Sunday

by Kaia Bennett

  SUNDAY

  by

  Kaia Bennett

  License Notes

  Copyright © Kaia Bennett 2014

  Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

  All rights reserved

  This book is protected under the copyright laws. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone is unintentional.

  Dedicated to my family and friends, who have showered me with me love, affection and unwavering faith in my abilities. I love you. And to my readers and those who have helped me immensely on this journey. You have touched my heart with your kindness and support. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  ABOUT KAIA BENNETT

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gia Kessler climbed the stairs one foot at a time, like a kid trying to prolong the journey towards cleaning their room. That was what Sundays at twelve thirty were starting to feel like: a chore. Since signing up for her psychology class she had been diligent, and she was even enjoying the course work. But the end of the semester was fast approaching, and the final group project would soon be due. Each student had been randomly assigned a partner, given a topic, and told to put together an hours worth of presentation material.

  She just happened to get saddled with the biggest slacker in her class.

  Sighing as she reached the hallway of the fourth floor, Gia walked three doors down and turned to the door on the right. She rapped on the door four times, then waited... and waited. She knocked again, listening for signs of movement inside. Her jaw clenched as she shifted from one foot to the other before knocking loudly three more times. It was on the third knock that the door opened and the reason for her exasperation came into full view.

  Cameron Flynn, or Flynn as he was usually called, stood in the doorway with a look of groggy annoyance plastered on his pretty-boy face. Slanted green eyes under thin arched brows surveyed the black girl staring up at him with daggers in her gaze.

  "Did you hear me say I was coming?" he asked in a voice husky with sleep. He stared down at her through a cloud of dirty blond curls.

  "No, I was too busy knocking. Maybe if you pretended like you actually care about our grade, and remembered to be awake at our meeting time..."

  He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Here we fucking go," as he strode backwards to let her in.

  He watched her stroll in like she owned the place, practically turning up her nose and cutting her eyes at him when she walked through the doorway. Outwardly he just smirked at her, but inwardly he groaned with weariness. He couldn’t stand Sundays anymore, and 99.9% of that had to do with Gia and her big fucking mouth. Not only did she talk too much for his tastes, but she thought too much, which is why a simple hour long presentation had turned into the bane of his existence. She always had some new idea or some new piece of research she insisted he look into, which basically translated into more work for him to do.

  And she always looked at him and talked to him with barely contained disgust, because he wasn’t excited to watch yet another documentary, or he didn’t feel the need to take a ridiculous amount of notes. Usually, he was able to cope with just a roll of his eyes, or a barely concealed attempt to ignore her; but today, after having just woken up and with no time to get himself adjusted to her presence, it was a little too much to take.

  Still, even with all of her anal retentive quirks, and her shitty personality, Gia was nice to look at. His eyes couldn’t help but trail over her body, noting the way her full breasts curved underneath a pink scoop-neck shirt. Her light blue jeans conformed to the contours of her ass nicely. She had long, dark hair which fell straight and then curled around her shoulders, and golden brown skin that glowed. He had to admit she was well put together, with curves in all the right places and long legs to match. Her face was cute, too, with those big doe eyes, those full pink lips, and a little tilted nose.

  Or at least, her face would’ve been cute if it wasn’t marred by an eternal grimace. He turned away and shook his head, thinking what a waste of a pretty package she was.

  Gia snuck a glimpse of him while he rubbed his eyes and closed the door. Flynn stood shirtless and in a pair of unbuttoned jeans. She had never seen him in such a state of undress and, to be honest, his build surprised her. He had always seemed on the lanky side, but his shoulders were broad, his arms heavy with toned muscles and veined forearms. A scorpion tattoo – which she was having trouble not staring at – curved over his right pec, the stinger curling around the slanted pink nipple. His torso was narrow and v-shaped, the abs long, sculpted, and symmetrical. And yet there was a meatiness to him, as if touching him would be like touching flesh and blood and not human granite. She had just finished staring at the cut of his hips when her eyes shot up involuntarily, and caught him watching her.

  "You know the drill," he said, pointing to the kitchen table where they usually worked.

  They got down to business; or rather Gia did, while Flynn looked bored or shot down her ideas. Still, his attitude was the least of her problems. It had gotten to the point where every time she looked in his direction his naked torso stole her attention.

  After being caught for the fourth time, she stopped writing notes and said, "I'm sorry, but can you please take this more seriously? And while you're at it, can you put on a shirt or something?"

  He rocked back and forth on the back legs of his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. "So, that's what's bothering you, huh?"

  She looked him squarely in the eyes, knowing exactly what he meant. "Not in the way you're suggesting,” she said. “I'm not impressed with your ideas for this project, or your body. Maybe if you were less impressed with yourself we could get some real work done."

  He just kept rocking back and forth, staring her down until she couldn't help but look away. She fought the very strong nervous impulse to lick her lips, lest he get the wrong idea.

  "Bullshit," he said, finally. "You've been staring at my tattoo since you got here. But that's not the only thing you've been staring at, is it?"

  Her laugh accompanied a bitter smile. She didn’t look up from her notebook, afraid he would see the heat of embarrassment and annoyance coursing over her skin.

  "Of course a guy like you would read it all wrong."

  "Oh, so, now I'm getting my signals crossed?” he said disbelievingly. “Every time I look the other way your eyes are all over me—"r />
  "Look," she said, setting down her pen and turning to face him. "I know a conceited asshole like you finds this impossible to comprehend, but I don't want you. I don't even want to be in the same room with you. But I have to work with you on this project, and I intend to get the best grade possible on it. And just so we’re clear, I have a boyfriend who provides more than enough eye candy, but his package includes a personality. Got it?"

  He actually started to laugh, a deep throaty laugh that shocked her senses. She had never seen him in anything but a dazed stupor on the way out of class. He usually could be found sleeping in the back row during a lecture. The way his eyes turned into half moons as he chuckled and how perfectly straight his teeth were was unnerving. Cameron Flynn, the male model. Jesus.

  "So, what's up, Gia?” he said. “Is the 'perfect package' boyfriend not givin' it to you like he used to? Is that why you're so tense?"

  Goal! shouted the announcer in her head. It was far too easy for him to pick up on her sexual frustration.

  Granted, her relationship with Luca was hitting a dry spell, but that was to be expected, what with how busy they were with school and work. It was her fault the drought had started in the first place. At first, she’d been much too busy to sleep over Luca's place, and when she did sleep over, she passed out right away. But the last few weeks, she’d been the one getting shot down. There were days when it was all she could do not to rock her pussy against the edge of a desk just to get some relief. And there was the other matter; the one that made her suspect maybe he didn't have enough energy for her because he was putting his "energy" into someone else.

  "It makes sense," Flynn continued, pulling her out of her depressing reverie. "Girls like you tend to be bitchy. The pretty, studious types who take themselves too seriously. You just need a stiff dick to soften you up."

  "Fuck you, Flynn," she hissed, with all the venom she could muster.

  "Oh, I know you want to," he whispered seductively. "Good girls always do." He licked his lips and his chair came down to the floor with a bang.

  She wasn't sure if it was that pink tongue flitting over his lips, or the sudden noise which made her heart thump, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. She started packing up her things, slamming every book, rustling every paper.

  And going over the reasons she would list to her professor next week why she could no longer work with Cameron Flynn.

  "Oh, look, she's angry,” he said. “Again. Jesus, don't you have any emotional range?"

  "What!?"

  He came to his feet, bending over to pick up the papers that had rustled to the floor in her fury. "I said, don't you have any emotional range? Do you express any other emotion besides discomfort or anger? It's like, 'Scowl #1' and 'Scowl #2' with you."

  He was leaning against the edge of the table, his arms crossed, watching her with his head tilted. She could feel his eyes roving over her curves, taking in her golden brown skin, and she felt like she was back in junior high all over again, self conscious and aware of what that look meant.

  She held out her hand for the papers without looking up.

  He shook his head. "Uh-uh," he said. "You have to ask me nicely."

  She simply shrugged and started her stomp towards the door. He could keep her notes. Let them be a present to him now that he was left to fail his project all alone.

  "Um, aren't you forgetting something?" Flynn called smugly.

  She stopped, inspecting the bundle in her arms. Notebook? Check. Binder with handouts? Check. Textbooks? Check. Jacket? Check. Purse?

  Purse...

  She turned to see his arrogant smile and her purse dangling back and forth on one of his long fingers. With gritted teeth and shaking hands, she walked over to him and held out a hand.

  "Please," she said, in her sweetest voice. "May I have my purse back?"

  "Say you're sorry for being so rude."

  She looked up at him in disbelief. "You really are a piece of work. I'm not apologizing for anything."

  “Tell you what,” Flynn said, “you get on your knees and blow me, and we'll call it even. It’d finally put that big mouth to good use."

  She watched a slow smile spread his lips, his eyes glittering with the knowledge he was making her blood boil.

  "How about I bite it off and save women everywhere from the worst three minutes of their lives?" she said.

  Gia reached for her purse and he took the opportunity to grab her arm and pull her to him. All of her things tumbled to the floor as she came into contact with him. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other pinned her hand to his scorpion tattoo. It was a shock to the system, some warped paradox, because mentally she loathed him, and yet she could feel her body becoming soft and pliant against his. She was uncomfortably aware of the warmth of his skin under her palm, and his steady breaths which pushed his body against hers.

  "You should have a taste before you go bad mouthing the merchandise," Flynn said.

  If anyone had asked her if she knew what was coming next, she would have honestly been able to say ‘no’. Even with his eyes boring into hers beneath his shaggy curls, even with his head tilting to the side and his mouth fast approaching, she couldn't get her mind to work. His lips didn't help any when they pressed firmly to hers. It was like he’d drugged her with his tongue, making her eyes go from wide to heavy lidded for the longest ten seconds she had ever experienced.

  And then, she came to her senses.

  "Mmph!" she cried through their connected lips, pushing against his chest, trying to break free. She was practically bent over backwards when Flynn finally released her with a gasp. He barely had time to lick his lips and inhale before she slapped him across the face. Hard. So hard her handprint was already starting to blossom on his left cheek when he turned back.

  Gia was speechless and gasping for breath, not realizing her nails were digging into the ink black skin of his tattoo, or that her nipples were scraping against his chest with every breath.

  "Let go of me. Now,” she said sternly.

  He made no move to release her and all the playfulness had drained away from his face. She was shaking against him, a faint trickle of fear running down her spine.

  "Can you really be this dense," she whispered.

  "Can you really be this bad of a liar," he countered. "Do you know you were moaning when I kissed you?"

  No, she hadn’t known that. She couldn't have been.

  That cocky smile returned in megawatt fashion, and it was worse than the stony face he’d given her after she’d slapped him. Far worse.

  "You should know, I don't lie, sweetheart. When I say you want me, that's not me being conceited. That's just a fact." His voice was low, menacing. Fear prickled her skin, and something else, something far more disturbing to her than fear made the juncture between her legs tingle. She clenched her thighs against the unwelcome arousal, and shook her head as if to convince herself he couldn’t possibly be right.

  "Here,” he said. “Let me show you.”

  This time she was prepared, and she pushed to get away, turning her head to the side to avoid the next assault on her face. But he wasn't aiming for her face. Instead, he gripped both her hands behind her back and shoved her so that her ass was pressed against the table where they’d been studying. He pushed her back, forcing her to sit on top of it, and positioned himself between her legs.

  "Let go of me!” she cried. “I swear to God, you'll be sorry if you do anything to me!"

  She tried scooting away from him, but with her arms pinned right behind her ass, all it did was make her rub against what she realized in a flush of heat was his growing erection. He let out a small growl, and it was the most predatory sound she’d ever heard. She stopped moving immediately, only to gasp as he began grinding his cock in a slow rhythm between her widespread legs.

  "S-stop!"

  Flynn didn’t stop. He laughed, and watched her slowly start to lose the battle against her own arousal instead. He watched h
er eyes grow hooded, her breath escaping in increasingly shallow pants. Her upper body was leaning back as if trying to escape, but he felt her hips answering the friction he was providing when they pumped against his. He couldn’t help smirking when she bit down on her bottom lip and turned her face away. There was no doubt she was pushing back against him now, her body starting to concede to him even as she continued to gasp for him to stop.

  "I'm willing to bet that frigid pussy of yours is thawing up right about now," he said.

  She could barely hear own voice through the rush of blood in her ears. Her body was shaking with fear, but her clit was overriding that every time he provided delicious friction against her.

  "Should we check and see?" he asked.

  She was on her back before she could scream, her arms now pinned over her head. Gia stared up at him, her hair in her face, her back arched and her arms stretched to their limit. She took a deep breath and screamed.

  But he was quicker. The sound barely escaped her throat before his mouth was over hers again, his tongue circling inside her mouth. He gripped both of her wrists in one large hand, freeing the other to stroke down her neck and over a heaving breast. She moaned against her will as his palm curved into the contours of her body, his thumb strumming a mutinous nipple. Her body was dead set on betraying her to this asshole. She was succumbing fast to the sensory overload of his hips rocking against hers, his hand stroking down her body, and the groans reverberating in her mouth as he kissed her thoroughly.

  She came back to earth when she felt his fingers on the button of her jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them. She did the only thing she could think to get him to release her mouth. She bit him.

  It was a battle of wills.

  He’d wanted to have her screaming in an entirely different way before he released her mouth. Flynn held on as long as he could, and then let out a yell and recoiled. Blood started to gather rapidly on the surface of his bottom lip where she’d bitten him. He licked it away, leaving his lip slick and red and quickly slid his hand into her panties, gliding his middle finger against her wet slit. He watched her inhale, opening her mouth wide to scream, to call for help.