Played

by Tasha Fawkes

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Free Book

  Sarah

  Joel

  Craving My Boss

  Not For Sale

  Other books from Safira Publishing

  About Tasha Fawkes

  Played

  Tasha Fawkes

  Safira Press LLC

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Tasha Fawkes and M. S. Parker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Free Book

  Prologue

  1. Sarah

  2. Joel

  3. Sarah

  4. Joel

  5. Sarah

  6. Joel

  7. Sarah

  8. Joel

  9. Sarah

  10. Joel

  11. Sarah

  12. Joel

  13. Sarah

  14. Joel

  15. Sarah

  16. Joel

  17. Sarah

  18. Joel

  19. Sarah

  20. Joel

  Craving My Boss

  Not For Sale

  Other books from Safira Publishing

  About Tasha Fawkes

  Free Book

  Get VIP: Taken By the Billionaire for free!

  https://tashafawkes.com/get-your-free-book

  Prologue

  On the dancefloor of Club LA, the music throbbed so loud the sound vibrated through my head and dove into my bones, making my cock pulsate too.

  My girlfriend, Kelli Spencer, undulated her hips as she danced in front of me. Gorgeous. At five-foot-ten with a waistline that I could easily span with my hands, I let my gaze wander over perky tits, flaring hips, and legs that never quit. I likened her to a modern version of one of those vintage pinup girls of the 1940s.

  Once again, I’d overindulged with the booze. And the joint I shared with Kelli. While such behavior wasn’t particularly common for me at thirty-one years of age, I felt like I needed to adapt, and adapt quickly, if I was going to maintain my whirlwind romance with the gorgeous model nearly a decade younger than me.

  I moved my hand to her ass and pressed her in close so she could feel what was rapidly becoming a rock-hard erection, moving our hips to the music as one.

  In an approving voice she said, “Joel, baby.” She’d had as much to drink as me, but it only seemed to enhance her, make her more invigorating, exciting, and more than a little challenging—

  in bed and out.

  Kelli and I had been dating for about three months now, and though I considered myself young and viral, and in decently good shape, she was a handful. Of course, as the CEO of Farrell Software Development—a company I built and whose reputation rested on my shoulders—I had to maintain my professional demeanor, so I did try to limit the nights out at clubs, the binge drinking, and the occasional indulgence of drugs, which I didn't really care for.

  I didn't know why I was trying so hard to impress or even keep up with Kelli. It wasn't like I'd never been involved in a romantic relationship, but maybe that was the difference right there. The romance. I'd had my share of girlfriends, but with most of them, I never let it get beyond a certain stage.

  That stage being sex.

  No emotional attachments, no commitments, no promises.

  Sex, of course, was always welcome, but it wasn't just that. My work was my life.

  Another couple danced closer to us, the girl blatantly checking me out.

  I knew I didn’t look my age with my pale complexion and designer glasses. I also knew that a lot of people took one look at me and classified me as a geek, despite my six-foot-one lanky frame. But tonight I’d worn a tank that showed off the muscles I’d so carefully built. I had an extremely particular approach about my appearance, and it paid off.

  I didn’t share though, which was what this couple obviously had in mind, so I grasped Kelli’s hips and led her to the edge of the dance floor. I bent my knees, putting our crotches even, and pressed her into me, grinding.

  Kelli let out a whoop and flung her head back before shouting in my ear, “You’re such a bad boy. Mmm.”

  I’d never define myself as a "bad boy," though some people—especially those who got closer to me than I preferred—were often surprised by my sudden bursts of less than stellar behavior. As a hot-blooded American male, I doubted anyone would blame me, especially when they saw Kelli.

  Entertaining, spontaneous, spoiled— all these things were Kelli. She could be stuck up at times. She knew she had the looks, which, in my opinion, left her behavior and attitude with a lot to be desired. But I’d spent years shut away developing software, and perhaps I was just out of practice, so what did I know? Bottom-line? Kelli and her sex appeal were irresistible. All she had to do was grind her hips against mine in and I grew harder just thinking about the pleasure she’d be giving me later.

  This was the third time this month she and I had gone out clubbing, enjoying everything that the LA nightlife had to offer. As she constantly reminded me, she was not the kind of girl to stay home curled up on the couch watching movies or reading a book.

  To be quite honest, I couldn't deny the new sense of pride—the pleasure—I gained from the notoriety the two of us received. Me, dating a girl like Kelli Spencer? She was hot and with her picture plastered in magazines and even on billboards, everybody knew it. I had never been hounded by the press until Kelli, and now couldn’t back out of the driveway without someone trying to follow me. It was annoying, but also addicting. A power rush.

  I leaned in close, practically shouting in her ear to be heard over the music. "What do you say we go back to my place?"

  "Kind of early, don't you think?" she shouted back, backing up a step, hips gyrating to the beat of the music, arms raised over her head.

  She watched my gaze move pointedly to her chest, where her nipples hardened perceptibly beneath the blouse she wore. Suggestively, not even caring that anyone might see, she casually draped a hand over one breast and squeezed one of those impressive nipples. Then she laughed, lifted her hand to her mouth, and tucked her index finger slightly between her lips, touching the end of it with a wet tongue.

  I felt my cock burgeon to attention, shook my head and laughed, and then held my hand out to her. She took it and we threaded our way through the merrymakers, the odor of alcohol, pot, and sex-crazed hormones floating through the crowd.

  My driver was waiting in the parking lot across the street and took us swiftly to my home, an 11,000-square-foot mansion in the foothills overlooking downtown Los Angeles. My skills were in such demand and for the past decade, I had gained not only a nationwide reputation for my computer skills, but a bank account to match, and now owned and managed Farrell Software Development. I was driven and self-reliant, and as a billionaire, always cautious; maybe overly so, but I knew how the game was played. And I played it pretty damn well.

  We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

  In the entrance hall as soon as I clicked the front door shut, I pressed her hard against it. Fisting my hand in the gauzy material of her shirt, I pulled, ripping the flimsy thing from her body. She gasped, and the look in her eyes went from turned on to melting. She loved when I took on the aggressive role.

  I picked her up, carried her to the couch in the den and laid her there, then turned to flick on the gas fireplace for ambiance. Women always appreciated that kind of thing.

  Turning back, Kelli lay sprawled, stripped naked, on the sofa, her knees spread, offering me a view of everything she had to offer. I paused to admir
e as I removed my shirt, then leaned forward, hovering, trying to decide whether to dip a kiss to the base of her neck or strip completely and plunge inside her velvet folds, but she grasped my head and lowered it to her breast.

  I obliged, first with the tip of my tongue, and then my lips, enveloping the entire nipple as I swirled my tongue around it, teasing and then lathing it with warmth. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer as I sucked, then flicked my tongue over that hardened nub and sucked again. My dick throbbed as she clasped my head close, cradling it in her arms.

  She moaned low in her throat, and it was all I could do not to moan in return.

  She abruptly pushed my head away and then looked up at me with a smile, and lowered my head to her other breast. The fingers of my free hand teased the nipple that I had just relinquished, pinching, seeing how hard of a pinch it would take to make her squeal.

  Her fingernails stroked my back, then my ass. She lifted one hand and caressed the side of my face, my day-old scruff rustling softly beneath her touch. I lowered my body even more, lifting my head and pressing her close against me, her hard nipples brushing against my own. Her skin was so warm, it set me on fire, and I wanted to get closer… ever closer.

  I repositioned to make it more comfortable for myself between her thighs, lowered my head, tracing a wet trail between her breasts, down her abdomen. Lower, ever lower. She chuckled softly, fingers entwining in my hair. As my tongue strayed closer to her belly button, she pressed herself down into the cushiony couch as I pushed her knees upward and apart.

  I dipped between her legs and repeated what I had just done to her nipples, sucking on her throbbing nub. Her moans thrummed through me as she tugged at my hair, hard, lifting her hips slightly, wanting me to take in as much of her as I could.

  I dipped my tongue deep into her slit and lapped my way back up. Stopping, I let my mouth encompass her clitoris, clamped down and sucked. Tugged and then pulled away slightly. I blew on her sensitive skin gently, and then sucked again, repeating this process over and over until she writhed beneath me, mewling sounds escaping from her throat.

  The air around us grew hot as I moaned, the vibration of my lips against her most private part sending her over the edge. Her hips rocked upward, her hands pulling my head tighter to her pussy. I picked up my pace, my tongue stroking and lapping as I took her to the point that her head was thrown back. I watched as she swallowed a scream as her pussy clenched in rhythm to my ministrations.

  “I want you to scream, Kelli, out loud, when I make you come again.”

  I felt like I was going to explode. My head swam as I lifted myself, found her slit, and plunged my hard cock deep inside that wetness. Her pussy clenched around my penis as I hilted myself, groaned and closed my eyes, fighting for control. She felt even more heavenly than usual. Of their own accord, my hips pumped a few times, and it was at that moment I remembered I wasn't protected.

  I threw my head back, stilling myself inside her. I wasn't worried about her getting pregnant, she’d told me she was on the pill. But the other stuff… Still, looking down at her as she glanced down at where we joined, my cock buried deep between her delectable labia, she seemed more innocent than at the club.

  "It's all right,” she urged. “I'm good…"

  She’d said she loved me. Did she mean it?

  Her hazel green eyes caught mine and I could see emotion there, drawing me in, wrapping the ropes tighter around me. My control snapped and I pumped into her, nearly all the way out and then in again. My hips moved faster, and she met every one of my plunges, lifting her hips every time I surged inside. I pulled her deeper onto my cock as I thrust as far in as I could manage, cupping her buttocks with my hands, and then she reached between my legs and grasped my balls, massaging gently. That took me over the edge. I stiffened, my pumping motions shortened. As the fast contractions in my balls hit, I covered her clit with my hand, rubbing with all four fingers until she clenched hard around me and screamed. She came around me as I burst inside her, filling her with my heat.

  I collapsed on top of her, my chest covered with a fine sheen of sweat, heart pounding. I nestled my head between her breasts. Finally, after several moments, I shifted and nearly fell off the couch. Lifting my head, I stared down at her glorious body. My dick was still erect, but as she watched with a soft smile, it slowly began to soften. It wiggled a little bit, thanks to her undivided attention, and I grinned.

  I climbed to my feet. “Let’s go stretch out, my beautiful one.” Reaching down, I pulled her up and we stumbled our way to bed.

  Now, lying in bed, unable to sleep, I found myself tracing a finger over Kelli’s sleeping form, her back to me. She’d kicked off the sheet and my finger took advantage, trailing along her perfect naked curves, along the nape of her waist and then over a rounded hip. I gazed at her perfect ass in the dim moonlight peeking through the window.

  As crazy as it seemed to me, I was actually contemplating making our arrangement more permanent. Much more permanent than I had ever envisioned. I’d spent my life protecting that part of myself, the emotional part of myself, never allowing anyone to get too close. Not close enough to allow myself to be betrayed and hurt again. And here I was, literally entertaining thoughts of taking this relationship a step further than I ever had, only twelve short weeks after we'd met.

  She was close to having me wrapped around her finger. She knew it, and yet I couldn't deny my growing feelings for her. Even my dad, with whom I was not at all close, seemed to approve of her. The first time I’d introduced them, he’d lifted an eyebrow and offered a nearly imperceptible nod of approval. Not that I cared much what he thought. Not anymore.

  I also had to admit that I didn't terribly mind the attention, as well as the credibility, I'd gained from my peers at work. Who else could brag that they were dating and regularly enjoying sex with such a well-known model?

  Maybe it was time.

  Of course, a part of me wanted to hold back, but at the same time, I had to remind myself that perfection was impossible.

  Surely, it couldn't get better than this, could it?

  One

  Sarah

  Present Day

  Nausea welled up into my throat from the knot in my stomach as I stood in front of Kelli Spencer's door in the apartment building nearby Silverlake, my heart pounding.

  Why the hell had I agreed to this? It was ludicrous. Even more, it was wrong. Wasn't it?

  Lifting my hand, I prepared to knock, and hesitated. I was doing the right thing. Not only for me, but also for my three-month-old son, Ethan. Wasn't I?

  I would do anything for Ethan. Even this. I’d run out of options, and that wasn't an exaggeration.

  I blinked back the tears in my eyes as I thought of my mom. What would she think of what I was doing? And Dad? I knew, and I still pushed it to the back of my mind.

  What else could I do? I was a single mother, unemployed, living in homeless shelters. Eighteen months ago, we’d all lived in San Fernando Valley in a small cottage. It was perfect.

  Then, Mom’d gotten sick. Diagnosis: pancreatic cancer. It came out of nowhere, surprising all of us.

  My dad disappeared bit by bit when he was told his wife of twenty-five years was going to die, that the cancer had advanced to the point where nothing could be done. Both of us had expected to have more time with her, but within three months of her diagnosis, my dad was signing papers for hospice care, a DNR, both of us wondering how we would survive without her.

  After her death, I went off the deep end for a while. Not drugs and alcohol deep, but careless behavior. Dad couldn't handle living in the cottage that reminded him so much of her anymore, so we moved to a tiny apartment in San Gabriel Valley. The move, my mom's death, it all caught up to me. To be blunt, I didn't give a damn. I started going to a particular bar in Alhambra, and that's where I met a guy. Desperate for a human connection, comfort, and support, I’d allowed him to convince me to go home with him.

  I had
been more than a little drunk and barely remembered the sex. I did remember being ordered out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning though, sober and disgusted with myself.

  A month later, I found out I was pregnant.

  I kept my secret from my dad as long as I could. Even considered abortion, but quickly discarded that idea, knowing that I would never be able to live with myself if I went through with it. When I began to show, I confessed to my dad. Instead of being angry, he’d been supportive. Disappointed yes, but he promised that together, we would make sure his grandson was well cared for.

  My darkest day was six months ago, when he had been killed by a drunk driver as he was crossing the street late one night on the way home from work. It was a hit-and-run. The police never found the culprit. My dad's small life insurance policy was a blessing, but with my mom's medical bills and both their burials to pay for, and my morning sickness causing me to call in sick to work several times, I began to fall behind in the rent payments.

  I had been working as a waitress at a popular restaurant chain, dinnertime mostly, but as soon as I began to show, I was put on the lunch shift. Just as I passed the seven-month mark, I lost my job. Not because I was pregnant, but because the franchise owner had defaulted on his loan. The restaurant closed down for an indeterminate time frame, and I was literally up a creek. Despite my best efforts, no one wanted to hire me, especially pushing eight months.