Black
Page 10
“I’d go to the ends of the Earth and back to make you happy.” I nuzzled into her rounded stomach and grinned, my heart feeling fuller than it ever had. The soft snores of a sleeping toddler and my wife’s tears of radiant happiness. “Loving you was what I was put on the planet to do.” I stroked her jaw before placing a reverent kiss on her cheek. “Ya know, I think I’ve got an idea to get that little guy out,” I whispered, fingertips up the nape of her neck, watching as shivers erupted and raced across her flesh. I gently pulled the antique necklace from her hands and tucked it safely under her pillow. I knew I’d find her fingering it later, reminiscing with the strands.
“I think I've got an idea what that plan entails.” Elle laughed, but her smile tipped up in just that way, her eyes twinkling and stirring my appetite to life.
I'd been terrified to fuck her in the beginning, afraid to hurt the baby, but once the doctor insisted no harm could be done, in fact promised it would be good for the pregnancy—I’d happily obliged my raging libido.
“You're so perfect. So sweet,” I hushed as my hands twisted into her dark locks, pulling her lips to mine so I would taste her. “You're my everything, you and them. I can't picture my life without any of it. I'm so thankful you're my forever, Elle Black,” I husked before plunging my tongue into her mouth as my hands trailed down her waist, pulling up the soft silk of her nightie to reveal her smooth curves to my greedy hands.
“I love you so much. You saved me,” Elle whispered between reverent kisses across my lips and jaw, her hands twisting up my biceps and wrapping around my neck.
“Jesus, I can't go without you. Not a single day.” My voice grew strained as she positioned herself on top of me, her legs straddling my hips, my cock aching behind my boxers.
Elle had recently said it was easier for her to be on top, and I’d found it was a new position I loved. Watching her ride me, the pretty hair falling in waves around her face, her breasts full and lush bouncing before my eyes and begging to be fisted in my palms.
“Let's see if we can get that little guy out.” A rakish grin graced my face before I wrapped my hands around her neck and heaved her against my chest, thrusting my tongue between her sweet lips and pressing my cock between her hot legs.
One of her hands fumbled between us and she pulled the cotton of my boxers down my thighs enough to reveal my cock, throbbing and vertical, ready for her warmth. Her knees settled on either side of my hips and then, very slowly, so slow I nearly lost my mind, she slid herself down onto me, and I was home. Sheathed in her searing hot warmth, my mind slowed and my body growled with passion and raw, primal want.
She was mine.
Elle's curvy body rocked and hummed rhythmically, driving me insane with all the things I didn't know I wanted in life. She was heaven on Earth and God's own gift delivered straight into my palms. I'd just had to learn how to take care of her the right way, the way she deserved.
“Maxwell...” Her soft voice curled around my insides, her pants driving my orgasm on as it burned and hummed for release.
“Elle.” My hands trailed up her torso and pulled her down to me, skin on skin. I needed to feel her. All of her hot body pressed against mine, our skin searing at the touch as if we were fire and water coming together in a glorious combustion.
“Maxwell...” Her lips dusted across my shoulder as her nails dug into my chest.
“Yeah, baby. Give it to me. Give me that beautiful groan that tells me I own you and every orgasm you've ever had,” I husked as my hands fisted into her hips, her body rocking against mine before her thighs clenched and her form trembled, soft sighs and a low moan accompanying her release.
My own orgasm bunched and burned low in my balls as I shoved one hand through her dark curls, wrapping my other palm at her nape and pulling her lips to mine, tasting all the sweetness she offered on her pretty pouty lips. My muscles tenses and my kisses grew more demanding when I finally released inside her body, a thousand tingling sensations rocketing off in every direction and clouding my brain with all the love I had for her.
“Maxwell?” She trailed fingertips through my hair a moment later.
I ran a palm up the soft curve of her back, following the dips of her spine before my racing heart finally calmed enough to reply. “Yeah, baby?” I said through a dreamy haze.
“Maxwell,” one fingertip trailed across my softly parted lips, “I think it's time.”
My eyes shot open and caught hers, shimmering with dreamy amusement.
“Really?” With gleaming eyes, she nodded, her hand cupping her belly, tucked against my abdomen. “Well, let's go get our son.” I grinned recklessly, then placed a long kiss on her lips, conveying to her everything I felt but didn't have the words to say. “You are my forever, Elle. I never want to go on a day without you. My world was shrouded in darkness before you became my sun. You are my everything, you and our babies. I love you.” I placed a final kiss on her lips then wrapped her fingers in mine, my eyes burning with overwhelming emotion.
“Maxwell...” Her eyes swam with tears. “I love you so much.” She launched herself into my arms and gripped my neck in a bear hug.
I ran comforting circles across her back, just like I’d done the last time she'd been in labor with our little girl. “Told you I could get the little guy movin’,” I teased.
She chuckled and swatted my chest before cupping my cheeks in her hands and kissing me on the nose. “What would I do without you?”
“I can promise you, you'll never have to find out.” I squeezed her hand tightly, enjoying this one last moment with her before we became a family of four.
It'd taken a whole lot of love, but she'd finally tamed the beast in me. My Elle.
THE END.
Please turn the page to read the first few chapters of my next release, White, coming late May.
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or on Facebook and Twitter (@AuthorAriaCole) to see what she’s writing next!
WHITE
A Sexy, Modern Fairytale
(Note: This is an unedited, uncorrected proof of White. All scenes are subject to change and/or further editing.)
By
ARIA COLE
chapter one
I shuddered, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, feeling my knees quake in the impossibly high heels that felt awkward and numb on my feet.
“I’m so sorry, Evie.” My foster brother, the oldest of the gang, Julian, wrapped his hand around my neck and squeezed. A comforting gesture he’d been doing since I was six and he seven.
“It’s alright. I knew it was coming.” I wiped at a stubborn tear and pushed my hands down the impossibly short sequined fabric that tickled the tops of my thighs. I hated this getup. Hated that I was being forced to do this. Hated my life.
I grew up in a world few could fathom and none should ever have to. It was dark, cold, ruthless. It was sex, drugs, and violence in all its extremes. I was raised in a foster family with three other misplaced boys, and without them, I couldn’t stand tall for today.
For tonight.
For the moment I would be sold to the highest bidder.
“You’ve got this, Eve.” Mason tugged at my hair and then popped a kiss on the apple of my cheek before he fell onto the couch and picked a game controller in his palms, his eyes immediately focused on the screen. He was the youngest and helplessly addicted to the escape he’d found in online gaming. Just like every other teenage boy, but when other boys were sleeping, Jake was working, head down and hood up, trying to sell his stash before the dawn. None of us had been blessed with a silver spoon, we all had our burdens.
I shook my head. I loved these boys and the worst part about tonight would be leaving them. Saying goodbye when all I really wanted to do was cuddle up in pajamas and watch another overdone action movie like we’d done on so many other occasions.
But instead, tonight I would be sold to the highest bidder by my foster mother. The woman that had been collecting on a measly
income the majority of my childhood years to take care of me, which went to fueling her drinking habit, and paying for the occasional young man to warm her bed. I knew she hated me, she hated how these men would look at me with lust in their eyes. The social workers never popped over as they threatened, and from the outside we were the picture perfect, home schooled foster family.
From the moment I was placed in this house Momma Judy, as she preferred to be called despite the fact that she was certainly no relation of mine, had always been into shady business, drug dealers and petty criminals with rotten teeth and the stench of cigarettes on their breath always stopping by. We’d never been sheltered from the darker side of their business, the boys sent out to make money under the table doing whatever was required to meet their weekly quota. Yes, a quota. Instead of being given an allowance like most kids, the boys were given a weekly quota—an amount of money they had to contribute, by any means necessary, to keep the family accounts balanced. Essentially, Momma Judy required them to pay their way, while she blew the stipend given to us as fostered dependents. We wore scraps while she wore designer labels, we ate rations while she dined on steak and champagne.
The boys mostly sold weed on the street, sometimes shrooms or pills on a good day. I’d fought and cried and begged Judy to not send them out that first night a few years ago. Collapsed on the floor and begged for some shred of innocence or dignity on their behalf, but she had only smiled at my desperate display before kicking them out of the house for the night. When they each returned the next morning, the light had gone out in all their eyes, and Julian had returned with a crimson and purple bruise across the side of one cheekbone and socket. He’d encroached on gang territory. Judy hadn’t cared, only said lessons on the street don’t come easy. My heart cracked wide open for my boys, but we’d each had to slowly mend it in order to survive. We’d each become hardened in our own way, the boys losing hope quickly, but not me. I’d hardened my heart to the callous disregard for our innocence, but I still held my breath and squeezed my eyes tightly at night in fervent pray for a miracle. I wholeheartedly believed that we were each put on this earth for something, and my thing was my boys. Us. Fighting for our lives and freedom was my sole purpose in life, the thing that drove me, even when reality seemed like a much darker side of Hell than it did a childhood.
So how did I become exempt from the harsh treatment and financial quotas the boys were expected to maintain? I…the innocent young daughter, was the cash cow. Soon after my fifteenth birthday, when my god-given curves and full lips began to develop, I was expected to sell my body to men. At first only kinky pictures, then pre-recorded cam shows, and by my seventeenth birthday I was doing one-on-one Skype appointments to this highest bidder. The only thing that saved my dignity in those moments was that I was clothed. Completely clothed. Fitted tank tops and short shorts, yes, all suggestive to the men that paid top dollar for an hour of my uninterrupted time, but the funny thing was, I didn’t even have to talk to them.
They just watched me. A shiver of vile ran through me at the memory, and while the short dress and high heels made me uncomfortable and used, it also made me feel like a woman. Every cam show and photo session I felt the steel strengthening my backbone, my heart filling with more confidence and hope, I would beat them all at their own game. Just wait and see, I told myself.
To Judy I may still be a pawn to be sold to the highest bidder, but not to me. This was my coming out party, the moment, as finally an almost-eighteen year old, I could do something to help us. We would soon finally be free.
I had three boys to take care of, the price would be high, but inflating myself with the inner strength I’d been saving for this day, I would save us all. Each of our young lives depended on it.
In the eleven years since I’d been with Judy she’d consistently tried to break my spirit, with the cash flowing in and regular appointments at the wax bar to keep me sweet and virginal looking, life was great for everyone in the house, except the four kids that had been forced to survive in that prison of criminal proportions. But without those boys, I doubt I’d be alive to tell the tale.
The four of us split two bedrooms. I came into the house after Grant, Mason, and Julian. Julian had his own room then, but being the gentleman he is, he forfeited his room instantly for me. From that day forward I became their sister, mother, companion for all intents and purposes, while they bunked in one small bedroom, arguing and laughing like boys do. I had special relationships with each of them, we were a crew of kids that relied on each other. Like kids at an orphanage mistreated, we supported, connived, cried, and cheered.
They would do anything for me, and I would for them.
But lately…
Lately I’d been sadder than usual. My impending eighteenth birthday should have been a cause for occasion but instead I was to be sold an exact week before. This did two things…prevented me from finally escaping the terror I’d been fostered into, and turned me into someone’s property. I would be owned by someone. A man. A man I’d never met before, whom I would be at the every whim of. Would he be mean? Abusive? Old? Married? I knew none of those things, but it didn’t matter. This would be temporary, even if I had to slip money out of his wallet a twenty dollar bill at a time, I would save every cent until I could afford a place for all of us to live somewhere far, far away from the gritty underground of Miami.
I could only hope this man would have some small shred of compassion. And if he didn’t I would find the nearest crowbar and batter his skull in with it before running for my life. It wasn’t a good plan, but still a plan. It made me feel better, hoping.
I’ve had over a decade to come to terms with the reality of my life. But I knew I could get us out. I knew more than anything my resistance was strong, whether I was free on the day of my eighteenth birthday, my captor taking sympathy for me and releasing me of my duty, or I would fight for every ounce of my freedom. Either way, I saw it coming.
It had to be coming.
“I wish you could come with me.” I finally composed myself and muttered to Julian, strumming on his guitar across the room. An old beat up instrument that Julian clung to as if it was his last breath. We often did this, conjured together in the room the boys shared. Julian ran a hand through his long threads, some falling into this thick lashes eyes before he glanced up. “I’ll get you out of there, Evie. I promise. If it’s the last thing I do.” His hand clutched the arm of the guitar.
“No, don’t do that.” I dropped to my knees at his feet. My hands gripped the frayed denim at his stonewashed knees when I saw the pain in his eyes.
Julian and I had always been close. He was the oldest, been the first to be placed in this house. I would miss him the most, and I think this would be the hardest on him. He wasn’t ready for this separation anymore than I was ready to be traded and sold like a whore.
“I don’t want you to do anything we’ll regret. I’ll get out. I’ve been waiting years for this moment.” I faked a smile, but the watery eyelids betrayed me.
Julian only shook his head, hair falling in his eyes and shielding his watery gaze from me. I squeezed his knee then stood, a painful ball rolling in my stomach at the thought of what the next twenty-four hours might hold.
“I love you, boys.” I walked around to each of them, placing a kiss on their forehead and giving them one last hug. All the tears had been shed in the days and weeks leading up to this. We were each empty, the pain in our hearts a permanent cross to bear.
I flashed back to the night Judy had told me what she had planned. She’d blurted it out one night when I hadn’t brought enough money home from the high-end gentlemen's club I’d been contracted at. Three nights a week dancing, a thousand dollars each night. That was my expected contribution. The boys had raised a giant fuss on my first night of work, but after Judy took a belt to the side of Julian’s face, the boys had finally given up and took to posting a single brother at the club as my personal bodyguard while I worked my whole shift.
<
br /> My brothers, my saviors. What I would have done without them in this ugly world I am so thankful I’ll never have to know.
But they couldn’t protect me from the horrors at home. The first night I came back with less than a grand, Judy smacked me across the face and hollered she couldn’t wait ’til I turned legal age so she could dump me on some asshole.
I’d shuddered then. It’d been her simple prophecy.
Think you’re done when you’re eighteen, sweet Eve?
Not likely.
So I hugged my brothers, knowing this wouldn't be the last time I saw them, but unsure of when the next time would be, and I walked out of the doors to my fate. No knowing that the next twenty-four hours would change everything.
To be continued…
Look for White to release at the end of May!
You can add it on GOODREADS now!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or on Facebook and Twitter (@AuthorAriaCole) to see what she’s writing next!
In Thanks…..
There are so many people I have to thank for making this book happen.
First, the incredible bloggers that supported Black: Rock Stars of Romance, Angie’s Dreamy Reads, The SubClub Books, Schmexy Book Reviews and so many more! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the support you give to the indie community and NEW authors!
Black wouldn’t be the book it is now without the incredible love and dedication of a handful or brilliant beta readers and early reviewers: Carla, Janice, Chastity, Polly, Karoline, Heather, Kat, Mellony, Sarah, Rachel, plus the entire supportive crew of authors, bloggers, and readers at Ardent Prose! Without each and every one of you the story of Maxwell and Elle wouldn’t be the sweet, sexy, shamefully smutty story it is! Love you guys, BIG!