Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Tracy Lorraine

  Bailey has already left for her date when I get back, so I order myself some takeout and make myself a rum and Coke in the hope it’ll push away just a little of my worry for a while.

  It’s wishful thinking, because when I get into bed later that night, my head is full of concern for my aunt and confusion over Corey.

  I have no idea how long I’m there tossing and turning before a noise outside has me fully alert.

  Jumping from the bed, I peel the fabric back from the curtain as the doorbell rings through the house. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late.

  I don’t see anyone for a few moments, but then someone stands back and looks right up at me.

  Butterflies erupt almost instantly, and I run from the room to let him in.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Corey

  The second Harlow’s taxi turned the corner at the end of the street, I took off in the other direction toward the studio.

  I was numb, and the only thing I could see were the horrors from my nightmare. I knew I’d had it. I always do. Whether I remember the actual images playing out in my sleep or just wake with the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and my body covered in a sheen of sweat, I always know.

  I could just about handle them when I first came back to England and was forced to embark on life as a civi again, but then my already bullshit life got turned upside down once again. Now the memories, combined with my own imagination and the guilt, almost swallow me whole.

  It’s why I don’t allow women to stay over. They don’t need to see the darkness that I manage to fight in daylight but that consumes me at night.

  The day passes in a haze of memories and ink. I lose myself in my art.

  The only contact I allow myself to have with her is that one text. I typed and retyped it over and over, trying to find the right words. But there weren’t any.

  In the end, ‘thank you’ was all I could come up with. I had no idea if I was thanking her for the time we spent together, or for understanding this morning. Whatever it was for, it just felt right.

  If it weren’t for meeting Jonathan who discovered my hidden talent and then him introducing me to Zach when we were on leave, I’ve no idea what would have become of me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t actually be here now. Without a way to vent, to lose yourself, there’s no way that one person can deal with that much loss in such a short time.

  My leg tingles just like it does every time I think of my boys and how lightly I came out of the explosion that day. Two of us walked away. Two. But six years on, I’m the only one who’s still here to tell the tale. It’s a sobering thought and one I’ve clung to many times over those years. I want to keep their memories alive, even if I never talk about it.

  I’ve lost contact with their families now, who I hope have managed to rebuild their lives, and my only connection to Jonathan is Zach. We always raise a toast to him when we get together. To our fallen friend, the one who helped to put us both on the right tracks and find ourselves in ink.

  I sit on the edge of my bed, staring down at the tattoo covering my entire left leg. I remember Zach working on it as if it were yesterday. Then I place my hand to the one covering my heart. I might not be able to see that one so clearly, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less as I think of the person it’s for.

  A lump forms in my throat and I know that I can’t stay here alone tonight, feeling like I’m about to drown in the memories of those I’ve lost.

  Pulling on some clean clothes, I walk through my empty apartment and out the front door. I don’t have a destination in mind, I just walk. It’s a hell of a lot better than lying in bed, waiting for my nightmares to claim me.

  I walk for a while before I approach the surf shack. I glance up at the roof of the building and know exactly where I need to sit and think.

  Up there is the most peaceful place in the world, watching the waves crash in.

  “Good evening, Corey,” one of the waitresses sings as I walk through the front door. “Table for one?”

  “Actually, do you mind if I just go and sit up top for a bit?” It’s not the first time I’ve done this, but usually it’s Rachel who greets me and allows me special customer privileges.

  “Sure thing. You want me to bring you anything up?”

  “Nah, I’m good thanks.” She nods and stands aside so I can walk out the back and to the stairs that lead to the roof terrace.

  The last thing I expect to find when I reach the top is another figure sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the building and staring out at the inky night sea beyond.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll just…” I trail off as he turns toward me. “Colton?”

  He narrows his eyes at me as he pushes to stand.

  “Corey, Austin’s cousin,” I offer when I can see him trying to place me.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says like he has a fucking clue. I’m sure he meets hundreds of people on a weekly basis; he has no reason to remember me. “Having a rough night?”

  “Something like that. I’m sorry for intruding, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “It’s fine. I can share.” He lifts a bottle of Macallan and suddenly things feel a little lighter. “Go get a glass. We’ll shoot the shit, see if we can solve the world’s problems.”

  Moving before he changes his mind, I dash back down the stairs.

  “So what has you up here, wanting to outrun the world?” he asks after pouring me a very generous amount of whisky.

  A laugh falls from my lips.

  “I’ll take that as it being a woman?”

  “When isn’t it, man?”

  “You’ve got me there.”

  “You in the doghouse?”

  He lifts his glass. “Guilty. I just prefer this place to Baxter’s kennel,” Colton jokes, draining his own glass in one. “Hit me with it then, man.”

  I think of Harlow and where I should start. “I met this woman,” I sigh.

  “Harlow?”

  I glance over at him. He looks too amused and invested in this already for my liking.

  “Y-Yeah. You know about that?”

  He raises a brow. “Rylee might have mentioned it.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “She’s just happy to see Harlow happy… or it might be that she’s happy Bailey didn’t get her way. I can’t remember exactly.”

  “I think I dodged a bullet there.”

  Colton chuckles. “Oh man, you’ve no idea. So what’s the issue?”

  What is the issue? I’ve been asking myself that since I freaked out this morning. She told me it was fine, that she understood. Yet I pushed her away regardless, too afraid of showing anyone the darkness inside me.

  “I’ve got too much baggage to even consider embarking on a relationship. I warned her I don’t do tomorrows or forevers, but she won’t get out of my fucking head.”

  “Voodoo pussy,” Colton mutters.

  “What?” I ask, thinking I misheard.

  “Voodoo pussy,” he repeats. “It’s a real thing, man. Trust the master.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “You might as well stop fighting. She owns you whether you like it or not. Just give up and enjoy the ride.” A smug smirk curls at one side of his mouth. I think back to last night. The ride was pretty damn good.

  “You’re suggesting it’s a losing battle.”

  “You’ve already lost, my man. Now, why the fuck are you still here? Go get what you really want.”

  I climb to my feet, suddenly knowing exactly where I should be right now. “What about you?”

  “I’ll sit here for a while longer before I go back and apologize for being an asshole.”

  I laugh as I walk away. I’m just about to descend the first step when Colton calling my name stops me.

  “Whatever the baggage is, talk to her. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it’ll make it better.”

  I nod at him, a silent understanding passing between us.

  “Thanks, man. I’ll
see you around.”

  “Anytime. I like to think myself as some kind of a woman expert these days.” He laughs at himself before turning back to the sea. I don’t think it’s lost on either of us that if he were indeed an expert, then he wouldn’t be here drinking alone right now.

  I have a car heading my way before I even get to the bottom of the stairs, my need for her now stronger than ever.

  She’s like the little bit of light I need to make everything feel more bearable. And unlike many that have come before, when she looks into my eyes, she doesn’t see someone who’s broken and fighting his way through life. She just sees me, and as unnerving as it is, she gets it. She’s lost the most important people in her life, she understands the hell I’ve lived through without me even having to tell her the reality of it all.

  My feet crunch up the gravel on her driveway seconds after I step from the car. The house is in darkness. I hesitate as I lift my finger to ring the bell. She’s probably asleep; I have no idea how early I woke her this morning, but she deserves her rest after having to deal with me.

  Being the selfish arsehole that I am, though, my need is stronger right now.

  I press my finger to the button and listen to the ring as it cuts through the silence of the night.

  I don’t hear any movement and I begin to think she either isn’t in, slept through it, or just doesn’t want to see me.

  Taking a step back, I look to the upstairs windows in the hope of finding my answer. The curtain moves and there she is. Our eyes lock for a beat and something slams into my chest.

  I’ve needed her all day. It’s only now I’ve seen her that I realise just how desperate I really am.

  When I’m with her, everything falls away. It’s just us, two broken souls trying to deal with our losses and fighting to carve ourselves the lives we deserve. I might not have the details about her family, but I know enough to know that she has the same pain in her eyes. The same daily fight.

  Coldness washes through me when she slips back inside the room, but it only lasts a few seconds because a light comes on behind the door before I see her movement down the stairs through the small piece of frosted glass.

  My heart pounds and my fists curl in my need to pull her in my arms, and my cock stirs just at the thought of it.

  Hesitantly, she pulls the door open.

  “Corey, what are you—”

  I don’t give her a chance to finish her question or even bother with a verbal answer. Instead, my hand lands on her duck egg blue door, and I push it wider before stepping inside the house.

  Her hair is a mess from where she’s been in bed, and she’s wearing a white, almost see-through tank with a tiny pair of shorts that I’m sure wouldn’t actually cover her arse should she turn around.

  Fire fills her eyes as I close the space between us and her lips form an O as realisation hits her as to why I’m here.

  I feel like a selfish prick, turning up here and waking her to take what I need to make all the noise in my head go away, but I’m powerless to resist.

  Kicking the door closed behind me, the slam echoes through the house as I take her cheeks in my hands and slam my lips down on her.

  She gives herself over to the kiss immediately, and the second I seek entrance, her lips part and she hungrily sucks my tongue into her mouth.

  My little vixen.

  A growl rumbles up my throat and I lose all control.

  My mouth claims and my hands take everything she’s offering to me, the escape only she understands.

  The distraction.

  My fingers pull at the hem of her tank, and our lips part for the two seconds it takes for me to tug it over her head.

  Throwing it to the floor behind me, I retake her mouth, my hand dropping to her breast, palming the softness and pinching her nipple until she groans.

  “Corey,” she moans as my lips drop to her neck. Her fingernails scratch down my back as I continue teasing her. “More, Corey. More.”

  “Fuck,” I bark, unable to get my head around just how fucking perfect this woman is.

  Lifting her into my arms, I press her into the wall with my hips.

  “Oh God,” she moans when my solid length presses against her clit.

  “You feel that, baby?” I mutter against her collarbone.

  She nods eagerly, her fingers in my hair tugging, the bite of pain making my head spin.

  “So hard,” she moans, licking her lips like the master seductress she is.

  “All for you.”

  I don’t give her a chance to respond, because I pull her from the wall. I’ve never been inside her house so I have no idea which room is which, but I’m so desperate I’d take her in her fucking garage right now if it had a decent surface.

  I find her living room and lower her to her feet. Slipping my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, I push both those and her knickers down her thighs until they pool around her ankles.

  “Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  Colour hits her cheeks, and it only makes her that much more breathtaking.

  She stands naked as I run my eyes over her, my body still fully covered, but she doesn’t bat an eyelid. Her nipples are peaked and her chest heaves. I know that if I were to run a finger through her folds then she would be soaked for me.

  When my eyes come back up to her face, she quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “Are you just going to stand there staring or…”

  She hasn’t finished her question before I reach behind me and pull my t-shirt over my head, quickly followed by toeing off my shoes and dropping my trousers and boxers to the floor.

  I kick myself free of the fabric before crushing my body to hers. My hands are everywhere—I have no idea where I want to touch first. Our kiss is frenzied as we both try to take what we need even though we already know that it’ll never be enough.

  Or at least I hope that’s what she’s thinking too.

  She moans for more and my cock weeps.

  “Turn around,” I demand in her ear. She shudders as my breath tickles her sensitive skin, but she does as she’s told.

  Resting her forearms against the back of the sofa, she sticks her arse out temptingly toward me and I groan at the sight.

  “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

  She chuckles before moving her legs wider and arching her back.

  “Fucking shit.”

  Stepping forward, I run my fingers through her wetness before dipping them into her to ensure she’s ready.

  “Corey,” she moans, grinding down on my fingers, trying to find more.

  “Patience,” I mutter, although I must admit that I’m feeling less than patient myself right now.

  She groans and continues moving her hips until I remove my fingers.

  “Please, Corey. You can’t turn up here like this and not… fuuuuck.”

  I thrust into her in one move. I take her hip in one hand, my fingers digging into her skin, while the other slides into her hair, pulling as her back arches.

  “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she chants as I start moving.

  Her walls ripple around me, squeezing me so tight that I have to fight to get control of myself.

  “So fucking good,” I groan as I pull almost all the way out before thrusting back in.

  I hit so deep inside her that my eyes damn near cross.

  Taking the length of her hair in my fist, I pull so she has no choice but to arch further into me. She cries out in pleasure as I hit her at a slightly different angle.

  “Good, baby?”

  “Fuck, so good.”

  Her fingers find mine at her hip, and she threads them together as I continue my punishing pace.

  The only thing that exists in my world right now is her and discovering just how loud I can make her scream.

  She is exactly what I need.

  I don’t allow the magnitude of that realisation to hit me. Instead, I sweep it under the rug like so many other parts of my life to deal wi
th at a later time. This right now is about actions, pleasure, and taking what we need. There are no feelings, no futures, not even any tomorrows. It’s just skin slapping, chest heaving, lip biting pleasure to chase away the demons that lurk in our pasts.

  “Corey, Corey, Corey,” she begins to chant when her release gets closer. I don’t need her words. I feel it. She grows impossibly tight as she races towards her orgasm, and I already know that I’m going to be powerless to stop myself falling over the edge with her.

  “Corey!” she cries as her pussy clamps down around me, and I lose all control. The world falls away as I drown in everything this woman is.

  My chest heaves as I come back to myself and a trickle of sweat runs down my temple from the exertion.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter, wiping at my forehead with the back of my hand.

  “You can say that again,” Harlow mutters quietly where she’s half folded over the back of her sofa.

  I’m still inside of her, my cock still semihard, and I know that in only moments I’ll be ready to go again. The tingles my orgasm left behind might still be zapping around my body, but I already know it’s not enough.

  Pulling from her, I spin her and lift her into my arms and realisation hits me. I didn’t use a condom. My heart thunders in my chest, but the second her eyes find mine, I relax.

  “Hey,” she says, looking at me with soft, heavy-lidded eyes and pushing the thought aside.

  “Surprise!”

  She laughs, and my chest constricts once again in a way I’m becoming all too used to when I’m around her. “It sure was.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

  A wicked smile curls at her lips. “It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

  I shrug. “You can still kick me out if you like.”

  “Nah, I think I’ll make use of you now you’re here.”

  “Oh?”