Erotica: Can't Keep Them Apart (New Adult Romance Bundle)(Erotic Sex Taboo Box Set)

by Audrey Drake

  “Very well then. The DNA testing of Veronica’s baby boy, Andrew, has provided conclusive results that Latrelle McKay is not the father. Mr. McKay, you are free to go.”

  A gasp exited the gaping holes of every dropped jaw witnessing the news. Latrelle raised his right fist, and lightly pounded it at the air; similar to the gestures he made after every touchdown he scored. He hugged his lawyer, and everyone began to file out. Some were whispering amongst themselves, others were approaching Latrelle to shake his hand.

  Veronica balled into her hands as her lawyer and family members comforted her with encouraging words and gentle pats on the back.

  I on the other hand, sat expressionless in my seat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Latrelle look at me as he walked by in the midst of a growing crowd of people, but I did not return my attention to meet his gaze. I simply stared, seemingly at nothing, as the weight of the world began to dissipate off of me bit by bit.

  Chapter Three

  Latrelle gained his life back. Now almost all sports analysts had him going number one, and no one was talking about his off the field problems as if they had disappeared over night. On our walks to class he would yell at people and shake hands, always carrying a smile of victory. But, his born again confidence quickly led to the recklessness that I had come to expect.

  One day, we were eating lunch together in the Student Center as usual. He had one afternoon class on Wednesdays, and we were detailing our plans for the night. One by one, people flocked around him, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Some came just to wish him luck in the draft, and others came to take selfies and joke around. He welcomed all the attention with open arms.

  Then, a group of four freshmen boys came up and began to joke around with him about Veronica.

  “Hey man. How was that old slut in the sack anyway?” The backwards cap wearing leader of their group asked.

  Latrelle nervously looked across the table at me. “I would rather not discuss that information.”

  “Come on.” The boy sneered. “Tell us what you did to her. We are all friends here.”

  “No offense but I would rather not…”

  The boy cut him off, and began to chant two words over and over, “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us…”

  Now all four of them were chanting it.

  “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

  Soon, the tables closest to us who were within earshot of the conversation joined in.

  “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

  Before I had a chance to get Latrelle out of there, the entire student center had fixed their gaze in our direction and were all repeating the same words.

  “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

  Never one to disappoint for his fans, Latrelle stood up in his chair, and stepped onto the table. Almost knocking over his drink in the process.

  “Do you want to know what I did?” He asked the backwards cap kid.

  “Yes!” The boy yelled in response.

  “Do you want to know what I did?!” He yelled, opening his arms for the entire crowd’s response.

  “Yes!” Everyone anxiously replied.

  “I fucked her right in the pussy!” Latrelle screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Uproars poured through the dining hall.

  “I said…” Latrelle belted again. “I fucked her right in the pussy!”

  At this point every soul in that place was repeating his words back to him.

  “Fuck her right in the pussy! Fuck her right in the pussy!”

  Videos of the event spread like wildfire. The worst part: I was in almost every video. Sitting arms folded, staring helplessly at Latrelle as the chaos ensued.

  Reporters and newscasters were flocking on the University. They would catch us on our way to classes asking for a statement. It got so bad that finally Latrelle’s teachers had to start e-mailing him lessons while he holed himself up in his room.

  As for me… Whether I was so broken that my emotions had become numb, or be it the fact that I just did not care anymore; I may never know. All I thought, was that it was not his kid. That was enough for me. If he wanted to make a fool of himself and give into peer pressure, so be it. But, at least he did not have a baby mama.

  The night before the draft came, and so did I. Latrell had been busy with interviews all week, meaning that we had not made love to each other in days. Finally, we had some alone time. The draft was being held in New York this year (like most years) and they had put him up in an eloquent hotel room. It was the New York Marriott Marquis, on Broadway. Our room was a spacious Executive Suite complete with: a couch, 2 sofa chairs, dining table, office desk, and an incredible view of Times Square. The best part, however, was behind the double doors at the far side of the room, the bedroom. A huge king sized bed with the most engrossing mattress my body had ever felt lay flush against a wooden headboard. The foot of the bed faced a flat screen TV. If you looked to your right while lying in the bed, one could look right out the full wall of a window and right into the heart of New York City. It was breathtaking.

  Even more breathtaking, when your naked body is pushed up against it and the future number one draft pick is pushing all of his weight into you from behind. If they inspected that room with a blacklight after we were done with it, I am sure that it would have lit up like the Fourth of July. I mounted him as he sat on the wooden desk. My hands gripped the back of the couch as my knees sunk deep into the cushions from the amount of force he was projecting on me. We lathered each other’s bodies with soap in the shower between sessions, and then went back at it again. I was sure that we were going to go at it all night until at last our bodies gave out and we passed out next to each other, nude, looking out into the city.

  There were not enough tickets for me to sit at the round table at the front of Madison Square Garden with Latrelle and his family. I did not mind. I sat in the back, with the general public. I was not as excited for this as everyone else seemed to be. Latrelle and I had talked, and I was planning to quit my job at the school, to become his Public Relations specialist. In essence, I would be doing the same things for him just at the next level. It made me uncomfortable, to say the least, that Latrelle would be writing my checks. But, the silver lining was that no matter what city we would relocate to, it would be a trip that we made together.

  At last, the anticipation came to a close. The commissioner of the NFL came to the stage.

  “With the first pick in the NFL Draft, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers select: Latrelle McKay, Cal-State University.”

  An equal mix of cheers and boos filled the air of the Garden. Latrelle hugged his mom and dad, and proceeded to the stage. I watched as the man I had fallen for put on the Tampa Bay Buccaneers hat, shook the commissioners hand, and posed for thousands of simultaneous pictures. I stared in awe as those perfect white teeth glinted brilliantly in the lights of the arena, at the man of my dreams. The only man I had ever loved.

  To Be Continued…

  Loving A Star - Complete Box Set

  Naughty Neighbor

  Chapter One

  Summer came around and my life was still as boring as ever. While spring is commonly referred to as mating season, I’d been happily doing housework. Well, happily is a bit of an overstatement. The monotony of life had gotten to me. I needed adventure and I found it one day while taking out the trash…

  The garage slowly rolled upwards as I began to get a glimpse of sunlight for the first time that day. Between breakfast for the kids, hugging hubby and a quick shower, the morning just seems to fly by.

  While bright, the warm sun felt great on my skin as made my way to the garbage bins. Hubby does some things right, but he always seems to forget to take out the trash before work. I’d call it selective memory more than forgetting.

  My eyes finally adjusted to the sun’s glare and I began to peer out into the neighborhood. A retired man walking his dog, a few birds chirping away and him. I almost gasped as my eyes fixated on the young man getting out of the car
with his shirt off.

  He was a college boy who had just finished his workout at the gym. Sweat gleaned off his muscles as he began to slowly strut into the house. I couldn’t look away. Every aspect of his body had my imagination flowing. I wanted to know how his bulging biceps felt as he wrapped them under my head while deep inside me. I needed to know how his back felt as I dug my fingernails into it. I had to know how his chest felt as I try to balance myself while riding his hot body.

  As his garage door closed, I tried to calm myself. He was my neighbor’s son for Christ sake. I’d seen him grow up, but he certainly didn’t used to look like that. No, I hadn’t seen him in a couple years and things had changed.

  Two years of college and a summer abroad meant he’d grown up. Now 20 and “developed”, I couldn’t get my mind of the way the sun gleamed off those v-shaped lines of his that lead to below the belt. Those lines led me to thinking about what was below that belt…

  I felt myself starting to get wet. This fantasy isn’t going away by itself, I thought as the garage door clothes.

  Not in the mood for any more housework at the moment, I rush upstairs. As a mature woman, I know when I need it. Something in my stomach just feels different and that feeling just won’t go away unless, well, properly taken care of.

  I lay down on my bed and quickly pulled my pants down while kicking them off my one ankle. No one was home and I was going to enjoy this. My hand slowly pulled my thong to the side as I began to touch myself. Lord, my pussy was soaking. The neighbor had me gushing more than I had in quite some time. I began to rub my clit with thoughts of his hot body ran through my head. My fingers began to move faster as I imagined him on top of me staring into my eyes as he teases me with his hard cock. He knows I want it, but he wants to play hard to get. I start to moan.

  He slowly starts to go deeper and deeper. Every stroke of him has my pussy gushing. He moans as he finally plunges deep inside me. Every inch of him is filling me up. Stroke after stroke I get closer and closer. He grabs a fistful of my hair as he leans down and bites my lip.

  Ring, ring, ring…

  The home phone sounds, as I’m so close. Ahhhh! I slow my fingers down while waiting for the noise to drown away, but the answering machine has to ruin my fun.

  ‘Hello Mrs. Davis, this is Coach Patrick from basketball camp. Wilson doesn’t seem to be feeling well. He just threw up on the court. If you could, please come pick him up as soon as possible. He looks like a ghost and is in no shape to be playing basketball.” Drats, I thought as the machine clicked back to silence.

  No more fun for mommy this morning. I didn’t even try to finish, as the moment was gone. Still, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get that young stud off my mind.

  A college course load of kinesiology combined with an obsessive nature meant Weston wasn’t going to be the scrawny, skinny-fat kid he was in high school. After a few years in the gym, he was starting to see results.

  Not only did he look better in the mirror, but also people looked at him differently. This was especially true with regards to women. In high school, as date to the prom was a struggle for Weston, but these days’ things were different. About a year after he found his love for the weight room, he noticed girls would begin to stare at him while at parties if he wore his favorite V-neck t-shirt.

  The shirt perfectly accentuated his physique and girls often asked to touch his arms or his abs. He’d always oblige them. This was fun for him, but at 19, all he wanted was sex. Lots and lots of random, fun sex. So he began wearing his shirt out and trying to flirt with the girls who stared at him and asked to touch his body.

  After a bit of trial and error, Weston found his niche. He wore his shirt and began trying to hook up with any girl that wanted to touch his arm. He’d tell girls his arms weren’t the only “impressive” part of his physique with a smirk on his face. They’d giggle as he rambled on about his other many talents, which he sarcastically brought up.

  You wouldn’t think telling girls great at thumb wrestling, pillow fighting and dog walking would get them horny, but it was working for Weston. After each brief chat, he quickly would kiss the girl. Ten minutes later he’d invite her back to his apartment to take shots.

  It was that easy.

  However, summertime back at his parent’s house had led to a bit of sexual frustration. Having been out on his own for almost two years, Weston was struggling to find someone to hook up with him in his car. Not having a bed to shag in was quite the cockblock for the young stud.

  So he began focusing all of his efforts on the gym again. And Kelly definitely noticed.

  I’d kept a straight and happy face, but I was missing something. Married with two kids, my sex life with the hubby had been gone for quite sometime. Actually, I can’t even remember the last time we had sex. It certainly hadn’t been for a few years.

  I had assumed I’d be having more sex when I quit my job as a nurse last year. While I loved taking care of others, I needed to focus my attention on my family and my children. Working with one child was ok, but two children left me run down. Working, two kids and a husband all needed to be taken care of. I just didn’t have enough time in the day before I quit.

  While Don wasn’t a bad husband, he was focused on work. He didn’t purposely neglect me, but we all have needs. And Don wasn’t fulfilling his role in fulfilling my needs. And a woman’s fingers can only do so much…

  Plus, I suspect that Don is having an affair with his secretary. Certainly cliché, but it doesn’t make things any better. I don’t know for sure, but every fiber within me is telling me so.

  A day passed by and I couldn’t get the college body off my mind. His body ran through my mind at all times. I’d drift off, daydreaming of his rough hands ripping off my clothing before ravishing me. The feeling of his chiseled abs on my stomach as he took me was running through my mind as I ate dinner with my family. I was dripping wet.

  I lay in bed thinking of what I could do. My husband looked content reading his book as I felt the feeling again while dreaming of my newfound crush. I knew I was being a bad girl, but I couldn’t stop myself. It had been too long.

  A few mornings after, I made sure to take the trash out at the same time again. I had to give myself a chance to lay eyes on him again. I wanted to be bad, but I knew I shouldn’t. I’m married to a loving man, the father of my children. Still, the prospect of him having his shirt off was too enticing to pass up. I needed that feeling in my stomach again. I wanted to rush back up the stairs for a bit more mommy time.

  As the garage flew up, my fingers were crossed. Like clockwork, he pulled up to his house right as I made my way to the garbage bins. The feeling hit instantly this time. I stared. I couldn’t help myself. I even tripped on the curb, but it was worth it. His shirt was off. His muscles were shining in the sunlight. He must have just finished up working out his legs today, I thought, as I couldn’t take my eyes off his bulging calf muscles. The calf muscles that propelled his cocky way of walking - a walk that was exciting me even more.

  Running up stairs, I jumped on the bed. There was no time to take my pants off. My hand was touching my wet pussy as soon as possible. There was no way I was risking not finishing this time. It didn’t take long. A few minutes of him inside as my back was against the wall was all it took. I moaned as my legs started to shake.

  This became a pattern for a few weeks. Shipping the kids off to camp, getting hubby out the door, taking the trash out at 8:30 in the morning, staring and then running up to the bed for a bit of “me time”.

  However, my “me time” began to cloud my thoughts at all times. Instead of focusing on my family or the task at hand, I was continually fantasizing about his touch. Something had to be done.

  Hubby still wasn’t interested and I began to plan. I knew I couldn’t simply walk off and hit on the sweaty, shirtless young man, but I couldn’t continue this “me time” routine. A routine that was making my hormones go wild while only providing so much pleasure. />
  He lived only two doors down. His house was across the street from the community mailbox, but there was a problem. The mail never came until the afternoon. I wanted to come in the morning.

  Still, nothing else was coming to mind. And coming with him wasn’t coming close to living my consciousness. I decided to forget to get the mail one day. It was the only way.

  I purposely got the trash ready a few minutes early. With the mailbox key in hand, I felt a rush of nerves flow through my whole being as I opened the garage. These nerves then ended up back in my stomach. The feeling was back and I hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet. I knew I was dripping already.

  The light shone onto my skin and cleavage. I may have been starting to wear revealing clothing on my short jaunts to the trash each morning. I’m a bad girl, what can I say.

  As I threw the trash in the garbage bin, I heard his shiny red sedan speed around the corner blaring his music. The feeling in my stomach grew stronger. I briskly walked to the mailbox and opened it up just as he pulled in. Perfect timing,

  He hopped out and glanced my way. It was my opportunity. I waved, “Hey Weston. Glad to see you’re back for the summer.”

  He smiled back, “Good to see you too, Mrs. Davis. It’s been awhile since I’ve been back to the neighborhood.”

  Inside I was bursting with excitement and it took all my mental might to not fantasize about him bending me over the mailbox and taking me right there. However, on the outside I remained calm and continued our pleasantries.

  “The time away seems to have done you quite good. Those muscles of yours are quite big young man.” I exclaimed while attempting to not sound like the naughty cougar I badly wanted to be.

  He giggled, “Thanks. You don’t look to bad yourself Mrs. Davis.”