by A. E. Murphy
We all applied to New Orleans College and are super excited to attend after graduating.
Alice is dating a teacher from another school, though he doesn’t know she’s a student because she told him she’s twenty and I’m not about to say anything. It’s kind of hot in my opinion. Not great she’s lying to him but who the fuck am I to judge?
Stanley is teaching me how to fix cars which is awesome and Lane is teaching me how to cook which is frustrating because I am so bad at it. I can’t say that I’ve totally forgiven them for their decisions but I’m working on it. I want a family; I want that unit; I want my kids one day to have grandparents and I want somebody I can always rely on.
Carter decided to create a few videos for this app that everyone goes on and he’s gone kind of viral which is really funny. He’s been posting shuffling tutorials and Presley finally taught me how to do the monkey flip three days ago. I kicked him in the face and then kissed him better, and his penis.
We had sex alone that day for the first time. Carter was fine with it but I had to make it up to him later. Then we all sat on Presley’s bed and watched movies until we fell asleep.
It has been heaven, absolute heaven.
Asher is pregnant. None of us saw that coming. It’s definitely Melvin’s. They seem happy but it’s crazy how young they are. And it is such a scandal, what with her being the mayor’s daughter, though her mom is standing by her for the most part. It’s tense but I know they’ll get through it. Worse things have happened.
Scandal… nobody calls me that anymore. I love my new name… Keren. Pronounced, Kear-ren. Not like Karen but with an E.
I kiss Carter when he pulls to a stop outside of Gamerama. I’m finally getting good at Pac Man and the boys love playing games on the big screen in the gaming bunker. I get to see my girls and we’re constantly fed snacks and soda. What’s not to love?
“I love you,” I say against his mouth, loving the minty taste of him. I can’t stop saying it because I’ve never gotten to say it before. It’s a novelty that I’m sure will wear off.
“BJ in the basement?”
“Am I interrupting?” Presley puts in, smiling at us both. “Did I hear BJ?”
“Are you seriously fucking hard right now?” I ask, gaping at them both. “We just did it like an hour ago.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Carter gives me such innocent eyes with a slight shrug of his shoulder and then he looks at Presley who agrees, “Me neither.”
I deadpan, blinking slowly at them both.
They grin and take an arm each, lift me off the ground, and carry me inside as I swing my legs between them.
“So did you all ever think about what you’re going to do when you want to get married?” Stanley asks as we all sit around a large table in a Cajun-themed restaurant in New Orleans celebrating the end of our first month in college.
We won Dance Xtra at the end of high school senior year and it opened up so many opportunities for us but we stuck to our original plans and couldn’t be happier. New Orleans is exactly where we want to be. It’s full of life and culture, and nobody judges us for who we are.
We share a second-floor apartment together not far from college and attend mostly the same classes, though Presley is taking French on the side and is teaching us as he goes so he has somebody to practice with and Carter is taking a graphics course to teach him how to edit his videos. He still uploads to that app, so much so that people on campus recognize us sometimes.
I look at Presley who is stuffing his face with chicken and at Carter who just rolls his gorgeous brown eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me that…”
“Then, we’ll get married together, I guess,” I reply, shrugging and also rolling my eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Lane, Rebecca, and Carter’s mom, Angelica, all smile at each other.
They’ve never fully understood what we have. To be honest I’m not sure the three of us understand it either. We just know that it works and we’re good together and happy. We make each other happy.
Sometimes I get insecure that I won’t be enough for them but so far that hasn’t been the case. We’re all satisfied consistently in my opinion.
Carter went away with his parents for two weeks in the summer and we fell apart. We all have our roles and all act as a buffer for each other too.
It’s funny because our roses, which are still alive, wilted for those two weeks.
It’s not that Presley and I didn’t have a great time, we did, it just wasn’t like it is. We had passionate nights in bed but nothing like when the three of us make love. We argued a few times that week over stupid shit too. Something we never do in a three. We never fight. Sure, we get annoyed with each other sometimes, usually when Carter leaves his towel on the bathroom floor, or when Presley doesn’t close the cereal box and the contents go soft. But nothing major. There has never been a time where I’ve thought I don’t want to do this anymore.
I don’t think any of us have ever thought that.
“I mean, when this first started, I just assumed it would end,” Rebecca puts in and the others all nod their agreement and hum. “That’s not to say I wanted it to, I just didn’t think it would last, but y’all are serious and we need to know how this impacts your future.”
“Guys… we’re nineteen.”
She raises her hands and grins. “And in about eight years you’ll be wanting kids of your own.”
That’s not actually something we’ve discussed.
The guys look at each other.
“Want to share kids?” Presley asks.
Carter shrugs. “Whatever.”
“What does that mean?” Stanley asks, looking so perplexed.
“It means, if she gets pregnant, doesn’t matter whose it is,” Carter explains and Presley raises his glass in agreement.
“Or we could do one of each. Like I go, you go?”
“That could work too. But why do you get to go first?”
Presley raises an eyebrow and I know he’s secretly saying because you got her pussy first.
“This is so weird,” Carter’s father adds with a nervous chuckle.
“So basically we just be grandparents to whatever kids she pops out?” Rebecca asks, though not with any tone or disdain, it’s a genuine question. “I’m just asking so we know where we stand when it happens. Maybe Carter doesn’t want me babying his kid.”
“It wouldn’t be Carter’s kid,” Presley utters and grins at Carter. “It’d be our kid.”
“Yeah, what he said.”
“I don’t need a DNA test to see whose seed planted.”
“Me neither.”
“Dear God—” Stanley utters under his breath, likely trying not to think about me having sex with two men at once. I can’t meet his eyes.
“You all on the same page now?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat. “Because I’m not having kids for a really long time, so you all need to put those breaks on.”
Presley winks at me and rubs his foot against my ankle. Carter slides his hand onto my thigh and leans back in his seat, dinner finished, appetite met.
“Moving on, then,” Stanley declares looking horrified by the entire conversation. “How’s dance class?”
“They make us work out all day… all fucking day,” I groan.
“It’s not that bad,” Presley lies. Oh how he lies.
I smile at the ones I love and think of the life I never thought I’d have. Truth be told I believed I’d be dead by now or worse.
Molly was right when she said third is the charm. I didn’t understand it then but now I do. My third name represents my best life. My third home is the one I feel most at home in. My two partners that makes us a three. My two female best friends. Everything good in my life seems to be coming in threes.
I should like to thank Mistress Molly, I don’t quite remember what she did or why she did it, but it significantly impacted my life, quite po
ssibly saving it. Though when we moved to New Orleans, her shop was gone, I sought it out the first week I arrived but it was completely empty and had been for a few months.
I was sad to say the least.
The neighboring shop said she left for personal reasons and I just hope that wherever she is, she’s okay.
For some reason this reminds me of Mackenzie the journalist too and how she went on to use DNA from my panties to track down and nail two more men to the wall. I haven’t had any contact with her but I’m glad she is doing what she set out to do and I’m glad that panty box doesn’t sit on my desk anymore as a burden on my soul and state of mind.
Presley waves a hand from across the table. “You alright?”
I nod and lean into Carter’s side. “Never been happier.”
Carter kisses my temple, Presley locks my foot between his, and I sigh contentedly.
Thank you so much for reading Keren, Presley, and Carter’s story, I really hope you enjoyed it. I’m adding this note to explain a couple of things to you that I couldn’t explain before you started the book because spoilers.
As you might have noticed, this book has been written by both A. E. Murphy (me) and Xela Knight (me). Both are my pen names and the reason for the crossover is because this story is a prequel to Xela Knight’s works in progress. So it is a standalone, but it will tie in loosely with future books.
Xela is my pen name for all my future paranormal/fantasy works. At this point in time, 29/09/2019, I have only two under Xela Knight, both NAKED OR DEAD and DANCE OR DIE.
This is purely because I’m building a massive collection of novels under that pen name and I want to make sure most of them are done before I release them so that you guys don’t have to wait too long for each installment.
The story I am writing just can’t be condensed into one book per character.
To follow Xela Knight, simply like her page on FB.
Thank you so much for your time.
Much love,
A. E. Murphy
Xela Knight
www.facebook.com/XelaKnight
NAKED OR DEAD
A. E. Murphy & Xela Knight
Available on KU
A russet brown hand slams my locker closed, almost catching my fingers in the process. The hall around me stills and people move away but stay to watch the exchange.
I can smell him, smoky, powerful, masculine. It makes me want to inhale deeply.
His breathing is steady, his chest almost brushing against my back. I feel shadowed, completely covered by his athletic body. His forearm is as powerful as the bicep he kissed yesterday. His nails are trimmed neat and his hands are clean.
There’s something to be said about a man-slash-boy with good hand hygiene. My dad always said that if somebody displays good hand hygiene, they likely have good other hygiene too.
“You’re new,” Nokosi growls, his tone rough and deep. This is the first time I’ve heard him speak. His voice is… wow.
“And?” I respond, my tone strong as I keep my eyes on my matte black locker.
“And that doesn’t just give you a free pass to wander wherever the fuck you like, belegana.”
I close my eyes for a moment when he wraps my thick braid around his hand and yanks my head back. It pulls on my scalp and makes my already sore neck ache. My heart is hammering in my chest so rapidly I’m surprised it hasn’t chiseled a hole through my ribs.
“Fair warning,” he whispers in my ear, his lips almost touching the shell. It sends prickles of fear and arousal down my spine. My ears are one of my most erogenous zones. “If you tread where you’re not welcome again, you’ll get more than just a hand in your hair.”
I don’t say anything, but oh I want to. I want to cuss and spit and press my knife against his throat so hard that he bleeds. But instead keep my lips a thin line and stare at a mark on my locker door. I would never have noticed it had I not been forced to look for it. That’s how clean and well-kempt these lockers are.
“Am I understood?”
“Perhaps you can draw me a map?” I bite back and my bruised front hits the lockers. I bite on my tongue to stop me from crying out. That really fucking hurts. “Let me go.”
“Am I understood?”
“Yes,” I breathe, needing him to just let go of my hair so I can regain control of the situation.
“Remember this moment and imagine how much worse it can be,” he hisses, pulling even harder on my hair before finally releasing me and stalking away with his equally tall and muscular, tanned and dark friends at his sides. One of them slaps my ass as he passes.
Dick.
That’s sexual harassment, he’s lucky I’m not a snitch. Though something tells me in a school like this, shit like that gets swept under a very heavy rug.
I stare at Nokosi’s back as he walks away, a stride in his step like he owns this fucking place and the fact that there are two teachers walking by who definitely saw the exchange and did nothing, just further proves that he’s King of this castle.
But why?
Loki was right, he really is the most arrogant prick here. Somebody needs to bring him down a peg or two. I’m not sure that I care enough anymore to try.
This place will not cut me a break.
Lilith: I hate it here.
Willow: So you’ve said.
Lilith: It’s the worst place we’ve been so far.
Willow: And the most prestigious, so it should be the best.
Lilith: Right?! Wish you were here.
Willow: Glad I’m not.
I laugh and stuff my phone into my pocket. My sister can be okay sometimes. We used to be a lot closer.
“Lilith?”
I look at Loki who is sitting to my right again in this class. “Mm?”
“Are you okay?”
I’m surprised by his concern. “Fine, why?”
“I saw what happened with Nok. I just thought…” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve been on the receiving end of his shit before, it’s not nice.”
“Oh, that.” I smile genuinely, to reassure him and because it just seems the right thing to do with my face at this point. “I’d already forgotten about it.”
“Oh… well, good.” His brows draw together from the confusion. “What did you do to get his attention?”
I contemplate not telling him but then that’d just be petty. “Drove my pit bike through his lands… apparently.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, Nok’s tribe are like worse than the Canadian border. Be careful. They rule the roost around here.”
“I’m starting to gather that.”
To PamPammy Shepherd, thank you for creating groups about my books and nurturing them too into such an incredible space to be.
Jami Kehr, so much love for you as you know. I don’t know how to sing your praises any louder.
Jackie Ashmead loves the smell of Salad Cream.
Judy Zweifel of Judy’s Proofreading, an incredible proofreader. I cannot recommend her enough.
Danielle Dickson, a cover artist with so much style. Please don’t ever leave me. You are so incredibly talented.
Graphics by Tammy, thank you for formatting my novels and for being so patient with me.
Thank you so much to everybody who accepted an ARC of Becoming His Mistress:
Scarlett Emily, Elizabeth Butts, Jessica Covey-Wannamaker, Natalie Martinez, Monika Raun, Nicole Michelle, Jami Kehr, Allison Beal, Diane Norwood (For The Love Of Pimping), Shannon Garner, Savanna R Miller, Jackie Ashmead, Gizel N.Alvarez, Andrea Morgan, Charlotte Day, Tania Renteria, Kirsty Gilliland Odom, Victoria Full, Clare Harrison.
A. E. Murphy is the queen of sarcasm and satire, she likes long walks in the park, as much as ice cubes like to chill in a roasting oven. She’s effortlessly independent and so good at adulting it’s unfair on the rest of the world. She only napped twice today and has only avoided the dishes for three days before making the child slaves do them this morning.
Winning! Her fa
vourite hobby is writing, her worst hobby is reading through that writing. Also, she has three cats that carry toys to the top of the stairs and drop them down so they can chase them. They do this repeatedly in the middle of the night. Who cares if she has work the next morning? Not the cats, that’s for sure. And if it’s not the cats doing the waking, it’s the toddler crawling into bed with her and pulling individual hairs from her scalp with pudgy little fingers for comfort.
This is likely why she’s in a constant state of grump unless there’s chocolate and coffee. P.S. Please leave feedback, if not on the book then on this ridiculous bio she wrote herself. It’s the least you can do seeing as she’ll forever talk in the third person now. Alex loves her readers. Alex says thank you. Alex smiles.
Contact
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Standalone Novels
Masked Definitions
HIS FATHER
STEPDORK
NAKED OR DEAD
DANCE OR DIE
Becoming His Mistress
Seas of Seduction