by West, T J
Judging June
Copyright © 2015 by: Tiffany J West
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to persons; living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Cover art by: Cover to Cover Designs
Photographed by: 6:12 Photography by Eric McKinney
Edited by: Kendra Johnson
Cover model: Matt Palumbo
Back photo: MHPhotography
Back cover model: Derienne Briggs
eBook and Paperback format: Champagne Formats
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other series written by T.J.West
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Changed by Heather Dahlgren
Websites/Facebook pages/Author pages
About the Author
Other books by the author
The Rain Series
November Rain book 1
Purple Rain book 2
Rain Street book 3
Downtown Series
Forbidden Faith, book 1
To my readers, bloggers, family, friends, photographers, models, designers—-Thank you for all the support!
This novella is for you.
I WAS NEVER GOING TO let Faith know I saw Lucky Jones fucking her from behind on that terrace, the night of the bands party. I have always known she was infatuated, in lust and in love with someone with the last name of Jones. Gordon Montgomery told me about him. He told me to get inside his daughters heart, make her see who would be better for her, even though he knew she would always hold a flame for Jones. I tried everything to make her see differently, to feel differently, to make her sweat that punk away by fucking me. It didn’t work. No matter how many times I sucked her clit, ate her cream, she still thought about him. To get her back, I fucked her best friend, June. I got drunk, got June drunk and made that sexy little thing scream for mercy.
The next morning when I woke up, I found her in my bed, naked—naked with a bunch of tattoos that I can’t stand. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking? She’s a very sexy woman, but no way would I ever be attracted by those pictures engraved on her skin. What kind of person would want to do that to their bodies? It’s there permanently! Yet, I fucked June anyways. She felt good, tasted good, pumped my dick nice and hard, but that’s it. Even though I feel guilty about taking advantage of her, she was still a good, hard lay.
I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. June stirs awake when I slam my dresser drawer shut; my way of telling her to wake up and get out. I know I’m not being myself. I’m pissed that I let last night get as far as it did, even though fucking her was my intention.
I lean up against my dresser, cross my arms and watch her fumble for the sheet; she’s butt naked and exposed. She moans while she wakes up and finally figures out where she’s at. She wraps the sheet around her body; her short blonde/black disheveled hair covers her face, blocking her view of me. She wipes it out of her eyes and gasps when she finally sees me. “God, what did we do?” She groans.
I buck myself away from the dresser and walk toward her. “We fucked,” I bluntly reply.
She looks up at me, scrunching her nose. “Well, thanks for putting it so mildly.”
I shrug, “What did you want me to say?”
“Nothing, I guess,” she mumbles, then shouts out, “Shit! I can’t believe I would do this to my best friend!”
As I look around my modern, gray painted room, and king sized black canopy bed, I find her clothing, scattered on the floor. I keep my space very clean and get annoyed when I see anything out of place or things lying everywhere. So while she is pouting on the bed I pick up a few of her items and place them next to her. “You should leave.” She slowly looks up at me with disgust on her face. “What?” I ask.
“Don’t you feel anything? Guilt, hunger?”
I fold my arms together, completely confused. “Hunger?”
“Yeah, cuz I’m starving.” She puts her gold tube top over her head.
This girl is a trip. I leave the room while June puts her clothes back on. I search through my cupboards and fridge for something to eat, but find nothing appetizing—well, I do have bread. June comes out of my bedroom fixing her hair and checking her face with her compact mirror case. She sits on a bar stool and places her purse on the counter, still checking her face, wiping away the makeup from underneath her eyes. She mumbles to herself saying how horrid her eyes look. I think she looks rather beautiful without all that black eyeliner around her bright blue eyes. Yet you won’t hear me saying that.
I clear my throat. “I have nothing to eat.”
“Take me to breakfast then. We need to figure out what we’re going to do.”
I let out a breath and lean my elbows on the counter, facing her. “We’re not going to do anything. It happened—I feel like shit, you feel like shit, and we should try to move past it.”
Her eyes widen when she raises her voice, “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re her boyfriend! How can you just move past it?”
Have I ever really been her boyfriend when her feelings have always been with someone else? I’ve done everything I can to make her forget him. After last night? I know it’s over—although I still have hopes of her choosing me. How fucking pathetic.
In the beginning I was just doing what her father asked me to do—win her over. Gordon was a client of my fathers and I met him a couple times while I was in college. So, when he discovered I was going to be Faith’s architect he flew to San Diego and convinced me to date his daughter. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea; I didn’t think it was right to date a client. However, one look at her and I was a complete goner. Her deep blue eyes and amazing full lips, I’ll never forget sucking on them for the first time—they were intoxicating, luscious and sexy.
I really thought we worked well together; we had great chemistry and had a lot in common, but something was always off with Faith. She never let me inside her heart, never gave me a chance at breaking down her wall. The sex was always a good thing though. That was something we both accomplished and succeeded, never a dull moment in bed.
I’m not proud of what went down with June, it was an ass thing to do—still, I’m not regretting it. Faith used me for her own good will. I was her bandaid to patch up whatever wounds she had bleeding out. I had enough of being her first aid kit; seeing her with Lucky just sent me over the edge, and I took it to a place I shouldn’t have. June was the only way to get her back, to hurt her. Although her body and icy blue eyes were killer, I never gave June any indications I was attracted to her. We only met a few times within the last six months and not once did I glance at her twice. I was too wrapped up in Faith. What a fucking douche I became.
Furthermore if Faith ever finds out about the rendezvous. . . . well . . . I’ll have to deal with it when that time comes.
After taking Faith home from the party, I called June over to my place. This was my insane chance to get her into bed. I always had this vibe from her; she wanted me. Every time we were in each other’s presence I could see her hands twisting with nerves, she was anxious. Her beha
vior never made me uncomfortable, I was flattered, in fact. So when I decided I was going to use her toward my own sick advantages I knew June would come over because she was worried about Faith, and I pretended to be as well. It was the perfect plan. The moment she walked inside my condo I immediately handed her a drink. This, I knew, would calm her nerves. I never expected for us to get drunk, it just happened. We were drunk out of our minds when I took it to the next level and kissed her; she didn’t even try pushing me away. Damn, that first kiss was an explosion. She tasted like vanilla, smelled like coconut—I became moonstruck. The lust we felt for one another was unlike anything I ever experienced. I couldn’t believe what I felt for this woman. Where the fuck was my head? How could I possibly want this woman so much? I was way in over my head and I didn’t know how to stop it. I enjoyed our night so much I wanted her back in bed, but I knew that was impossible. I didn’t date women like June. She’s not my type, period.
“Look, I’m not happy about what we did either, but it is what it is,” I say casually—maybe a little too casual.
She stuffs her compact back in her purse and groans. “I really hate that term.”
“I’ll make us some coffee. Toast. You like toast?” I hold up the bag of bread.
“That’s fine,” she agrees, waving her hand in the air. “I just need something.”
After I prepare the coffee and pop two pieces of bread in the toaster, I glance at her. I don’t even know where this question is coming from. I don’t need any ego reassurances; I know I’m good in bed and I know I’m not an ugly guy, yet I just wonder. . . . .“Tell me. . . . .even if you weren’t drunk last night, would you still have slept with me?” I ask amused.
She stutters, “Wha. . . . what kind of question is that? Of course I wouldn’t have!”
“I don’t believe you,” I smirk at her.
“You’re so full of shit.”
“No, just telling it like it is.” As I lean further into her from the counter I smugly say, “You have a thing for me and I saw it last night. Actually I’ve seen it more than once.” I don’t know why I’m enjoying seeing her get so riled up; her cheeks turn pink and her lips turn in. Flirting with her is damn fun.
“You know what? Thanks for the coffee, but I have to go.” She gets off the stool, grabbing her purse.
For some reason I don’t want her to leave. I want to keep her here, argue with her, make her blush even more so than she is right now. Yet the words that come out of my mouth make me look like a total asshole. “Even though we fucked, I still love Faith.” I do love Faith—I did. I’m so fucked up I don’t even know how or why I loved her in the first place. We never really did anything except sleep together or go out to eat, so what was it about her that made me love her? “Besides even if I didn’t love her I would never . . . . . .” Shit. I really do need to think before I speak.
June catches my mistake. “Go on. . . . tell me . . . you would never fuck someone like me, is that it?” She shakes her head and scoffs. “You’re so judgmental.”
“I don’t dig the tattoos or piercings, but I’m not judging you.”
“Huh, could have fooled me.” She swings her purse onto her shoulder and heads for the front door.
“June, come on. Don’t walk off mad.”
Before she opens the door, she swiftly turns around and looks at me with hurt in her eyes. “You know, I really thought you were a nice guy. You act all cool and sweet with Faith, even though she treats you like shit, but in reality you’re just an asshole.” She scoffs, then adds, “I was so wrong about you. I felt sorry for you. I felt sorry that Faith was playing you all the time. But now? Now, I feel pity because you turned into a complete low life, a jerk.” She whips back around and turns the door handle. I can’t let her leave thinking I am a total asshole. I quickly go to her and tug on her arm. She yanks it away from my grip. “Get your hands off me!” She yells.
I am now seeing a side of June I’ve never noticed before. Getting her riled up like this makes her unbelievably sexy; the tattoos have always shadowed that. Although I never meant to hurt her. . . . I have. “I’m sorry,” I apologize softly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
She exhales, looking down at her feet and shrugs, “Yeah, well. . . . you can’t help how you feel . . . I’m just not your type. I get it.”
I gently lift her chin, wanting her to look at me. “Will you be okay?”
She laughs without any humor. “No. . . . I fucked Faith’s boyfriend.” Her eyes begin to tear up, getting red. “How can I be okay with that?”
June leaves me standing in my entryway feeling like shit. I messed up and I’m not sure how to fix it.
I AM MORTIFIED AND DEEPLY ashamed of myself; how could I do this to Faith of all people? She’s my best friend and I betrayed her. I betrayed her a long time ago when I felt some kind of pull from Phillip. He was never my type of guy to date—too clean cut and preppy for me. I like the motorcycle type dudes, like my dad. How I became attracted to him, I really don’t know. He’s just so . . . so gorgeous. I don’t care if Faith was just using Phillip for her own selfish needs, I still betrayed her. How will she ever forgive me?
When I got home from Phillip’s house, I scrubbed my body like three times before I felt clean enough to get out. I didn’t want to smell his scent on my body any longer, no matter how good he smelled—and man did he smell great. The scent of his masculine cologne was just. . . . . . shit, I need to stop! I can’t let myself go there, thinking about him and wanting him, feeling his mouth on my clit—wow he was really good down there. Ugh, there I go again! I’m not his type and never will be. I just need to stay clear of my feelings for him and move on—plain and simple. Yet, is it really that simple? I just slept with the dude! How is that simple? On top of that, he’s still in love with Faith. I’ll never meet up to his standards; I’ll never be the girl without the graphic body art, piercings in my belly and nose, and ever changing hair color. I’m not that girl. I like rock and roll, I like putting art on my body and I like switching up my hair color. That’s who I am and if he can’t see me for who I am on the inside? Screw him! Screw his judgmental thoughts about me. Oh, but yes, he was so sorry about hurting my feelings—fuck that! He can just kiss my ass! I don’t care what he thinks of me! It’s his loss anyways.
After seeing Faith upset at JINKS’ party, and after Phillip took her home, I tried texting her, but she never responded. The day I stormed off from Phillip’s I went to her suite to see what happened—no such luck. I gave up and headed to the studio instead. I had tons of work to do, yet my mind would not let me forget about sleeping with Phillip. I want to rip my hair out every time I think about his perfectly sculpted body. My God his body is unbelievable; his rippled abs, broad, muscular shoulders, arms, the V that leads down to his cock—holy shit he’s a beautiful man. Although I want to bury that one fateful night, I can’t forget the way he looked at me—yes he was drunk, but he still looked at me with hunger and desire. His green eyes, holy crap I can drown in those eyes, they are gorgeous—he’s gorgeous dammit and he’s not mine to drown in! Ugh, I really need to stop thinking about him! I chuck the rest of my work and call it a day. I text my good friend, Peta, and ask her if I can stop by her place so I can get this heavy feeling off of my chest; I need to talk to someone.
Peta is a drop dead, gorgeous bombshell; she’s got long wavy red hair, is tall, lean, and has a great rack, along with kickass curves—the lady needs to be a runway model—that’s how unfuckingbelievably HOT she is!
“How Peta? How would you tell your best friend that you slept with her boyfriend?” I ask, while she comes around the sofa with a glass of wine for me. Wine is a deal breaker with Peta—you have a problem, drink a glass of wine. I am certainly not complaining with her choice of remedy.
She sits down next to me, grinning. “First of all, I wouldn’t sleep with Sandy’s boyfriend—husband. Second, I’m engaged.”
I sway my head back with frustration. “I’m not talking
literally, I’m talking figuratively!”
“Girl, I know you are, but even in the most heated moment would I ever consider jumping Quinn’s bones, he’s too intense and controlling.” She takes a sip of her wine, then continues with a shrug, “Plus he never had the hots for me anyways, but it looks as though Phillip had the hots for you or he wouldn’t have tried to get you in the sack.”
“Oh, he clearly stated I am not his type.” And boy, did he ever say I was not his type; I could feel his eyes darting from point A to point B on every part of my body, and it wasn’t because he thought I was hot. He definitely did not like my tattoos.
“Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Point taken.” I lean back, slouching, drinking this amazing wine—where the hell did she get this stuff? It’s very tasty. “Since Faith cheated on Phillip anyways, do you think she would be more understanding?”
She looks at me as if I just burst a brain vessel. “June . . . there is only way to find out—tell her the truth! You ignoring her is not going to help. It’s only going to make her pissed off and I don’t think you want that. Plus you need her too and by pushing her away you’re only hurting yourself—possibly more than it’s hurting Faith.”
Clearly she knows more about being a best friend than I do; best friends don’t stab each other in the backs, they tell each other the truth whether it’s good for them or not.
After a much needed girl talk, it was time for me to get home. Although I still feel like shit, at least I had someone who I could lay out all of my personal baggage to. “Thanks for letting me come over.” I hug my friend. “I really needed you to kick my ass.”
Peta pats my back. “That’s what friends are for.”
I am about to walk out the door when I totally forgot to ask Peta about her fiance,’ Scott. Here I am being a big baby over my one-night-stand while my dear friend is probably sick with worry. Scott is in the Military; he’s been in the middle east for half a year. What she must be going through on a daily basis—I can’t imagine. “Oh, hey, any word on when Scott is coming back?”