by Hannah Ford
When we got to the runway, there was a black Escalade waiting for us, the keys in the ignition.
A few moments later, we were driving down winding back roads, passing nothing but fields and the occasional pickup truck traveling by us in the opposite direction.
Noah was quiet on the ride, tuning the satellite radio to a top 100 station, the optimism of the pop music slightly out of place against the rusticness of our surroundings.
After about an hour, he turned the car down a gently sloping dirt road. The road was narrow, and branches scraped the car windows.
It was almost completely dark outside now, the sky such a deep blue it was almost black, the stars just starting to appear.
After a couple miles, we reached a heavy iron gate.
There was a keypad mounted to metal pole in front of it, and Noah rolled down the window and pushed the button for the intercom.
“Yes?” a man’s voice demanded gruffly.
“Noah Cutler,” Noah growled.
A moment later, a buzzing sound echoed through the woods, and the gates swung open.
We drove through and continued down the road until we got to a clearing, a mansion rising from the dusty surroundings as if from nowhere.
I was surprised at how out of place it looked.
It was big and modern, with turrets and a circular cobblestone driveway with a pewter fountain in the middle. It was the kind of mansion you’d see in the Hamptons, not the kind of place that belonged in the middle of nowhere, inhabited by a shadowy figure.
Noah put the car in park.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You will not speak. You will not say a word.”
“Okay.”
We got out of the car and climbed the steps.
We rang the doorbell.
I held my breath, waiting to see what Lameuix would look like. Would he be big and imposing, scary and muscular?
A second later, the door swung open.
The inside of the house was bright and well-lit, and it took my eyes a second to adjust, since it was so dark outside.
And then a figure began to come into view, the shadows coming together to reveal what was waiting for us on the other side of the door.
The reality was much worse than anything I could have imagined.
And even though I had prepared myself for anything, even though I had promised Noah I would stay quiet, I couldn’t help myself.
I screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
* * *
End of Book Twenty-One
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Obscene
Some say I’m dirty.
The way I talk, the way I drink and fight.
And most importantly, the way I f**ck.
It’s not my fault that women come crawling to me for it.
Life these last two years has been really simple as long as I don’t get any entanglements, and that’s how I like it.
I just wish that I hadn’t run into her.
Dirty
The way he makes me feel.
The way he looks at me. I know that this is wrong. I’ve seen what he does to people, and I’m absolutely sure that one day soon I’m going to be left in the dust like everyone else who ever knew him.
I just can’t stop. He makes me feel too good…
BONUS BOOK: Obscene by Kelly Favor
ZACK
She begged me to fuck her in front of the three-way-mirror in the walk-in closet of her uptown Boston apartment.
This chick had been dying for me to split her with my cock since the second she’d laid eyes on me, and I was in the mood to do some damage to that pussy.
So now, here I was, drilling her from behind as she grabbed onto the closet rod above her head.
“Shit, baby, you’re tight,” I said, which was true.
“And you’re…oh my God, you’re fucking huge,” she moaned.
Her body arched and she spread her legs wider. We were both buck-naked. She swung her head and looked at us in the mirror. “Look at that body of yours,” she said. Her eyes rolled back and she groaned as I slid in a little further.
“We’re not even halfway there,” I mentioned, doing my best to get inside her.
“Wait, you’re—you’re not all the way inside me?” she cried, and I could see her eyes widening with a look of panic spreading over her perfectly tanned face.
“Not quite,” I said, grinning. And then I grabbed her hips with my hands, my chest muscles flexed and my hips thrust as I buried my cock deep into her shaven pussy.
Nothing like fucking a rich broad after a night of drinking with the boys at the bar. A classic end to a classic night.
“Oh shit!” she screamed as she received my full girth.
“Now we’re in business,” I said, warming to the task.
She was wet as hell, juiced up and I’d finally gotten her open enough so I could do what I did best.
And what I did best was fuck.
Well, some said that what I did best was fuck up.
Or maybe fight.
To me, it was all the same anyhow. Fucking, fighting, drinking—everything I did since getting back from Afghanistan was the same.
Just as long as I didn’t have to think…didn’t have to remember.
Didn’t have to remember who I used to be or what I’d become.
There was just the now.
The beautiful, violent, horny, drunken and raging now, where I could forget about Zack and just be Wild.
My hips pumped faster as her wet thighs jittered and she started to climax.
“Damn, baby, that didn’t take long,” I said, grabbing her tits and pulling her to me as I went just a little deeper still. “You’re coming hard for me, girl.”
“Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph!” she screamed, her head rocking back, the whites of her eyes showing yet again.
Damn, I didn’t think I had the power to make women speak in tongues. Score one for me.
I tightened my hands around her fake titties and got ready to get my own rocks off. I was wound up. I had been waiting all night for this, because, like most nights, I needed to get it all out and leave myself completely spent at the end of it or I wouldn’t be able to sleep so much as a wink.
Even exhausted, sometimes sleep took far too long to come.
But tonight, I would sleep like the dead.
Her tight ass was drenched in sweat and I leaned back and gave it a hard spank with the flat of my palm.
The chick moaned. “Oh, God,” she panted. “I just came so hard, that was unreal. You can come now, too, baby.” She looked over her shoulder—gave me that look.
That look that told me it was on.
“Oh yeah? You think you can handle it if I do?” I said, grabbing a fistful of her platinum blond hair.
“I want you to come for me,” she said, breathing faster.
“I bet you’ll fucking go off like a rocket when I do,” I said, pumping my hips again, letting her know shit was getting real.
“Oh yeah. Oh, baby, I’m so wet.”
I started to rock and roll then, riding her like she was a BMX bike and I was a goddamn stunt rider on a mission.
I watched myself in the mirror and it was like I was Elvis, Kanye and a porn star rolled into one. I was a goddamn super star, and this girl was taking my fat dick all the way in, loving every second of it.
I could do no wrong.
I was going to blow.
My hips started to fire faster and faster as I rode her, sliding in and out of her lubricated pussy with intentions of hitting eve
ry corner.
By the end, she was on all fours and I was thrusting, cumming into the condom I’d made sure to strap on—dropping the biggest fucking load as every muscle in my body strained and I felt like blood vessels in my neck were going to explode.
And then it was done, and I was pulling out.
She was exhausted, babbling something about giving me her cell number and what times and days her husband would be out of town.
“Listen honey, it isn’t like that,” I said.
Some women made the contact list and some didn’t. This lady hadn’t made the cut—not her fault, but then again I hadn’t realized she was married until just that moment.
She’d hidden the rock. If I’d known up front, I never would have done this in the first place.
I didn’t like fucking around with married chicks—not worth all the hassle and drama.
I got dressed fast as hell.
She followed me to the front door of her apartment like a lost puppy, her big blue eyes wide and kind of pathetic. “Will you be at the bar again?” she asked. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”
“I’d tell you yes, but that would be a lie,” I said, giving her a slight smile. “I had a nice time, though.”
“Oh, you did?” she said, rage flashing across her face as she realized I was rejecting her, her lips tightening into a scowl. “Well, let me tell you, I don’t usually fuck bar trash like you, but I got desperate. My husband’s a heart surgeon and he went to Harvard. I went to Brown. Where did you go, Bunker Hill Community College—or did you even finish high school?”
“Aww, now you had to go and ruin it,” I said, shaking my head as I shrugged my jacket on over my shoulders and opened the door, walking out into the hallway.
“You aren’t shit anyhow, you’re just a loser! I knew you were a loser from the second I saw you!” she screamed, but I didn’t turn around, just kept walking down the hall.
It wasn’t the first time a one-night-stand had gotten hurt when I let them down, and it wouldn’t be the last either.
Not by a long shot.
CAELI
The day from hell.
That’s what today had been.
But then again, every day spent working for my uncle at Burger Billy’s was a day from hell, and nowadays, that meant five days a week my life was spent dealing with the devil and his minions.
“Hey Caeli, where’s order eighty-seven?” one of those minions—Blake--screamed out.
Uncle Billy’s three sons (Marvin, Blake and Devin) were every bit as awful as their dad, and they usually worked right alongside me at the restaurant.
The restaurant was a popular spot not far from Bradley University, which meant that it was open late to get that drunk frat boy traffic.
Fun times, especially for a girl working at two-thirty in the morning on a Friday night after the local bars shut down and all the drunk, horny and pissed off guys wandered in.
But I’d have rather dealt with any drunken asshole over Billy’s three brats, especially today.
Today had just been one thing after another.
First of all, I’d gotten in a fight with my Dad when he’d showed up at my apartment and demanded the rent a week early.
That’s what I got for renting from my folks, which I only did in the first place because otherwise the place would have sat empty and they already couldn’t make the payments as it was.
Then I got rear-ended by some joker who’d tried to tell me we didn’t need to deal with the insurance companies, even though he dented my fender and broke my tail light and got his paint all over my car.
And then I’d been busting my butt all shift long at the restaurant, because it had been nonstop busy and one of the other girls quit after Marvin had harassed her one too many times.
I knew how she felt, even though they were my cousins. Harassing a family member wasn’t beneath them—nothing was.
“Caeli, is eighty-seven up or not?” Blake shouted again.
I was trying to get the large vanilla milkshake and put the plastic cover on it as he shouted at me. I wiped sweat from my forehead.
“Coming up!” I called back, getting the cover on, finally, as I picked up the tray at the counter that was stacked with enough burger meat to choke an elephant.
Marvin turned towards me and pointed to a rowdy table of guys sitting in the corner of the restaurant. “They’ve been waiting forever for that order, Powers. Now hustle over and be nice—try smiling for a change.”
I should throw this entire tray of food on him and walk out, I thought, but of course I did no such thing and kept my mouth shut.
Another few months and I’d have worked off enough of my parents’ debt to finally quit and get back to college like I’d been planning.
Just a little longer. Hold it together, Powers.
I took a deep breath, put on my best smile, and carried the tray of food to the table of guys who were the exact types that I dreaded serving at this time of night.
The men turned their attention to me.
“Finally,” the best looking of the group said. He flashed his gorgeous green eyes at me and grinned that cocky frat boy grin that I’d grown to hate since working at the restaurant this last year. “I thought we were going to have to kill the cow ourselves,” he continued, “and I’m hungry enough to do it, too.”
“Sorry for the delay,” I told him, handing the tray over, my smile dissipating.
Did he not see the huge line out the door? Was he dumb and entitled enough to think he was the only customer in the place?
Probably yes on both counts.
As I was thinking about his attitude and how much he embodied everything I despised—clearly handsome and cocky, never had to work or suffer a day in his life—I lost focus and bungled the handoff of all the food.
The tray capsized and although the green-eyed frat boy was able to catch most of it at the last second—even managing to snag the fries and keep the container upright with one hand—he couldn’t stop the milkshake from dumping all over me.
“Shit!” I yelled.
Some of his friends were snickering now and I felt my cheeks start to flush with embarrassment as I knelt down to pick up the half-empty cup off the ground. There was lots of vanilla milkshake on the floor, but a lot of it had gotten on my top, and even a few specks had sprayed my chin and cheeks.
I licked my lips, tasting vanilla ice cream.
“You all right?” Green Eyes asked, looking a little concerned for a moment as he saw the state I was in.
“I’d be a lot better if you’d held onto that tray instead of dropping it,” I shot back, even though I knew I was the one who’d fumbled it. But something about the look on his face had upset me.
I don’t want his pity.
Anything but that.
As the insulting words left my lips, his expression changed. His green eyes hardened and he gave a little grin, sitting back in his seat and looking at me as I knelt beside the table.
“You know, if someone just walked in on this scene right here, they might get the wrong idea…” he said, scratching his jaw.
His friends burst out laughing.
At first I didn’t know what was so funny until I realized that the position we were in…me on my knees, him sitting there, looking satisfied while I had white liquid splattered on my chest and face.
For a moment, I wanted to scream and toss the rest of the milkshake at his face. And I almost did.
But then I stood up and he was still grinning, folding his arms as if daring me to try something stupid.
The strange thing was, for a brief moment, picturing the situation as it might have been were I truly to have done what he was insinuating it looked like I’d done—my nipples stiffened and my lower belly tightened.
Are you crazy, Caeli? You’re actually attracted to this douchebag?
No, not attracted. Repulsed.
“I’ll have someone else bring you a new milkshake,” I said, turning away
.
“You bring it,” Green Eyes called out authoritatively.
I gave one last look over my shoulder as I continued walking on back. I wished I had a witty retort, but my mind was a blank.
Marvin saw me as I came back into the kitchen and shook his head. “Clean yourself up, Powers. Christ.”
I took a stack of napkins and wiped most of the crud off my shirt and face and hands, before getting a new large vanilla shake and bringing it back to the table.
I was nervous as I approached him once again.
And looking at the green-eyed frat boy, I realized he was more handsome than I’d initially given him credit for.
He was like a GQ model come to life, all buff under his leather jacket, and he had that crew cut look that I’d always found sexy.
But I quickly reminded myself that he was just another cocky frat boy and I was beyond tired of dealing with guys like him. All the rich kids went to Bradley University and they all drove Porsches and BMWs that their parents had bought them.
“A new milkshake,” I said, not smiling as I handed it to him.
“I hope you didn’t put something in it,” he said, sniffing as if I’d poisoned it.
“I didn’t, but that’s because I’m not low-class like some people. And I’m not rude, either.”
Even his friends had fallen silent now, as their heads turned back and forth, like they were watching a tennis match.
His lips twitched into a smile and he lifted the milkshake as if in a salute. Then he took a long gulp.
I couldn’t help but admire his neck as he swallowed. His skin was smooth and perfect, his jaw chiseled.
Girls must fall all over him everywhere he goes.
“Best vanilla milkshake I ever tasted,” he said, licking his red lips. “Worth the wait.”
Something about his words made my skin break into gooseflesh.
Worth the wait.
Was it my imagination or did there seem to be a lot more to that sentence than he let on?
Is he flirting with me or insulting me?
Or is it just fun for him to come into a dingy, greasy burger joint and mess with the poor, pathetic girl with the stained trousers and the damp, frizzy hair—show his buddies how easy it would be to…
