Be My December

by Rachel Brookes

  BE MY DECEMBER

  Copyright © 2014 Rachel Brookes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold, shared or given away to other people.

  Be My December is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and occurrences are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

  Editing: Jenny Sims from Editing4Indies

  EBook and Paperback Formatting: Max Effect

  Cover Design: Ari from Cover It! Designs

  WARNING

  This book contains content that may be offensive to some readers.

  Including sexual assault (flashbacks), adult situations, and graphic language.

  Dedicated to those who thought they lost it all.

  Life will give you the greatest gift when you least expect it.

  “I said no Jeremy!”

  The sound of my weak, pleading voice didn’t offer my shivering body one piece of desperately craved strength. The skin on my arm seared under his dominant grip and I could barely keep up with his broad stride through the empty college grounds. At one point I swear my feet weren’t even touching the graveled ground below.

  “Man, where you going?”

  A savior’s voice rang out through the freezing air and we stopped moving. Safety was close. A glimmer of hope hit me as my eyes darted around the darkness trying to make out who was coming to my rescue.

  “Help,” I choked out, my voice lost in the severe coldness around me.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Jeremy Davis snarled at me and his threatening grip tightened on my arm. “Just heading to the dorm to grab some more booze, will be back at the party soon.” He said loudly, his voice calm and way too convincing.

  We remained still, waiting for my savior’s next move. I prayed to every god there was that he would offer to help, that he would move closer and be able to make me out but he remained in the shadows, simply a distant voice.

  “Please, let me go.” I begged and my heart sunk as my savior disappeared into the pitch black night sky.

  The dwindling temperature of December in New York was the least of my worries as the wind swirled around my naked shoulders, fiercely biting my flesh. Every word I spluttered out between clenched teeth was laced with pure fear. Where was the stubborn, strong and highly resilient Eden Rivers who had stepped through the doors of her first keg party only hours ago?

  I stumbled on the heel of my boot as possessive hands thrust sharply in my back as we began to move. I went up the stairs toward the dorm rooms with such intensity that my long, dark hair whipped sharply around my face. The moment I was pushed through the door, my eyes desperate to adjust to the darkness of the room, bounced around the four walls around me. The glow from the street light briefly illuminated the space but I wished there was no light at all. My shallow breathing and the grunts of the man who stalked toward me like a possessed animal broke the silence. A petrified shiver cascaded down my back as reality slammed me squarely in the chest and I was soon backed up against the far wall with no escape. His face was brutal, stone cold and evil. My eyes slammed shut as his hands manhandled me, running over my breasts, down my sides, and soon fumbling in the confines of my panties. I pushed against his broad chest with every ounce of strength I could muster, but it was useless and he barely moved.

  “No! No! No!” I screamed over and over again, so loudly that my voice went hoarse and barely audible. Survival instincts kicked in and my nails scratched at his face and my body thrashed in pure fight.

  A vicious blow to my left cheek stole the air from my lungs and my mouth was invaded by the metallic taste of blood. My vision instantly went hazy and I swayed on my feet. “That’s going to be the biggest fucking mistake of your life Eden! Big fucking mistake,” Jeremy hissed, his spittle hitting my face and bringing me back to reality.

  In the minutes that followed, as the perfect world I knew was destroyed, I ceased to exist as Eden Rivers. With the ruthless tear of my panties clean from my body and the pain of a thousand knives digging into the most sacred part of my body, the one place no one had been before, everything disappeared around me and I vanished into darkness as blow after blow tore within me.

  From that moment, I would become a yes girl—as saying no seemed to be the worst decision I ever made.

  “I am sooooooooooooooo getting my dick wet tonight.”

  What the fuck?

  I rolled my eyes at the over-exaggeration of my pussy obsessed brother’s admission as he burst through my apartment like he fucking owned the place. Friday afternoon fuck-ups were happening all over the place at work so at two o’clock I had left the office and decided to escape to my apartment to get some much needed work done—well, until Josh decided to turn up. My assistant had gone home sick earlier in the day, the marketing department fucked up the advertisements for the next issue, and there was an issue mounting in the Los Angeles office that I was going to have to sort out—and now I was dealing with my over-eager brother.

  “You whip out lines like that yet you still wonder why Mom asks why you are single?” I shot at him as I stood from the couch and moved towards the kitchen.

  “Dude, you and I both know that single is what we do best.”

  My deep laugh ricocheted off the cream walls of my thirteenth floor apartment, walls that were lined with black and white abstract photographs of major cities around the world including Paris, Sydney, New York, and London. My job at Anderson Publications allowed me to revel in escapism—traveling and working obscenely long hours. It provided me with the distraction I needed and allowed my fucked-up head a moment of peace from the regrets that constantly haunted me.

  My life had been a whirlwind since I started working at Anderson Publications. Anderson Publications was an internationally renowned publishing company, founded by my father’s best friend, Roger Anderson, a man who had without a doubt saved me more times than he would ever know.

  During college, as I double majored in Business and Marketing, he took me under his wing and become my mentor much to my parents delight. My college years were all about basketball with the guys, banging numerous girls, partying with my frat brothers, and a lot more girls. I lived the college dream until my senior year. That was when everything went to shit. When the life I knew, the life I had planned, fell apart around me because of one fucked-up life changing mistake, a mistake that has haunted me ever since.

  That was the moment I changed. Studying became my life; I shied away from my usual crowd, and I stopped partying, which was unheard of for a guy who held my stature. My parents and Josh were in a constant state of worry, while I pretended as if life was moving on perfectly well. Thankfully it was during this time that Roger Anderson saw my quick demise and swooped in. I was not sure if it was Mom and Dad who influenced his decision, but I would be forever thankful for his intrusion into my life at my time of need. His brutal honesty put me on the right track, and it was within a couple of weeks that I started working at his company.

  I sure as hell didn’t get my job handed to me on a gold platter. If anything, he made me work twice as hard to get where I was. Now after six and a half years under his watchful eye, I led the marketing team at Bangs and Beats. I had a high paying job which provided me with a very comfortable life; I had invested my money wisely when I first started working, and now I was the owner of the building that Josh and I lived in, all at the age of twenty-six.

  “So tell me big brother, how long has it been since you’ve been between s
ome sweet thighs?”

  The amusement in Josh’s tone wasn’t lost in his question. I rolled my eyes at his taunt and nodded when he held up a Corona he’d just pulled out of my refrigerator and I took a seat at the breakfast bar.

  He moved around the sparkling white space with chrome appliances and midnight black accessories like the arrogant prick he was because he knew exactly how long it had been.

  After grabbing a fresh lime from the fruit bowl, he sliced it up and shoved a piece down the neck of the Corona. When I finally met his gaze, he looked at me expectedly as I snatched the beer from his hands.

  “It’s been too fucking long.” I growled in response before taking a long swig of beer.

  Why the fuck did we need to talk about this? Straightaway, my head and my dick started reacting to the thought of the last woman I’d been with. The feisty and leggy Samantha, a British model who had been hired to be the cover model for last month’s issue of the magazine. My best friend Ashlyn, the magazine’s assistant stylist, had forced me into attending the cover reveal party and after one too many free celebratory beers, I was balls deep in Britain in the supply closet of one of the ritziest cocktail bars in New York City, fucking like my life depended on it.

  “Let’s go out for a drink. You, me, the new sports bar, strippers, and pussy?”

  I shot him a look of pure outrage. “Strippers and pussy should never be mentioned in the same sentence.”

  He moved around the kitchen island and pulled out a stool, taking a seat opposite me as a knowing look swept over his smug face. “Are you saying you’ve never fucked a stripper?” His question dripped with amusement, and I knew he had me by the balls.

  “Fuck off! She was a dancer. Big fucking difference.”

  A muffled groan poured out from deep within my chest and I knew I wasn’t going to win this battle. Of course he would suggest going out. It was Friday night and for the past three weeks I had made every excuse under the sun not to go out for a drink. He had accepted it, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he wore me down. The thing with Josh and me was that we had a relationship that couldn’t be matched. Yes, he was my younger brother, but he was also my best friend. We have been through thick and thin together, seen the best and worst of what life could offer, and we have come through the other side—with a few hiccups along the way. There had been plenty of times when he annoyed the shit out of me to the point of wanting to punch his face in, but I would take a bullet for him without question, or a couple of broken bones from bar fights when he tried to pick up the wrong woman. He was my blood. It was as simple as that.

  “So are you and your little guy going to come out tonight or what?” Josh cocked a brow in my direction.

  I was tired. I was beyond exhausted, and letting off some steam seemed like an enticing prospect when I thought about it. Honestly, a strip club would just equal trouble, but it could also mean an easy lay. It was catch twenty-two.

  “Just come out. A couple of drinks and a few titties. What’s the worst that can happen?” he continued to harass.

  “You are a persistent little prick. Pick me up at nine.”

  ••••

  The stabbing aggression of my headache that had been annoying me for a couple of days sprung back to life the moment Josh and I stepped into Delights. Low lights, soft pulsating music, and an atmosphere thick with sex and greed hit me with full force. Everything about this place exuded excess, temptation, and the whispered promise of sex. Within seconds, two scantily clad women made a beeline for us, and now my date for the night seemed to be a tight little blonde named Lyndsey who was hanging off my every word and looking at me with expectation.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I was a man and I fucking loved women. But I certainly didn’t have any plans on securing anything long term, much to the disgust of my mom. In her eyes, I should have a house in the ‘burbs with at least two kids running around by now. I certainly shouldn’t have a thirteenth floor bachelor pad and work fifteen hour days. Of course I had sexual needs, and I fed those needs when required, but my needs didn’t include a relationship. And it certainly didn’t include a happily-fucking-ever after. That kind of happiness was foreign to me and the reasons why have continued to squeeze and taunt me, eating away at my total being in an attempt to destroy me.

  It was something that I had to live with. It was something I kept so tightly strapped to my chest that only a few knew. As long as she was still hurting and as long as I still hated everything I was, I would never give myself the chance of happiness or contentment. I didn’t deserve it; it was as simple as that.

  “You do realize that I’m a sure bet.” Lindsey grabbed my attention and licked her lips before rubbing herself aggressively against me. Any urge to take this woman to a motel room faded the moment she said those words. I liked the thrill of the chase, the game, the anticipation. This woman in front of me would have allowed me to fuck her in the middle of the room if I’d asked her. I groaned inwardly and shook that thought out of my head.

  I was content with doing what I wanted, when I wanted, with whomever I wanted and that included women. I wasn’t a male slut, I didn’t jump from bed to bed, from pussy to pussy, from woman to woman, but I knew where to go when I wanted it, and I knew what to do or say to guarantee I wasn’t left unsatisfied. I left the slut tag for my brother who was now standing beside me.

  “So who is the unlucky girl who is as you put it wetting your dick tonight?” I asked and then tilted back my head to allow the beer to cascade down my throat, blatantly ignoring the advances of Lindsey, much to her annoyance.

  “Ky and Joshua Crawford, about damn time you showed your handsome little faces.”

  Josh didn’t get a chance to answer as the sound of my best friend’s sultry voice filled the space behind me. Ashlyn Hart’s amused eyes found mine the moment I spun around to face her.

  “Who’s this?” Ashlyn nodded at Lindsey, who still stood close beside me and had attached herself to my arm.

  “Lindsey,” I said. “And she was just leaving.”

  “I can’t believe you got him to leave the office.” Ashlyn fired a wink in Josh’s direction, something I chose to ignore, and turned back to me. “It’s good to see you out and about even if you do have something hanging off you.”

  “Are we getting out of here or what?” Lindsey shot me one last pleading look, clearly ignoring my earlier statement and Ashlyn’s insult and thrust her tits harder into my side.

  I shook my head dismissively. I ran my hands through my thick dark hair and groaned as tightness flooded my pants. It was almost like my dick was telling me what an idiot I was to say no to an easy lay. With a huff, Lindsey spun away from me and stormed through the crowd and out of my sight. I felt like a prick because I was thankful for the peace her leaving offered.

  “What the fuck was that?” Ashlyn shot in amusement, her eyes bounced back to mine. “I know it’s been a while between fucks but shit that was desperation if I’d ever seen it. I am proud of you for keeping your dick in your pants.”

  “Can we at least have one drink in our systems before we start discussing the lack of action my dick has had lately.” I laughed as I turned to the bar to give the bartender our order.

  As I waited for the drinks, I tapped the bar with my fingers and hummed along to some random top forty song that was thumping through the place.

  My patience wavered. Just as I was ready to cancel the order and head home, a flash of red gripped tight hold of my attention. Through the sea of men and lingerie clad women, my eyes followed the stunning brunette’s every step. Instant recognition flashed within me, and I took in a sharp unsteady breath the moment she turned around and I saw her face.

  It couldn’t be.

  I spun around and leaned my back against the bar allowing myself to get lost in the vision before me. My eyes, full of intrigue and lust, ran the length of her body several times; she was dressed in skinny jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin and caused me to ac
he in my pants and the red jacket she was wearing opened so subtly allowing a glimpse of her enticing tits. I was completely captivated as I took in everything about the girl in the red jacket.

  As she dodged and weaved her way through the crowd, her wide eyes scoped out the room. Loose curls fell over her shoulder and swayed over the middle of her back. She looked so out of place amongst the lingerie covered women surrounding me, yet she was the only one holding my attention.

  “Eden Rivers.”

  At the sound of Ashlyn’s admission, I tore my gaze from my new obsession for the night and raised an eyebrow in question. “What did you say?”

  “The girl you are staring at is Eden Rivers.” The smile gracing Ashlyn’s face was magnificent, and it took me a moment to realize she was holding out my beer. I grabbed the beer and lifted it to my lips desperate for some calm to sweep over me.

  Eden Rivers.

  “Fuck.”

  I knew exactly who she was.

  For the last four years I thought of myself as a walking contradiction. An enigma of society’s belief of what a twenty-four-year-old woman should be like. I am Eden Rivers; daughter, best friend, survivor, and tonight, on a cold November night in New York City, I was putting on my best mask and becoming the party girl everyone should be on their twenty-fourth birthday.

  My best friend Tori and I had just spent four days driving cross-country, stopping at all the cliché road stops, taking honorary photos in front of inappropriate signs and landmarks, singing off key to hits of the eighties, and eating way too much junk but the fun had all but dissolved into a smoldering pit of unwanted torment the moment we crossed the New York state line. Now I was back in the city I had promised myself I would never step foot in again.

  For the past four years, I had created a safety blanket in San Francisco. My life revolved around taking photos and getting lost in the escapism that it provided me. Most of my conscious hours were spent hidden behind a lens or sitting at my desk overlooking San Francisco Bay editing photos. The thing I loved most about photography was that I could create a different world, a different scene, simply by a few clicks of a button. It was my comfort, and the hundreds of photos I had taken was my therapy. Hiding behind my laptop and a camera allowed me to shut down the fear of being pushed into a situation I had no control over. Control was now everything to me—it was like the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart—and I needed it to survive. I controlled my life and the people I allowed to get close to me with such a strong shield. I needed that. It was crucial for my ability to function, and it allowed me to create a world that would allow me to find a purpose. It allowed me to be whoever I wanted to be, when I needed to be someone else. The scariest part of my new life was that I had absolutely no clue exactly who I was anymore. Who was Eden Rivers?