Fatal Flaws

chapter 28

I opted to keep him waiting for a minute before nervously cracking the door wide enough for him to squeeze in. In the past, I've learned that you should never let a man know how desperate you are for them. They get an enormous head, walking around like they are indestructible. Then when they realize that they have you right where they want you it starts. The real psychological manipulation begins. They use it to their advantage and play on your vulnerability. Sometimes it's broken promises, that never happen. Or you're swayed by their romantic gestures, letting your guard down. Then bam, everything changes and they begin withholding certain things. The only time they give you the smallest amount of pleasure is when it benefits them. It's crazy how that amount of power alone allows one person the ultimate control over another.

Most people don't realize that sex can be just as dangerous and addicting as drugs are. They are more alike than people even realize. For starters, you can buy them both off the streets. A pimp and a drug dealer both benefit by you indulging in your guilty sin. The more you do it, the more addicting it becomes. You crave it. It can be the high of a substance or the greed of money. It doesn't matter the outcome is always the same.

It's amazing some of the things people will do when they're desperate, searching for their next score. With drugs they steal, rob, lie, and more. Sex can make a person lie, cheat, rape, along with many other things. Both of them temporarily take the pain away, distracting you from reality. The only real difference is that people will forgive you quicker for one of them. Not to mention it's a lot more fun, especially, when it's a secret.

"Nine minutes you were cutting it pretty close, weren't you?" I tease, grabbing hold of him by the suspenders, and pulling him towards me. It's pointless to waste any more time. I'm already breaking so many rules. Why not get down to the point?

Without missing a beat, I sneak my hands into his firefighter jacket. It slides off easily with little effort. The thin plastic-like material falls to the ground below. A swooshing noise echoes when it collides with the tile below in the deserted room.

My mouth drops at the sight of him. He's gorgeous. The snug-fitting but oversized firefighter pants hug his waist perfectly. The low-lying waistline allows his tattoos to creep up and around his hips. The ink spreads out across his torso in all directions.

The bright red suspenders press against his chest, snaking over his broad shoulders. More tattoos peek out from beneath them. I love how they cover his naked chest and continue down his bare arms. Despite knowing they are there, seeing them in person still surprises me. No matter how often I witness them, they still turn me on.

I never used to like ink, but on Hayden, there's something about it. Like they tell the story of his life without using actual words. It isn't like he's an open book. He never tells me anything about himself besides a small tidbit here and there. His body art can sometimes tell me the rest, helping me to read between the lines.

He agrees with me. Not wanting to waste any time, he roughly grabs hold of my thighs, hoisting me up onto the small sink. I don't have to say a word. He knows exactly what I want, using his body to spread my legs, and easing himself between them.

"I've missed this so much," he coos, blowing gently on my neck. I moan as he leans in closer to me, sucking along my neck. It feels so good. The harder he sucks, the more aroused I become. He must have consumed some of that pink beverage during the night. The fruity scent of his breath gives it away.

Out of habit, I wrap my arms around his neck. My hands inch their way upward, grabbing hold of his hair. It's so soft. My fingers play around in it, becoming entangled, tugging at it.

"I love it when you do that," he purrs in my ear. The warmth of his breath on my skin excites me. It's like holding a match and watching the flame dance as it comes to life. His hands reach up, grabbing hold of my wrist. Using his strength, he forces them straight up into the air. He holds them above my head before slamming them against the mirror behind us. He manages to keep my wrists in that position with one of his large manly hands. The other one freely roams over my body.