by Molly McLain
“You get her, kid,” he says, winking, and then walking with Brad to the bush that oddly enough does have a phallic shape.
I go to stand as Savannah nears me, but she puts a hand out to stop me.
“I’ll come to you,” she says, sitting with a pained groan. “My feet are killing me.”
She’s seated just beside me, no space between us, and she lets her head fall to my shoulder. Impulsively, my own head rests against hers, the smell of her hair spikes my senses.
“Jason?” she whispers.
“Yes, Savannah?”
“I never did get my midnight kiss.” She lifts her head and looks at me. Twilight reflects off her gorgeous eyes making them look like little majestic pools. She pouts her bottom lip out and without warning, without care for anyone around us, without regard for what comes next, I take her lip between mine. Eyes closed, our lips work effortlessly together, and I savor the taste and feel of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the all-out buzz that takes over my body. I grab her waist with one hand and cheek with the other and I pull her in, feeling every bit of her, my tongue jousting with hers is intoxicating.
I pull away slowly, eyes still closed, and a smile on my face. I work my eyes open just as she does and she lets out a sigh of content before resting her head against my shoulder again.
“That’ll do, sir,” she says with a quiet laugh. “That’ll do just fine.”
There’s a quiet peaceful moment between us before she abruptly lifts her head again, a curious look in her eye.
“When the hell were you gonna share that little tidbit?” she asks, playfully, as she brushes her fingers over the three bullet holes on my right pant leg, my shot to shit prosthetic beneath it.
“Oh yeah.” I chuckle. “About that.”
About the Author
BT Urruela is a combat wounded amputee, Purple Heart recipient, turned contemporary author who has written both independent and traditionally published books.
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He is a RARE under 40 Award recipient, Co-founder and Brand Ambassador for VETSports, Ambassador for Tampa Sports Academy, People Magazine Tribute for Heroes winner, Cover Model, Motivational Speaker and Philanthropist.
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He is a USA Today Bestselling Author of A Lover’s Lament with co-author, K L Grayson. He released is first solo book, Into the Nothing in June 2016, co-authored the psychological thriller, Wicked Little Words with Stevie J. Cole, and is releasing Book 2 in his Broken Outlaw Series, Into the Blood, December 2016.
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BT currently resides in Tampa, Florida with his dogs, Kiko and Scout.
A Powers Play (The Powers That Be 1.5)
USA Today Bestselling Author
Harper Bentley
A Powers Play (The Powers That Be Book 1.5)
Copyright © 2016 Harper Bentley
All rights reserved. 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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
* * *
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.
Chapter 1
“Holy wow,” I muttered, watching the ring girl walking around, well, the ring. She was the fourth one I’d observed, and each of them looked as if they’d been sprouted from the same ultra-gorgeous-kickass-look-at-me-and-my-perfect-body-genetically-altered strand of DNA that may very well have been created by a mad scientist—with a penchant for hot chicks—in a supermodel laboratory that was probably hidden somewhere underground in Area 51.
“What?” Gable asked, looking down at me as I stared at the teeny-tiny-bikini-laden woman.
I pointed toward her and he followed my finger before looking back at me. “It’s like Monica Belucci and Brigitte Bardot had a baby then the sexiest parts of them were harvested and glued together to make the perfect woman. Then she was upgraded and cloned.”
Gable chuckled, leaning down and kissing the side of my head. “Baby, they’ve got nothing on you.”
I huffed out a laugh because that was the dumbest statement ever. “They’re beautiful,” I mumbled in awe.
He looked back at the girl and made an “Ehh” face. Then putting an arm behind me resting it on my seat back, he curled his hand around my shoulder and tugged me closer, his mouth at my ear and remarked, “Babe. You are the hottest chick here. Fuck, you’re the hottest chick within a twenty-five-mile radius of here.” He kissed the side of my head and pulled back.
I cut my eyes up at him. “Oh, so there’s a hotter chick twenty-six miles away? I see how it is,” I teased.
He snorted. “Nope. Not even twenty-six-thousand miles away.”
“Since that’s farther than the earth is all the way around, you’re including outer space now. I’ll take it!” I giggled before pushing up off my seat to give him a quick peck on the lips then turned back to watch the girl step out of the ring wondering how the heck she could do it so gracefully with the six-inch stiletto heels she wore. Dang.
A bell rang and the next round of the MMA fight started, so I grabbed my phone thinking I needed to start texting people again. Anything to keep from watching the brutality going on in that ring.
Gable and I were at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas for New Year’s Eve, a trip his company had sponsored and paid for, and two of the guys he worked with had come also, all of us having flown in just last night. His coworkers were single, which sucked because there were no wives or girlfriends I could hang out with, so I’d been left to attend the fights with the guys, which had amounted to my avoiding the savagery going on in front of me and playing on my phone the whole time. Jeff and Chip—yes, Chip—Gable’s coworkers were now seated at his other side, and all three of them were getting into the fight, which I’d been informed was the Title Fight and that the one before this one hadn’t mattered.
“So, that one guy in the first fight got the crap kicked out of him for nothing?” I’d asked Gable after the first match, who’d told me I was cute, kissed my forehead, then continued talking to Jeff and Chip about how awesome it’d been when said guy’s elbow had snapped backward when he’d tried getting up from the mat. Uh. Okay.
Now as they watched this fight, the two men in the ring all but going medieval on each other, Gable and his buddies yelled out things like, “Oh! He’s got him in a kimura!” and “Guillotine!” all of which I didn’t understand and didn’t really want to. So just as I had during the match before, I whiled away the time texting friends. Well, that and playing Fairway Solitaire which had become my latest obsession, aka, procrastination device, I’d turned to when I got writer’s block.
I decided to text Amy, my old roommate.
Text Message—Thurs, Dec 31, 9:06 p.m.
Me: Holy shit. You should see these ring chicks!
Amy: You’re at an MMA fight with hot-bodied guys, abs for days, muscles sticking out everywhere, and you’re looking at the ring girls??
Me: Aim, I swear, this one chick walked right out of Photoshop
Amy: Duh. They probably have a fuckin’ airbrush machine backstage they paint ‘em all up with
Me: Ohhhhhh…could be! That’s why they all look so perfect! Ngl. These chicks have got it going on! Perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect bodies. It’s like a Stepford Wives convention or something. Who knows? Maybe they’re robots…dun dun dun!
Amy: Could be. Or maybe it’s like a zombie
apocalypse except they’re all gorgeous and instead of brains, they just wanna eat a sammich ‘cause I’m sure they’re all models and starving
Me: Lol Totally possible. They’re too perfect. You & Chad hit the club yet?
Amy: We’re gonna be fashionably late
Me: What, can’t get your eye shadow just right?
Amy: Mascara. Clumped too much. Third time’s a charm…sigh
Amy was gorgeous and needed zero makeup, her coffee with cream skin the most perfect I’d ever seen. She’d actually never worn cosmetics regularly and had just recently asked me to show her how to put on eye shadow. I’d taught her how to do a smoky purple that made her already startling sea-foam green eyes pop even more and the results had been stunning.
Me: I’m sure it looks fine. You’re beautiful as is anyway! : )
Amy: Aw. Right back atcha, babe. Oh! You told him yet?
Me: Waiting until midnight ;)
Amy: He’s gonna shit his pants
Me: Uh, that’s not quite the outcome I’m wanting…I mean, I’ve been envisioning lots of hot sex after I tell him
Amy: Just have some baby wipes ready to clean things up when he shits his pants
Me: You’re really gonna go there? That’s just gross
Amy: Just keepin’ it real, sister
Me: How about you fictionalize it up some
Amy: Okay…Oh, Scout! He’s gonna be sooooooo excited! He’ll pop a huge woody then jam it inside you ALL night long!
Me: Much better (I hope you know I’m rolling my eyes)
Amy: But he will SO shit his pants
Me: Ooookay. Enough of that. I’m gonna text Bodhi now because I know shit won’t be the topic of our convo
Amy: lol Well, tell Mr. Zen I said hi
Me: Will do. Tell Chad I said hi! Love you! Happy New Year! <3
Amy: Give Gable a big hug for me! Love you too! Have fun! HNY! Xo
Amy and I had met when I’d answered her ad for a roommate after transferring to Hallervan University in Seattle my sophomore year and we’d become fast friends. We’d lived together until our senior year when I’d moved in with Gable—and his brothers Ryker and Loch, which had been fun, no, really—into the rental house their parents owned but in which they let the boys live. Chad had moved in with Amy at the apartment, but they’d since found a bigger place. Then three months back, Gable and I had built our own house, which he’d designed, and which I was now obsessed with decorating.
The bell dinged for another round to start and I frowned at having missed Stepford Ring Girl number five.
Text Message—Thurs, Dec 31, 9:33 p.m.
Me: What’s up, handsome? : )
Bodhi: Getting ready, gorgeous! How’s Vegas?
I’d also met Bodhi my first year at Hallervan. He was tall, Buddhist and gay. We’d met in the cafeteria and had been best friends since.
Me: I LOVE it!! Well, not so much these two guys pounding the crap out of each other, but other than that, I love it! lol
Bodhi: I’ll bet they’re hot
Me: Yeah. Bruises and all *eye roll*
Bodhi: Makes ‘em even hotter lol
Me: So you’d think Jaron was even hotter if he had, say, a black eye?
Bodhi: Gay guys dig other gay guys with black eyes ;)
Me: Hm. Come to think of it, the Florence Nightingale Effect is true for everyone. Gable had a black eye once and it WAS kinda hot
Bodhi: Like that man can get even hotter! Got yourself a good one, Scout ;)
Me: True! But you should see him right now, leaning left and right, jabbing his fists, fighting from his seat lol
Bodhi: You told him yet?
Me: Nope. Midnight!
Bodhi: He’s gonna come undone!
Me: Thanks for not saying he’s gonna shit his pants. That was Amy’s response >.<
Bodhi: Yeah, I know. I texted her earlier and she said it lol
Me: So what’re you wearing?
Bodhi: You flirting with me, honey?
Me: Always ;)
Bodhi: Got on a tux, woman! I look pretty hot if I do say so myself. Oh, and Jaron? God help me…
Me: Very nice! I’ll bet you look amazing! Pics later, k?
Bodhi: Same! K I gotta go before Jaron tells me to hurry up for the thousandth time and we miss the ball dropping
Me: Oh, you guys aren’t THAT old lmao
Bodhi: Haha I miss your bad jokes. We need to get together soon!
Me: Yes! Let’s! Okay, you need to get ready! Have fun! Love you! Tell Jaron I said hi! You guys have an awesome New Year’s!! <3
Bodhi: Love you too, baby girl xo Tell Gable hi for me. And you guys do the same!
I texted various other friends throughout the rest of the fight, ignoring it all for the most part, except for the ring chicks who just got even more Stepford-ier making me chuckle each time a new one came out looking even more perfect than the last.
But what was weird, was that it was at the times when I wasn’t all into my phone it felt as if I was being watched. When I looked around to see if someone’s eyes were on me, I couldn’t pinpoint anyone, which was just freaking eerie. After having this happen several times and still not catching who was watching me, I decided to chalk it up to nerves at what I had to tell Gable, but it was still super strange.
The last time I’d felt I was being watched, I’d finally sat back with a huff and started texting again, but found myself worrying about Gable’s reaction later when I told him my news.
I hoped he’d be ecstatic about it and we’d have hot sex for the rest of the night.
Or, my luck as Amy said, he’d shit his pants.
Awesome.
Chapter 2
“I love Vegas!” I yelled, waving the handful of money I’d won which I now had spread out like a deck of cards in my hand.
Gable laughed. “Babe,” he called trying to calm me down. But I was too busy dancing around our room in my short, black sequined dress that was similar to a flapper dress, spangled fringes and all. “Scout!” he yelled.
I stopped spinning—my blond hair flying into my face and the fringes twisting around my waist—for a moment before looking at him. “What?” I giggled at the exasperated look on his face.
And, my lord, he looked hot—caramel-colored hair in a fade cut, sooty lashes surrounding golden brown eyes that were now looking at me in amusement, a perfect, straight nose, high cheekbones, strong stubble-covered jaw. Now, put all that together with him being dressed in a black tux, and damn.
And under that tux, he was covered in tattoos—two full-sleeves and countless others on his chest—a colorful collection of various art, each representing something meaningful to him. My favorite one? The last he’d gotten which was a heart-shaped locket with “Priss”—his nickname for me—in the center, with a key that had opened it. Oh, how I loved it.
He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna throw that money on the bed and roll around in it…in that dress…” He rubbed his chin giving me a smoldering look as if that wasn’t a half-bad idea. “Or are we going to the after-party?”
“Although I do like that first idea, how about going to the party?” I answered with a snicker when he narrowed his eyes at me.
After the fight, we’d stopped in the casino to try our luck. I’d insisted he go first and he’d gone to a blackjack table but hadn’t had a whole lot of luck. When he’d shrugged letting me know he was finished, I’d headed to the first slot machine I’d seen, put in $25 and had immediately hit, winning $2000.
“Try it again,” he’d prompted.
“Hell no!” I uttered then snorted at his shocked look. Taking his face in my hands and giving him a kiss, I’d explained, “Baby, I’ve got everything I need as it is. You, two-thousand buckaroos, a fabulous trip to Vegas on New Year’s Eve. What more could I want?”
I’d chuckled as he’d mouthed, “Buckaroos,” then smacked his arm because he’d raised an eyebrow looking at me as if I were an idiot.
“Is that an Idaho thin
g?” he’d asked.
I’d rolled my eyes. “Yes. We Idahoans aren’t as progressive as you Seattle-lites, I guess. C’mon! I wanna cash this in!”
We were now back in our room where we’d gone to lock the cash in the safe then change into our party clothes but I had to celebrate my win just a little.
I waved the money in my hand one more time, throwing an eyebrow waggle his way just to make sure that, if he didn’t already know, I’d won.
And Gable had had enough.
As he stalked toward me, so freaking handsome in his tux, he growled low, “Gave you a chance, Priss.”
My eyes got big as I took a step back. “But…the party…I…”
He slowly shook his head as he advanced on me, me taking a step back for each one he took forward. When the backs of my knees hit the bed, I yelped out a giggle as I fell back onto it with a bounce.
The look on his face had me instantly wet. I knew he meant business from the way his eyes glittered making their way down my body and stopping to gaze between my legs. When they moved up to mine he ground out, “You not wearing any panties, Scout?”
I bit my bottom lip as I shook my head, looking at him from under my lashes.
“Just stockings and a fuckin’ garter belt?” he asked roughly as he took the money from my hand and set it on the nightstand.
I nodded.
“Fuck…me…” he uttered.
Faster than I knew what was happening, he knelt, grabbed me by the ankles and threw my legs over his shoulders. Then his mouth was on me. And holy God. When Gable’s mouth was on me, it was pure heaven.
“Oh, damn,” I whispered moving my hands down to lace my fingers in his hair where I held on, grinding against his mouth as he thrust his tongue inside, fucking me with it. “Gable!” I cried out, arching up off the bed.
