Heroes Ever After Boxset: Books 1-3

by Alana Albertson

  I wanted to feel that heat again.

  By the time I returned home, my father was passed out on the sofa. I crept by him and went to my room.

  My bedroom was stuck in time, high school blaring from every corner. Trophies and pictures from my dance competitions adorned the walls, pictures of me winning Nationals with Pasha.

  My stomach fluttered, and I opened my laptop. Now I had an excuse to contact Grady.

  But it wasn’t even a good excuse. Hey, I know I ran off after we had sex, but will you let my alcoholic dad, who stole my tuition funds, write your war memoir so I can pay for college? I’d be just another one of the people in his life who wanted to use him.

  But it was more than that. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I had to see him again. Even if he just laughed in my face.

  The worst he could say was no or ignore me. But maybe, just maybe, we could reconnect.

  I moved the cursor over to the message tab on his page. “Grady Williams: Public Figure.” It even had one of those blue checkmarks next to his name so I knew it was legit.

  Did he even manage his own page? Maybe I would send him a message and some assistant would respond? I was sure he received hundreds of emails daily from women in love with him.

  I scrolled down his page. Mostly motivational quotes, very few pictures. One of him sharing a beer with the President outside the Oval Office, another one of him with his battalion before the grenade. And a final picture of him and his buddy off-roading. I stared at that last picture longer than I should have. The inscription read “R.I.P. Rafael.”

  Damn, I’d learned from reading reports of his attack that Rafael was Grady’s friend who died next to Grady.

  I clicked the message button, my heart palpitating, and started typing.

  Isa: Hi Grady. I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.

  Once I hit Send, my insides begin to quiver. Then I saw that check mark. Grady had read my message, or someone maintaining his page had. Grady was typing.

  Grady: Come by my place tomorrow night at ten.

  Whoa. He didn’t even ask me when I was free, or where I wanted to meet. Going to a man’s place at ten at night was definitely a booty call. Maybe he thought I wanted another round. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t crave him. Though I’d contacted him, he was in control of the situation. I didn’t know if I should be turned on or pissed off.

  Isa: Okay. I’ll be there.

  I sat in my bedroom, my stomach fluttering. What had I just done? A few days ago I’d been a sexually frustrated college coed eager to finish school. Now unless I could come up with tuition, I’d end up being a college dropout who couldn’t stop thinking about her epic one-night stand with Grady the sex god. I kept replaying every moment of our night in my head. The way he touched me, the way he made me feel, the way he focused on my pleasure.

  But now I had a second chance to see if there was something more between us than just red-hot chemistry, to apologize for running off, to figure out if I had been wrong about being scared of him.

  Grady

  Time had passed slowly since I’d received Isa’s message yesterday. I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out why she’d contacted me, secretly hoping that she wanted another round. Ever since learning about her mother’s death, I’d been almost certain that she’d taken my bullet because she was concerned. I was excited for another chance with her.

  After a quick workout, I took a hot shower and dabbed on some cologne. The steam from the shower cleared from my mirror, and I caught a glimpse of my face.

  I would never get used to my reflection. The droopy eye, the non-existent ear, the skin that looked like it had been slashed by a serial killer. A lump grew in my throat, and I closed my eye.

  I threw on a black T-shirt and some cargo shorts and paced around my place.

  A chime rang out—Isa was downstairs. Adrenaline rushed through my body, the same feeling I had when I stepped out on the battlefield.

  I buzzed her in and stood by the door.

  Before I saw her, I heard her steps. Heels for sure, delicate little taps coming down the hallway. Her scent filled the air—fresh, fruity, fascinating.

  Damn, she was beautiful.

  She wore one of those loose T-shirts and tight skinny jeans that showed off her juicy ass. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, and I wanted to run my fingers through it while she screamed my name.

  “Hey, beautiful.” I pulled her to me and gave her a hug, my cock pressing against her crotch.

  “Hey. It’s good to see you. How are you?” Her voice was cautious yet soothing.

  “Good.” I didn’t have any tolerance for small talk. I wanted to know why she wrote me. I wanted to know exactly why she ran out the other night. I wanted to know why she stole my bullet.

  After I released her, she headed to the sofa. My mind flashed to remembering her perfect naked ass perched up as I took her from behind.

  She rubbed her hands down her jeans and every inch of me desired her.

  I stared at her chest. “Do you want a drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, and her gaze darted across the room.

  My gut gnarled. Something was up. She wasn’t making eye contact with me, and I suspected that it wasn’t just because of my face. “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to see you.”

  Nice non-answer. “Well, now you’ve seen me.”

  She pulled on her hair. “Well, I don’t want you to think I only came over here to ask you for a favor.”

  A favor? I clenched my fists. My heart felt like it was literally shrinking. Of course she wanted something from me—these days everyone did. A woman that beautiful could never be interested in dating a man as grotesque as me. I hated myself for believing for a second that I had a chance with her. For believing that if someone could fall in love with me, then maybe I could love myself.

  She pursed her lips. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” What did this bitch want? I nodded toward her. “What do you want?”

  Her hands kept twirling her hair. “Can we talk first?”

  I shot her an irritated glance. “Talk about what? We aren’t friends. We just fucked once. What the fuck do you want from me?”

  The color drained from her face and she shook her head at me. “My father, he’s a bestselling biographer. He’s really talented, a complete perfectionist, and like I already told you, he’s a Marine. I was wondering . . . if there was any way you would consider letting him write your war memoir?”

  Yup, the bitch was no different than the other women I’d met since I’d been injured. I was a novelty, a charity, a commodity. God, and I honestly believed for a second she wanted me. “The answer is no. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here? You’re just like every other fake-ass bitch I’ve met, Bella. And you washed up reality stars are the worst—using anyone to stay relevant.”

  Her chin trembled. “Bella? I guess you found out I was on Dancing under the Stars?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I may only have one eye, but I told you that I’d seen you before. I never forget a face.”

  “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because once I tell a guy about the show, he treats me differently. I like you, Grady, I honest to God do. But I figured if I told you I’d been on a television show, you’d judge me, like you’re doing right now. That show destroyed my life. That’s why I quit. I wasn’t asked to leave, I ran away.”

  Just like she had that night. Her lip trembled and I knew there was more to her story for leaving. But I was too pissed to keep interrogating her. “You saw my gun, didn’t you? Did you take my bullet?”

  Her face turned white. “I . . . I mean—”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Why? Did you think I was going to kill you? Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a Marine. This is America. I have a right to have a loaded gun in my house without some bitch stealing my goddamn bullet.” Here I was yelling at this girl, my body bursting
with rage when she’d saved my life. She probably thought I was a psycho. I just wanted her to leave.

  But instead of cowering, she glared right at me. “I didn’t know you—I still don’t. I saw you have a flashback at that party, and yes, I thought it was a possibility that you could be violent or even suicidal. So yes, I did take it, and no, I’m not sorry. And you know what? I’d do it again!”

  Whoa. As pissed off as I was at her, I was impressed that she was standing up to me. No one ever told me off anymore. Even my own friends pussyfooted around me ever since I was awarded my medal.

  My eye darted around her face. She seemed sincere, hurt, even scared. Whatever, it was too late now to even try to turn this around.

  I lowered my voice. “It’s fine. I don’t want to write a book, but thanks for asking. And if I did, I could pick any author I wanted. I definitely wouldn’t pick the father of some random girl I fucked. It’s time for you to go.”

  But the bitch kept talking, her voice laced with desperation. “No, wait. Listen to me—my dad’s an excellent writer. He will do a great job. I know you don’t want to tell your story, but if you don’t, I’m sure someone will write an unauthorized account of the attack. This is your way of controlling the information, honoring your friend’s memory.”

  She had a point. I’d already read some bullshit accounts in the press. Most were exaggerated, made me look like I was lying. Yes, I threw myself on a grenade—no, I wasn’t the bionic man who withstood gunfire and killed a bunch of people.

  I studied Isa—her chest heaved as she talked and I spied a pink bra strap. My rage began to melt away, replaced by lust.

  I wanted her. Again. However I could have her.

  “Why is this so important to you? If your dad is such a great writer, he can write some other guy’s story. Why mine?”

  She cast a downward glance. “He’s having some financial trouble now. The bank will foreclose on our home, and—” she sighed, “well, he stole my tuition money to try to save the house. It was my money I had earned when I was on the show. So, yeah, I won’t be able to finish my last year of college unless I can come up with the cash.”

  What a fucking dick. What kind of dad does that? “I’m not going to trust my story with some jackass who steals from his daughter.”

  “No, wait. He’s not a jerk, I swear. He’s desperate. He’s been a mess since my mom died. And he was in Vietnam so he has his own PTSD issues. He’s an alcoholic and he has flashbacks too. But I know he’d do an amazing job. I promise you that he’s a brilliant writer. He was even nominated for the Pulitzer. And honestly, he’s so in awe of you. He first told me about your story before you won your medal. He thinks you’re a hero. You are a hero.”

  My mind raced. She was desperate.

  And I held the power.

  So now I’d get what I wanted.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Her eyes brightened. “My dad’s agent is excellent. I’m sure you’ll get a huge book deal.”

  I laughed, leaned in closer, and eye-fucked her slowly. “No, that’s not what I meant, baby. I’m not talking about the money. If I agree to do this, and choose your father, what are you going to do for me?”

  “Oh.” Her face finally registered the meaning behind my question. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to be my date for the Commandant’s Marine Corps Ball. I’m the Guest of Honor. We’ll fly to Hawaii together, spend a weekend attending official events, and when the weekend is over, we will go our separate ways.”

  “Wow.” Her lips widened into a smile. “Grady, I’d be honored to be your date to the ball. When is it?”

  “November tenth. The Marine Corps Birthday.”

  She beamed. “That’s a few months away. I can’t wait. Yes, of course.”

  I let out a laugh. No way was I going to let her off that easily.

  “Don’t get too excited. There’s more to the deal. I want the full girlfriend experience.”

  Her smile dropped. “Full girlfriend experience?”

  “Yup. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend in public, at the ball, and at any events we have to attend. The President will be there. I can’t exactly bring my fuck buddy to meet the leader of the free world. One year, the guest of honor tried to bring a porn star to the ball and the commandant banned him. The tabloids have interviewed my ex-girlfriends, so I really want to keep this clean and avoid a scandal.”

  “Makes sense. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t understand. In order to pull this off, we need to get to know each other. I want you to myself. No drama. Just you and me, alone, away from the rest of world. Whatever I say goes. You disobey me, and I won’t sign the contract with your father. Once the ball is over, we go our separate ways.” I moved toward her, placing my hand on her upper thigh. “But until then, I own you. All night, every night. On your knees sucking my cock, on all fours while I fuck you from behind. I want to lick your pussy until you’re begging me for release. I want to fuck you until you can’t do anything but come and come and come for me.”

  Her skin flushed, her eyes blinked, and her lips parted. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to slap me or kiss me. “Sorry, I’m not for sale. This was a mistake. I’m going to go.”

  I laughed and grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. You contacted me; you asked me for a favor. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me again.”

  She swallowed hard and I remembered how hot she looked sucking me off. “Our night together was incredible, but it was a mistake. I’m not looking for a fling. I can’t have sex with you every night and not get attached. I know you must think I’m a slut, but you’re the only man I’ve ever had a one-night stand with.”

  I’d heard that line from many girls—but something in her voice made me actually believe her. “I don’t think you’re a slut. I think you’re a good girl who wants to get wild, who wants to be tempted and cut loose. Use me, Isa. I’m not your fairy tale prince, I’m your beast.”

  Now she rubbed her hand over her heart, her mouth alternating between gaping open and closing shut. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  I pulled her into me, tilted her head toward my mouth, whispering into her lips. “Say yes and I’ll make all your fantasies come true.” My lips kissed her neck, and my hands gripped her wrist. I flipped her under me, and she writhed against my body. This kiss was urgent, menacing, yet at the same time comforting. My tongue explored her hot little mouth, until she let out a little whimper.

  “And you swear you’ll let my dad write your memoir?” She kissed me back, her leg wrapping around my waist.

  “I give you my word.” I pinched her nipples, and took off her shirt.

  “When do we start?” she asked breathlessly, her hands exploring my body, tugging at my shorts.

  “Now. Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

  Her hand undid my belt buckle, and my pants dropped to the floor. She pulled down my black boxer briefs, releasing my cock from its prison.

  Her soft lips brushed against my tip, and the anticipation was almost too much to handle. How many nights since I’d met her had I jerked off thinking about her doing this exact thing? In my fantasies, despite myself, I imagined her as mine. No labels, not my girlfriend or my wife, but mine—all mine. No other man would ever feel her lips on his cock—she was only for me.

  Her hand grasped the base of my cock and slid up the length. She licked her lips, teasing me, and I was desperate to feel that tongue on my tip. I resisted the urge to place my hand on the back of her neck and guide her to me. She knew what I wanted—and she was about to give it to me.

  She kissed the lower part of my stomach, licking her way down my happy trail, clearly enjoying that she literally had me in the palm of her hand. I’d do just about anything for her right now. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally took me deep, her hot, little mouth creating a tight ring around my cock. She sucked me so hard I could barely handle the pleasure. I w
anted to fuck her mouth, pound the back of her throat, but I didn’t want to scare her. One glimpse of my primal desire, the beast within, and she could leave me again.

  “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

  She pulled out all the stops—her hands gliding up and down, her lips pressed against me, her tongue darting under the base of my tip.

  I gripped her hair, trying to push her off me.

  “I’m going to come. Stop.”

  But she didn’t stop. She kept sucking, licking, and stroking. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to let go, and a wave of complete ecstasy reached every cell in my body. Isa didn’t recoil in disgust; she lapped up my cum like a kitten devouring warm milk.

  I pulled up my boxers and shorts and clutched her to my chest. I debated asking her to stay but I had to check into my unit tomorrow to start processing my exit paperwork

  “I’m traveling to Lake Tahoe; I have a cabin for a week. I want you to stay with me.”

  She nodded. “Okay, when?”

  “Next weekend. I’ll message you the details.” I took out my phone, and we exchanged numbers.

  “Okay, that works. Grady, I . . . I wanted to apologize for running—”

  I stopped her. “We’re not going to do that.” Though I wanted to know the reason she’d bolted, I didn’t want her to lie to me. And I couldn’t trust her to tell me the truth. We had a week together to get to know each other. Telling her I wanted nothing to do with her at the end of our deal gave us both an out.

  “Oh, okay. Bye then.” She squirmed away from me. I walked her to her car, and watched her drive away.

  The traffic buzzed, triggering my anxiety, and I needed to get back inside my place ASAP before I lost it. What the fuck had I just committed to? A book? All because I couldn’t get her pussy off my brain?