“… it’s just not me, sweetheart. Fucking whoever wanted to fuck me was fun when I didn’t know any better. I now know better. Having you in my life has showed me ‘better’.”
I dipped my head and kissed his lips, sliding my tongue into his mouth and savouring the man in my arms. The man who’d just admitted I was his exception.
Josh gripped my shoulders possessively and held me tight. His cock hardened, causing the most delicious sensation as it rubbed against the cotton of my underwear. I couldn’t help myself and rocked, gifting us both the friction we craved.
We both let out an amorous moan. “I need you,” I said, grinding against him, harder.
Josh’s tongue danced passionately in my mouth, his light sweeping grazes quickly turning into strong, dominant, and hungry strokes, bordering desperation. His breathing was ragged, his hands moving to cradle my head and shoulders as he flipped me onto my back. Settling me gently, he hovered, his fingertips teasing their way down my thigh only to trail back up again, pushing the hem of my dress along with them.
“Josh,” I gasped, as he played with the seam of my underwear, gripping it tightly and pulling it down my legs.
He eyed me heatedly. “Fuck, I need you on the tip of my tongue right now,” he groaned, almost painfully, as if it hurt him to have to wait a second longer. I felt his pain—it was hurting me too, having to endure the seconds that ticked by as he shuffled to his knees and removed my underwear completely.
The silver gleam of the moon bounced off his face, highlighting his left cheek and lips, a clear hungered smile visible as he positioned himself between my legs. The feel of his hands running up and down my thighs evoked warmth to flow right through me, my hips rising to meet his mouth, my breathing to spike, and my fingers to slide into his hair, gripping it tightly as I pulled his head into me.
Fuck the sand. And fuck the fact that anyone could catch us. I didn’t care. Right now, it was all about Josh and me, me and Josh. Right now, the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was just this moment: the stars and the eavesdropping breeze. Just his head between my legs, his eyes on mine, his lips on … mine.
Yes, fuck the sand and the rest of the world.
Wet heat laved my pussy as his tongue stroked my skin over and over, his hungry motions making me buck into his face for want of nothing more than what he made me feel. Euphoric, powerless … complete. I’d never felt that way in my life.
“Josh, I love you,” I whispered, thrashing my head from side to side while gripping his hair tightly. “I love your tongue. I love your hands. I … I … oh my God!” I cried out, as said tongue flicked my clit and his hands worked their magic.
My fingers released his hair, my arms falling to my sides, limp. I arched my back and let out a breath as he worked my orgasm from an explosive burst to a delicious hum. Good God!
“I love you too, sweetheart. I love you here in my arms, where you should be.” His lips touched mine, so I delicately dipped my tongue into his mouth, tasting the two of us simultaneously.
Divine.
Reaching down, I undid his buckle, unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard, warm cock. The groan that left his mouth, vibrated through his chest into mine.
So animalistic.
I loved it.
Sliding my hand and fingers over his silky skin, I thumbed a bead of pre-cum over his crown before sucking my thumb into my mouth.
His cock twitched and his eyes flared. “Open your legs, Corinne.”
They were open, so I smiled.
“Wider!” he growled, my smile vanishing when he gently lifted my pelvis and guided himself inside me.
I stretched as much as possible and gasped at his penetration. Fuck me, he’s hard and deep!
Slow, long thrusts—in and out, in and out. Fingers biting into my hips—in and out, in and out. The sounds of crashing waves and heavy breathing—in and out, in and out. His skin slapping mine—in and out, in and out.
“Oh. My. God!” I cried out, as he leaned forward and pinned my arms out beside me, his pistoning thrusts relentless until he, too, released.
“Fuck, Corinne!” He collapsed on top of me, careful not to crush me with his weight, as we swallowed each other’s lingering moans with greedy kissing.
“I want you. All of you. Every day,” I babbled like a drug-addicted idiot.
His fingers trailed down the sides of my face, his sight following them. “Sweetheart, I’m all yours, no one else’s.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my eyes searching his imploringly. “Josh, I never wanted to change you. Would never want you to quit. I just can’t share yo—“
A sneaky smile danced across his face. “I wouldn’t be quitting … entirely.”
“What do you mean?” I couldn’t help but mirror his devious grin.
“I want to focus more on choreographing the routines and dancing in the group performances as a sub-performer.” His smiled widened. “I’m going to teach.”
Gazing into eyes that spoke to me the very first time I saw them, I smiled.
Powerless.
I. Was. Fucking … Powerless.
“Chief, for fuck’s sake, grind the floor. Don’t tease it. Pretend it’s Sophie’s mouth for all I care,” I yelled, encouraging the soft bastard to fuck the ground like he meant it.
“Kiss my arse, Bugs. You come up here and do it, you lazy shit.” Matt jumped to his feet and wiped his face with a towel.
Challenge accepted, fucker!
Putting down the daggy clipboard Corinne had bought me for my birthday, I stood up and made my way to the stage where the boys were rehearsing. As I leapt up to stand beside them, the sound of a giggle teased the hell out of my ears.
I loved that giggle.
Craved that giggle.
Wanted to swallow it whole and every single one after it.
I turned toward the sound and found the woman of my dreams leaning against the wall … and my dreams were pretty fucking awesome. She dominated them and my heart.
From that moment, when I’d tossed her bloody expensive camera in the bin by accident, and the devastation she’d worn had pierced me like a thousand tiny needle pricks, I knew I’d never be the same. It was the first time in a long time I had felt bad for anything I’d done. I mean, I’d fucked two different groupies that night alone and hadn’t given two shits that I’d sent them on their way afterwards without so much as a thanks.
Nope. The fuck I gave was fuckless.
But Corinne and her tear-filled eyes and trembling fuckable lip when she fished her camera out of the bin? Yeah, she’d performed some kind of spell on me with her hurt-filled gaze.
It wasn’t until her foot met my balls in the car park soon after that spell was cast, that I realised she was special. Why? It was simple … my balls had hurt like fuck, yet I would’ve given everything I owned just to have her turn her car around and do it all over again. I would’ve gladly stood there, legs spread apart, and painted a goddamn target on my crotch if it meant I could again see her determination in the form of balled fists, a heaving chest, and beautiful wide eyes.
I just wanted her near me.
Smiling over at her, I winked and dropped to my hands and feet, preparing to show Chief, Noah, Surfer, Dimps and the newbie how it was done.
“Watch and learn,” I said, like the cocky prick that I was.
Slowly, I lowered myself and did two push-ups before resting my knees on the ground and pretending to fuck the stage, except I wasn’t fucking the stage. No. In my mind, I was fucking the pretty little cunt that belonged to the pretty little woman I was going to marry one day. In my mind, I was grinding into Corinne.
“Roll your hips toward the ground like this. Imagine driving into the sweetest pussy you’ve ever driven into. Slow and controlled.” I repeated the move over and over until a crashing sound came from where Corinne was standing.
“Goddamn it!” she cursed.
I paused and looked up, finding her squatting and picking up a broken
piece of her camera. Oh shit!
“Sweetheart, you alright?”
“Screw you, Josh Adams!” she yelled back.
Chuckling, I got to my feet and turned to the boys. “Go home and practice that. I don’t care how. Just practice it.”
As I jumped off the stage, I heard Brad murmur, “I’ll practice my fists into your pretty little teeth.” Just try it, dickhead. Just try it. He wouldn’t. Not only would he get nowhere near my teeth, but he’d have Corinne and Em to answer to as well. Brad was screwed.
Stopping when I reached Corinne, she was holding her camera body in one hand and her lens in the other. “What happened?”
“What does it look like? You broke my Nina. You break everything I own,” she growled.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “How did I break your camera?”
“Nina! She has a name. Where’s your respect?” she scolded, slumping down on a seat.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said calmly with edge of sarcasm. “Let me rephrase myself. How did I break your Nina?”
“Doing that!” She pointed to the stage.
“What?” I knew what, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“That!” She flapped her hand and huffed. “That fuck-the-stage dance move. Grrr.”
Dropping to my knees before her, I ran my hands up and down her thighs. “You liked that, huh?”
“I did … until it murdered Nina.”
“That’s a shame,” I said, threading my arm behind her back and holding her tight before knocking the chair out from underneath her arse. She squealed in surprise, but I kept cool while lowering her to the ground and laying her on her back.
“What are you doing?” She giggled.
“Changing your mind again.”
“Oh … good luck with that.”
The gorgeous little shit pretended to yawn.
“I won’t need it,” I said, hovering over her and performing the same move I’d done on stage, rolling my hips and grinding my cock into her.
A smartarse voice sounded behind us. “Can you at least wait until we’ve left the fucking room?”
“Shut up, Dimps,” we both called out simultaneously.
Corinne laughed and pulled me down flush with her body, wrapping her arms around me and sliding her tongue into my mouth.
Fuck, she was heaven.
I pulled away and nuzzled her cute little nose. “I’ll buy you another one.”
She ran her hands through my hair. God, I loved that. “No, it’s alright. It’s just a broken clip.”
“So I just gave you a free dry-hump for nothing?”
Corinne craned her neck and whispered into my ear. “Yes, you did. But I prefer my humping wet. Very fucking wet.”
I swallowed, heavily. “I love your dirty mouth, sweetheart.”
“And I love yours. Now hurry up and use it on me, and make it good. I have work to do.”
Smiling the biggest fucking grin imaginable, I lowered my dirty mouth to her pure body.
She was my exception.
I really hate this part. And that’s because I never feel that I can justify just how much I appreciate those who have helped me during the process of creating, publishing and marketing a book. But I will try, because these awesome people really do deserve the recognition.
Okay *threads fingers and cracks them*. First up, Andrew: You kind of deserve the label of Super Husbutt & Father. Yes, yes you do. In fact, I shall make you a T-shirt of this nature. Everything you have done these past couple of months has been unrepayable. I really have no words. You allowed me to work pretty much around the clock, and I think you only complained about this arrangement maybe once a day. Okay, maybe once every couple of days. But seriously, that in itself is amazing, because there is no way in Hell this book could’ve been written if it weren’t for you. So even though you weren’t a fan of the book, I’m dedicating it to you, lol.
To my children: Mummy sucks. I know this. Mummy looks as if she has a laptop permanently attached to her tummy. Mummy is also cranky in the mornings and often not listening to everything you say. But we’ve spoken about this, and I remember us agreeing that you both talk too much, so Mummy not always listening is okay. But yes, Mummy sucks. The thing is, Mummy is an author and she loves being an author very much. But more importantly, she loves that you both, despite her bad author-habits, still love her so much and are proud enough to tell (nearly) everyone you come into contact with that ‘My Mum is an author … and she earns lots of money’. Again, we’ve spoken about that last part and you need to stop adding it. Lies are bad.
Mum: You really are a proof reader extraordinaire. Your eye for detail is amazing, which blows me away because you’re kind of blind. But still, you picked up things that we all missed. So thank you for your miraculous vision. Also, as per usual, you and Dad rock my world with your grand-parenting skills. Thank you xo
You may not think it at times, but I love having you travel this bookworld journey with me.
Trish, TJ, Snot, C… : *Takes a deep breath* Yes, I have to draw in that extra bout of oxygen, for if I don’t, I will get teary. And I don’t do tears … much. Right, where do I start? Do I start with your daily phone calls, Voxes, texts, and Facebook PMs? Perhaps I should, because without those I would have given up and delayed publication. Yes, you heard me right. It was you who said set a release date prior to the completion of writing this book. It was you who said ‘Toughen up, Mole. You can write this book in just over a months’ time’. And it was you who contacted me every day with words of encouragement so that I would make my deadline … that YOU forced me to have. So I will firstly thank you for being the best pushy mole in the world—my pushy mole.
I also have to thank you for your AMAZING graphic design talents. Not only did you design the hot as fuck cover, you have formatted this book and produced some gorgeous teasers. Seriously, Snot, one woman is just not allowed to have so many incredible talents. Stop being a greedy bitch and give some up.
Jokes aside, I flove you. Yes, I do. And I’m not afraid to admit that. Most people never stumble across the kind of connection and friendship that we have, and I’m truly grateful for that. I’m grateful that, just over a year ago, we sidled up to each other at our first author signing and basically came right out and said ‘You know what? I like you. You go all right. Let’s be friends’. Because that’s pretty much how our introduction went down.
So thank you for everything that you are and everything that you do for me. And thank you for being the snot to my sneeze.
Sali-HairyGonads-Benbow-Powers: You seriously rock, woman. Not only do you possess beta-reading brilliance, but you also just happen to be one of the most generous, kindest, hilarious and chilled-out women I know. Thank you for your guidance with respect to this book. And thank you for allowing me to keep my inconspicuous fart reference. I see another T-shirt on the horizon.
Fair-maiden McKellar (aka Lauren McKellar, Loz, Mrs Clarke): As always, your editing prowess was most pleasurable and well received. And I must say, you did a splendid job with the request that I remove my excessive use of exclamation marks. I now understand that not everyone finds the slender line with the fallen dot as pleasing to the eye as I do. So for this, and your timely turnaround, I am indebted to you. Please accept my sincerest gratitude.
Shannon: You could not have captured a better cover image for this book had you tried. Thank you for agreeing to be my cover model and for taking the picture in question. If you haven’t checked out Shannon’s website, please do so by clicking on the link found on the title page.
Lastly, but certainly not the least, my Facebook Fabulous Fans and readers: WOW! I don’t think you have any idea the joy you ladies (and the odd man) bring to my life when I switch on Facebook every morning. If it weren’t for all of your support and love for my stories, KM Golland simply would not be. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for being in my life, for the kind words you message and tag me with daily, and for your book reviews, teaser cr
eations and general online chit-chat. Thank YOU for reading. xoxox
COMING SOON: Discovering Stella – September 2015
Turn over for a sneak peek.
DISCOVERING STELLA
PROLOGUE
Pain … physical or psychological, which of the two hurts the most? Is it possible for one to hurt more than the other, or are both just as debilitating? Physical pain is instant, brutal and uncamouflaged. It’s bold and undeniable, often leaving a visible scar, a reminder—and trophy of sorts—of the damage caused.
Psychological pain is one that festers within, bridled yet just as potent. It is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, slowly chipping away at a person’s soul without visibility. Both forms of pain have the capacity to bring a person to his or her knees, destroy their faith and render them no more. But when the two collide, merge, unite in a common cause, the effects can be catastrophic.
My body was currently experiencing both forms of pain as I took slow tedious steps across the lawn in the direction of what I had been evading, running from for the past couple of years. I knew this moment would come at one point or another, for some things are just inevitable. Yet regardless of it being inescapable, that did not mean I wished to welcome it sooner. In fact, the longer I could avoid it, the better. It meant I was able to bury it in an untouched grave—that grave’s location deep within my body.
The wind lashed my skin with each step that I took, leaving an icy sting as the leaves under my booted feet cried out when I pressed them into the earth. I couldn’t look up; I refused to, instead focussing on the black leather of my boots together with the grass and gravel that filled my vision from below. My nails dug into the palms of my hands as I clenched my fists, nerves and apprehension blanketing me. The pain of my biting fingers was welcome, as it provided a microscopic distraction from what was to come in mere seconds. But it was microscopic … diminutive as the pounding of my heart overpowered it and reminded me why I’d run, why I’d fled my previous life and why it was so difficult to return. Returning meant facing what had happened, what I’d done … what I’d suffered. Returning meant closure, which up until six months ago, I’d never thought possible. Six months ago, I’d escaped and reinvented myself. I’d left my previous life and started a new one—one that unintentionally included Lawson Drake.
Revue Page 25
