The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  I looked at the clock as it ticked, second by second, minute by minute, and I heard words spoken, but I wasn't paying attention. The trial had already dragged on for a week because of all the character witnesses, a vocational job expert testifying and our attorneys building our cases. Dana was playing dirty and so was I. If she wanted to pretend I was doing drugs in front of Cheyenne, then she needed to get a job. No more supporting her ass.

  Of course, Dana didn't want a job. She wanted to live off my gigs and the work I did for her father at his landscaping business. As soon as the trial was over and the judge issued his order, I was quitting that fucking job. The less she knew about my life, the better. I didn't need her father bossing me around and then reporting my every action back to her. Plus, it would be less spousal support that I would owe her.

  I made enough modeling to support my baby girl, and that was all I cared about. Dana’s father, Bill, paid too little for me to want to stick around and work for him. If my gigs started to slow down, I would find another backbreaking job.

  “Monday you're going to need to start preparing something to tell the judge I have less income,” I leaned over and whispered to my attorney as I remembered I was quitting.

  “Why?” she whispered back.

  Yes, I had a female attorney, and she was smokin', too. I initially hired Allison because I knew Dana would think I was fucking her. Okay, I was fucking her, but we were exchanging services. I gave her multiple mind-blowing orgasms, and she gave me discounted legal advice and representation.

  Alright, alright, we were more than fucking. I would buy her a meal or two so she thought we were dating. Plus, she was a kickass attorney, and I loved watching her toned, lightly tanned legs walk in front of the table in her skirt while she examined a witness or presented evidence to the judge.

  “I'm quitting Parker & Sons,” I replied, leaning closer to smell her perfume that would linger on me after we had sex.

  “You're what?” she whispered, eyes wide with confusion.

  “I'll tell you when this shit is over,” I whispered back, looking over her shoulder to see Dana staring at us. Just to dig at her more, I placed my hand on Allison's thigh, which was in plain view of Dana's evil eye, and inched it up between Allison’s legs. Allison grabbed my hand, gave me a stern look and nudged her head towards the judge. “What?” I asked with a wicked grin on my face.

  Fuck, I was just trying to make her fantasy come true. One night after a...meeting, she told me that she had always wanted to be laid bare on a table in a courtroom and fucked until she couldn't walk. I guess that fantasy didn't include my soon-to-be ex-wife in the same room or an old judge who was on the verge of dying on his bench.

  After an hour of being questioned in front of the courtroom, Dana’s attorney finally released my best friend, Avery, from the hot seat. Of course, he said nothing that would lead anyone to believe that I was the bad father Dana was accusing me of being.

  Avery and I had been friends far longer than Dana and I had been together. We played baseball together from when we were four until our senior year of high school. He went off to college while Dana and I played house. I knew I should have gone with him and used my baseball scholarship to Florida State instead of listening to Dana tell me she couldn't live without me, but that's a whole different story that I don't want to talk about. Let's just say I wasn't thinking with the right head.

  Fucking bitch.

  “Do you have any more witnesses?” the judge asked the schmuck of an attorney Dana hired.

  “No, your honor.”

  After the judge said some bullshit I didn't listen to, we were dismissed, and I walked with Allison out of the courtroom to the parking garage.

  “Do you want to go get a drink?” she asked, running her finger up my hard chest as she gave me the look I had learned in the last six months meant that she was horny as fuck and wanted my cock.

  “I can't, Babe. Cheyenne's with my parents who flew in from New York, remember?”

  It was my weekend to have Cheyenne, and she hadn’t seen my parents in five months.

  “Can't we make it fast? I’ve been horny ever since your hand ran up my thigh twenty minutes ago.”

  I looked at my dying cell phone and realized the judge had dismissed us thirty minutes before five. “Fine, but you keep the skirt and heels on. You've been shaking that ass at me all day.”

  “I've been shaking my ass at you all week,” she said as she winked.

  My pants became tight at the memory. “I know, and you remember what I did to you two nights ago because of it?”

  “Yes, and I want you to do it to me now,” she said, pulling her medium-length, chestnut brown hair from her ponytail as she stepped closer to me.

  I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her against the trunk of her silver BMW as her back arched backwards, and began kissing her soft throat.

  “Not here, Easton, my peers will...” Allison giggled and squirmed beneath me as my cock grew harder, thinking about tying her up to her headboard—or in this case, her hands tied above her head and attached to the “oh shit” handle in her backseat where she hangs her suit jacket.

  “I knew you were fucking the help,” said the familiar voice of my past that wouldn't leave me alone.

  It felt like my dick wanted to run and hide from that voice; it was like nails on a chalkboard to me now. Allison and I broke apart, and she smoothed her black skirt down as I turned to address my baby’s momma.

  “The ‘help’, as you so call her, can go all night and not have to stop after one orgasm,” I said, squaring my shoulders, and then belatedly realized Dana was standing there with her father, Bill.

  Fuck me!

  “Oh God,” Allison murmured under her breath.

  “Fuck you, Easton! Why aren't you going home to our daughter? It's so typical of you to pawn her off on your parents.”

  “Dana...” Bill said, trying to pull her towards her car.

  “For your information, I was saying goodbye to my attorney and thanking her for kicking your ass in court.”

  “Enough!” Bill shouted, causing all eyes to turn to him.

  I still feared the man. The first night I met him, when I went to pick Dana up for our first real date, I almost shit my pants. He was very fit for his age after putting in many years of hard physical labor for his landscaping business. When he found out the reason why Dana and I were divorcing, I actually feared for my life.

  “Dana, get your ass in your car and go enjoy your evening. Easton, I'll see you on Monday.”

  “Yeah, about that...”

  “No, I don't want to talk to you anymore today. Go enjoy your time with your parents, and tell them I said hello. We'll talk man-to-man on Monday.”

  I swallowed hard at his words and watched Dana get into my Ford Edge, slamming the door while her father walked to his car. After they both left, I turned back to Allison and said my goodbyes. Even though I wanted to bury my cock into her tight pussy, I wanted to see my daughter more. We made plans for Monday night when Dana would have Cheyenne and my parents would be back in New York.

  After each long-ass day in court, I turned my stereo up, blasting the radio while driving down the freeway to calm my nerves and clear my head, especially before I arrived home to see my baby girl. She had no idea what was going on, other than mommy and daddy didn't live together anymore.

  I'm not sure when Dana and I planned to tell her that we were no longer married, but it wasn't now at five going on six-years-old. She would probably figure it out before we told her anyway since statistically, eighty percent or some shit of her age group had divorced parents. There would probably be a clique of the “broken home” kids and the “happily married parents” kids by the time she was in high school instead of the jocks and nerds I grew up with.

  Ten minutes after I pulled out of the garage of the courthouse, Sorry by Buckcherry started to play through my speakers of my Ford F150. Yeah, I was a model, but not some pansy ass that spent all
his money on an expensive car to get chicks. Trust me, chicks dig my truck. Hell, Tim McGraw even had a song about it.

  For a split second, as I listened to the words sung by Buckcherry, I wanted to call Dana and tell her that I was sorry. I really was sorry for cheating on her. I wasn’t happy in our marriage; I was young and had hot girls surrounding me all the time. It wasn’t fair to her and it wasn’t fair to Cheyenne. Dana was my first love, and when I asked her to marry me after our high school won the championship game my senior year, I meant every word I said to her that night.

  I did want marriage at that time—the kids and the forever. If I could have seen into the future, I would have waited longer before promising her forever. I would have waited until we grew up and lived a little. Made her come with me to college and then start our forever once we graduated.

  It was my fault that we had a broken home. If I were a better man, things would be different. I’ve done a lot of thinking during our divorce proceedings and I hate that I’ve made her cry. I can’t take any of it back. I’m ashamed of how I treated her and each day, I mask my feelings by being a complete asshole. An asshole to her and an asshole to Cheyenne for not being a better father.

  But, I couldn’t change what happened seven years ago, and now when Buckcherry was turning me into a sap, I dried my misty eyes with my white-collared dress shirt and whispered “sorry” as if she could hear me. I would never say it to Dana's face, though. Not after the hell she put me through, trying to take Cheyenne away from me. But I needed to make this right. I needed to be a better man, a better father, a better person.

  *~*~*

  I pulled into my driveway and didn't see my peanut's face that always greeted me, staring at me through the bay window. I knew I was early getting home, but I didn't think I was that early after being held up by the make-out session with Allison followed by the verbal sparring match with Dana.

  “Easton!” my mother, Jane, exclaimed as she stood up from my couch when I walked in my front door.

  “What's wrong?” I asked, looking at her red, tear-stained face. “Is Chey okay?” I looked around to see only my mother in my living room.

  “Yes, she's in the backyard with your dad.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I figured Cheyenne would tell my parents that she customarily waited for me at the window, but she also needed play time with my folks, so she had probably just lost track of time.

  “Okay, well, what's wrong? Why are you crying?”

  “Bill called.”

  “What a prick!” I said, running my hands through my finger-length, dirty blonde hair. “I know you're friends...”

  “No, it's not like that,” my mother sobbed, shaking her head and sitting down on the chocolate brown suede couch.

  “Well, spit it out!” I could feel my blood start to boil as I envisioned my father-in-law calling my parents about what happened in court.

  “It's Dana...”

  “Of course it is. What the fuck does she want? I just saw her thirty minutes ago. Remember I was in court with her all day?” I gestured, my hands flying in the air to emphasize how angry and irritated Dana made me feel.

  I sat on the couch next to my mom, not wanting to talk about my ex for one more minute of the day.

  “Just shut the fuck up and listen to me!” my mother snapped at me. Tears started to run down her face as she started to speak again. She stood to face me, and my heart stopped. I didn’t understand why she would be crying. “After leaving the courthouse, Dana got into a...car accident...”

  Yes, at that moment, I hated Dana, but she was my daughter's mother, and even though I had wished her dead thousands of times in my head, I never meant it seriously. Cheyenne needed her mother, and the thought of Dana being in a car accident stunned me.

  “Is she okay?” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears I was on the verge of crying.

  “No,” she whispered back, shaking her head again. “She was airlifted, but it was too late. Dana died before they made it to the hospital.”

  I don't know why they say grown men don't cry. That was the day my daughter lost her mother. That was the day my daughter didn't get to say good-bye to her mother. That was the day I lost my first love. And that was the day I cried into my mother's arms, whispering sorry over and over again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Five years later...

  Brooke

  I’ve heard that your thirties are the best years of your life. My twenties haven’t been that bad, but I’m hoping this next year will be better since I’m turning the big three-oh tomorrow. Of course, I’m dreading it, even though I’ve been told you become the person you’re going to be during your thirties. I thought that was what high school and college was for.

  However, instead of being able to go to a four-year college after high school, I went to a community college to obtain my paralegal certificate on the weekends while I worked full-time as a front desk clerk at a major hotel. I missed out on all the drunken college nights as a result, but my twenties have been fun. I’ve done the bar scene for years, have a good job now as a paralegal, have great friends—but something is missing. While I’m making strides in my career, I’ve unfortunately reached a stagnant point in my love life.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love my boyfriend, Jared. We have been together for four years, and I hope that one day he proposes, but that’s the thing—he hasn’t proposed, yet. I’ve dropped hints, most of our friends are getting married—but we’re not. There has been no mention of marriage on his end. When I bring it up, he changes the subject, and you know, I’m not getting any younger. Hell, we even live together. That is practically like being married—why not make it official?

  “Brookie, you ready?” my best friend of fifteen years, Nicole, asked while walking in my front door without knocking.

  “Yep, does this look okay?” I asked her, turning my five foot three inch frame to look at my ass in the bathroom mirror, the rhinestones on my jeans sparkling in the light as I moved. It was like a sign saying, “Look at my ass, people”. I just hoped my ass looked good in them and not too big.

  “You look fine; we’re going to be late,” she said, fixing her long blond bangs that hung across her forehead. Nicole had recently grown out her hair. At one time, she cut it above her shoulders. It was cute, but I liked it long like she had it now. She wore it tonight with soft curls, a light spritz of hairspray, and it hung a little past her shoulders.

  “How can I be late to my own party?” I chuckled and rolled my eyes at her.

  Nicole hated to be late. I, on the other hand, could stand to be five minutes late, especially when it was my party. Not like they could start without me. Growing up, I was always running late since I had to make sure my sister, Bailee, was ready and on time wherever she needed to be.

  “Whatever, let’s go. I’m hungry, and you know how I get when I'm hungry,” she pouted, walking back down the hall, swishing her hips in jeans similar to mine towards the front door.

  I took one final look in the mirror, straightening out my sequined black tank top that I had paired with the bedazzled boot cut jeans and black platform heels. Checking to make sure my smoky grey eye shadow was a perfect contrast to my green eyes, I ran my hands through the flat-ironed, dark brown hair that hung to the middle of my back, giving it a little volume, and turned to meet Nicole in the living room.

  “Wait,” I said, turning around to go back to my room. “Did you remember to bring socks?”

  “Shit, no.” Nicole followed me down the hall. “I still can’t believe you want to go bowling for your birthday. We aren’t ten; we should go clubbing or something.”

  “I’ve already told you that I have always wanted to have a bowling party as a kid, but I never got one. Plus, we go out almost every weekend anyway. I just want to go to dinner with my closest friends and get competitive with a few rounds of bowling. I want something different.”

  I always asked my mom to throw me a bowling party...when she was in town for
my birthday , that was...but she never did. She was always out of town on “business” and left my sister and me to fend for ourselves. It wasn’t business­­­ trips that she was on though. When I was in the ninth grade, I found out that they were trips with boyfriends to lavish places.

  The first time she went on a trip, I had just turned thirteen and my sister was six. I walked home from school to find a note left by my mom on the kitchen table with a hundred dollars to feed my sister and me for a week. I had no idea how to take care of a six-year-old, let alone myself. That was the day I became an adult and stopped being just a teenager. That day, I became a nurturer; someone who always makes sure another person came before themselves.

  My mother always had a way with men. She could make them do whatever she wanted—like buy her gifts and take her to tropical islands with them. The downside of her plan was that she left my sister and me alone. She never took us with her or introduced us to her companions, but she always brought us back a gift to try to make up for her being gone. Even after I found out about the men, she still told me that they were “business trips”. Little did she know that I would stand outside her bedroom door and listen to her on the phone.

  Of course, through doing that, I learned about phone sex. At fourteen, you knew what sex was, but you didn’t need to hear your mother pretending to have sex. I never told her that I listened to her a few times. If she was going to hide things from me, I was going to do the same back.

  As for my father...what father? My mother had no idea who he was, so how would I know? Not having a loving set of parents when I was growing up probably mapped out why I chose to find a job as a paralegal in Family Law. I didn’t do it for the divorces; I did it for the children. They were too innocent and needed to have someone unbiased fighting for them and what they deserved. I loved my job. I loved my co-workers aside from my pompous boss. Who was having an affair with one of our clients. Thank God, he didn’t have children with his current wife. I’m not sure I would be able to help represent him during his divorce—when that happens.