DEPRAVITY: KING UNIVERSITY

by Chance, Jacob

  DEPRAVITY

  KING UNIVERSITY

  JACOB CHANCE

  Copyright © 2019 by Jacob Chance

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by PopKitty Designs

  Edited by Ink Machine Editing

  Proofreading by Hawkeyes Proofing

  This book contains mature content.

  Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad

  I'm hot for teacher.

  Van Halen

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Sophie

  2. Miles

  3. Sophie

  4. Miles

  5. Sophie

  6. Miles

  7. Sophie

  8. Miles

  9. Sophie

  10. Miles

  11. Sophie

  12. Miles

  13. Sophie

  14. Miles

  15. Sophie

  16. Miles

  17. Miles

  18. Miles

  19. Sophie

  20. Miles

  21. Miles

  22. Sophie

  23. Miles

  24. Sophie

  25. Miles

  26. Sophie

  27. Miles

  28. Sophie

  29. Miles

  30. Sophie

  31. Miles

  32. Sophie

  33. Miles

  34. Sophie

  Epilogue

  Devilry

  Prologue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Miles

  ONE YEAR AGO

  Arms crossed, I lean against the door jamb admiring my beautiful wife. A small smile teases my lips as I remember the many ways we’ve made use of the giant bed and every other surface in this room with Sandy’s throaty moans resonating in my ears and the sweet taste of her pussy on my tongue. Maybe with a little persuasion I can have her naked beneath me, reenacting some of my favorite memories.

  “What are you doing?” I push off the wooden frame, my feet silent on the carpet as I move toward her.

  “I’m packing my things.” She gives an indifferent half shrug, sending her low cut sweater slipping down one slender shoulder.

  “Where are you going?”

  Does she have plans with her mother and she forgot to tell me?

  A long, drawn out sigh slips from her shiny, red lips, “I’m leaving you, Miles.”

  “What?” I gasp.

  My feet freeze in place as my lungs tighten painfully. Barely able to draw any air inward, I panic. Rubbing my hand over my chest to soothe the ache, my heart bucks into a wild gallop beneath my palm.

  Fuck. Is this what an anxiety attack feels like?

  My nostrils pinch as I eagerly drag air in. “What happened to giving our marriage another shot? Things have been better. Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “No, they haven’t been better. You just refuse to see the truth.”

  “What can I do to fix this? There has to be something.”

  “There’s nothing to be done. We’ve tried and it’s not working.”

  “Are you still seeing that bastard?”

  “What does it matter at this point? You and I had a good run, but now we’re through.”

  Walking toward Sandy, I poke my chest indignantly. “It matters to me. You had no intention of making this work. Why did you bother acting like you wanted to stay?” I stop at the other side of the bed. We face off like offensive and defensive lines battling on the football field and not like the partners we’ve been since we met nine years ago.

  Sandy’s gaze callously sweeps to mine. “You only see what you want to, Miles. It’s probably your biggest flaw.” Her attention returns to the pile of clothes she’s adding to the large suitcase. The same one we’ve packed for the numerous vacations we’ve taken together.

  Anger sizzles through every inch of me. I can practically hear my blood bubbling beneath my skin. She wants to point out my flaws, does she?

  “Don’t you dare blame me for the fact that it’s you ending this. That it’s you who’s doing the leaving. I’m not the one who fucked around.”

  An ironic chuckle slips from her shiny lips. “No, that would be me and you’ll never get over it. Ending things now is better for both of us. The resentment you have toward me would only destroy us in the long run. Why bother dragging this out any longer?”

  “What about Joey? You’re not taking my son from me. Try and you’ll have a fucking battle on your hands.”

  “I have no intention of keeping him from you. He’s staying here and I’m walking away.”

  “When do you plan on visiting with him?”

  “I don’t. I rescind my claim. Joey is all yours.”

  “What does that mean? You don’t want him to stay with you at all? You don’t want to visit with him?”

  “No, Miles. It means I no longer want to be a mother. I’m not sure I ever did.” She adds the second part softly, as if it’s an afterthought. But to me it’s a detonated bomb, shattering my entire world.

  Sinking down, I sit on the bed, my palms scrubbing up and down my face. Who is this woman I’ve built a life with and created a family with?

  I’ve loved her almost since the day we met, but in this moment, I’m doubting our entire relationship. Was she only a figment of my imagination? Did I place her on a pedestal and convince myself she was perfect? Or has she changed that much?

  She adds one more shirt to the growing stack and tucks a long, platinum strand of hair behind her ear. “Miles.”

  I’ve always appreciated the way my name sounded in her husky, sex-filled tone. My body has always reacted on a primal level; until now. Sickened by every word she utters, my stomach churns uneasily. Sandy’s a stranger to me; if it’s possible that someone you’ve loved and lived with can be one. The last five minutes have me questioning everything I know.

  “Look, Scott got the job offer of a lifetime. We’re moving to Australia next week. It’s the fresh start he and I have been dreaming of.”

  Fresh start?

  “You’re going with him?”

  She nods.

  I’m stunned. High pitched ringing reverberates throughout my ears. Clenching my teeth, I tamp down the rage assailing me. My fists clench and unclench as I imagine pummeling my best friend, Scott’s, face until it resembles a raw slab of beef. I guess I should say ex-best friend. When their affair came to light three months ago, that put an end to any friendly feelings I once had. From that point on I prayed I wouldn’t pass him on the street, or anywhere else for that matter. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control my rage. Thankfully, the opportunity never presented itself or I’d probably be sitting in a jail cell now instead of on our California King bed.

  Jesus. How did I not see this coming?

  My eyes objectively peruse her face,
taking in her stony expression and cold, obsidian irises. Sandy doesn’t seem to feel a shred of conflict about leaving her twenty-month-old son. Or about leaving me. Who is this shallow woman and what’s happened to the person I’ve been married to for the last seven years? Did she ever care about me? Or has my judgement been clouded by my love for her?

  I know right now I’m not getting the answers to any of these questions and that’s okay because I’m not ready for them and I may never be.

  1

  Sophie

  PRESENT DAY

  My boss, Miranda, breezes into the back room, her long strides eating up the distance between us. Raising my employee badge that hangs from a lanyard around my neck, I swipe the strip through the slit on the machine and clock out for the day.

  “Hey, I know you said you were looking for more hours. Unfortunately, I still can’t give them to you. But how would you feel about a babysitting job a few nights a week? My brother, Miles, needs someone to watch my nephew while he teaches a class at Alexandria University.” She holds her hand up to delay me from answering. “Don’t say anything yet. Hear me out. Joey is almost three years old and the cutest little bugger you can imagine.”

  “I’m not sure. I was really hoping for something different.” I’d done my fair share of babysitting during my teenage years, but now at the more advanced age of nineteen, I’m looking for something that could lead to a better opportunity. Something that could be a stepping stone for the future.

  “My brother will pay you one hundred and fifty dollars for each of the eight weeks he’d need you. It’s easy money. You’d only be working for three hours on those nights and the last hour or so you’d be able to do whatever you wanted because my nephew goes to bed so early.”

  Hmm, one hundred and fifty dollars per week is six hundred more per month. By the end of the summer I could potentially add twelve hundred dollars to my college account. That’s a lot of money. Especially when I’m concerned about how I’ll handle my large course load when I start my freshman year at King University.

  As a full scholarship student, I can’t afford any slacking off with schoolwork. And having a job might get in the way of all the studying I know I’ll need to do. If I can save enough between now and then, I might be able to take a break from working, or at the least, cut down on my hours.

  “So?” Miranda’s brown eyes stare inquisitively.

  I bob my head. “I’ll take it.”

  “Great.” She grins before grabbing a pen and tearing a page from a yellow legal pad on the table. She scribbles something before handing me the note. “That’s my brother’s address. Can you start tomorrow night at six-thirty?”

  Glancing down, I skim her words and realize his house isn’t too far from here. “Yeah, not a problem.”

  “I’m glad I thought of you for this. I can’t imagine someone more dependable watching my nephew.”

  “For all you know, I could suck with kids.”

  “Do you?” Her eyes widen with panic.

  I giggle. “No, I’m just joking with you. I’m great with them.”

  She shoves my arm. “That’s because you’re not much taller than they are and you look like one.”

  Tell me about it. Looking this young has been the scourge of my dating life. When most girls in high school looked like they belonged in college, I still looked like I should have been back in middle school. Not much has changed since then, aside from me filling out in a couple of important areas.

  “Do I need to do anything else? Am I supposed to call your brother before tomorrow night?”

  “Nope. Just show up on time and the rest will take care of itself.”

  * * *

  Pulling into the driveway with ten minutes to spare, I park and shut down my car. Noticing a tall, dark haired male standing on the front porch, I watch as he repeatedly bangs on the black door. Both fists pummel the steel and I can hear him shouting through my closed windows.

  Okay. This doesn’t bode well for this babysitting gig, but for the amount of money I’ll be paid, I can make the best of the situation.

  Tucking my car keys into my bag, I step out onto the paved driveway and close the door behind me. Now that I’m moving toward the house, I can hear the words he’s shouting.

  “Joey, let Daddy in. Open the door, buddy.”

  Oh shit. His kid locked him out?

  I run forward and he turns at the sound of my sneakers pounding up the three wooden stairs. Dropping my bag onto the porch, I peer into the window closest to the door. There’s no sign of a little boy.

  “I’m Sophie, the babysitter Miranda hired. How long have you been locked outside?”

  He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. “Five minutes or so and I can’t see him. The rest of the front windows have blinds on them. He could be getting into anything at this point.”

  His distress is obvious and my eyes seek out a solution. I step to the front of the porch and notice a large tree just past the right front corner of the house. Leaping down the stairs, I head over to take a closer look. Peering upward, I find the abundance of thick branches required for a good climbing tree. I also spy an open window on the second floor, just above the porch. If I can climb the tree, one of the limbs ends just shy of the porch roof.

  “Hey, come help me out,” I holler and wave my arms like a lunatic. He stares at me and pounds on the door once more. “Hey, I can get inside. Come help me,” I shout louder.

  He runs toward the end of the porch and launches himself straight over the side railing, landing nimbly on his feet.

  “Give me a boost to that bottom branch. I’ll climb up to the window and slip inside.”

  He looks at me like I’m speaking in tongues. “Hurry up, man. Time is wasting,” I prompt.

  He snaps into action cupping his hands, making a step for me to place my sneaker clad foot on. My hands go to his shoulders as I bounce up and down to gain momentum before boosting myself up. He raises me higher until I can grip the bottom branch. Using both hands, I lift my torso until I’m able to straddle the limb. I grip on to another smaller branch and pull myself to my feet. Once I’m balanced, I hoist myself up to the next branch. I repeat these steps two more times until I’m almost even with the window.

  Having two older brothers has its advantages, being an expert in tree climbing being one of them. I had to learn at an early age or they’d leave me behind on the ground and taunt me from above, while pelting me with acorns.

  When I’m on the final branch, about ten feet from the window, I take a deep breath. Now it’s just a matter of making my way safely across this limb without it breaking under my weight.

  Be light like a feather, I instruct myself as I step cautiously from the ball of one foot to the other. Somehow, I manage to step safely onto the porch roof and get a death grip on the window sill with one hand while raising the screen with the other. I slip inside the dark room and sprawl face first on the floor. My forehead slams against the hardwood, a shower of twinkling stars erupts in front of my eyes. Fuck.

  Springing to my feet, I press the heel of my palm to my aching head as I run through the doorway and out into a hall. My eyes scan from side to side and I see the staircase to my left. Hurrying over, I run down the steps as fast as I can.

  Racing through the rooms, I find Joey sitting on the couch, entranced in an episode of Paw Patrol. I laugh with relief and run to the front entrance. Yanking the door open with a grin on my face, I’m met with wild, panic filled eyes.

  “He’s fine.”

  Miranda’s brother pushes past me, bumping my shoulder without an apology, as he races toward the living room. He doesn’t stop until Joey is in his arms. Eyes closing with an exaggerated sigh of relief, he presses kisses to his son’s chubby cheeks. Watching the two of them is endearing. They share an obvious bond, but I can’t help wondering where the boy’s mother is.

  Glancing around, I notice the decidedly masculine decor and lack of personal objects. Maybe they’re divorced a
nd that’s why he needs a babysitter.

  I study Miles. Aside from the stunning blue eyes, he doesn’t look like Miranda. Her hair is a deep red and his is black as pitch. She’s tall and thin, and, although he’s well over six feet tall, he’s muscular like a swimmer. Broad shouldered, his torso tapers to a lean waist. I can clearly discern how fit he is with his blue button down tucked into a pair of tan khakis. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing golden brown forearms that ripple as he adjusts Joey’s weight in his arms. If the circumstances were different I’d definitely be giving him a second look.

  His gaze briefly touches mine before he sets the little guy on the couch. He crouches down and runs his hand over his son’s head.

  “I have to go to work, buddy. This is…” His words trail off as he looks to me for assistance.

  “I’m Sophie. We’re going to have lots of fun tonight.” I kneel on the floor next to Miles and smile. “I work with your Auntie Miranda and she told me you like Paw Patrol.” Improvising as I go seems to be working. I assume if he’s watching the show, he must be a fan.

  He grins, nodding rapidly.

  “I’ve never seen Paw Patrol. Can you believe that?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Do you mind if I watch with you?”

  He pats the seat next to him. “Sit.”