Page 7 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Five

Trent

S he smells like a woman should. Sweet and inviting. I used to know what kind of perfume she wears. But it seems different now. Better.

Or maybe I just fucking missed everything about her. Including her scent.

My heartbeat pounds down into my balls, and in my bullet wounds. But fuck it. The doc who told me not to get worked up never saw my sister.

We’re just a few feet from the bed. One quick movement of my hands and I’d have her then two more steps and I’d show her what it means to be mine.

Her curvy waist draws my eyes down. Every inch of her makes me fucking salivate. In the full-length mirror behind her, I see her lush, round ass. Her bottom teetering perfectly inside that little dress.

I catch the groan in my throat because, fuck, her dress has little red cherries all over it. Lust screams through every cell in my body, so demanding, I could almost bend her over and take her by force.

She wouldn’t be standing here if she knew I’d spent my whole tour fantasizing about fucking her.

Getting my mouth between her legs. Lapping up her sweet juices while I mount her on my face.

The feel of her heavy tits in my hands as I pound into her doggy style then turn her around and suck those nipples until they swell and realize what they were made for.

I dreamed a thousand dreams of breeding that hot little womb of hers. Spanking that ass.

Jesus. That ass…

“Trent?” she barely whispers.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Bullshit. I’m not sorry. Not for any of it. She’s mine. She just doesn’t fucking know it yet. “My mind was somewhere else.” Between your legs. In your mouth. “Fucking jet lag.”

“I asked if you’ll be okay in the shower.”

Christ. Looking at her, I know my desire for her has gone way off center, way into the fringe.

All those nights alone, jacking off to her in my bunk.

So much cum spilled in her name. I imagined her red ass, ripe from my own hand.

Fantasies of my little girl turning into my personal fuck toy whenever I desire.

I fucking know she could take it. Take it rough and ready.

I know she’d let me lead and hold on for dear life.

Sometimes I wondered, if I ever did get my hands on her, whether I’d be able to control myself and not just fuck right through her.

Bathe her soft insides with my hot cream until she’s bound to me forever.

Fuck her until my balls run dry, then make her sleep with my dick inside her like a fucking breeding cork, holding every drop inside until it does its job.

But, that’s not all. God, the nights I imagined her bending to me, looking to me, needing me. Like a child needs a father. Taking care of her in ways others might not understand. But it had to be right.

I try to shake off those thoughts. Those fucking filthy, forbidden thoughts. But every time I look at her, they come roaring back like fucking wildfire.

“Trent? Come on now. Don’t keep drifting off on me, please. You’re scaring me.”

She has no fucking idea how hard it is to focus with her sweet-cream cleavage in my face.

It’s so fucking distracting and she makes me so fucking hard that I’m just about to tell her to get out of here, leave me in peace, let a grown man jack off before his head explodes, when I realize I can’t get rid of her yet. Because of these fucking bullet holes.

“I just… I need to change the bandages before I take a shower. I can do the two on my chest, but the two on the back I can’t fucking reach.”

She looks relieved almost, happy to have something to do. “Tell me what to do.”

I eye my duffel on the floor. “There’s a med kit inside. You need to help me put the waterproof bandages on with waterproof tape.” I tug my shirt out of my pants, as she watches me. And I slowly peel it off my body.

While the tee-shirt is covering my face, I swear to fucking god I hear her let out this little chirping sound. A whimper almost. I yank it over my head and get a look at her, but she’s looking at her fingernails but her face is tomato red.

Fuck, that blush. It’s all over her chest now.

“You…” Her voice shakes a little. She clears her throat and takes a shaky breath. “You’ve got new ink. Nice.”

For a long second, the heat pulses between us and it takes all my fucking willpower not to tackle her onto the white rug and consummate this deal right this second.

“Thanks. I even got one for you.”

She blinks a few times, rapid and unsure. “You did? ”

I nod. “Yeah. Right here.”

I glance down at my left shoulder. Right there, between the bravo company insignia and the deep blacks of my tribal tattoos, sits silhouetted kitty cat, black with its tail curled. Her favorite. The reason she got her nickname.

“No way,” she says, beaming. “You didn’t.”

Her sweet little fingers trace the edges of its tail, its ears. Her touch releases an instant throb of desire from my cock, making me so fucking hard that I can barely see straight. “Yeah. I got it on your birthday.”

“You didn’t say. You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to show you.”

“It looks really nice,” she says, eyes twinkling, dimples fucking blazing. “So pretty and unexpected.”

Fuck. Just like her. “Yeah. I thought you’d like it. But don’t get too much closer.”

Her eyes dart up to mine. “Why?”

Because I can smell your fucking wetness and I want to ram my meat into you without asking. “Because I haven’t showered in like, three days.”

Her eyelashes flutter as she raises a brow, holding a finger up as if to clear her thoughts, laughing a little. “Right. Okay. Bandages.”

I move to loosen the brass buckle on my belt, letting the loose ends hang open. She kneels down and opens the zipper on the duffel, carefully pulling out my tee-shirts, my camo pants and jacket and my boxers, until she finds the white bag with the red cross on the front.

But just as she’s grabbing it, I see the one thing in the world that I can’t let her find. It’s tucked in behind the medic kit. My journal, identical to the one I gave her, except mine is black.

Fuck. Fuck.

“I got it,” I say, trying to distract her. “Here, let me get it. ”

“No, no you don’t. I’ve…” She picks it up to set it aside and two photos fall to the cream carpet.

The first is of her, in a pink sweater with miniature black cats all over it and sunglasses on her head as she sticks her tongue out at the camera.

The second is of the two of us together, her in a yellow retro style bikini and me in swim trunks, from the summer my parents rented a cabin at the lake.

She was self-conscious about the bathing suit.

There were other girls around and Kat took to wearing one of my huge t-shirts whenever she went out to the beach.

It broke my heart that she felt her body somehow didn’t measure up.

She was soft curves and womanly hips before her time, but she was a goddess even then.

I got her to take off the t-shirt for the photo. Had to give her ten bucks but it was worth so much more.

She glances up at me, smiling, tongue pinned between her teeth. “Oh.”

She doesn’t seem pissed. And I’m fucking relieved. But before I can retrieve the journal, she sets it down and the pages fall open and there’s the rest of it.

My sketches. Of her. Naked.

Fucking hundreds of them.

Her jaw drops as she flips through a few pages and I stand frozen. Her letters to me are taped to the pages, the edges well-worn and dark.

Her head snaps toward me and in her eyes I see it. Fear. Because all these years, I’ve had my eye on her. Her and no other woman in the world.

“Put it back,” I grit out.

She doesn’t move. Except for her trembling fingers.

“What is this?” she asks. Her voice catches, looking at me, as I try to pin her down with my eyes.

The fact that she’s fucking kneeling in front of me isn’t helping matters at all. One glance in the mirror behind her gives me visions of her doing something else entirely there on her knees and my cock responds with a powerful throb and a rush of semen sticky against my boxers.

“Put it back Kat .”

She doesn’t. It’s like she can’t.

Because this is the fucking Rubicon. Now she knows. Now there’s no going back.

With a deep breath, she breaks the silence. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” Her eyes are strong enough now to look up and meet mine.

And in those pretty brown eyes I see her fucking fire.

“I told you to put it down. Why the fuck don’t you listen, Kat?”

She stands up slowly, lips trembling. “You… you think of me? Like…” Her lips shake even more, almost bursting with tears, with emotion. “Like…that?”

God damn it. If she takes one step closer, there’s no fucking telling what I’ll do.

But she’s holding me fucking hostage with those eyes. Those cheeks. That face.

We should both be embarrassed and I know it. But neither of us is, I know that too. So here we are, at the darkest place, the forbidden threshold.

One of us better fucking flinch. Because if we don’t…

She reaches out and touches my forearm. The lightest touch, but it’s a fucking knockout punch to my heart.

It’s like I can feel her own heart pounding through mine.

“Kat,” is all I manage, then grab her flip flops off the floor, turn herby the shoulders, and shove her out the door with her sandals behind her.

I shut it behind her, and then fall back on the bed, grabbing my head and squeezing.

It is my fucking duty to resist this. My fucking honor to keep her safe. From anything. From anyone.

From me.