by Selena Kitt
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MOXIE
By Selena Kitt
High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!
Table of Contents
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Little Brats: Jenna
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ABOUT SELENA KITT
BONUS EXCERPT
SELENA KITT’S OTHER WORKS
MORE FROM EXCESSICA!
BOOK DESCRIPTION
When the man of the house goes to prison for embezzling his company’s retirement funds, Jenna’s life falls apart. She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t call or write—until one day she finds a stash of hidden letters and discovers the truth. These exposed secrets lead Jenna to admit her true, taboo desires, and she begins her own course of wicked deception that culminates in a conjugal visit that will change their lives.
Little Brats: Jenna
By Selena Kitt
IF YOU LIKE THIS SERIES, CHECK OUT THESE
Little Brats:Anna
Little Brats: Becca
Little Brats: Clara
Little Brats: Christa
Little Brats: Darla
Little Brats: Eva
Little Brats: Fiona
Little Brats: Georgia
Little Brats: Hanna
Little Brats: India
Little Brats: Tina
Camping Brats
Heavenly Brats
Traveling Brats
The Preacher and His Naughty Brat
The Cougar and Her Cub
The Nudist and His Princess
The Man of the House
When she found them, Jenna was pushing through the mess of folders, unpaid bills, and various office supplies in her mother’s little secretary desk, looking for a few pages of mostly unwrinkled loose leaf paper to finish an assignment for her geography class. The stash of letters was shoved all the way to the back of the drawer, as if someone—obviously her mother—had been trying to hide them.
She recognized the return address instantly. They were letters from her stepfather, who was currently sitting in a prison cell, all of them addressed to Jenna’s mother. She flipped through them, about twenty in all, realizing that not a single letter had been opened. But why?
Her original mission and schoolwork forgotten, Jenna shoved everything back, closed up the secretary, and took the curious pile up to her room. Some of the postmarks were months old, some of them from a year or more ago.
She’d always found it odd that he’d never written, never contacted them after he’d gone to jail. In truth, she’d been a little disappointed and hurt by it, but she supposed it was because the man was ashamed of what he’d done. Jenna understood, but even from the beginning, she had felt nothing but sympathy for his predicament, even if he had done what they said he did.
She sat with his letters in her hands, realizing he’d been writing to them all along, simply stumped that not a one had been opened. Jenna smiled when she thought about her stepfather. Scott MacKenzie had never been anything but good to them both. Tall, rugged, a real blue-collar worker kind of handsome, his smile alone spoke volumes about the kind of man he was. The owner of a successful building company, his was a real all-American-dream story of working his way from swinging a hammer to entrepreneurship. He had always been generous with his wealth, showering both her mother and Jenna with everything they needed as well as almost everything they desired.
His mistake, according to Jenna’s mother, had been greed.
Scott had been caught using his company as a front to embezzle money from the retirement accounts of his employees.
She still didn’t understand how the man who had lived with them, who had taken care of them all of those years, could be a criminal. Her mother talked about how he’d grown up with nothing, insisting that a taste of money had made him greedy, but Jenna wasn’t so sure. The man she knew had been generous, but he hadn’t been greedy.
But Jenna didn’t have anything else to go on, except what her mother told her. She used to ask about him a lot, so much so that Jeanie, Jenna’s mother, had finally snapped at Jenna, telling her to stop talking about him. Period.
Jenna knew her mother was stressed. What woman whose husband was going to jail for embezzlement wouldn’t be? And when her mother was stressed, she ate. And drank. Jenna remembered, after her biological dad left, how quickly her mother had found and married Scott. It was like the woman couldn’t bear to be alone. And while Jenna had hoped her stepfather would step in as their white knight, her mother’s stress level only seemed to increase after their marriage. It didn’t make sense. They were newlyweds, they should have been happy, but Jenna’s mother had eaten her way to a size twenty-four and drank herself into a stupor regularly.
Not that Scott cared. He loved her, at any size, and told her so often. The man was a saint. Jeanie treated him like a child, she ordered him around, she told him what to do, she tried to control everything about his life—it was exactly how the woman treated her daughter—and none of that made her happy. Nothing made her happy. Scott kept trying, as did Jenna, but the woman was never satisfied.
She didn’t blame her mother for gaining weight, but Jenna didn’t really understand it either. When her mother was at her thinnest, people often thought they were sisters, even twins, with their matching red hair. Jeanie had that kind of baby face, and her family always remarked how much Jenna looked like Jeanie when she was that age. But having your husband arrested had to take a toll on the body. During the trial, everything in his name, from their house to their cars, had been seized and then taken away.
Jenna understood her mother’s desire to sweep it under the rug, ultimately forbidding him as the topic of conversation, but it was hard not knowing the details of what had happened. It was even harder not knowing what was happening to him now. Just because her stepfather had gone away, leaving a hole in their lives, didn’t mean she didn’t still think and care about him.
She held the letters in trembling hands, realizing she was being given a chance at obtaining some answers. They’d been shoved to the very back of the old secretary and she was sure her mother wouldn’t miss them—unless another letter arrived, perhaps. Then her mother would probably put it with all the others, and that’s when she’d noticed they’d all been opened.
But maybe she could open them, take out the letters, and return the empty envelopes?
Jenna took the letters with her down to the kitchen. Her mother was still at work and she had the house to her
self. She sat the kitchen table and, with the sharp edge of a knife, she opened all of the letters, careful to keep them in chronological order. The glue was in the secretary, and she went to get that, grabbing some plain white copy paper as an afterthought, taking her spoils to the kitchen.
She went to work, replacing the letter in each envelope with a folded, blank sheet of paper, before sealing the envelopes again with glue. She took a moment to admire her handiwork before returning everything to its place—knife to the drawer, glue to the secretary, and the envelopes, now weighted with blank paper, to the very back, behind all the office supplies.
Back in her room, Jenna glanced at the clock on her bedside table, seeing she still had a few hours still until her mother got home. Plenty of time to get to reading. She didn’t know why she was shaking, except she knew her mother didn’t want her to see these letters. And Jenna knew it, given the lengths she’d just gone to, concealing the fact that she had them.
But that wasn’t the only reason. Until that moment, Jenna wouldn’t have admitted, even to herself, how much she missed him. She missed his voice, she missed his smile, she missed his hugs. He’d been a good stepfather—far better than her biological one—and she had often wondered if they had meant so little to him, that he could just completely ignore them after he’d been taken away.
He didn’t forget me.
That was the first thing she thought as she began to read. Tears came to her eyes as she read her stepfather’s words. He said that prison wasn’t all that bad—she was sure he was trying to mitigate it, even though she knew his was a white-collar crime and he was in a low security facility—and then he said the words that made her throat close up. I miss you both so much, I love you. Tell Jenna how much I miss and love her too.
He spoke about regret, about his sense of loss, and it hurt her heart to read it.
Then, in the next few sentences, everything changed.
Jeanie, I forgive you for what you did to me, to our life together. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I get why you embezzled the money from my company. I remember every horrid detail you shared with me of the abuse, both mental and physical, that you suffered at the hands of your first husband. So, I can try to understand why you didn’t trust me to provide for you and your daughter. But, I think I have more than proven that now, by taking the rap for you. I let you keep your life outside, instead of behind bars, to raise your daughter, why I rot away in this hell hole. I know you lost the house, but you still have my money, somewhere. When it’s safe, I know you’ll have it to live the life you want. I forgive you. I’ve said this many times, and I’m not sure why you don’t write back or come to visit. Don’t you think, after I destroyed my life to save yours, I deserve at least a letter, if not a visit?
Jenna stared at the paper shaking in her hand. It was her stepfather’s handwriting, no doubt about that. But his words were so shocking to her, she had to double check anyway. She sat, frozen, her heart beating her in her chest while she fought for air. A rush of emotion surged through her, from fear to anger to disbelief.
Her body simply reacted. She broke out in a cold sweat, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and an icy finger snaked down her spine. A little shiver turned quickly to shaking. Her vision blurred, a sudden dizzy spell making her grab her night stand to steady herself.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered.
When she felt strong enough, she went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Then she went down to get a Coke from the fridge, grabbing a few saltines to settle her churning stomach. She couldn’t believe what she’d read, but it was there, in black and white. Her stepfather hadn’t stolen anything. It was her mother who had taken the money. And, apparently, she still had it.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, looking at that first letter. She couldn’t read on. She was too afraid of what she might find. What else hadn’t her mother told her? The thought of her stepfather sitting in jail for a crime he didn’t commit filled her with a helpless rage. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, but her mother was the criminal. He hadn’t done anything.
“Jenna!”
She startled, glancing at the clock, realizing only then how much time had actually passed while she was sitting there, in shock. Her mother was home from work. And she had all of her stepfather’s letters in her lap. Jenna heard her coming up the stairs and panicked, getting quickly under the covers, taking the letters with her.
“Jenna, did you start dinner?” Her mother poked her head in, frowning when she saw her daughter in bed, Coke and saltines on the bedside table. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not feeling well,” Jenna managed. That was true enough. She still felt sick to her stomach, and she was finding it hard to look at her mother at all.
“Hm.” Her mother narrowed her eyes, assessing the situation. “Well, you do look pale.”
“Just a stomach ache, I think.” Jenna pulled the covers up further, closing her eyes. The letters were still clutched in her hand. “I’m going to take a nap.”
“I’ll go order a pizza, then.” Her mother shrugged. “I sure don’t want to catch whatever you’ve got.”
“Mmkay.” Jenna rolled away from her mother, a dismissal, and she shut the door.
Jenna’s mother had always been a bit of a germaphobe and now Jenna was glad. She was used to taking care of herself anyway. Her stepfather, once he’d come along, had been the one who would take off work to sit with her, read to her, make her soup. At least those memories made the information in the letters easier to believe.
She knew her mother would avoid Jenna’s room like the plague, now that she thought her daughter might be ill, so she felt safe to pull the letters out from under her covers. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read any more, honestly. The truth was hard to hear. How was she supposed to keep this kind of secret?
But curiosity got the best of her and she unfolded the letter and kept reading.
I really want to see you, Jeanie. I miss you so much. I want you. God, I still want you. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. I can spend all night just thinking about it.
Do you remember? The hunger in your mouth on mine, your hands, pushing me, pulling me. Are you shaved smooth for me, just like I like it? I know just how to make you wet. I want to turn you around and bend you over. I want the soft, round curve of your ass in my hands. If I had you here right now, I couldn't wait, I know it. You’d open your legs wide for me. I want to see you reach around and grab your cheeks and spread them. It's so pink inside, so wet for me. You're all I can think about. I want my cock buried in you to the hilt. Show me where you want it with your fingers. Press them deep into your cunt. That’s my hot, wet cunt. I want to fuck you until you can't breathe.
I can hear the quivering moan of your anticipation, as you look over your shoulder at me. I can feel your fingers, finding the hole you want me to fill. My cock is so hard for you. I’d stroke it in my hand, rub it right against your pussy, up and down between those smooth, baby-soft lips. Can you feel the heat of it, the months of waiting, longing for just this moment?
How long could we stay there, savoring the moment, before I plunged the steel heat of my cock into you? A minute? Two? It wouldn't be long before our appetites took over. Maybe you would moan and wiggle back, or beg me, "Please, Scott, don't tease me, baby. Put it in!" Or maybe it would be me, grabbing your hips and thrusting forward with a groan, saying your name as I sank into your flesh.
It doesn't matter who, or how, I just know that we couldn't wait, and we wouldn't stop until we were satisfied. It would be a wild, violent, frenzied fuck—me pounding into you, our flesh slapping together.
And you would beg me to fuck you. Harder, faster, deeper, more! I couldn't get enough, I can never have enough of you. There's no end to how much I want you, and the moment my cock slid inside you, I'd never want to leave. The wet squeeze of your flesh around mine, drawing me deeper, making me groan and grunt against you.
I can hear you telling me, “Fuck me, baby! God, please, don't ever stop!”
But it couldn't go on that way, you know, burning so hot between us, for long—that delicious friction building, my cock swelling inside of you, your pussy clamping down on me with that velvet squeeze.
It’s been too long since I’ve shot my cum inside of you, since I've experienced that moment that every man lives for—burying myself so deep inside of you that you can't tell where either of us begins or ends, that one ecstatic moment of bliss.
I want to take you, fuck you, fill you. I want to hear you say, “Come inside of me, baby!” I want to grip your hips so hard I leave bruises and shove my cock so far up into you that you can almost taste my cum when I shoot it, waves of white-hot pleasure filling your cunt so full you can't contain it. Can you feel it seeping out around the edges? I can feel it dripping down the weight of my balls.
So much cum in there for you, all for you. And I want you to take every last drop. I promise I’ll save it for you, baby. I’ll let you have it all.
God, I'm so hard now. You make me crazy with wanting you. I say I can't wait, but I know I will. I have to. I need to see you, Jeanie. Please. Write me. Call me. Come see me. Soon.
Jenna stopped reading, her breath coming in jagged gasps, tiny huffs of air like fire in her lungs. And those weren’t the only flames that had been ignited in her. She knew this letter was private, that it was meant for someone else, but she couldn’t help her excitement. So much passion, so much hunger. She had walked in on him, once, while he was masturbating—she knew just what he looked like when he grabbed his big cock and pumped it.
Had he done that, after reading this letter?
