Page 17 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Fourteen

Trent

“ I thought it would be easier the second time, but it isn’t , ” she whispers, as she carefully and tenderly unpeels the medical tape from my skin.

Her eyes shimmer with tears, and then she blinks them away, but unsuccessfully.

Her eyes go damp as she looks at my wounds. “You’re so lucky to be alive.”

I know what she’s seeing. I can see them in the mirror behind me, reflected in the mirror over the sink in front of me.

And it looks fucking awful, which it is.

Two bullets tore right the fuck through me, missing all my vital organs by some fucking miracle, and exploding out the back of me like comets.

“What were you doing out there?” she asks. She carefully unpeels another edge of tape on the next bandage.

What I was I doing? Dangerous shit for a good cause, at least that’s what I told myself. Not something I’m going to burden her with now, or maybe ever. “I can’t talk about it. Alright? ”

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “But it’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

My heart fucking breaks. I want to tell her. I want to tell her everything. Always have, always will. But more than that, I want to protect her. To keep her safe from the world. My world, if necessary.

My nights are spent in visions of the waking nightmare that has been my life. Sleep comes in minutes, not hours, and only helps to make the flashbacks more vivid. The smell of singed flesh stronger, the cries of the guys in my group louder. Last breaths. Tears in the fucking dirt and sand.

Tell my mother…

Tell my wife…

Nothing trains you for that shit. It’s only your own will that powers you through the sight of your own bullet blast through the skull of your first kill.

Sitting on top of a building for hours, waiting, your only companion steel and iron, pressed against your eye, waiting for your target to come between the cross hairs.

Then time stops. Life stops. The world stops. The laser locks on and your index finger squeezes. Boom.

That shit fucked me up. I’m not the only one—so few guys come out the other side, so few guys are capable of rebuilding something, anything, that resembles a life.

I knew when I boarded that cargo plane that Kat was my next target.

She had been in my cross hairs for way too many fucking years.

The forbidden fruit that haunted my dreams. That filled my fantasies.

I decided on that flight home, watching the gauze bandages fill with blood, that somehow, someway, I was going to fucking have her.

Sister, step-sister, whatever, there was nobody else for me but her. Time is not promised, another heavy, brutal lesson burned into me while I was away.

Now, here she is, her hands bandaging my physical wounds, but healing me in so many other ways .

Her body brushes against mine. And each time it does, I feel some broken shards inside me come back together again.

But if only she knew that every fucking time I glance at her, every time she smiles, every time I see her dimple, my cock jerks in my pants.

Every second now, my mind is flooded with the memory of her on my tongue. The sweet, silky softness of her folds. The peak of her hard clit under my tongue.

Dreams are made of her.

Her breath, her movement, her scent. Her warmth. And last night, for the first time in as long as I can remember, everything was okay. I was okay. And if she stays with me, which she fucking will, I’ll always be okay.

But I’m not handing her this fucking baggage. Never.

“Kitty Kat. I can’t.” I keep my voice low and commanding so she knows I’m not fucking around.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

The quiver in her voice, it reminds me so much of how she sounded in bed last night. I’m barely able to think, being so close to her now. I glance at her ass in the mirror and suppress a groan. The softness of her skin, the roundness of her ass, the way it rippled when I spanked it.

Jesus. My dick is pulsing already, just thinking about fucking her again.

And if she knew that, she’d fucking run. Because I might just fuck her to death if she isn’t careful.

Time for a subject change; much more of this and I’ll be fucking her against the bathroom sink until she cries. “Movers are coming soon to unpack your stuff. Just tell them where you want it. I’ll be back after I meet with the estate attorney.”

Her expression hardens, petulant like she was when she was a kid. “So wait. You just assume I’m moving in here?” She rips a piece of tape off the roll angrily.

Nothing pisses her off like someone making decisions for her. I know that. But fuck it. That’s just the way it’s going to be. “You want to fight me on this? You won’t win.”

Her hands move deliberately, placing the new white gauze over the evidence of my life for the last two years. Her fingers shake a little, and I can tell she’s wound up tight. All full of questions and worry. “Is this even… is this even a good idea? You and me? Here?”

“Like I give a fuck about good ideas when it comes to you.”

Her eyes flash, and I see a little smile. But only for a millisecond. “Trent. I’m serious.”

“And you think I’m not? We’ve lived together since we were kids. And we’re going to keep living together. Especially after last night. You hear me?”

She hears me, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. “I don’t need you to take care of me, okay? Maybe I don’t want to live here. Ever think of that?”

You little stubborn brat. I spin around to face her, leaving her hands spread in the air with medical tape dangling from her fingers.

“Look me in the fucking eye and tell me you don’t want to be here.”

She blinks up at me, setting her teeth. But behind all that fire, there’s still that little girl. That scared, sweet little girl that it’s been my job to care for since day fucking one.

“We’ve been keeping this thing between us bottled up for years. But now it’s happened and I’m never letting you go. You get that?”

She looks angry enough to slap me. To really slap me. Just let her fucking try. “You aren’t the boss of me.”

Here we go.

“I’m not your boss, Kitty Kat. I’m your fucking Daddy . And your job, your only fucking job, is to listen to me. Besides, I’m pretty damn sure I knocked you up already, so it’s you and me, babe. Forever. ”

I can tell she’s indignant. I can tell she’s pissed. I can tell she doesn’t like me white-knighting like this. But that’s just tough fucking shit.

“I want you here. You want to be here. So, let’s skip the drama.”

She swallows loud enough for me to hear it. “Yeah. I do. You know I do. But…”

I shake my head and tip her chin up so she’s looking at me again. “No buts. ”

Her eyes lower finally. Her shoulders soften. Her eyelashes kiss her pretty cheeks. “Fine. Fine. Turn around. Let me finish getting you put back together.”

God. I’ve needed this for so long. So much. But she’s got a lot of learning to do. “Say please and Daddy .”

“Let me put you back together, please, Daddy, ” she says. And then a smile. And the dimples. And I’m a fucking goner all over again.

I let her finish patching me up, even though it takes all my will power. But before she can toss the handful of wrappers from the gauze and bandages, I take her by the wrist and pull her close. Our mouths find one another, like instinct, as I drink her in.

Her tongue against mine sets me on fucking fire. The kiss brings a different kind of flashback, a very different kind. Her tongue spinning around my cock, the way she cupped my balls. Like she was made for me.

And that tight little cunt. Fuck almighty.

She pulls back a little, shocked maybe by the intensity of the kiss, but I don’t let her get far.

I reach behind her, hand to the small of her back to keep her close.

She lets the wrappers fall to the floor and holds my shoulders, straddling me now almost automatically.

I tilt my head back, watching her, looking at her spread legs as they take their place on either side of me in the chair.

Full cherry lips. Those chocolate eyes. I’m so fucking lost in her and only my cock inside her will help me make sense of the world again.

I kiss her neck, running my hands up and down her back, pulling her open legs down further onto my lap so she’s riding my hard-on through my shorts.

“You’re my little girl, Kitty Kat. And you’re going to learn what that means. You’ll always be my little girl,” I whisper into the curve of her neck as I trace the shell of her ear with my tongue.

She moans in pleasure, letting her neck fall back, so her curls kiss the tops of my knees.

“When I woke up this morning,” she says, half whisper, half purr, “I wanted to resist this.”

I growl into her throat. “And now?”

“I can’t resist. I won’t resist.” She melts into my lap, into my strong arms, surrendering.

Boom, boom, boom goes blood pulsing in my dick, ready to get inside her, ready to destroy that sweet, slick pussy again.

“You said you have places to be.” She breathes her words, shudders them out, as I suck hard on her neck, leaving her speechless and quivering.

“Doesn’t fucking matter. Because you feel that?” I grip her hips, grinding her down onto the steel rod inside my pants. “ This can’t wait.”

“Oh my god.” And in one move, I lift her up and over, pinning her down on the bed, parting her legs wide and going for her pussy. I bite the fabric of her skirt, and grab it hard between my incisors, ripping the fabric apart.

“Jesus, Trent…”

I spit the fabric to the floor and stand. “Get those fucking panties off,” I growl.

Kat wriggles out of her shredded white panties, all fucking creamy curves and soft skin. Wanting her like this, needing her like this, it makes me fucking hate her a little. Makes me want to punish her for being so goddamned beautiful.

“Come here, baby.” I drop my pants and kick them off. Kat gasps at the sight of my naked body, and that little gasp makes my cock bob to even-higher attention.

“I can’t believe that was inside me.”