Текст книги "Uncaged"

Автор книги: Emilia Kincade

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Excerpt:

Unleashed

An MMA Stepbrother Romance

It’s so hot in the car that I have to take off my gown, and of course, leave it to me to wait until I’m actually in the car, and we’re actually moving, before I try to. I struggle through it, pulling it off my arms, contorting as much as possible against the seat belt.

That’s when I notice Chance isn’t wearing his seat belt.

“What are you, a complete idiot? Will you put your seat belt on?”

“It’s not far,” he says casually.

“Put it on,” I say, hardening my voice. “You know how many people die because they are as stupid as you?”

“Okay, okay, no need to get your panties all twisted up,” he says, pulling the seat belt over his body. “I was about to.”

I sigh, and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not getting anything twisted up. You’re just an idiot. And don’t say panties. It’s juvenile.”

“Ouch. What is it with you and the name calling, Cass?”

“Don’t call me Cass. My name is Cassie.”

“You’re all so prickly.” He leans over to me and grins. “Prickly pear… are you frustrated?”

“God, just let me out of the car, okay?” I’m huffing now, and I don’t even know why I agreed to get in in the first place.

“Oh, just sit still, will you? We’re nearly there.”

“Why are you taking this road?” I ask. He’s going by the beach. It’s not the quickest way.

“Because I want to.”

“But it’s a slower route.”

“Wow, Cass, you should really chill out. You know, high stress is bad for your blood pressure.”

“Like you would know anything about that.”

I cross my arms and look out of the window. I don’t even want to look at him, his big and strong hands holding carelessly onto the wheel, the way his t-shirt seems to have molded itself to the muscular contours of his body.

Oh God, what is wrong with me? Why do I want this insufferable dickhead?

I force myself to focus on the scenery outside. It’s actually pretty nice. The sea is sparkling like it’s been sprinkled with crystals, and surprisingly the beach is nearly completely empty. It stretches on for nearly two miles, and I can barely see anybody on it. There’s a light breeze, and I can see the lines of the catamarans on the beach flapping against their metal masts. I whirr down the window, and sure enough, I can hear the clinking sounds.

But then I hear another clink, much closer, and very familiar. I look over to Chance, and my mouth drops. “You’re going to smoke in here?”

He looks at me, cigarette dangling from between his lips, a puzzled expression on his face. “Yes, Cass. I am.”

“Can you not?”

He shrugs, and sparks his silver zippo lighter anyway.

“You are such an inconsiderate ass. Second-hand smoke causes cancer, you know.”

“My car, my rules.”

“Then just let me out!” I cry, and to my surprise, he yanks the car over and to a stop.

“If you like,” he says, shrugging. “No skin off my back.”

“Argh!” I groan, undoing the seatbelt and getting out. I slam the car door – I know that he’ll hate that – and start walking along the beach. It’s only twenty minutes to my house, and the walk won’t kill me.

But sitting in that car with Chance might make me kill him.

I’m appalled when I hear a car door close and the car lock chirrup, and turn around to see that he’s gotten out, and he’s walking over to me with his infuriatingly cocky swagger, and that same stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh my God, you just don’t know when to stop, do you?” I say, putting my hands up. I’m so annoyed. I’m exasperated. What the hell is his game, anyway? Why is he bugging me so much today?

“Why didn’t your father attend the ceremony?” he asks, squinting against the sun. His eyes become slits, and it makes him more attractive.

“What business is it of yours?”

“My mother went on some company get away.” He shrugs. “I don’t really give a fuck. But you seem to give a fuck, so why not talk about it? Isn’t that what therapists say we should do? Talk about what we give a fuck about?”

I balk. “Are you seeing a therapist?”

“Have to. Court orders.”

“For what?”

“Punching some suit in the jaw. He had to have it wired. He was a douche.”

Try as I might, I can’t even understand why he’s telling me this, or what it is even supposed to mean to me. I just sigh, and keep walking.

“So, why isn’t he here?” he asks me.

“Why did you punch the guy?” I ask him back.

“He said he knew my mother. Said she fucked her way up the company.”

I stopped, eyes-wide. “Really? He said that to you?”

“Yes, he did. I wouldn’t put it past her, but nobody else gets to say anything about her.”

“You talk about your own mother that way?”

“Hey,” he said, sucking in a huge drag of his cigarette. “I call it like I see it. Besides, I can’t imagine you’d have too many nice things to say about your pops.”

“He didn’t come because he was away on some work thing as well. Some kind of partner holiday. I can’t imagine why the partners would want to holiday together.”

“Sounds like he’s a prick.”

“Hey,” I say, turning on him and pointing a finger in his grill. “Don’t talk about my family.”

“See?” he says. “You get it.”

I blink. “Oh, why are you following me, Chance?”

He shrugs. “You want me to go, just say it, I’ll go.”

“Right, because you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

I roll my eyes, but for some reason, I don’t tell him to go. We just walk in silence for a while. His shoulders bump into mine, and I think about stepping away again, but I just can’t be bothered to. I know him, the kind of boy he is. He just doesn’t stop… ever.

He must think of me as some kind of conquest, or something. That would be so him.

Well, I’m certainly not going to be just some notch.

Excerpt:

Unleashed

An MMA Stepbrother Romance

I do care. That’s the truth of it. I care, and I care a lot. She stole my attention the very first time I saw her at the beginning of the school year. I had to repeat because I cut too much class.

She was sitting right at the front, back rigidly erect, her mocha-brown hair neatly parted, so straight like it was ironed. And there I was, uniform shirt untucked, top button undone, and a whole lot of don’t-give-a-fuck in my attitude. It was a fancy school, but fuck uniforms forever.

Except on the girls. Except on Cassie. She made it look good. Everything was so neat, so proper, so tidy. Every blouse had no creases, every skirt worn to knee-length.

God, to get that skirt up her thighs… to tear that blouse open… the thought of it makes me rock hard in an instant.

But all year Cassie barely even looked at me. I can remember it to this day. All the other girls in the classroom did, of course. Even the class teacher would lick her lips at me every morning at attendance, shoot me anytime-you-want looks while practically panting, begging for it. Our teacher was young… well, for a teacher. Early thirties, I’d guess. But she wasn’t my type. Truth be told, once I met Cassie, nobody was my type anymore.

And that, there, is something that scares me. It’s a little secret I have, but you’d never fucking know it by looking at me.

I’ve not been with a girl since I saw Cassie that very first day of term.

Her eyes had wiped over me like I wasn’t even something to be acknowledged, and then they had gone right back to her textbook. There might have been a mild look of disgust on her face, like she’d just tasted something foul.

I read the page header as I walked to my customary seat at the back of the class: A Brief History of Political Science.

I didn’t even fucking know that our school had political science electives.

And now I’m walking with her along Sunset Way, and the sound of the surf is in my ears, and the smell of salt is on the air, and I’m waiting for her to tell me to go, because I will if she does. I don’t know why, exactly, but I will.

But she doesn’t say it. And we just keep walking. She veers onto the beach, and I walk there with her, feeling the soft sand beneath my shoes.

I feel it inside me, as I pull another drag from my cigarette, this growing ball of energy. I feel like I’ve got a fireball inside my gut, and it’s going to burst me at the seams.

She does things to me. Fuck, she really does. And… and I like it. I like it and I hate it. If this was any other chick I just wouldn’t fucking care. But look at me, walking on the fucking beach in the late afternoon with her.

I never thought I’d be a cliché.

“My father is a prick,” she says after a moment.

“Hey, it’s like a checklist,” I say. “Box one, daddy issues. Check.” I tick it off with my finger.

She scowls at me.

I don’t even know why I said it. It just came out of my mouth. I shrug. That’s who I am, why the fuck should I apologize for it?

“If you think I’ve got daddy issues, then you’ve got oedipal issues.” She flashes her eyes at me, challenging me. She thinks I don’t know what she’s talking about. It’s cute.

“No I don’t,” I say. “And that shit’s pretty much been debunked.”

“You know, for a dumbass jock, you have a surprising vocabulary.”

“I’m not a jock,” I say. “I don’t give a fuck about all that.”

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes at me again. I just grin at her again. “You don’t give a fuck. Tell me something new. But you were a school athlete.”

“Hey, I take care of my body. I’m better than everyone else at every sport. Wrestling champ. It was easy credits. I had half the school watching me at practice.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So are you, just in a different way.”

“I am not full of myself!” she shouts.

That got a rise out of her.

“Really?” I challenge, walking in front of her and turning around. I’m walking backwards now, and I see her eyes roam up and down my body. I can see she’s trying not to meet my eyes. It’s… it’s hot. She’s hot. Now with the gown off, I can see the shape of her body. God, she’s got some hips on her, and thighs I’d massage for hours. And her ass… she’s got it there, alright. It makes my hands feel empty.

“Really,” she sniffs, looking toward the sea. “I’m definitely not full of myself.”

“Well, let me think. Today you’ve called me an idiot something like seven times, stupid three times, and basically all your insults have been aimed at my intelligence. I’d say you’re pretty up yourself in a very particular way.”

“What, you a psychologist now?”

“See, you did it again. And I don’t have to be. Any idiot could see it.” I wink at her, and to my total surprise, I see just a flicker of a smile.

“You know, Chance, you’re not as interesting as you think you are.”

“I’m certainly more interesting than you thought I was."

“Try again,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

I take out a box of mints. I rattle it, but she just shakes her head, so I shrug, and pop two into my mouth.

She takes a deep breath, and I prepare myself for a lot of words.

“You think you’re like this mystery to be unraveled. Some kind of enigma. You think that girls like you not because you’re the quote-unquote bad boy on the outside… stop laughing.”

But I can’t help myself. She even did the finger air-quote gesture.

“You think you’re all hard on the outside and that actually you’re this interesting person on the inside and that everybody is just dying to puzzle you out, dying to unlock the true you.”

“Now you sound like the psychologist.”

“I’ve met your type before.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have.”

“Really?” I say, and I know I’m going to hate myself for letting the next words fly out of my mouth. But I do, because that’s me.

“How many guys like me want to spend time talking to you?”

Excerpt:

Unleashed

An MMA Stepbrother Romance

Every time I think he can’t possibly get any worse, he somehow manages to top himself.

Every single time.

It doesn’t even offend me. Well, that’s a lie. It does, and it does hurt a little, but fuck him, I really don’t care what he thinks, and I’m done with him.

“Fuck you, Chance.”

I walk off, quicker, pushing him away as I walk past him. A moment passes, and I keep walking, but I feel like I’m walking the plank. I feel like I’m crossing a tightrope without a harness. I feel like I’m waiting for something…

“But they should want to,” he calls from behind me.

I stop, wondering if I heard him correctly. I turn around slowly, and see him walking toward me. He’s closing the distance between us in powerful strides, and I just am rooted to the floor, breathing quickly, my heart racing, wondering what’s going to happen next.

And then he holds my face in his huge, strong hands, and he kisses me. It’s not just any kiss. He crushes my lips against his. There’s no tongue at first, he just kisses my lips, and before I know it, I’ve dropped my things, and I’m holding onto his muscular back, and I’m kissing him back.

Not just any kiss. I’m crushing my lips against his, and I’m moaning into his mouth, and I’m sending my tongue deep inside.

I can feel his hot breath on me, and then he’s kissing down my neck, and I’m gripping onto his hair, and his hands are rounding my waist and on my ass and he gives me a squeeze. Unconsciously, I push my hips into his, and I’m startled to feel his hardness through his jeans.

Our kiss breaks, and I look down, and I can see him. See his desire pushing against his jeans. I can’t believe I’m kissing him. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

It’s like I’m not myself. He pulls me down onto the sand, and he sits behind me, wraps his arms around me, and I push back against his body as he kisses the back of my neck. His hot breath makes my hairs stand on end, and shivers run down my body from head to toe at his every touch. His fingers leave trails of fire all over me.

His hands are hungry, groping, squeezing me, and I turn my head to the side and he takes my lips again, and while he’s kissing me, while we’re tonguing each other, while I’m practically hyperventilating, he’s running his hand slowly south, over my belly, down my thigh, and then up and under my skirt.

I want to stop him. I don’t want to give in to him. But, oh God, I don’t want him to stop. He starts to rub the inside of my thigh, squeeze it in his big and powerful hands, inching ever slightly upward, under my skirt, toward my molten center.

And I know I’m so turned on. I can feel it, the tightness in my belly, the fullness at the juncture of my thighs. I even become aware of the wetness in my underwear, pressing back against me when he suddenly cups my sex.

I gasp, feeling the heat of his palm radiate into my core, and then he’s rubbing me through my underwear, and all I’m doing is pushing my head back into him, arching my back, stretching out like a cat in the sun.

Somehow, I don’t care that we’re on a public beach. Somehow, I’ve been immunized to modesty. My body craves his touch, yearns for completion at his touch, and I’m powerless to prevent my physical urges from taking control of me, from dictating my every reaction.

And so I give in. I let him touch me. I crane my neck to the side so he can kiss me, lick me, take my earlobe into his mouth and suck on it. I hear him smell me, and my hands go unconsciously to his knees, and I’m gripping onto them, feeling hard muscle, and I’m somehow able to see the image of his thighs in my mind, naked, thrusting into me, tensing and flexing as he buries himself deep inside me.

I moan and I writhe and I undulate my body. I’m making noises I’ve never made before, and I’m doing something I’ve never done before, and his fingers are playing me like an instrument, granting me these glimpses at such intense pleasure I know it will make the world melt away around me.

And then he finally stops teasing me. I feel his fingers slip beneath the elastic, and his hot flesh is on mine, right in my center, right in my most private place. There’s this great swell of nervous anticipation in me, and my heart is hammering in my chest, and the roar of blood in my ears drowns out the sounds of the sea and the birds.

It’s just me and him, his breath on my neck, his fingers on my sex, and my moans on the wind.

He pushes a finger inside me and I grip onto his legs even harder. He angles it upward, rubs the front of inside me, and I feel so, so good. He pushes a second finger into me, and I feel myself stretch around him, and he’s still also somehow working my clit, and it’s just all too much.

I’m gripping onto him like it’s for dear life, and he settles into a quick rhythm, and I feel myself climbing higher and higher, getting closer and closer to the edge.

It’s like a big spring is inside me, coiling up, tightening and tightening, just waiting to be sprung. I can feel it in my belly, and I’ve never felt anything like this before. I can’t help but smile as I writhe and as I moan, as he plucks strings of pleasure so deep within me, strings I never knew existed.

“Shit,” I gasp, inching closer and closer to my eventual crisis. “Don’t stop!” I hiss. “Don’t stop!”

My knuckles have gone white from where I’m holding onto him, and my fingers ache.

I cross the line, I tighten up, my body flexes, and ecstasy crashes over me. I suck in air, hold my breath, squeeze around his fingers. I feel pleasure explode inside me, radiate out of me, and I’m in heaven. I’m soaring, in orbit. It’s all I can see… white-hot.

And then I’ve passed the peak, and I’m coming down the other side, and my whole body feels weak, and I’ve never felt so satisfied in my life.

And, distantly, a little voice is screaming at me: You idiot!

Unleashed will be released soon.

Uncaged

An MMA Stepbrother Romance

By

Emilia Kincade

Copyright 2015 by Emilia Kincade, Grace Kincade Publishing

* * *

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

* * *

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in this work are adults.

* * *

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.