by KJ Bell
Title Page
Dedication
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
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by KJ Bell
THE HUSTLE
Copyright © 2015 by KJ Bell.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author / publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editing and Proofreading by:
Nichole Strauss of Perfectly Publishable
Thank you to Ellie at LoveNBooks
for the gorgeous cover photo, shot by: Scott Hoover
Cover Model: Adam Nicklas
Interior Formatting and Design by:
Christine Borgford of Perfectly Publishable
For Desiree, Emily, Kristie, Sarah, and Lori.
Thank you.
Part One—The End
Gone are the quiet moments of reason where I try to understand life goes on. There’s a monster living inside of me, an endless voice with devious intentions. The conqueror of women, seeking vengeance for all that I’ve lost. At times I want to evict the monster, but without him, I have to feel the pain that scheming bitch left behind.
What do you do when you no longer have a heart? When you exist without empathy? I go through women like water, looking for one to silence the growing insanity of my mind.
Tonight’s choice, Tabitha, started out as a hopeful. Only when it comes time to perform, she slobbers, more than she sucks. Spit trickles down my shaft, soaking my balls, as her blonde head bobs in my lap. If she keeps this up, my dick’s gonna shrivel up like skin does when you’re in the pool too long.
My fingers wind around her chemically-lightened hair. The strands scratch like straw as I wrap them around my hand. I ram her sloppy mouth down on my cock. She attempts to pull back, but I thrust my hips upward, trying to push deeper. Maybe if I can feel the back of her throat it will set me off, allow me the satisfaction of coming in her sexy, red mouth.
Her grip tightens around my dick, working the base as her lips move up and down the top. Frustration builds as her mouth tickles without creating the much desired suction I need to come. I’m more maddened than satisfied and her lack of effort pisses me off.
“Suck it,” I growl, holding her head down. “Pretend I’m a lollipop, baby.”
I keep her head pinned as she gags, still striving to get off. Attempting to feel something other than irritation.
Her head turns, releasing my dick from her mouth as she continues gagging.
“What the fuck did you stop for?”
“I was choking.” She coughs. Her cheeks flush as she wipes a trail of rubbery spit dangling from her chin.
“That’s what you’re supposed to do,” I say, rubbing my thumb over her pouty lips.
“I don’t like it.”
“I can tell.” I smirk and cup the back of her head in my hand. “Maybe you need more practice.”
I yank on her head, trying to lower her to my dick again, but she resists. “I can’t. Please . . . I’ll do anything else.”
She’s eager to please me, certain if she does that I’ll want her to stick around past tonight. I won’t. The polite thing to do would be to tell her and send her on her way. But I’m not polite or kind enough to consider her feelings. I only care about my needs. I’m demanding and growing impatient and frustrated the longer she denies me.
My dick needs release and if she’s not going to provide it with her mouth, as I would prefer, she’s going to be fucked without mercy.
“Stand up and bend over the bed with your legs apart.” She smiles before obeying my command like a good little servant.
I massage her ass as I position myself behind her. She peers over her shoulder, sending a surge of annoyance through me. The look on her face won’t extend me the unashamed strength I need to steal more than her sweet offering. It’s the eyes. They show me expectations I’ll never provide. They ask me for things I’m incapable of feeling for any woman, let alone a woman with so little self-respect. “Don’t look at me. Put your head down.”
When she does, I slide two fingers into her drenched pussy to test her. She arches, pushing back on my hand as she pleads for me to help her. I withdraw my fingers. Her whining doesn’t affect me as I have no intention of pleasing a woman that can’t give a decent blowjob. I’m going to fuck her for me. To fulfill my needs or justify my anger, whichever comes first. Satisfying me remains the only reason she’s here. Nothing’s changed. If she can’t do that, I have no use for her.
Although my dick throbs, seeking immediate relief, I take the time to roll on a rubber. I made the mistake of forgoing protection one time in my life. No glove in the name of love. Such bullshit. That one poor decision that lead to another and another. Until the final fucking mistake that cost me Maria.
I close my eyes as I slam into the tight cunt of this woman I don’t have an ounce of regard for. She’s merely a vessel to ease my suffering.
The monster grins. He can’t be tamed, any more than the man can be saved. My eyes close as anger and resentment, love and hate battle to control me. I remember the photo of Maria, smiling across the table at Eduardo; the happy couple who played me for a fool. Who stole the final uncorrupted pieces of me.
The heavy judgments of my involvement want to strangle me, squeeze every last breath of air from my lungs as punishment. But I’m not ready to be held accountable. The only way to end the suffocating lies in pretending this woman is Maria. I do. I fuck my love and remorse into her; only when this chick moans, my fantasy dissolves. I lost Maria. She’s never coming back and I can’t find one goddamn woman out of the millions on the planet to replace her. No one will ever make me feel alive the way she did.
The monster grins again as I succumb to his control.
“Shut the fuck up,” I yell as I still. I’m so fucking close. Her cries of pleasure threaten to steal my moment. I won’t let that happen. “Don’t you come! Don’t you fuckin
g come!”
She groans as her body relaxes. “Please,” she pleads, wiggling her hips.
“No!” She couldn’t please me earlier. I didn’t enjoy myself. Why the fuck should she?
I move again, reaching a steady pace. Thankfully the blonde remains quiet. However, her rapid breathing cues me that she’s revving up again. I thrust hard, picturing Maria’s perfect ass below my palm as I smack the blonde’s until my hand stings. When my balls tingle, I pull out, and then rip off the condom.
“Sit up and turn around,” I order.
Her large, green eyes full of reservation glance up at me as she quietly complies. I hold the back of her head with one hand. With the other, I jerk off in front of her face.
Pressure builds in my balls, shooting warmth through my shaft, which spreads down my thighs with a slow prickly sensation. I stroke faster, craving the moment I know will bring me to the brink of stupidity. My spine stiffens on a near painful release. I blow my load all over the blonde’s swollen lips as all of my hate disappears behind a veil of numb satisfaction. For a few blissful seconds, I forget how much it hurts to be me.
My dick softens in my hand as the reason I hurt crashes into me. A fucking woman broke my heart. A ruthless, cunning woman, no different than the blonde in front of me wiping the seeds of my labor off her mouth. She wants to use me, too, only I beat her to it and now she expects me to feel remorse.
Fuck that! Regret is reserved for the weak man I used to be.
“Get dressed and get the fuck out,” I say, feeling the ugliness seeping out of my cold, dead heart as I head to the shower to wash the stench of woman from my skin. To scrub away the humility of who I’ve become—to hide from the monster.
I grip the counter, starring in the mirror at a complete stranger.
Tug Hunter is fucking dead.
I hate the man left behind.
He’s empty.
Tears pour from the corners of my eyes, spreading through my hair like tiny streams warmed by the sun as I try to forget where I am. Forget the life I wanted desperately, the one full of love that, for a fleeting moment, reassured me life doesn’t have to be painful. Only it does. A person like me doesn’t claw their way out of the dirty ghetto from which they came.
Eduardo grunts his breaths as he fucks me. My only escape during this moment lies in the capability of my imagination. I pretend he’s Tug. It works up until the point he finishes without caring if I’ve been taken care of. His quickness to finish comes as a blessing as I won’t allow myself an orgasm delivered by Eduardo. I never do.
“Take a shower,” he says, rolling off me. “You stink and I have friends coming for dinner.”
He leaves my room, taking with him another piece of my respect that I’m sure he stores somewhere as a token of his conquests. Eventually, my last shred of self-worth will dissolve, leaving me as dead as I feel. Without my dignity, without hope, and without a heart.
I hug my knees, the tears evaporating, replaced with a dirty feeling, a sense of dread combined with shame and regret. If only I never ran from Tug, my worth would be intact, although the alternative would be worse. Fate had been decided. My leaving Tug at Tori’s ended with this result. I’m content to live without him, knowing he’s still breathing.
Meet me three days from now at Café Infinito.
The note represents the tiniest glimmer of hope I’d once had. Optimism that was snuffed out when Eduardo wouldn’t allow me to leave the mansion. Three months have passed since I was robbed of my chance to explain. I’ve read the note each one of the ninety days since it arrived and the words never get easier to withstand.
I’ve compartmentalized all of my feelings for Tug as a dream, only when Eduardo visits my room for torrid rendezvous, I bring them back to a hopeful reality. As a survival instinct, I allow myself to feel a faint whisper of love I want to believe still exists.
If not for Javier, I would flee this prison. I would go to Tug, apologize—force him to see how much I regret leaving. I’m not allowed to take Javier if I leave the mansion, not even for a brief trip to the market. I could never leave my baby boy behind. I’m trapped at an impossible intersection, one where all roads lead to hell.
Worse than my own insanity, are the quiet moments of explanations to Javier. Occasions when a young confused child’s curiosity leads him to ask questions I’m ill prepared to answer. No greater pain comes to a mother than that of lying to her child. As a condition of my coerced restitution, I can’t be honest with Javier. I can’t tell him that I’m still in love with Tug and his father is a heartless maniac.
When I watch Eduardo with Javier, stealing his son’s innocence to create a miniature version of himself, conflict presides in my thoughts. Am I trading the lives of my family and the man I love for Javier’s?
The burden’s become close to intolerable. With each day my son’s sweet nature transforms to a child destined to take his rightful place in a cruel, vile family, I come to realize it may be time to fight. Only I seek the bravery to do so. There has to be a solution to protect all of us. I have to find a way, or I’ll lose my son to a life I never wanted for him.
Years of running to a new destination simply steered me in a circle, leading me back to the place I’d been trying to escape. Like a hamster running on a wheel, I sprinted with determination, although I never fled the cage. I was simply allowed the illusion of believing I could get somewhere new.
With the will to fight comes the understanding of my enemy. Am I prepared to suffer the consequences of defeat? Eduardo would sooner see me dead than allow me to be with Tug.
As the hot water pelts into my skin, I smell Eduardo in the steam radiating from my body. I do stink, like vile trash—hate and greed, lust and gluttony. There’s no sponge rough enough, no soap potent enough to remove the stench, for the filth lies under the skin in places untouched. I scrub my skin raw in vain as the scent lingers, taunting me with the choices I’ve made.
I’m crippled by trepidation as I step out of the shower. My decision was made when I stood face to face with Eduardo in the lobby of Tug’s building. Not that I had a choice. Fighting would lead to death—my loved ones’ blood on my hands.
I have to live with knowing I’ve failed my little boy.
My nephew coo’s in my arms, innocence reflecting back at me that will eventually be tarnished by the fate of whatever choices he makes. Men start out pure of heart, much like little Aidan Walter, but a heart isn’t designed to sustain the influence of women.
“He likes you,” Tori says, holding Little A’s tiny fist with her index finger.
I stare at the uncorrupted buddle of joy wrapped in a baby-blue flannel blanket with an overwhelming sense of sympathy. He has no idea the harsh reality that awaits him once he’s forced into the world. Vicious piranhas, also known as women, probably already smell his Hunter blood in the water. They’re circling nearby, waiting until he’s old enough to devour him to the bone before sinking their teeth into his heart. I won’t let that happen.
“I wish he could stay this small forever,” I say, fighting the ache in my chest.
“Tug . . .”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, my voice full of warning.
The nickname no longer suits me. It belongs to a man who’s funny, carefree. A man blind, engulfed in reckless stupidity and ignorance. A dead man I’ll never allow to rise from the grave, garnering control over me with his pathetic need to feel loved by the false attention of women.
“Aidan, I know you’re hurting, but I need you to listen to me.”
“Don’t talk to me about what you know. You don’t know a damn thing. You have your happy little family.” The anger buried inside of me harbors plenty of rage for Tori. Though I try to understand her illness, accept that her intentions were never to come between me and Maria, I feel the nudge of hatred trying to claw its way out and strike. Her solemn expression reminds me she blames herself enough for the both of us, awakening my guilt ridden conscience. “I’m sorry.”
“I want to help you get her back.” She smiles, although her eyes frown. “I think if I talk to her, she’ll understand.”
Tori would be the last person Maria would listen to.
“I don’t want her back. She had her chance and she never showed up.”
Her head tilts to the side as her gaze appraises me. “I don’t understand.”
I never explained to my family about the note I sent Maria, or Sid finding Maria with Eduardo, exposing the truth of who that bitch really is. Her betrayal’s been my secret. Only now I feel the urge to release a bout of anger that’s been pent-up inside for months.
“That whore isn’t coming back. I had Sid deliver a note, asking her to meet me. She told him she hustled me to help her father.”
“You’re sure that’s what she said?” She looks at me like I’m a child that just misconstrued the message.
Eduardo and Maria are together. “Yes, I’m sure.” When she still doesn’t look convinced, I add, “Eduardo’s alive, Tor.”
“What?” she shrieks. “Oh, my God! How?”
“I have no idea, but like a fool, I went to the meeting point anyway. I waited there from open to close.”
“I can’t believe it.” She shakes her head as her eyebrows knit in confusion. “Something’s not right. Maria loved you.”
“No,” I shout, the vein in my temple bulging with the mention of love. “She’s a damn good hustler. Her and her father.”
“Why would her father need your help?”
“So he could get out of the cartels.”
“Then why is he still there?”
Her question swims around in my thoughts. The only plausible answer; one I don’t want to continue dwelling on. Maria hustled me so her, her family and Eduardo could funnel money from the cartels to spend as they wish.
Remembering how effortlessly Maria led me astray gives me an idea for revenge—on all of them. The hustle they’ll never see coming.
“Aidan . . .”
“Fuck, I don’t know, Tor. Maybe because Alejandro Torrente is a fucking psycho.”
“Don’t take your anger out on me!” She stands, taking Little A from my arms. “None of it sounds right to me, including you moping around. Fight back. Figure out what the hell’s going on, because I’d bet my life Maria didn’t betray you.”
