by Stasia Black
“About how we want you to know what it feels like to be the one in the middle,” Calla whispered. “Receiving all the worship.”
Liam jerked Mack toward the bed, pulling him off balance. He stumbled a few steps and Liam took the opportunity to drag him down to the huge bed with him.
Liam landed on top but Mack growled and quickly flipped them so that Liam was underneath. Liam’s breathing went stuttered and Calla joined them on the bed. She’d been wearing a soft little cotton dress but it was a puddle of fabric on the ground. She slid her bra and panties off before crawling toward them in a way that made Mack want to fuck her senseless.
He went to grab her so he could do just that when Liam said, “Turn over and up on your knees.”
Mack shot Liam a look. It was a look that should have communicated—we’ve already settled this. I’m the top. Always.
But Liam just grinned. “We’ll take it easy on you. Promise.” Then he winked at Mack.
Mack was about to put the bastard in his place but Calla put a hand on Mack’s chest. “Please? Do you trust us?”
Mack stared at her face and the want he so clearly saw there. Did he trust them? Well yeah, but—
“Please,” Calla said again.
And shit, how was he supposed to say no when she was flashing those soulful hazel eyes his way. Not to mention she’d grabbed his cock again and he thought he might start begging if he didn’t have a hot, wet hole to stick it in soon.
“So how do you want me?” He directed it at Calla. He didn’t think he could quite handle the smug look that was undoubtedly on Liam’s face.
“On your knees.” Calla’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Mack’s chest went tight at exposing himself like that. How many nights had Bone shoved him face down into the bunk and then—
Bone’s dead. This is Calla and Liam. You trust them. You love them.
Mack swallowed hard and forced himself to roll over. He couldn’t help how tense his entire body went, though.
“Shh,” Calla whispered, rubbing a soothing hand down his spine. She must have sensed his tension.
He hated that. He was supposed to be the strong one. He was supposed to—
“Fuck,” he shouted as a mouth closed around his cock. He looked down and there was Liam’s head between his legs, mouth circling his cock. He was on his back, hand at Mack’s shaft, feeding the crown in and out of his lips.
His blue eyes sought Mack out. They were wide. Unsure. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who felt vulnerable in this position.
For some reason that made Mack relax. This was Liam and this was Calla.
He even managed to stay mostly still when he felt a probing finger at his anus.
But that was because he was paralyzed.
This is my ass, baby boy. No one will ever fuck it as good as I do. I fucking own you. Stop that goddamned whimpering. You want to walk tomorrow? Because I’ll—
“Mackenzie?” Calla’s voice broke Mack out of the memory that was so fucking vivid, for a second, he’d been back there. Under Bone’s stinking body.
“Honey,” she asked, “are you okay? Because I can st—”
“Keep going,” Mack said through gritted teeth. He refused to let Bone have any more of his life than he’d already stolen. Not that it was that simple. How many times had he told himself not to give that fucker another thought?
He’d hoped the nightmares would end now that Bone was dead, but he’d still woken up a couple times in the dead of night since that day.
Unlike in the past, though, Liam and Calla’s warm bodies tucked against his had soothed him enough to be able to go back to sleep more quickly than he used to. So maybe he’d never be cured in a single stroke. But he’d be damned sure to do everything he could to take back what that monster had stolen.
One of Calla’s fingers pushed against his asshole. He sucked in a breath. Her finger was slick. She must have lubed it. Christ, how long had she and Liam been planning this?
“Shh,” Calla whispered again. “That’s right. Let me in. Let us love you.”
Liam licked around his crown and then sucked him in again.
“Jesus Christ,” he moaned, his head falling down against his forearms. Calla took the opportunity to slip her finger inside. First one, and then another.
Initially Mack squeezed his eyes shut—but it was too easy to imagine Bone was the one behind him. So he opened his eyes and looked down his chest to where Liam was enthusiastically slurping at his cock.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Having both of them work on him at the same time. That was so fucking h—
“Oh,” he grunted, his whole body jerking as Calla’s fingers zeroed in on that spot.
Liam let go of Mack’s cock long enough to say, “Gently. Make sure to go gently.”
But Mack shook his head as he gave into the sensation. “No. Harder. Jesus. Fuck. Harder.”
It was so good. Fuck. It was indescribable. To have something that had been only associated with horror, now to be so fucking good.
His cock hit the back of Liam’s throat but Liam didn’t pull off him. No, he swallowed him even more. He was clearly unused to the sensation. Calla was usually the one sucking him off. Liam hadn’t had much practice. But what he didn’t have in technique he made up for in eagerness. His long tongue never stopped moving.
It was fucking sensational. And with Calla’s fingers working their goddamned magic. Within minutes Mack was grabbing the sheets and roaring as he had one of the hardest, most intense orgasms of his entire life.
He slid to the side and collapsed, feeling like Liam had just sucked the life out of him. Both Liam and Calla were smiling—Liam with a satisfied grin and Calla with that gentle tilt to her lips.
Goddammit but he loved them. The feeling almost tore his fucking heart apart it was so piercing.
“Make love to her,” he said, barely getting the words out he was so out of breath.
Liam crawled up the bed and Calla joined him. She crawled over Mack, kissing him long and lazily.
He closed his eyes and sank into the sensation. The solid bump of her stomach pressed into him. Their child. Growing inside her. It was so fucking insane.
He couldn’t believe he was here. Wanted. Loved.
Calla let out a sudden breathy little gasp and Mack lifted his heavy eyes to look over her shoulder. Liam’s face was a mask of concentration.
Damn, he was taking her ass.
Mack felt his cock stir back to life. Holy shit. The orgasm he had, he thought he’d be satisfied for a whole week. A goddamned month.
But with Calla’s body jerking over his as Liam took her ass, his cock got stiffer and stiffer.
He pulled Calla’s head down for a deep kiss even as he reached to line up his cock at her entrance. Jesus she was wet. So wet and wanting. Always wanting.
As Mack slid home inside her, feeling Liam’s cock through the thin wall of her body, he thought: fuck. This is it. This is perfection.
He’d spent so much of his life filled with hate. Waging his one-man war against evil. Willing to die for it.
Only to discover that there was also a certain kind of beautiful in the world so precious that once you found it, there was nothing to do except live for it. Breathe for it. Give every last ounce of your being for it.
It was a lesson he was learning late.
But one he’d happily spend the rest of his life perfecting.
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Want to find out where it all began? Continue reading after the acknowledgements for a sneak peek at Mel and Xavier’s story in The Virgin and the Beast
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OTHER NOVELS BY STASIA BLACK
Bay Area Bad Boys Series
/> Crush Me
Please Me
Scarlet
Stud Ranch Standalone Series
The Virgin and the Beast: a Beauty and the Beast Romance (prequel)
Hunter: a Snow White Romance
Ducking Ugly: a Menage Ugly Duckling Romance
Throw Down: a Rapunzel Romance (Spring 2018)
Other
Daddy’s Sweet Girl: A Dark Stepfamily Love Story
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Aimee Bowyer, thank you SO much! Your amazing turnaround and feedback on this book before Christmas was so immensely helpful. I never feel like I can breathe about a book until it’s had the once over by you. Giganto HUGS!
Melissa Pascoe—you are such a fabulous PA, thank you so much for helping me have time to WRITE! And thank you to for your feedback on this book. Your enthusiasm was awesome to get on this project.
This book would be an ugly mess of miscapitalizations, grammar mistakes, and missing words without the proofreading genius of Maria Pease from The Paisley Editor. She’s awesome! Fellow authors, highest recommendations!
And thanks as always to super hubby. Love you forever.
ABOUT STASIA
Stasia Black is an author who’s drawn to romantic stories that don’t take the easy way out. She wants to see beneath people’s veneer and into their dark places, their twisted motives, and their deepest desires. She likes to toss her characters into the tempest and watch them hurt, fight, bleed, and then find out what, if anything, comes out the other side. Come along for the journey because it’s one helluva ride.
The Virgin and the Beast Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
“You can’t fire me!” I stare across the desk at my boss, shocked. When he called me in here this morning, I thought it was to talk about a promotion. Which, considering everything that’s happened over the past two weeks, would be some very welcome news.
“I’m your top earning junior associate,” I sputter. “I single-handedly closed the Johnson account.”
“An account which we’re about to lose because of your father’s association with this company through you.”
“I’m not my father,” I say through gritted teeth. “I have nothing to do with his company.” He made damn sure of that over the years. Van Bauer & Sons is strictly a male-only operation and has been for three generations. No daughters allowed. A thought which still rankles me even now, though I should be thanking my lucky stars I’m not caught up in the scandal and FBI scrutiny.
Dan shakes his head at me, the fluorescent light shining off his bald spot. “It just doesn’t make for good optics to have a Van Bauer associated with our company right now, Melanie.”
He can’t be serious. “Look, I’m happy to change my name. Legally, if that’s what it takes. But I just bought an apartment in Manhattan, I can’t afford to lose this j—”
“Your father defrauded some of the most influential people in this city,” Dan cuts me off, slashing a hand through the air. “Not to mention the thousands of regular Americans who lost their pensions to his scheme. New World Media and Design cannot and will not be associated in any way with Frank Van Bauer. You’re out. Today.”
My mouth drops open, ten rebuttals on my tongue. I glance down, momentarily distracted by the giant New World Media and Design paperweight Dan has on his desk. It’s a horrible logo, created from a giant round-tipped arrow shooting up out of what I think is supposed to be a mountain range?—the whole thing just looks incredibly phallic.
In stressful situations, my mind likes to focus on super useful details like this. But really, what am I supposed to say to that? That it’s completely unfair. I’ve spent my entire professional career trying to make it on my own instead of leaning on Dad’s business connections. And I’ve done it, too. I’ve fought tooth and nail to climb the corporate ladder since I graduated early from Brown six years ago. To prove I could do it, that I was just as good as the son I know Dad always wished he’d had.
And now?
If this is any indication, I’ll never be able to work in this town again. And Dad, he’s facing jail time. As in, a life sentence.
I bite back the threatening tears, knowing if there’s one rule above all others, it’s never to let the bastards see they affect you. Any emotion, especially tears, in a corporate environment will be mocked as womanly weakness and held against you for years.
I stand abruptly and hold my chin high. “This is wrongful termination.”
Dan looks at me disdainfully. “I already told you we almost lost the Johnson deal over this.”
I can’t help but swallow hard at that. Only weeks before Dan was falling over himself praising me for bringing in the multi-million-dollar contract.
“Your very presence at the company weakens our brand, which gives us perfectly legal means for termination. Not to mention that the CFO himself personally lost millions to your father’s little scam. Be glad you’re leaving with a severance package, Ms. Van Bauer.”
He stands and leans over his desk. “Now remove your things immediately. Your ID badge will be deactivated at noon.”
I grit my teeth together and start toward the door. Take the high road, Mel. They go low, you go high.
At the last second, I twirl around. “The company’s logo looks like a penis and balls. Just an FYI.” I smile sweetly and then stomp out the doorway.
***
When I get down to my office, all of my coworkers are eyeing me like I’m a contestant on the latest reality show about to head for the chopping block. God, did everyone see this coming except me? I knew it was bad when the news broke about Dad a week and a half ago.
Bail was set at one and a half million dollars. The bank froze all his assets. I was only able to pay it by not only using up everything in the savings Grandpa left for me but also by putting a second mortgage on the apartment I’d just bought. Not imagining that I’d have any suddenly dramatic life expenses, I’d put a lot of cash down on the place, so I had some equity in it… Which I then needed right back to get my father out of prison.
I bang into my office, ready to throw my things in a box and get the hell out of here as fast as possible.
But I stop in my tracks when I see a stranger sitting in one of the two chairs across from my desk. He’s an impeccably dressed older gentleman. I was always around wealth growing up, but over the last few years especially, I’ve learned to pay attention to the small details that differentiate true wealth from the cheap imitation of it.
So I recognize the elegant tailoring and fine cloth that indicate this man’s suit was custom made and expensive. And the fact that his cufflinks appear to be real gold, maybe an heirloom. Grandpa used to have some like that. The man’s black wingtips are polished and expensive. I always check men’s footwear when sizing up a potential client.
This guy is real money. The serious kind.
Too bad I didn’t pay more attention when Dad started wearing knock-off Louis Vuitton shoes a few years ago after Mom died. She’d left him years before but he was always stupid over her.
I knew he was struggling. I just thought it was personal—I never dreamed the business was in trouble, too. Once when I dropped by to check on him, I caught him at home, drunk at eleven a.m., sitting on his couch in nothing but his boxers. It was obvious he’d been crying.
He yelled at me to get out, and Dad never yelled. Then he didn’t talk to me for a whole month. When he finally invited me out to one of Manhattan’s most exclusive restaurants for dinner—a place you go to be seen as much as for the exquisite cuisine—he was in his most expensive suit and smiling his salesman’s grin. Business was good, he was hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and all was well in the world.
Or so it seemed anyway. He always put on such a good face. I had no idea he was digging himself deeper and deeper until it all toppled like a house of cards.
“Sorry,” I say to the stranger, suddenly feeling the weight of reality like a lead weight on my shoulders, “All my appointments
today are canceled.” I lift my hands. “As of ten minutes ago, I’m no longer employed here.”
“You are Melanie Van Bauer?” the stranger asks. When I nod, he stands and holds out a hand to shake. He’s of medium height, maybe pushing seventy, with a full head of neatly cropped white hair.
“Yes,” I say, drawing out the word as I reach forward and take his hand.
“You can call me Owens,” he says with a pleasant smile, giving my hand a firm shake before releasing it. Then he gestures for me to sit behind my desk. “Please, sit. I have a business proposition to discuss with you.”
I tilt my head sideways at him. “Look, I just told you I was fired. I don’t know what kind of—”
“Your father is going to be imprisoned for the rest of his life,” he starts with no preamble. “Probably for multiple consecutive life sentences once all the gory details of his Ponzi scheme are trotted out in the court of public opinion. That sort of thing is not supposed to affect the jury, but we both know this will be tried in the news for months before it ever makes it to the courtroom. The public is crying for blood and believe me, no one treats a man who steals the retirement pensions of nice little old ladies well in prison.”
Oh God, not another one. I’m so not in the mood for this.
“Get out.” I point toward the door. Dad and I have been harassed ever since the news broke. People camp outside my apartment, flinging accusations and worse—I got pelted with a tomato a few days ago. A bag of dog crap the day before that. We’ve been getting death threats over social media and in the mail.
I seriously don’t need this bullshit right now. “I don’t know who let you in here but I’ll call secur—”
Mr. Owens holds his hand up. “What if I told you that you could spare him all of it? That it’s within your power to help him?”
