Almost
Forgotten
The Broken Men Chronicles
Book Two
CAREY DECEVITO
Kindle Edition
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Almost Forgotten
Copyright © 2014 by Carey Decevito
ISBN: 9781495304699
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is available in print at most online retailers.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Epilogue
About the Author
Connect with Me
Books by Carey
Prologue
I eyed her from across Fairfax, an after-work institution for the upwardly mobile, knowing that in moments, I’d catch her attention. As suspected, while perusing the male population inside the establishment, her gaze froze on me.
I flashed my come hither smile. Some called it a panty remover, others have attested that it made their knees weak. Regardless of its effect, the women I set my sights on wound up vying for my attention in varying degrees. With a rosy tint to her cheeks, this particular one was quick to shift her glance.
I had no doubt that I looked good in my designer Armani, minus the claustrophobic tie I wore earlier in the day. As if she couldn’t help herself, her eyes connected with mine, again.
Hook line and sinker.
Turning, I nodded to the bartender and indicated my desire for another drink by twirling the ice in my empty tumbler. It had been one hell of a week and I was in dire need of some down-time.
The sure things in my life since high school had been good money, an abundance of women, and great sex. For the most part, all three came easy.
I wasn’t always like this, you know. As with anyone else who leads a somewhat fulfilled yet semi-dysfunctional life, something happened to shape me into the man that I am today. Do I really want to rehash the details with you right now?
No.
Will I?
Stick around and you’ll find out.
As predicted, the feisty-looking redhead donning a black mini dress headed in my direction. I tilted some of my premium scotch back and felt the burn as the liquor slid down my throat.
My cock took notice of the sway to her hips, the length of her slender legs, and the brief but sultry look she’d given me with those bright emerald eyes of hers. I followed her progress with a neutral expression, assessing every bit of the vixen that I could, giving nothing of her effects away.
Oh yeah. She was just the ticket and I wondered if she was a natural redhead.
She came to a stop beside me, shifting so she faced the bar but not before giving me another quick once-over and a shy smile.
Boy did I love a wonderful combination of coy and assertive in a woman. And this one pulled it off with perfection.
Noticing the twinkle in her eyes, I knew she held secrets that begged to be discovered under that shy façade of hers. As she licked her red lips, I knew that I would know all of those secrets if I played my cards right. In fact, I was so certain that she would be the cap to the end of my miserable week that I was already playing out how she would look with that sinful mouth of hers wrapped around my cock while I fucked her face.
I swallowed the last of my scotch and turned to her. “Out alone?”
She waited to catch the bartender’s attention and huffed when he once again passed by her for a duo of men at the other end of the bar. “More like ditched. Can’t a girl get a drink around here?” She didn’t seem too disturbed about being left to her own devices however. “Friend bailed out to spend the night with their boyfriend.”
“Hmm.” I trailed my fingers across the top of her hand which lay on the bar. Goose-bumps spread over her forearm. Swallowing hard, her eyes met mine in brief shock before they cast themselves downward to watch the progress of my digits. “That’s such a shame, honey. A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be left alone. I guess I have her to thank for gaining your company.”
She lifted her head and I saw her cheeks pink. “It’s him.”
“Excuse me?”
“My friend,” she began and her lips quirked up, “he ditched me for his boyfriend.”
My jaw dropped at the unexpected announcement and her husky laugh at my reaction told me I hadn’t recovered fast enough from the shock. Her laugh was something else though, as I felt the twitch in my crotch for the second time in under fifteen minutes.
Giving up on her drink request, she turned to face me, looked down again at my playing fingers on her hand before gazing up at me and biting that plump bottom lip of hers. The wheels were turning in that pretty head of hers. When that sexy grin spread across her face, there was no doubt in my mind on how my evening was going to end. I had her right where I wanted her.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, my fingers continuing their trail up her forearm.
“I’d like that.”
Chapter 1
The night was young and Red hadn’t shown any sign of leaving my side at any time, what with her constant touching, flirting, and brief brushes of her lips as she whispered words to set me on fire by my ear.
She was quite the looker if you’re into the whole, artificial cleavage, the makeup, the nip-tuck kind of look she presented. Don’t get me wrong, she was cute, hot to be honest. She was just too damn perfect which made her perfect for one night of hot, intense fucking and nothing else. She’d fit in with all the others before her — the love them and leave them kind.
You may think me shallow but I’m a g
uy… with needs. After a week like I’ve had, where I’ve watched families torn apart by domestic violence, adultery, unemployment, and death, I dare you to be sitting in my shoes. If you were the same kind of guy I was, you would have been begging for release from chaos by Wednesday — it’s Friday.
My release from a hectic week is in the form of women and booze as you might have gathered. Not enough to be deemed a functional drunkard, simply enough to let go of the stresses of the week and unwind. Call it a celebratory release of sorts. The occasional cigar helps but I reserve that for when the boys and I get together which hasn’t been often as of late seeing as they’ve all tied themselves down for the most part. But that’s not for me — not since… well, never mind that.
She broke me away from my dark thoughts of matrimony and all things alike when she said, “What do you say we get out of here?”
My smile held all the promises of an exhausting and blissful night ahead for both of us. “I say you couldn’t have had a better idea.”
A lingering look at those legs of hers as she preceded me out the door and I found it difficult to believe that we’d make it to my place before I ended up with those slender stilts wrapped around me.
After hailing a cab, thanks to too much alcohol, I pulled her to me for a deeper taste of those glossy lips of hers. She tasted of the wine she had been drinking, with a slight hint of chocolate — delicious.
But not as good as… No! I stuffed those thoughts out of my mind. Or at least, I tried to.
Fifteen years have gone by and still, no one measured to her. No matter how I try to stop it, my mind always compared my numerous conquests to the one woman who ran from me — Danica Withers.
It was because of Danica that I was who I was. No, not the family law practitioner; the Casanova. I was young — a fool. My naïveté caused me a lapse in judgement at the not so ripe age of eighteen. It’s true what they say about love being blind. If only I hadn’t figured it all out the hard way, maybe things would be different now.
I fell head over heels in love with Danica but after giving her everything, she left me with a note. Some letter that didn’t explain much of anything, yet to this day, like a masochist, I carried the fucking thing everywhere. It was in my wallet, serving a reminder whenever I doubted my current state of affairs where relationships were concerned.
Danica left me bearing nothing but a shattered soul, not to mention a hell of a lot of resentment, and complete disregard for all things that entailed commitment to the fairer sex.
By the time I’d pulled myself together, I had sworn off love. I remember getting the typical “you’ll get over her, you’re still young”, “you’ll find another”, and my personal favourite, “just you wait, when the right woman shows up, you’ll realize you were wrong all along”. All of them viable comments for the true believer, all of them comments I had laughed at and brushed off.
No. Love wasn’t for me. I was better off without the complexities of commitment. And it’s been that way since Danica’s departure, sort of. It worked for me and I live by the old adage of not fixing things when they weren’t broken.
I wish I could say that my fifteen years of phobia towards commitment had erased all sense of yearning but despite being ninety-five percent womanizer, there was that five percent of the dreamer that haunted my thoughts on the occasional night. It was apparent, the minute I started comparing Red to Danica, that tonight was one of those said nights.
What the fuck is up with you, man? Get your balls back into the game and send this one off with a smile that’ll last her through ‘til next week.
And so, my womanizing conscience won out. It always did. But I was growing tired of having to fight with myself.
By the time we reached my house, I had no idea as to the extent of my state of undress, being so wrapped up into my flavor of the night. My shirt lay unbuttoned and un-tucked at the front.
I paid the driver and rushed us to my front door, tripping over my pants which were undone and sliding down my legs. I smirked at the giggling woman before leading her through the threshold ahead of me. Kicking the door shut, I dropped my pants and pinned her to the solid oak.
“I can’t wait,” I said against her smiling lips and moved to nip her jaw.
She hissed and arched her body into mine. “Then don’t,” she said. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
I hushed her with a rough possession of her mouth before saying, “The only thing I want to hear from you right now is you screaming my name or better yet, moaning your appreciation while you suck my cock.” I nipped the skin below her ear to be greeted with a moan.
Those legs had been heaven, wrapped around me as I had pumped into her heat. However, her best feature had been her mouth. Those swollen high-glossed red lips surrounding my cock as she blew me to orgasm by the front door had been amazing. So amazing was she that I took her twice in my bed before I sent her home.
No woman ever spent the night.
It was a rule.
They may have made it into my bed but they never stayed there long enough to fade from bliss to sleep. I always extricated myself from the situation before hope could develop.
I know I’m a bastard, but none of my women are lied to. I’m not into trickery. My women always know what they are getting into from the very beginning. It’s not my fault some have developed the notion of something greater being possible while we were in the throes of passion. Some just got it in their heads that they could help me somehow — change me.
It’s fair to say that, over the years, I’ve been called every unflattering name in the book. But it has to be said that I’ve also been propositioned for additional no-strings-attached soirées.
Jotted numbers and business cards were a frequent occurrence but I never kept them. Oh sure, I’ve slept with the same woman more than once since Danica’s departure but it was out of convenience on both our parts, when the night presented little to no opportunity. Aside from that, I was a one-time-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. No more. No less. The faster I fucked them, the quicker they were out the door and out of my life. The less time to form attachments, the smoother things went.
It was safe.
It was enjoyable — on both counts, I’ll say.
It was my utopia.
By the time I returned from my shower, I heard the front door latch close and I knew Red was gone.
I let my towel drop and reached into my dresser for my underwear, noticing the business card she’d left for me on the edge of the piece of furniture.
I shook my head. Predictable.
Dressed, I grabbed the tiny piece of paper and headed downstairs to the den.
I poured myself a drink of scotch from my reserves in the cabinet, dropped the card where all the others have ended up in the past — in the shredder. I let out a sigh and sipped the liquor. Savoring the elixir and its smooth burn as it slid down my throat, my earlier dark thoughts consumed me once again.
The upcoming weekend was going to be a long one. Why had I agreed to it again? Oh yeah, because despite my commitment issues with women, I was loyal and reliable when it came down to my friends. They meant everything to me, especially Paxton.
Just think about the ladies, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time.
Chapter 2
In the morning, I retrieved my car from the pub’s parking lot and headed out to Paxton’s house, which had been transformed into wedding central for the day.
The man and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. He’d been put through the ringer with his first wife, Julie, whom I must say I regret for ever introducing him to her in the first place.
I was also instrumental in making sure that his divorce happened. Julie had left him, but after a year of separation, she refused the divorce, despite her having another man on the side, a man she was now married to and carrying his child as it so turns out. Forcing the divorce had been his sole way to freedom.
Only for the poor guy to lose it all ove
r again. I scoffed and turned into the man’s driveway.
I couldn’t believe that Pax had put faith in love again and was even more shocked to find out that he had himself a new woman. One, I can say, that was the complete opposite from his ex-wife. Alissa was sweet, a hot little number too.
I laughed at his excitement when he’d told me about her. The guy had stars in his eyes and it was comical how consumed with her he had become.
Over the last few months, while helping them plan their nuptials, I had grown to think of her as a little sister. I could see what the man saw in her. And those eyes of hers, they were only meant for him and no one else. The man needn’t worry about her wandering. She was loyal.
The truth is that I’m a little envious he’s found someone to be happy with. Twice, seeing as he had been happy with Julie at one time or another.
To have a woman look at me the same way she does him. I sighed and got out of my parked car. That kind of thinking will get you into trouble and you know it. I shook my wanting thoughts out of my head as I took my keys out of the ignition.
I’m thirty-four and I have a whole life of bachelorhood in front of me. I was fine with that — for the most part… I think.
Here’s a fact for you. I tried a relationship after Danica — once, after graduating from law school. It didn’t work out. I got bored, couldn’t stand being tied down. She claimed that I didn’t want to put in the effort a relationship needed. Maybe she was right. Then again, thoughts of Danica had haunted me left, right and center with that particular woman. And so, I broke it off.
It was then that I realized that the bar had been set high without my knowledge. The hilarity of it all was that grown women couldn’t compete with an eighteen-year-old girl, or more like my memories of her.
I’ve never seen a man so calm like Paxton had been earlier today. Had I known that a man could be that mellow on his wedding day, I would have told him to run for the hills when he had paced the room, nervous and frantic on the day he wed Julie. It was a testament that he and his first wife had been doomed to fail but this time, with Alissa…
Almost Forgotten (Contemporary Erotic Romance) (The Broken Men Chronicles Book 2) Page 1
