by V Vee
Twisted Affair
A Dark Taboo Romance
Eddie and Heaven Book 1
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
V. Vee
Copyright
Twisted Affair © copyright 2020 V. Vee
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Blurb
She may be my best friend's fiancée, but she belongs to me.
I saw her first.
Heaven Jones.
Freshman year of high school.
With her Mary Jane shoes. Plaid skirt. White button down. And our Catholic school's maroon sweater buttoned up halfway.
She was gorgeous.
And I set out to make her mine.
In every way possible.
We were together for years until I left for the Army.
Always with the understanding that I would come back for her.
She was mine. I was never going to let her go.
But a 4 year enlistment became 8 years and when I finally returned to the States, Heaven was engaged.
To another man.
My best friend.
Or former best friend.
I would let the two of them plan their wedding in blissful ignorance that I was a man who played for keeps. I didn't care about the diamond on Heaven's finger. Or the house they shared.
Or the seven-year-old girl who looked remarkably like me but who called him "Daddy."
All I cared about was one thing.
Heaven was mine.
Dedicated To
Every single survivor, fighter, and victim of domestic violence and those who help them, love them, encourage them, support them, and sometimes fight for them.
Here Is Some Information For Those Who Need It:
If you are in immediate danger, call 911.
For help and information anytime, contact:
National Domestic Violence Hotline
www.ndvh.org
1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
TTY 1-800-787-3224
National Sexual Assault Hotline
www.rainn.org
1-800-656-HOPE (4673)
Love Is Respect
www.loveisrespect.org
1-866-331-9474
TTY 1-866-331-8453
Text: loveis to 22522
Chat Online:www.loveisrespect.org
Are you concerned about your relationship? Does your partner scare, criticize, or blame you? Does your partner tell you what to do and who to see? Has your partner ever hurt or threatened you, or pressured you to have sex? You are not alone. Abuse happens in every culture, every country, every age group, and it may be happening to you. No one deserves to be abused or threatened. You cannot stop your partner’s abuse, but you can find help and support for yourself.
What You Can Do
Call the police if you are in danger and seek medical attention if you are hurt.
Talk with somebody you trust such as a friend or relative, someone from your job or house of worship, or your health care provider.
Develop a safety plan with your children including people they can call in an emergency.
Put together an “emergency kit” for a situation where you have to leave suddenly (keys, money, legal and important documents, medicines, etc.).
Remember that you are the expert about your own life. Don’t let anyone talk you into doing something that’s not right for you.
*From Futures Without Violence*
Thank You
Usually I have a whole list that usually goes over to two pages here, and while I am very thankful to my beta readers, my FB group, my author friends, the BWSL FB group, and my PA’s, this needs to be a special thank you.
To Kenya Wright: Your book, Redemption, shone a light when I didn’t even know I was trapped in darkness. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to edit it for you.
To Jackie Bragg: I know you were stressed, scared, and freaked out, but thank you for keeping a level head until I was no longer in danger, before you let me have it with both barrels. Love you.
To Wendy Whitehead: For answering the phone when I called. For calling me when I didn’t call you. For being there from start to finish. And for simply being rational and asking me why I didn’t think I deserved more.
To Michelle Jackson: For helping me come up with a plan. For having my back. For giving me strength even from hundreds of miles away. For encouraging me. And for telling me to run and stay safe when I wavered.
To Kim Wright-Barnum: For offering me help. And for offering me comfort.
And to my dad, mom, and stepdad (who will never read this but still deserves to be thanked): Thank you.
And to the amazing people at NADV, PRDV, and PCSD. Thank you so much for everything.
A Twisted Playlist
The playlist for Twisted Affair is a mix of cheating, love, fucking, and angry “fuck-you” types of songs. I’m giving you an example below of what I listened to as I wrote Eddie & Heaven’s story, but to follow the entire playlist, just follow it here:
My Little Secret-Xscape
Who Can I Run To-Xscape
Lay Me Down-Sam Smith
Misunderstood-Tynisha Keli
Stay With Me-Sam Smith
Painting in the Rain-Todrick Hall
Forbidden-Todrick Hall f/Jade Novah and Keala Settle
T.H.U.G.-Todrick Hall
Beg For It-Chris Brown
Water Guns-Todrick Hall f/Jordin Sparks
I Wish You Loved Me-Tynisha Keli
Papi-Todrick Hall f/Nicole Scherzinger
New Religion-MAAD
Best Part (f/Daniel Caesar)-H.E.R.
PILLOWTALK-Zayn
Trampoline (w/Zayn)-SHAED
I Don’t Wanna Live Forever-Zayn f/Taylor Swift
Love and War-Tamar Braxton
My Man-Tamar Braxton
Versace on the Floor-Bruno Mars
I Fall Apart-Post Malone
Trip-Ella Mai
Wicked Games-The Weeknd
The Weekend-SZA
Crazy Over You-Sonta
You & Me Against the World-Tynisha Keli
Author’s Note
-From the Desk of V-
When I started writing Twisted Affair I was going through some personal things. I was having to come to a startling realization in regard to a relationship I was in, and I was having to really face and deal with an internal struggle. Self-reflection can be a bitch, but in some cases—many cases—it’s needed, not only to make us better, but to keep us safe, to keep us from making the same mistakes over and over again, and to make us positive, contributing members of society.
So, just as I dealt with my own stuff, so too did Eddie and Heaven. It’s why this book went from just being a dark, taboo romance, to being one with the trigger warnings that it has.
It is always my goal to not just entertain, but also to ed
ucate, with my writing. And with that in mind, I knew that this particular story wasn’t just about a second chance at love, it was about self-empowerment, it was about moving past and finding love, after being in an abusive relationship. It was about a different kind of domestic abuse. It was about how so often, in trying to get over one situation, in trying to move beyond one mistake or heartbreak, rather than allow ourselves to heal, to grow, to learn, to take a moment to reflect, we throw ourselves into the next and can oftentimes find ourselves in a worse situation.
Allow me to be candid. That’s what happened to me.
Trying to get over one heartbreak caused me to throw myself into another relationship. I fell hard. I fell fast. And because of that it took me a while to realize that the “relationship” I was in was abusive. It was dangerous. And thankfully, I was able to run to people who helped me.
Heaven’s struggle is, in many ways, my own, and that of so many other women (and even some men) out there.
So, I hope that as you read this story you will find yourself either learning something, being made aware of certain things, or hell, even being moved or entertained in some way. I want you to learn, of course, but even more than that, I want you to feel.
Even if you just feel horny from the sex scenes.
Thank you for taking the time to read this bit of rambling. I just really needed to share my heart with you.
Sincerely,
V. Vee-USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Survivor
Prologue
Afghanistan
Marine Base
Eight Months Ago
Eddie
I was still surrounded by brown and orange, the dust and dirt still clogged my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe. My skin sizzled from the heat of the flames that was just a little too close to me for comfort. The screams from the men I’d served with, and those of our enemies, rang in my ears like white noise. A distant echo of grief, helplessness, and despair. I gasped, as I pulled myself through the debris, desperate to get to safety. I was close, so close, to being nothing more than bits and pieces of bone and charred flesh, and yet, there were so many who had just senselessly lost their lives all because of someone’s fucked up ideals. The air was acrid with smoke and burning bodies, the sun still beat down unforgivingly in spite of the horror that peppered the Afghani sands.
I was in hell.
Complete literal hell.
And the worst thing was that I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I was supposed to have returned home… returned to Baltimore… years ago, and yet I stayed. Putting my life on the line continuously for a country which treated so many that I loved as if they were less than second-class citizens. A country filled with so many who extolled the virtues of serving in the military and yet made a mockery of caring for those who did.
I was supposed to be home in Heaven’s arms.
Four years. I’d told her I would be back in four years. Just like my brother had told his woman, Parker. And yet, just like Logan, I’d stopped talking to her. Stopped communicating, sure that she would never be able to handle the demons and the darkness which haunted my soul and contaminated my spirit on a now regular basis. I loved Heaven. Had loved her since our freshman year of high school. I wanted nothing more than to take care of her for the rest of our lives. To have a family with her. To grow old with her. And for the fifth time, I’d found myself staring in the very face of Death and daring him to blink first.
I was lucky that’s he had.
I rolled over onto my back and inhaled deeply, struggling to take a breath through the pain. Flashes of Heaven’s face, the way she’d looked when I’d left her eight years previous, flashed across my mind’s eye. I missed her wide smile. I missed her full lips. I missed her body. I missed her supple skin.
I missed making love to her.
I missed holding her and kissing her.
I missed my woman.
Others, who’d survived the blast which had rocketed through our campsite, our makeshift base of tents and open fire, came to lie around me. None of us spoke. There was absolutely nothing to say. Eventually we would rise and go to see about survivors. Go and rescue those we could; and honor the sacrifice of those we couldn’t. We were Marines. It was what we did. But for now, in that moment, we all needed a minute to be grateful we were still alive. I, for one, was resolved, and as I pushed myself up into a seated position and made note of the Humvees headed in our direction, the “Calvary” which had come to our aid, I knew it was time.
It was time to go home.
Time to return to Heaven.
Time to go back and claim my woman.
Baltimore, Maryland
The Steele Family Home
Eddie’s Childhood Home
Eddie
Eight Months Later
I walked into the large home I’d grown up in and let out a sigh. It was quiet, much quieter than it had been the last time I’d been there. I dropped my rucksack to the tiled, white and grey floor, and looked around the entryway. Not much had changed. The stairs with the maroon runner was still in front of me and to the right. The kitchen sat to the right of the front door, still decorated in white and yellow. Something that hadn’t changed since my mother’s passing when I was younger. To the left was the formal living room, and as I stepped further into the house, the sight of the unused, stark white furniture, the family portraits on the wood mantle, the cold and empty fireplace, and the dead houseplants caused a lump to form in my throat.
The house was empty and had been for some time.
My father’s health was failing, and while he was still alive, his doctor had warned and Logan and me that it wouldn’t be for very long. A fact which had caused the old man to start confessing to things that Logan and I had been extremely surprised by. It had also pushed him and I to bury the hatchet and make up. I’d spent much of my life trying to get my father’s approval and had never felt as if it would ever happen, but upon my return from Afghanistan, after I left the Marines, he’d finally told me that he was proud of me.
From his hospital bed.
I’d stayed there with him for a week before he sent me home, and while I’d agreed, it had been with reluctance. I hadn’t wanted to leave him. I was afraid he would take his last breath when I wasn’t around to monitor him. However, the minute I drove away I couldn’t wait to get home. I had business to take care of. I was going to shower, then I planned to put on my dress greens and head over to Heaven’s house. I would apologize, on my knees if I had to—maybe I’d take a page from my brother’s book and apologize to a Boyz II Men song—then I would propose as soon as she said she forgave me.
Then I was going to take her to bed, put her thighs on my shoulders, and bury my face in her pussy.
I didn’t plan to come up for weeks, maybe months. I was going to live on her pussy juices. Sucking on those fat lips and that swollen clit, fucking her tight hole with my tongue and my fingers.
I figure twenty orgasms should be enough to start off with.
Or maybe two hundred. It had been eight years after all.
But before I could put my plan into action the sight of a light-yellow envelope sitting on the sideboard, beneath the hall mirror, caught my eye. I walked over to check the mail, knowing that Cecile, my father’s live-in nurse sorted it out every day for him before heading over to the hospital for the day. I was surprised there was any mail there, and would have called her about it, when I caught sight of the name written on the front.
Edward Steele.
It was for me, but who would send me something? Almost everyone I knew was aware that I was in Afghanistan. No one knew I was back except my dad, his nurse, my brother, Logan, his wife, Parker, and their adorable twins, my nieces, Holly and Noelle. So who…?
Heaven Jones and Zander O’Sullivan.
Heaven and Zander? What the hell?
Why the fuck was my woman and my best friend sending me mail with their names joined together like they were a fucking co
uple? What kind of bullshit was that?
Dread curdled my stomach and I opened the letter with rage throbbing in my veins, my skin flushing hot, and my flesh feeling as if it were pulled tight against my bones. Something wasn’t right. Something was very, very wrong. And I absolutely did not like where my mind was taking me.
But as I pulled out the card stock paper from the envelope, the elegantly decorated invitation with its bullshit words of love and devotion, I knew, for the first time in my life, what white-hot rage really meant.
Because right there, in gold lettering on off-white paper, were the words I never expected to read.
Mr. and Mrs. Ainsley O’Sullivan
Request the honor of your presence
To the wedding of their son
Zander O’Sullivan
To
Heaven Jones
At the Baltimore Catholic Cathedral on…
I couldn’t read anymore. I tore the invitation apart and released a growl so loud, so angry, I was surprised the mirror in front of me didn’t shatter.
So I decided to help it out a bit.
For the next ten minutes I destroyed the entryway and the formal living room. Allowing my anger at Zander’s audacity, my grief at Heaven’s betrayal, and my heartbreak over my father’s health, to rip through me, tearing me apart and scattering the fragments into the wind.
When I was done, long moments later, it appeared as if a tornado had come through my childhood home and caused massive destruction. However, my soul was calm, my mind was clear, my spirit was at peace, and my path was clear.
