Seducing Mrs. Robinson

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Seducing Mrs. Robinson

  A Bro Code Novel

  by Rachel Van Dyken

  Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  SEDUCING MRS ROBINSON

  Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  ISBN: 978-1-946061-37-9

  Editing by Kay Springsteen & Jill Sava

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction

  Table of Contents

  Front Matter

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Want More Pleasure Ponies?

  Want More Wingmen Inc?

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Also By Rachel Van Dyken

  To my son, Thor. Happy fifth birthday buddy!

  Enjoy it!

  You aren’t dating until you’re forty! I’m not kidding…

  Prologue

  “What’s the opposite of a cougar? Asking for a friend.” — Leo Blackwood

  Leonardo Blackwood

  High School Graduation 2013

  “There she is.” I elbowed my best friend in the ribs. “Kora Robinson.” I made a sound of approval as she took the podium in a tight white dress that made me want to charge the stage and rip it off with my teeth.

  She’d probably reprimand me for that.

  And I’d probably enjoy it more than an eighteen-year-old should.

  “Detention.” I could see her perfect red pout forming the word.

  Even the word got me hot and bothered after she spat it at me last time, with her bright red lipstick and less-than-amused pinch of a frown. It was her first year teaching, and technically she was only like eight years older.

  Oh, also? She loathed me.

  Like, she would drown me if she wouldn’t get fired for it. Probably because I made her job a hell of a lot worse because I’m a flirt.

  I can’t apologize for it. I was born this way.

  Honest to God, my mom said every single nurse in that delivery room was enamored, and well, here I am, breaking hearts at eighteen and making sure that older women know where the goods are because there really isn’t anything better than a woman who knows her mind, her body, and how to use both to the best degree possible.

  I gave a disgusted look across the auditorium at her new husband. It was all wrong. He was all wrong.

  He was wearing thick black glasses that immediately made you think his dream was to live in a house that only used solar panels as its main source of energy. His jeans were skinny and tight, and he had no ass. His first mistake was skipping leg day, his second? Existing.

  I snorted.

  No biceps to speak of.

  The white shirt was hanging loose off his thin-as-a-rail body, and I was pretty sure if I challenged him to a fight, he’d piss himself before actually answering with a sneer and saying something asinine such as real men used words like swords, not their fists.

  God, I hated him.

  The few times he’d stopped by the school to bring her lunch or visit, he never complimented her and always seemed to find something wrong with what she was wearing or how she did her hair. Which just provoked me to compliment her on a daily basis, which then caused her to hate me even more because I was flirting twenty-four seven.

  She kept making her speech, and dumb-ass kept texting on his phone like it wasn’t a huge honor for her to be up there.

  He was everything that was wrong with the world. Why the hell would a smoking hot woman like Mrs. Robison marry a guy who she could break in half? I mean, I guess he was hot in a rich nerd way?

  And before you start getting pissed off about the personality being louder than the outside, well, he’s a complete stuck up arrogant ass.

  From money, loads of money, not that I was judging, I was from a wealthy family too, but this guy? He had a brand-new Tesla before the new model even came out and then got mad at her (slow your roll; I heard the argument in the parking lot, okay?) for driving it to work because her car had broken down.

  Again.

  See? Ass, total ass.

  I shook my head in disgust for what had to have been the fifth time since she took the stage.

  I couldn’t take the look of boredom on his face as she started her speech about what a wonderful first year she’d had at West High.

  Her voice was soft, and yet, she was still the loudest thing I heard in that gym. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited while the room erupted into applause, and then she turned to all three hundred of us and winked.

  I wanted to believe that wink was for me.

  It wasn’t.

  Because she followed it up with a scowl in my direction and because a man can’t go against his true nature, I blew her a kiss. Ah yes, she wanted to strangle me alive.

  Perfect. I would take hate over ignorance any day.

  The rest of the day went by in a blur.

  I talked with my friends.

  I laughed about the summer before college.

  I flirted with every able-bodied female who gave me attention—spoiler alert, I was the captain of the football team, so it was all of them. ALL of the women.

  “Hey, you going to Mark’s?” Eustice, horrible name, he’s aware, jogged over to me and elbowed me in the side. His cap was off, and he’d already put on his typical black beanie, almost covering his eyes completely.

  “Yeah, yeah,” We were in the parking lot, sweating our balls off. “I’m just headed home to change real quick, then I’ll meet you there. Sound good?”

  “Yup.” He waved me off with his middle finger.

  I chuckled and made my way over to my new black Mercedes, a graduation gift from my parents.

  They were givers.

  They also wanted to make sure that straight A’s were rewarded, I asked for a Benz when I was thirteen and kept my promise for five years. Thankfully my parents know me like they do a son because duh I’m their son and had already been looking for the safest, most badass car on the planet.

  I had just unlocked the door when I heard yelling.

  “I can’t do this anymore!” Mrs. Robinson shouted. “I can’t! It’s not fair to me! I like my job!”

  Oh, shit.

  I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, she was on the far side of the parking lot with her dick of a husband.

  He leaned in and put his hands on her giving her a small shove.

  Hard limit.

  Hel
l no.

  A man never puts his hands on a woman.

  I was at their car in a minute, pulling him away from her within seconds. “Bro, I don’t care how pissed you are, you don’t touch a woman.”

  He tilted his head at me, his eyes feral. “Are you shitting me right now? What is this? Huh, Kora? You screwing a student now?”

  “What?” I stepped between them. “Are you seriously that much of an idiot that you’d project your own insecurity in your manhood on your wife?”

  He was silent, though a muscle popped in his jaw.

  “Huh, guess you are. For your information, I have a girlfriend—actually several, not that it’s any of your business. They like my dick since I actually have one… which is more than I can say about you, so back the hell off, cool down, and then have your very adult conversation—without laying a hand on your woman.”

  He sneered. “Last I checked she’s not your wife.”

  “Last I checked, she’s not a punching bag for you to toss around,” I spat.

  He paled and then looked like his body was convulsing with rage. Perfect. He jutted his finger at her. “This conversation isn’t over. I’m going out with the guys tonight.”

  He got into his new car and sped off like I was chasing him, and I hoped to God that was the vision he had in his head, a high schooler, eight years his junior, scaring him so shitless he had to get in a car to get away.

  Mrs. Robinson was pale, shaking. I towered over her, so I lowered my voice and asked as softly as I could, “Are you okay?”

  “That wasn’t your call to make!” Tears trailed down her puffy cheeks.

  “Excuse me?” I reared back. “He was touching you! Hurting you!” I could see the fucking marks on her shoulder already, fingerprints, two of them. “He has no right to hurt you.”

  “He’s my husband,” she said softly.

  “Then he should be the one protecting you.” I gently touched her shoulder with my fingertips, and she winced. “Not the student you hate and wish you could have failed.”

  She looked away then, holding her purse strap so tight I was afraid she was going to pull the brown leather loose. “I gotta go.”

  “Mrs. Robinson.” I grabbed her arm. Damn, it was soft. Her blue eyes pleaded with me, told me she needed me to stop talking, to stop touching, I was getting there, I just needed her to know. “A real man doesn’t raise his voice at a woman, a real man doesn’t touch a woman, a real man doesn’t threaten a woman. I know I’m young, but I know what respect looks like, and this isn’t it. If you need to talk to someone—”

  “No.” She pulled free, a sad smile on her face. “I’m fine, he’s just stressed about some merger at work.”

  “Don’t make excuses for the asshole.”

  She cleared her throat. “And don’t touch your teachers without their permission, right?”

  I felt deflated in that moment, the knight in shining armor being told the fair maiden never wanted saving from her own nightmare in the first place.

  I nodded, and before I could stop myself before she closed the door to her car, I said, “You’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in real life, don’t settle for a piece of shit just because he makes you think you have no other options.” I pointed at myself. “Option number two.” And then I turned and walked away.

  Feeling like hell because I knew how their story would end.

  In heartbreak.

  Chapter One

  “If she’s moaning, but her pulse isn’t erratic, you’re doing it wrong, bro, all wrong.” — Leo Blackwood

  Leo

  Present Day, Senior year at UW

  “Right there, see that’s better.” I held Vanessa’s delicate fingertips in mine and started slowly rubbing my thumb across the back of her hand. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

  Shoot me now.

  She nodded tears in her eyes. “He never touched me like that.”

  “He wasn’t good enough for you,” I said it with such conviction, I knew she would walk away from this session feeling a million times better and most likely, finally, delete and block her ex’s number from her phone.

  He dumped her.

  And it was my job as one part of the new Wingmen Inc to make sure that she felt aaallll better.

  People called us the Pleasure Ponies. I had to admit the nickname kinda stuck, especially after it was rumored that visitors left our den of iniquity with such a relaxed smile on their faces that there was no way they didn’t experience an orgasm.

  The rumors grew and grew until it became such a thriving business on campus that we actually were getting to the point where we had to mentor some guys to take our spots once we graduated.

  Knox, the leader of our group, was already working for Wingmen Inc downtown. The app was raking it in, and each of us had a position, if we wanted it, once we graduated.

  At least then, I wouldn’t be welcoming sad college students of both sexes into my dorm room in an effort to make them feel better about their lack of relationship prospects.

  Vanessa straightened and gave me a shy smile. “You’re really good at this, Leo.”

  Ah, I knew that smile.

  “Don’t confuse this,” I whispered, “as anything but me helping you understand your own worth, all right? I don’t date clients.”

  Her face fell. Ah, I knew that face well.

  I was on the opposing end of that face, or had been, for four fucking years. Massive disappointment. Sorry not sorry. I really didn’t have time for a relationship, especially since I had a full load this year right along with Wingmen work.

  “But…” She licked her lips and leaned forward, placing both her hands on my denim-clad thighs. Huh, taught her that trick, quick learner. “Don’t you think we’d be good together?”

  I scooted my chair back and crossed my arms. “I’m gay.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You made out with Kelsie Garrett last year almost every single day of spring break…”

  Damn it; I forgot we were all at Cabo together.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I could just like guys and girls. I’m kinda into both… maybe a little more dudes this semester, who knows?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

  “Totally.” I nodded solemnly. Hey, I appreciated the male form as much as anyone else! It wasn’t a total lie! “I mean, have you seen the ass on Finn?”

  Finn was my roommate, along with Slater, and all three of us made up the new and improved Pleasure Ponies.

  Unfortunately, Finn chose that inopportune moment to open the door and grin down at Vanessa. “Hey sweetheart, how are you?”

  I could practically feel the lust pulsing off her body. One of us was bad enough; both of us in the same room?

  Clothes tended to just drop from people’s bodies. It was a thing, involuntary, like breathing.

  She pressed a hand to her chest and looked between us, “If you’re into guys, I don’t mind.”

  “Come again?” Finn asked, confused.

  “We’ll just add one more to the scenario.” Damn, when had she gotten so brazen? She stood and pulled her shirt over her head.

  And all my brain could conjure up was, boobs, nice boobs, boobs I’d like to touch, lick, maybe stick my—

  “Whoa!” Slater walked in, took one look at her, looked at us, and just shook his head. “Yeah, Wingmen Inc doesn’t really… cater to that sort of…” He gulped, looked his fill, even tilting his head to get a better angle, then murmured, “…thing.”

  “Really?” She grinned at him like she was seconds away from trapping him with her thighs and squeezing.

  I could see his control slipping like a thousand pieces of sand through a baseball glove.

  “All right then!” I grabbed her black tank off the floor, handed it to her, and then pointed her in the direction of the door. “We have another appointment. We’ll make sure to charge this as your last session, and again, if you ever need anything from us, you know how to book through the on
line portal, mmkay?”

  “You’re missing out,” she called after us.

  “Totally,” I agreed.

  “Our loss,” Slater added.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Finn said just as the door shut, leaving her outside our dorm suite and us trapped on the inside. Great, just what I wanted this morning, to be surrounded by dudes all hot and bothered by a great set of tits.

  “So… that went well,” Finn finally said. His grin was maddening, one of those too-perfect things meant to disarm. With dimples, green eyes, and wavy dark hair, he looked like he belonged anywhere but a dorm room. The guy could sell ice on the streets during a blizzard and make millions.

  We each had our job.

  I used my good looks and way with words to set the women at ease. Finn and Slater would simultaneously touch and show possession in a way that made the person feel loved and wanted, we were basically like a stand-in boyfriend to help you get through the rough patches after a breakup.

  Someone should really give out badges for this shit.

  I yawned, plopped back onto my bed, and grabbed my football. The one thing I missed. I had been here on scholarship—until I made a couple of poor life choices. But thankfully, the guys at Wingmen Inc saved me, grounded me with friendship, a purpose outside of sports, and, well, the rest was history. “You guys wanna go grab something to eat?”

  “Can’t.” Slater grabbed the football midair and then chucked it at Finn’s face. Finn, however, was used to the sneak attack and caught it one-handed, sending Slater an eye-roll. “I got class—wait, don’t you have class too?”

  I smirked. “Was thinking about skipping, I loathe my Senior Seminar.”

  “Really? Because I find it stimulating,” Slater said in a bored tone.

  I flipped him off and sat up. “Fine, I’ll go to class, but only because you guys refuse to go grab food with me.” My stomach rumbled on command.

  “I can go after my lab.” Slater shrugged. “We can meet later at the student union building?”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “Right, because that wasn’t a disaster last time all three of us decided to eat together. We were mauled by freshmen—BTS style!”