Damaged and the Outlaw (Damaged #4)

“Let me see if I can rekindle your interest, cheeky,” I said, exploring her soft skin.

Raven watched me lick and nibble at her flesh. When I looked up at her and our gazes met, there was something too perfect about the expression in her fair blue eyes. A smile lingered on her lips and I couldn’t help myself. Kissing her gently, I wanted her to feel beautiful and protected. Raven Hancock should feel like a princess in the arms of her prince. Mostly, I hungered to learn everything there was to know about the blonde goddess underneath me.

Exploring her body, I discovered a Tinker Bell tattoo on her back, just above her left shoulder blade. The fairy sat on a sparkling purple mushroom with a pink butterfly resting on her knee and a blue one flying up into the clouds. So detailed it nearly seemed real, I sensed the tat was done by Aaron. Few guys were capable of creating such emotion in a cartoon character’s expression.

Around midnight, I discovered another interesting fact about her. While Raven didn’t mind getting rough during sex, she was considerably less cool with anything rough when no longer aroused.

As she crawled past me on the bed to tug off my remaining sock, I playfully slapped her ass. Raven immediately swung around and slapped me across the face.

“Don’t ever hit me,” she hissed.

Rubbing my face, I realized she was seriously ready to claw my face off. I found this overreaction oddly endearing.

“I was playing,” I told her.

“No man will hit me. I’m no one’s bitch.”

“Playing,” I said, leaning back on the dark silky sheets.

“I refuse to be dominated.”

Giving her a grin, I reached out and caressed the hand that hit me. “Is that your way of saying you want to be on top again? Have at it, Dixie cup. I’m ready for another round.”

Raven glared at me for a long time. Eventually, a smile slid across her face. “Fuck that. I’m tired. You serve me.”

“What makes you think I want to be dominated?”

“You have a look about you,” she said, tugging off the sock that survived hours of naked play. “I just sense you’re a natural submissive.”

We were both laughing when my lips met hers. As Raven’s arms wrapped around me, she squirmed around until comfortably on the bottom. Soon, her legs tightened around my hips.

“Serve me, hot stuff,” she murmured.

“At your command, cookie.”

Raven’s smile was like magic and I could get used it. An hour later, she fell asleep with that smile on her gorgeous face.

All of the angry energy clinging to Raven disappeared when she slept. She rested on her back with her hands up by her shoulders. When the early morning light lit up her hair splashed around her face, there was something terribly vulnerable about Raven. The best fuck of my life looked like an angel, yet I suspected she was sent by the devil.

A man like me should never wake up completely satisfied. He should never look at the one night stand next to him and want to cuddle up against her. Raven wasn’t the first beautiful woman I enjoyed and she wouldn’t be the last. I promised myself she was only a great fuck and I could let her fuck someone else.

Lies were my friends. I told them daily. Death wasn’t something to fear. Regrets never lingered in my thoughts. I was a man without a past or future and I was fine with this fact. I was alone which suited me. Wasn’t I born a loner? Wasn’t I happy with my life? Of course, I was. Lies kept me sane when the truth only kicked me in the balls.

Raven didn’t lie to herself. She accepted her flaws then tried to fight them. Her biggest flaw was her bad taste in men. I didn’t know the guys who fucked her over. Lark mentioned a few and they sounded like real losers. As I ran a finger across Raven’s perpetually pouty lips, I didn’t understand why she wasted her time with such idiots. She was gorgeous and strong. She could have anyone. Fortunately for me, she had bad taste and ended up in my bed despite her better judgment.

I didn’t usually bring chicks to my apartment. If things went sour or she got clingy, ditching a girl was easier when she was already home. When I did the fake dating thing, I might bring one to my place. It was all for show since I knew I wasn’t boyfriend material. Even if I didn’t have a death sentence hanging over my head, I was a jackass. Maybe I’d always been a jackass, but my shit definitely got worse these last few years in Ellsberg.

In a lying mood, I admired Raven and wondered if I could make a short-term relationship with a girl like her. She was messed up and already knew how to deal with a broken heart. If we were together and I fucked up or got killed, she’d just cry and move on. Well, maybe not cry. Raven didn’t seem like a chick who cried.