Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2)

by Stasia Black

  “I made stir-fry,” Regina breaks through Charlie’s stream of chatter. Good thing too, because we both know Charlie could keep going without taking a breath for a half-hour straight. “Oh, but you two are headed out tonight, right?”

  I nod at her. “You still good with keeping him the next couple days?”

  She smiles at me, happy lines around her eyes. She wears less makeup these days but still looks wicked stylish. She’s taken to beach-chic for this trip, lots of linens in muted pastels. Ever the lady.

  Then I look around. “Where are Shannon and Sunil?”

  Regina laughs. “They haven’t gotten back from their meditation retreat session yet. Your sister was telling me all about it before they left. I’ve never seen anyone so excited about nine hours of sitting around with a bunch of people not saying anything and just…” she tosses her hands up, “…sitting there.”

  I shake my head. I’m with Regina. My anal-retentive sister has become the most chill, hippie, and happy version of herself over the past few years, it’s crazy.

  I give Regina a hug and then head with Jackson to our bedroom to get cleaned up.

  It’s taken a long time for us to get to this point with Regina. It was baby steps at first, but it turned out to be the right choice not to cut her off from Charlie completely. He had a rough transition coming back home initially, but that was more because he was just having a rough time of it all around.

  I ended up having Regina come stay with us a few days each week so Charlie wouldn’t feel like it was a normal thing for people he loved to keep suddenly disappearing from his life. His behavior and disposition immediately improved.

  And David? Yeah. Just like I’d suspected, Charlie’d barely seen enough of him to miss him.

  That whole period in our life was capped off with Gentry going to jail for multiple life sentences. Jackson and I looked through the blackmail files we found on Gentry’s computer and figured the only way to completely strip Gentry of power was to release it all to the press. There were high-ranking judges in there as well as any number of other powerful people he might have leveraged to influence the trial in his favor.

  So we contacted the LA Times and the scandals that followed the release of the Gentry Files became so infamous, it was almost impossible to find a jury that wasn’t biased against him. Not only was he blackmailing corrupt judges, city council members, and the district attorney’s office, but mine wasn’t the only sexual assault he’d videoed. Apparently it was a pastime of his, and in some of the other videos, his face was on-screen.

  At his trial, the public wanted Gentry’s blood and they got it. He was sentenced to four back-to-back life sentences and there would be no cozy white-collar prison wards for Bryce Gentry. No, he was thrown into Gen Pop at San Quentin. I’ve heard rapists aren’t very popular in prison. I don’t know what happened to him after that but occasionally I like to think of him there, getting his just desserts.

  Eventually everything quieted down. Charlie settled and now we have one happy, healthy boy on our hands. I started going to therapy to continue working through everything that happened to me. More than that, though, I had Jackson. Every day he helps make me new.

  I grin and hug Jackson once we get in our room.

  “What’s that for?” he asks, squeezing back.

  “You,” I say into his chest. “Our life.” I lay my cheek against where his heart beats. “Everything.”

  He gives a soft laugh, squeezes me one more time, then lets me go. “Come on. We have to get going if we want to make our dinner reservation.”

  I follow him though, getting in his face and nipping at his bottom lip. “How about we skip the reservation and go straight to the other beach house we rented for the weekend.” I run my hand up his inner thigh slowly and then grab his crotch in a tight clench.

  He jolts and hisses between his teeth before grabbing me by my ass and grinding me into him.

  “That depends. Who’s going to be in charge tonight?”

  As he looks down into my eyes, his take on a dark intensity.

  I grin wickedly up at him and lick my top lip. “I don’t even know which you like better anymore.”

  He only arches an eyebrow and produces a quarter from his pocket.

  I laugh a low, throaty laugh. “How long have you been carrying that just waiting for this moment?”

  “I’ll never tell.” He raises both eyebrows a couple times and looks so fucking adorable I want to devour him on the spot.

  “Heads,” I call.

  “Tails it is,” he says and pulls back slightly to flip the coin. He flips it expertly and catches it in his other hand. He’s gotten some practice at this over the years, after all. Sometimes we go with whatever we’re in the mood for, but then there are nights like tonight when there’s no particular stress, need, or desire to work out and it’s all fun and games.

  He lifts his hand and reveals the results of the coin toss.

  Heads.

  I clap my hands and do a little jump up and down.

  Don’t judge me. I don’t have to put on the Domme persona until we’re in the scene.

  Jackson rolls his eyes but then bows his head. “Mistress.”

  I bite my lip and grab his hands. “Okay, I was going to wait till the restaurant to do the whole big movie moment boom-box-on-a-shoulder kind of thing, but I seriously can’t wait another fucking minute.”

  “Shh.” He covers my mouth with his hand. “You owe a dollar in the swear jar.”

  I giggle and pull away from his hand. “Shut up. Charlie’s not even in the room.” Attempts to curb my swearing in front of the child have mostly succeeded. I can usually turn it off between the hours of seven a.m. to eight p.m.

  “Besides, I have news. Big news.” I grab Jackson’s hands again and he suddenly sobers, eyes riveted to mine.

  “Shut up.”

  I grin. “I took the test this morning. Three tests.”

  “Shut up.”

  “And then I took three more just to be sure.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Cals.” His face is getting paler by the second and his grip on my hands white-knuckled.

  “Now who needs to put a dollar in the swear jar?”

  “Callie,” he warns.

  “You’re going to be a daddy.” I grin so hard tears leak out of my eyes.

  Jackson shakes his head and blinks, like he’s trying to shake something loose from his ears. “No way. No fucking way.”

  “Way,” I laugh. “A bunch of pregnancy tests with pink lines, some plus signs and one happy face,” I scrunch my eyebrows, because that was a weird one, “confirm that you and I have created an A+, gold star fetus right in here,” I point to my stomach.

  Jackson drops to his knees and presses his ear to my tummy. “In here?” He laughs through tears as he looks up at me.

  I can barely see him from between my breasts, but holy shit, I’ve never seen another human being look so happy in all my life. I can’t manage any more words so I just nod. Neither can he because he only stays there for a long, long moment, head bowed against my stomach and the new life we’ve created there.

  When he finally looks up, there’s nothing but worship in his eyes. “How may I please you, Mistress?”

  Continue reading for an extended sneak peek of

  Hunter: a Snow White Romance.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ISOBEL

  VANESSA TO JASON: Did you break up with her yet?

  VANESSA TO JASON: I know her dad just died but thats not yr fault. We deserve to be :)

  Jason’s cum was still inside Isobel when she read the messages on his phone. He was showering after they’d had sex.

  They’d been dating for three years. Long distance for the past year since Isobel
had come back to the city to be close to her dad after he got the diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave him six months to live. He made it eleven, only passing away early last week.

  Jason came for the funeral. They hadn’t been intimate for almost two months before that, but Isobel had wanted the comfort of being in his arms tonight. After everything with her father, and God, her stepmom, it had all been just too much.

  So Isobel went to the guest bedroom and slipped into Jason’s bed without turning on the lights. It seemed like the one thing that might make her feel like a whole, sane person again.

  Jason was hesitant to touch her at first. Which only stoked all her worst fears. She’d gotten fat. He wasn’t attracted to her anymore.

  So she’d redoubled her efforts. Touching him the way she remembered he liked best. Going down on him until he was hard and thrusting in her throat. Then crawling up the bed and getting on her hands and knees so he could push into her from behind. He liked to grab her hips and pump her hard. She also suspected he liked to watch his big cock disappear between her ass cheeks.

  But she wouldn’t let him turn on the light when he tried. He had no idea what bravery it took for her to let him touch her naked body at all. With no clothes to obscure her problem areas, he could feel all her flaws if he brushed down her thigh, or even worse, if he moved his hands up from her hips to her waist.

  In the end, though, it barely mattered. It was over so quickly. And the part she’d been looking forward to the most—the cuddling afterwards—was nonexistent. Almost the second he grunted and spilled in her, he started muttering about needing to get cleaned up. Then he was climbing off the bed and heading for the shower.

  His cum was still dripping down the inside of her leg when the ensuite bathroom door closed and his phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming text.

  Which was when she read Vanessa’s words.

  Vanessa, her best friend back at Cornell.

  Vanessa.

  With Jason.

  Vanessa and Jason.

  Isobel blinked in the dark. Her mind tried to reject the idea even as the evidence glowed on the screen right in front of her.

  The screen went dark but then buzzed in her hand again, lighting up with another text alert.

  VANESSA TO JASON: to get you thru the lonely nite til you come home

  The phone buzzed again with a shirtless selfie of Vanessa squeezing one of her bared breasts and making a sexy face at the camera.

  Son of a bitch! Isobel threw his phone against the wall, only feeling marginally better when she heard the screen crack.

  And then she yanked the bedsheet around her and stormed into the bathroom. Because enough. She’d had enough. Hadn’t life thrown enough shit-bombs her way lately?

  “You cheating bastard!” She jerked the shower curtain back, revealing a startled Jason, foamy shampoo thick in his hair.

  “Baby,” he looked at her, his hands going up in a defensive posture. “What are you—”

  Baby? Fury like she’d never felt before lit her up inside.

  “Get out!” She leaned down and slammed the shower knob, shutting off the water. God, she couldn’t even stand looking at him. Had he been comparing her to Vanessa the whole time he’d been having sex with her? Even the thought of it made her want to scream. So she did. “Get out. Now!”

  “Stop. Isobel, I don’t even know what you’re talking ab—”

  “What, you tripped and your dick just accidently fell into Vanessa? I saw your fucking texts, asshole.”

  Jason pulled back, finally dropping silent.

  “Get the fuck out of my fucking house!” she screamed right in his face.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. He reached for the shower knob. “Just let me finish washing my hair and I’ll be—”

  “Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck out now!” She grabbed his bicep and jerked him toward the tub’s edge.

  He slipped and fell, landing hard on his ass.

  “Christ! What the fuck, Iz?” he cried as he scrambled to his feet, slipping one more time before he finally managed to get out of the tub, his hands moving to cover his crotch. Was he afraid she’d want to get a kick in? Not a bad idea.

  But he was already backing out of the bathroom and hurrying toward his suitcase. He dressed faster than she would have thought possible. When he sat on the bed to put on his tennis shoes, she just shouted, “Out!” again. He obviously got the picture because he grabbed the shoes, his suitcase, and his phone from the floor and then he ran out of the room.

  In another few seconds, she heard the front door slam. Good fucking riddance. She hoped more than just his screen was broken so he couldn’t call an Uber.

  She walked back to her bedroom, almost in a daze.

  But after several more seconds, everything that had just happened sank in.

  Jason had cheated on her.

  Jason didn’t love her anymore.

  Dad was gone.

  She was all alone.

  Right as the gut-wrenching realization hit, she happened to look over and catch sight of herself in her full-length mirror.

  She dropped the sheet she’d been carrying around, just to torture herself.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Body dysmorphic disorder. When she looked in mirrors, she never saw what was really there. Even if she weighed only ninety-five pounds, she still saw a fat pig. She had weighed ninety-five pounds—very briefly—right before she’d gone into the treatment facility at sixteen, surrounded by a ton of other skeletal girls all convinced they were fat too.

  For a while when she’d been away at college, she thought she could change things—that she could change herself. Just like she’d thought she could finally fix her relationship with Dad by coming home and spending time with him before the end.

  But if the last week had taught her anything, it was that things never changed. Dad died believing her stepmother’s side of the story. And she was always going to be ugly, screwed up Isobel. She avoided scales like she tried to avoid mirrors, but barely any of the pants she’d brought home from Cornell fit anymore.

  Without the anger that had been animating her for the past ten minutes, she felt completely empty. She wanted to drop to the floor right there and just…stop. It was all too hard. She couldn’t do this anymore.

  Instead, her feet started moving.

  First to her dresser. She put on her underwear and pajamas mechanically. The bedrooms were on the third floor of the Upper East Side brownstone and she clutched the banister as she hurried downstairs. She knew where she was going even as she hated herself for it. Nothing ever changed—so why fight fate?

  Like a magnet, she was drawn quickly toward the kitchen. It was a pristine room with white marble countertops and dark espresso colored cabinets. Isobel pulled out the ice cream from the double refrigerator. She never bought it but it was always here. She shook her head, knowing it was her stepmother trying to sabotage her and hating that she was giving in. But seriously, what was the fucking point, anyway? She was a sucker for ice cream. Sugary, addictive, with a high calorie count? Sign her up.

  She grabbed a wooden stirring spoon and ate the chocolate chip cookie dough straight out of the container.

  She finished one pint and was halfway through another before disgust with herself sent her running to the trash can underneath the sink. Opening the cabinet, she yanked out the can. She knelt on the dark hardwood floor and then her finger was down the back of her throat before she could even think all the way through what she was doing. She retched and retched into the trashcan until all the ice cream came back up. Then she sat back against the cabinet, shoving the trashcan away in disgust, wiping her mouth with her forearm.

  “Goddammit!” she screamed in frustration, furious at herself. She hadn’t binged and purged for four years before coming home to be with her dad. And now this was the second time this week since the funeral.

  She pulled her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.

&n
bsp; She was about to give into a good sob fest—not unusual for her lately, she would go on random crying jags what felt like every half hour, even before her dad died—when she saw something strange.

  The cabinet door under the sink was still open from when she’d grabbed the trashcan. And tucked in the back of the cabinet behind the Ajax, Windex, and dish soap was a tall container of… was that…?

  Isobel blinked back her tears and leaned in, pushing aside the other cleaners to better see the big plastic bottle.

  What the—?

  Why was there a container of protein powder hidden at the back of the sink?

  Isobel stared at the bottle in bewilderment. Was it Dad’s from before he got sick? But why on earth…? It wasn’t like Dad was into pumping iron. He’d go jogging occasionally, but she thought this kind of stuff was usually for guys trying to build up huge muscles.

  She tugged out the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It was more than half empty.

  She glanced back inside the cabinet and froze. Right beside where the protein powder had been was a bottle of the special cognac her stepmother drank—the shit cost six hundred bucks a bottle and Catrina was always paranoid and accusing Isobel of drinking it when she wasn’t looking.

  The truth was Isobel had tried it once but then never again because it tasted like donkey piss.

  But looking back and forth between the cognac and the protein powder, she froze, her teeth grinding.

  That bitch.

  “So he cheated on you.”

  Speak of the devil.

  Isobel’s back went stiff at her stepmother’s voice. She got to her feet, not wanting Catrina to have her at a disadvantage by towering over her.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Catrina sounded almost bored as she stood in the kitchen doorway. It was ten o’clock at night but Catrina was still perfectly made up, her thin former model’s frame standing erect, elegant and dignified in a pale green silk robe. Even in her early fifties, Catrina was still an undeniably beautiful woman. A fact that she’d never let Isobel forget ever since she’d married her father. Isobel had only been ten at the time.