s no TV, no photographs or ornaments, any of the things that turn a place into a home.

  It’s just empty. Cold. Sad.

  A shudder runs down my spine despite the warm morning sun beginning to pour through the curtainless window. I take a step closer and sigh. At least he can see the ocean from here.

  With a sad sigh, I turn back to the kitchen. The only thing on the counter is a coffee machine. A small smile creeps onto my lips. I’m glad he has some priorities right.

  I pause at the hallway and listen to see if he’s awake, but when I hear nothing but his soft snores, I continue to the machine that’s calling my name.

  I stare at it, figuring out how it works before setting about finding a pod and a mug.

  Pulling the first cupboard open, I find it empty, and the next, then the next.

  Corey’s been here a couple of months. How has he lived like this?

  I locate a solitary mug and place it under the machine before starting on my quest for pods.

  As expected, the first few drawers are empty, but then I pull one open that has a few bits of paperwork inside. I’m about to shut it, not wanting to pry, but at the last minute the large red eviction notice stamp catches my eye.

  Unable to help myself, I pull the letter out.

  It’s dated three days ago and has an eviction date of Friday.

  I look back to where he is when I hear a noise before quickly shoving the letter back where I found it. The last thing he needs is to catch me prying.

  Suddenly the emptiness of the place makes sense. He’s getting ready to leave. But why is he being evicted? He’s got a good job. His eyes light up when he talks about it and his boss back in London. He’s told me that he’s getting paid well for setting it up like he has.

  I stand motionless for a few minutes as everything settles in my head.

  Something’s not right here.

  I desperately want to ask him about it, but I can’t. It’s not my place or my business. We’ve slept together twice, and he’s already made it abundantly clear that there is no forever option here.

  My need to help nags at me, but it’s not my place. I barely know the guy.

  Going back to my original mission, I locate the coffee pods and get the machine started. I definitely need caffeine now.

  I take my mug and curl myself into the corner of the couch, staring out at the deserted beach beyond. I love my house, but a view of the ocean sure would make it better. I love watching the waves crash in. I could lose a lot of hours if I had it on a daily basis.

  I have no idea how much time passes before I hear Corey padding down the hallway, but the mug in my hands is long empty and I’m starting to get a stiff neck where I’m craning slightly to get the best view.

  “I thought you’d left again,” he says, dejection clear in his tone, and it throws me for a loop.

  Last night he was telling me he doesn’t do forever, then he’s disappointed that I might have left. Surely that’s exactly what someone who isn’t looking for long-term wants, right?

  I sigh, feeling like I’m already spinning out of control with my confusion. But I really don’t want to be one of those women who asks questions like ‘where is this going?’ because I already know the answer.

  “
Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Am I that bad a bed mate?” His voice is lighter as he jokes, and it makes me wonder if he remembers his nightmare.

  “No, not at all.”

  “I see you found the coffee machine.”

  “It wasn’t hard, there’s nothing else in here.”

  “Yeah,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “About that…”

  “Are you moving?” I ask when I get the sense that he needs an out.

  “Uh… yeah, something like that.”

  “It’s a shame, this place is nice. Great view.” I nod toward the window.

  “The bedroom has a balcony.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go have coffee out there.”

  “We’ll have to share. I’ve only got one mug.”

  I shrug, passing him the empty mug in my hands.

  I stand and take his hand as he walks away with his shoulders lowered.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t care about this place.”

  “It’s not exactly the place I wanted to bring you back to.”

  “I didn’t come back for your apartment, Corey. I came here for you.”

  “Yeah?” The beginnings of his signature smirk start to appear on his lips.

  “Yeah. Maybe we should forget about coffee. I can think of something I want more.”

  He abandons the mug in the kitchen as we pass before taking both of my hands in his, he begins walking backward and toward the bedroom.

  Yeah, the coffee can wait.

  It’s two hours later before we’re both dressed and I manage to get him out of the door for breakfast.

  “Do you have any preference?” he asks as he threads his fingers with mine and pulls me toward the stairs.

  “Nope. I don’t know this side of town very well. Where’s good?”

  “I know just the place.”

  Ignoring the camper that’s sitting in the parking lot, we head out on foot. We walk in silence. I’m desperate to ask about his nightmare, but I’m scared how he might react. I know from personal experience that someone bringing up something you’re trying desperately hard to forget about is almost worse than the nightmare itself.