The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

  VOTE TEAM?

  Are you TEAM WEST or TEAM CROSS?

  Who will win Delphine Bray’s sexy French heart? You, the reader, will have all the power.

  YOU DECIDE!

  How exciting, right? All you need to do is write which TEAM you are in through an Amazon review, determining if it’ll be West or Cross to chase Delphine. (It won’t be a love triangle.) All votes will be tallied up and I will go with the majority.

  OR, do you want a brand-new shiny alpha male? I’m thinking maybe Delphine could bump into a hot cowboy (Team Cowboy) while on a trip with Felicity and Lenic at his parents’ ranch in Canada … just maybe. But, like I said — YOU have all the power.

  (This intended book is part of a planned novella series that will feature many of the characters from The Tempest. Every book will be FREE with Kindle Unlimited. The winning team will be announced on my Facebook page at the end of November 2017.)

  AUTHOR BIO

  BRIT CONSTANTINE lives at Number 10 Downing Street, with her boyfriend. She is the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and helped pass the law that every woman shall be gifted with a vibrator when they turn of age.

  As if! Though, I did want to be the Prime Minister when I was nine-years-old. Now I write about sexy, beautiful, rock-solid, and tasty alpha males with perfect buttocks — and, OK, more importantly, with a heart of sweetness — REAL men who chase the whip-smart independent woman. Instead of leading an entire nation, I am leading women to extinguish their underwear. No complaints.

  I would love to hear from you!

  Facebook: fb.me/britconstantine

  Twitter: @constantineBrit

  Turn the page for your free outtakes!

  OUTTAKE I

  FELICITY SAINT JAMES

  Four weeks before Box Fest…

  “YOU’VE GONE STRAIGHT INTO HIS BALLS.”

  DELPHINE

  “WHY ARE YOU peeking out the window with your camera?” Delphine yawns, her voice groggy.

  The church bells woke me up again. But this time the church bells called out to me, answering my prayers. I caught my celebrity crush running along Old Marsden’s private land, a few hundred yards from my house. “Delphine, Lenic Reevus is stripping off in the outside shower by Marsden’s boat shed. Naked.”

  “Shut the front door.” I’ve never seen Delphine’s long legs move so fast.

  “We’ve only got one shot at this. Help me attach the zoom lens.” I practically throw the lens at her. “Quick. He’s a Marine. I bet they’re trained in one minute showers in case the enemy attacks.”

  “In case some pervert girl spies on him in the shower from her bedroom window, you mean?”

  “I don’t see you averting your eyes — harder. Come on, shove it in harder. Much harder.”

  She gives me a look. “You need to get laid, Flick.”

  “I won’t need to if I can get this shot.”

  CLICK.

  That single click is my ticket to sex heaven. Heat pools between my legs as I film a river of water pour down his wide muscular back, over his Corps of Royal Marine insignia tattoo. I try to keep my hand steady as I pan the camera down. Lower. And lower. And—

  I let out a short gasp and accidently hit the zoom button in all my nervous excitement. Shit. I’ve zoomed straight into his balls. It is a huge blur of balls.

  “Flick, you’ve gone right into his balls,” Delphine laughs. “Didn’t know you had a ball fetish.”

  “Neither did I.”

  Zooming out a little, I freeze. I hear Delphine’s sharp intake of breath, and I know her pulse is racing just as hard and just as fast like mine is. It’s like finding the gold wrapper in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I’m like the starving little boy who finally has his ticket to an endless supply of chocolate goodness. Except swap me for a girl who’s sex starved and is skipping down the Yellow Brick Road to an endless supply of Lenic Reevus porn.

  And then I hit gold.

  When he turns around … he drops the soap. And yes, he is bending over to pick it up.

  I frown when Lenic twists the knob in the shower. It isn’t the knob I’d prefer him to twist. I sigh, watching him get changed and leave through the woods. The curtains are drawn. The lights are out. His penis has sung.

  “Why are you recording this?” Delphine asks abruptly.

  I look at her. “Sometimes I wonder if you have a vagina.”

  She slaps me lightly on the arm. “I meant, what are you going to do with the footage?”

  “Personal use.” My friend shakes her head in disapproval. “Don’t worry. This video is for my eyes only. It’s not like the world is going to see it. And Lenic Reevus will never find out. It’s my little secret to keep.”

  OUTTAKE II

  LENIC REEVUS

  Fifteen minutes before the live streaming showdown…

  “WHY THE HELL WOULD I RECOGNISE A GUY JUST FROM HIS BARE ARSE?”

  LENIC

  “THIS BETTER NOT be another sex tape,” I mutter, feeling the buzz of my phone in my jeans pocket. Sitting behind the desk in my gym’s office, I glare up at Cross. “Why you sending me a text when we’re in the same damn place?”

  “Sent it when I was in Marge’s Café picking up our order.” He sets a black coffee on the desk. “Look,” he orders, a shit-eating grin on his face. Hell, he can hardly keep a straight face.

  “Look at what? Snapshot of your dick? No thanks.” Sliding my phone out, I swipe a thumb across the screen and pull up the text message.

  He walks across the office to his desk, rests his back at the head and crosses his boots. “Just look already, Lenic. You’re gonna be … yeah, just look. And it’s not a picture, mate. YouCube video. My sister just forwarded it to me.” He still has that bastard grin on his face. He tries to look serious, but his mouth keeps twitching behind the fist in his mouth.

  I smoothe out a crease along my jeans, meeting his gaze. “If this is a sex tape, I’ll cut your dick off so you can’t make your own,” I grumble, remembering the last video he sent me. “Sending me a sex tape while I was talking with Father Williams — in church — was a dick move.” I forgot to switch my phone on silent. I learnt that day, in a hard way, how great the acoustics are in a church.

  “Was trying to help a mate out. It was church for Christ’s sakes. You’re twenty-nine, not ninety-nine. Thought you could do with some entertainment. Now watch it already. The suspense is killing me.”

  I click on the link and wait for the browser to connect to the site. Setting my phone down, I reach for my hot coffee and glug half of it down the pipe. Peering over my cup, a flicker of recognition shoots through me as my eyes land on the channel name ‘JUICED’. I’m pretty sure that’s Felicity’s. She makes her money from uploading videos to the web or something. How the hell is that a career now?

  Low and behold, her face appears and I immediately grab at my phone. Felicity Saint James. Dark eyes and olive skin, she has it all. Full lips, apple cheekbones, hot bod. A little off her rocker. Yeah, no doubt it’s her.

  Her mouth yammers on continually, but her words fall on deaf ears. I click the button on the side of my phone, switching silent mode off. “YMCA, am I right, girlfriends?” she hollers in the video, performing a swift YMCA dance with her arms. I crack a quick smile.

  Cute.

  Suddenly, her pretty face fades to black as another video clip starts to play. I grimace, finding myself staring at a man’s naked arse. In the shower. My head shoots up when I hear Cross snigger.

  “You wanna confess something, Cross?” I ask him. “This your way of telling me you’re gay? Mate, I’ll still love you no matter what.” I grimace again, taking another swig of coffee. “But I’ll have to stop the showering at the gym.” I stab a finger his way. “Or there’ll be a soap ban.”

  Cross nearly chokes on his coffee, but not from laughter. His jaw hangs open in shock, and something flashes through his eyes. I ignore him, done with this juvenile shit. “What arsehole gets off on posting a video
online of himself shit naked? What a tosser.” I slam my mobile phone down on the desk, glaring across the room at my friend. “And you’re a bigger tosser for showing it to me.”

  “What the hell, man? You need glasses or what? Don’t tell me you don’t recognise Mr Hotty In The Shower?”

  “Why the hell would I recognise a guy just from his bare arse?”

  Cross smacks his palm on top of his desk. A ballpoint pen rolls off and he accidently kicks it on the floor as he skids across the room, laughing his goddamn head off. “This just gets better and better — shit. Lenic, keep watching.” He makes his way to my side of the desk and shoves my phone back in my hand. “Jesus, this is too much. Trust me, you can’t ignore this one.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not watching gay porn.” He leans over my shoulder and I smack him on the side of his head.

  He cries like the big baby he is, rubbing his head, but my hit isn’t enough to end his goddamn irritating laughter. “No porn, mate. Sorry, can’t count as porn if you’re watching yourself.”

  I glance down at my phone. “The hell you talking—”

  What the hell?

  The camera’s moved upwards to the back of Tosser’s head. The video quality isn’t great. A little pixelated, like it’d been filmed on zoom. I lean in closer, squinting my eyes.

  No.

  Fucking.

  Way.

  I’m Tosser.

  That’s my arse on YouCube.

  That’s my arse being washed in the shower on YouCube.

  That’s my arse being watched by five million two hundred and thirty-three thousand four hundred and twenty-nine — what the hell? — people.

  That’s my arse — oh, shit — bending over to pick up the soap I dropped … on YouCube. Jesus Christ, that’s not an angle you wanna see yourself doing in public.

  Goddamn humiliating.

  Shit!

  I slam my drink down and try and shake the burning sensation on my hand. I didn’t notice how hard I was gripping the damn cup. “She told me she did make-up tutorials and shit,” I hiss under my breath.

  At this point, my best mate is in stitches and it’s enough to shake me out of my stupor. I shoot out of my chair so fast it tumbles backwards and clatters to the floor, my coffee spilling over next month’s roster. My mind is in a haze of anger and disbelief as I shove Cross hard against the wall with a loud thud, the framed picture of a Royal Navy warship rattling beside him.

  “You know, there was once a time, mate,” Cross says, giving me a pointed look, “when you would’ve found this hilarious.” The thought is enough to hit pause, but only for a second.

  This is bullshit.

  Shaking my head, I storm over to the far side of the office and yank the door open so hard, I almost rip it off of the hinges.

  “Where’re you going?” Cross calls out, laughing his shit-eating face off.

  “Across the other side of the street. This man’s getting his banana back.”