Our Shattered Pieces
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Copyright 2020 Monica Clayton
Published by M.E. Clayton
All Rights Reserved
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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The entire content is a product of the author’s imagination and all names, places, businesses, and incidences are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places or occurrences, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner, whatsoever, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Formatting: Smashwords
Cover: Adobe Stock
Warning: This book contains sexual situations and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 years of age and over.
Table of Contents
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Author's Note
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
1. Molly
2. Grayson
3. Molly
4. Grayson
5. Molly
6. Grayson
7. Molly
8. Grayson
9. Molly
10. Grayson
11. Molly
12. Grayson
13. Molly
14. Grayson
15. Molly
16. Grayson
17. Molly
18. Grayson
19. Molly
20. Grayson
21. Molly
22. Grayson
23. Molly
24. Grayson
25. Molly
26. Grayson
27. Molly
28. Grayson
29. Molly
30. Grayson
31. Molly
32. Grayson
33. Molly
34. Grayson
35. Molly
36. Grayson
37. Molly
38. Grayson
39. Molly
40. Grayson
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books
Contact Me
Author’s Note
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Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.
That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked into commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. However, if you’re a stickler for grammar, my books are probably not for you.
Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. However, the only downside to my reading obsession is when I fall in love with a series, but I have to wait for the additional books to come out. And because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, when I started publishing my works, I vowed to publish all books in my series all at once. No waiting here…LOL. Now, the exception to that will be if enough readers request additional stories based off the standalone, such as in Facing the Enemy. At that point, if I decide to move forward with a requested series, I will make sure all additional books are available all at once. As much as this is a hobby for me, I am writing these books for all of you, as well as myself.
Thank you, for everything!
Acknowledgements
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I always thank my husband, because he constantly needs to be thanked, in my opinion. It’s not an exaggeration to say my husband is probably one of the best people in the world. A great husband, father, G-pop, and all-around human being, I never forget just how lucky I am.
Of course, it goes without saying, my children are my biggest cheerleaders and, despite of all the mistakes I’ve made as a parent, they continue to love me unconditionally. And it’s the sweetest thing to see how overboard they go with making sure I stay healthy and safe.
My sister is another person in my life I am thankful to still have. We’ve been through a lot this past year, but we got through it together. I am very grateful to have a sibling relationship that is strong and full of love, and she really is a great sister.
As always, there’s my beta, Kam. Not only is she my beta, but she’s also one of my best friends. Once you get her as a friend, her support and loyalty are unwavering. I cannot imagine being on this journey of creating stories and writing without her.
Then there are the people who support me with so much enthusiasm, it’s contagious: Joe, Kim, Heather, Esela, Myron, Desiree, and every Tuesday.
I cannot thank you enough for the encouragement and help you readers have given me along the way! Love, love, love you!!
Dedication
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For my husband-
My Sal, Leo,
Vincent, Sal Jr., Emilio, Angelo, Dante, Remo,
Stone, Ross, Saxton, Fox,
Raven, Sebastian, Orion, Titan, and Atlas
all rolled into one.
I love you.
de·vi·ant
/ˈdēvēənt/
adjective
departing from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behavior.
con·form·ist
/kənˈfôrməst/
noun
a person who conforms to accepted behavior or established practices.
Conformists are born.
Deviants are made.
Part
I
Prologue
The nightmare is like it always is. Unrelenting.
The memory is like it always is. Shameful.
The reality is like it always is. Inescapable.
The rationale is like it always is. Intangible.
And the experience of it all is like it always is. Detrimental.
But trying to make sense of it all was futile. Trying to understand how all this could be was pointless because I wasn’t sure there was even a reason for it.
I mean, was there?
Was there some scientific reason why we were drawn to such different lures. What made one person like the color blue, but someone else like the color red? What made someone love sports, while another person loved the arts? What made someone attracted to blondes, but another person attracted to brunettes?
Why did we like what we liked?
And why were we ashamed of some of the things we liked?
Who determines that our wants are shameful? If no one is hurt, and it isn’t illegal, why aren’t certain things acceptable?
Judgement was everywhere, and how lucky are we to find that one person who won’t judge us? Does that person even exist? Because even immoral people will judge other immoral people.
A rich businessman might snort cocaine while he’s at a convention in Las Vegas, but because he holds down a job and showers every day, he�
�ll dare to look down at a homeless drug addict as if they’re not both engaging in the same sin.
Is a man who cheats on his wife with his girlfriend any better than a man who cheats on his wife with anybody who is willing? I bet the wife doesn’t think so.
With every thrust into my body, I was wondering how it’s come down to this. I knew why things had to be this way. I knew this is what was expected. I knew this was the right and acceptable thing to do.
I knew it.
With my arms wrapped around his shoulders, I moaned out his name. I whimpered and cried out at all the right times. I begged for more and agreed that he was the best I’ve ever had.
Our bodies were intertwined in a dance as old as time, and while he was doing his best, he had no idea what he was dealing with. There was a disconnect that I wasn’t even sure I could explain. There was this…thing missing.
But why was it so hard to say something? Why couldn’t I tell him the truth? After all, he’s the one who opened my eyes. He’s the one who introduced me to a world I hadn’t even known I wanted to be a part of. He’s the one who made it okay.
He’d been encouraging.
Knowing I wasn’t going to get any release, I did what I’ve been doing. I purposefully clenched myself around him, pretending to climax, yelling out his name, making him and his fragile male ego believe that he was what brought me to ecstasy, but it was a lie.
It was all a lie.
It hadn’t always been.
But it was now.
Chapter 1
Molly~
“Andre Morrison’s party is supposed to be the party of the year.”
Gina laughed. “That’s what you say about every party, Lauren.”
Lauren just shrugged. “Well, they all are if you know how to have a good time.” She looked over at me pointedly.
My freshman year at UC Berkeley, I was a far cry away from Chicago where my family lived. My brother, Lorcan, was in his sophomore year at West Texas A&M, and I missed him terribly, but we spoke often. Our parents were also in constant contact, though they were busy being Chicago royalty.
My father, Lorcan Cavanaugh the Second, was a brilliant doctor and my mother, Emilia Cavanaugh, was the perfect socialite wife, involved in so many charities, it was hard to keep track. But as busy as they were, they still made time for their children.
“I’m just not a partier,” I remarked, truth in every word.
“Oh, c’mon, Molly,” Lauren whined. “It’s been ages since you’ve gone out with us.”
And with good reason.
“Not everyone is interested in drunken parties, Lauren,” Gina chimed in. “Give Molly a break.”
Gina was my dormmate, and it’d been a blessing to be paired up with her. She was clean, neat, and minded her own damn business. Gina was here on scholarship, so she took her shit seriously. She understood what a gift it was to be here, and she never forgot it.
Lauren wasn’t our dormmate, but she did live in our dorm building, and we’d met her on moving day when she’d been trying to carry all her shit by herself. And despite her privileged-party vibe, we’d all become this sort of threesome, and it worked for us.
Lauren sighed. “I don’t get it,” she huffed. “Molly’s one of the prettiest girls here. She drives guys wild wherever she goes and couldn’t care less.” I didn’t necessarily agree with that statement, but I knew I wasn’t ugly.
Where Lauren was your classic blonde bombshell, Gina was the beautiful brunette. Both had voluptuous bodies that drew attention, and both had cool personalities that made them very likable.
I was the petite one with black hair and grey eyes. Lorcan and I took after our father in looks, and while I had all the right body parts that marked me a woman, I didn’t have a huge chest or wide, sultry hips. I was five-foot-five and slim. I weighed pretty close to nothing, something Lorcan teased me about all the time.
“Why would she care,” Gina asked. “She just got out of a relationship.”
Six months ago, I started dating Ethan Harris, and while Gina and Lauren thought I was stupid for getting serious so quickly with a guy during my freshman year in college, Ethan had been charismatic enough to draw me in.
At six-foot-one, he had chocolate brown hair, light brown eyes, an All-American face, and a body he kept fit by playing basketball. And he was lucky enough to have the type of complexion that always tanned and never burned.
And though I had lost my virginity in high school-a secret my brother knows nothing about-I had held off for two months before sleeping with Ethan, and the buildup had been worth it. The first night we slept together had been everything. While I had lost my virginity in high school, it had been a one-time deal. Ethan had introduced me to new things and sensations, and a part of me could admit that sex was one of the reasons I had let things get so serious so quickly.
“I still think it’s ridiculous to get serious your freshman year in college,” Lauren grumbled. “I mean, talk about closing off so many other opportunities.”
I almost laughed because Lauren couldn’t have been more wrong. Dating Ethan had not closed the door on other opportunities. Dating Ethan had busted all the doors wide open. Dating Ethan had been something I had never seen coming.
But it was, now, something I saw every time I closed my eyes at night.
“Well, it hardly matters anymore,” I said, “since we’re no longer dating.”
Two weeks ago, I had called it quits. Finding out Ethan wasn’t who I had thought he was had been brutal and heartbreaking. While I hadn’t any plans on marrying the guy, I had trusted him in a way I’ve never trusted anyone else, and he had betrayed me in the worst way.
And the worst part about it?
I couldn’t escape what’s been done. Every day was spent wondering if my secrets were going to be revealed because things had ended badly. And while it would be my word against his, whose side would the witnesses be on? That was the question.
And I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be mine.
I had made the huge mistake that most young people do; I trusted too blindly in a person who hadn’t deserved it.
Always in the moment, we never think that things will turn badly. We send nude selfies never thinking they’ll come back to haunt us. We tell our lovers our deepest, darkest secrets never thinking they’ll use them to hurt us later. We didn’t think of the ‘what ifs’ when we were in the middle of being in love. We didn’t think of the ‘what ifs’ when we were in our emotions and needed to talk to someone.
We just didn’t fucking think.
“Well, you know what they say,” Lauren sing-songed. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
That’s where she was wrong. I didn’t need to get under someone else.
Ever.
“I don’t need to get over him, Lauren,” I told her. “I broke up with him. Remember?”
“Same thing.” She shrugged.
Gina gawked at her. “No, Lauren. It’s not.” Then she looked at her watch. “Shit, I’m going to be late for class.” It was Thursday, and it was the only day that all our classes lined up to where we could all have lunch together on campus.
Gina was in college to get a degree in marine science, and Lauren was in college to get a degree in civil engineering. I was here to get a BS in society and environmental studies. In high school, I’d had a blog that focused primarily on women and their empowerment. I had been involved in a lot of extracurricular activities like that, but I had to suspend and end a lot of them because I hadn’t been sure what to expect from college and its time constraints, if any.
“Yeah, we better head on back to class,” I said, agreeing with Gina.
Cleaning up our remnants from lunch, Lauren said, “Well, I’ll be going to Andre’s party if you guys change your minds.”
“We won’t,” Gina said, speaking for the both of us.
Heading our separate ways, I walked back to class with my head down and doing my best not to n
otice anyone who I didn’t need to notice. It wasn’t that I was shy or stuck up because I was neither.
I was just trying to survive the day.
Chapter 2
Grayson~
“You don’t understand, though,” Eric said.
“Dude, pussy is pussy,” Travis argued. “I mean, seriously.
Eric shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. Pussy is not pussy.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “You guys are acting like you’re fourteen-years-old.”
It was a Tuesday, so we were all at the apartment, the night being a low-key one. Eric Randall, Travis White, and I all shared a three-bedroom apartment in Boston, all three of us attending Boston University.
“You’re just saying that because you have to,” Eric argued. “You’re all loved-up, so you can’t admit that there might be better pussy out there.”
While I was in a monogamous relationship with someone, I wasn’t all loved-up. Sure, Katy was cool to hang out with and all, and we’ve been going strong for about a year, but I had plans on going back home to California after graduation. That had always been the plan, and Katy had known it when we had started dating.
I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a momma’s boy, but I was very close with my family, and I had every intention of moving back home to be closer to them. My father was a criminal attorney, and my mother was a high school teacher. Mom taught World History, and you’d be amazed by the random shit me and my sister knew.
Now me? I wanted to teach English Comp. and coach football. And while those two subjects might seem odd as a pair, I had a very specific reason for wanting to teach both.
Our Shattered Pieces (The Pieces Series Book 3) Page 1