I Love It: 10 Intense Stories to Keep the Passion Alive (Shameless Book Bundles 6)

by Saffron Daughter

  I blink, wondering why I even asked. I don’t know what that is. Just as the door is shutting behind us, I stick my foot in the gap.

  “Hold on, I forgot my watch.”

  I run into the room, grab it off the desk, and catch a glimpse at the top of the trash can. There’s a cigarette pack there, and the lid is open, and I can see there are still cigarettes in the box.

  I smile.

  “Come on,” I say to Chance, taking my suitcase and pulling it quickly behind me. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  *****

  Chance

  “Thanks for walking around campus with me,” she says. It’s drizzling, windy, and cold – some summer – but her happiness seems unflappable. She’s been gripping onto my hand, envisioning her future life here, the three years she’ll be spending at this university.

  And I’m just thinking about what’s going to happen to us.

  It’s not like me to think like that. I’m not one to get attached. I never have before.

  “So what do we do now that we’re, you know, fucking?”

  She laughs. “Oh, is that what we’re doing?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I seem to remember you making a grand confession yesterday in my hotel room.”

  I’m falling in love with you. I thought I would regret saying it, but I don’t.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, the way I see it, we have two options. Keep it secret, or put it out there in the open.”

  I feel my heart quicken. She doesn’t want this to end.

  “I think your father would blow a fuse if he found out about us.”

  “I’ll be gone from home in two months, anyway,” she says, before realizing what she’s touched on. She changes the subject quickly. “Did you apply for college anywhere?”

  “No,” I say. “I was thinking about going traveling.”

  “Traveling,” she says, and she gives me a I don’t believe you face. “You?”

  “What do you mean me?”

  “You just don’t seem like the traveling type.”

  “I had this vague plan,” I say, and it’s the truth. It was very vague. “Thought I’d pack up what I need, sell the Mazda, everything else I can, and just go somewhere. Find work in a bar, and when I get bored, move on to the next place. Do a year like that, moving from town to town.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” she says, but she doesn’t say it enthusiastically. There’s an elephant in the room now. “Where were you thinking?”

  “Originally? I thought Europe. Or maybe Asia. Cheaper there.”

  “Europe’s close.”

  “To where?” I ask.

  “To here.”

  We come to a gentle stop, but she’s looking away now, and fiddling with her hair. I know she’s put herself out there. I know she feels like she’s walking a tightrope with no safety harness.

  “You think I should come here and do that?”

  “Expensive to live in London, but I was planning on getting a part-time job myself. If you can find a place to work, I don’t know…” She shrugs, and I corral her into my arms, turn her so she has to face me.

  “You don’t know what?”

  “We could live together, maybe. Split the cost.”

  “You won’t be staying in dorms?”

  “No, definitely not. Too noisy, too dirty.”

  I roll the idea over in my head. Come to England, be the stereotypical American backpacker who tends bar.

  “What can you do?” she asks. I can tell by the way she asks it that she’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt my feelings. I appreciate it, but I only find it amusing.

  I answer her honestly, though. “Can fix a car or a bike.” I shrug. “Work in a bar.”

  “Sounds like what most young people who travel around do.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Two months is a long time.”

  “Not long enough.”

  She bunches her brow. “Not long enough for what?”

  “For this not to work,” I say, gesturing at her and then me.

  “I can hardly believe it. Chance Hudson actually considering moving half way across the world for a girl?”

  “Please, don’t say it out loud like that,” I say, grinning. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “Well, the plus side of that is that we won’t have to hide from our parents.”

  “The plus side to that is that I don’t lose you in two months,” I say. “I don’t give a shit about hiding from our parents.”

  She hugs me quickly, then, holds on to me as if she’s never going to let go, and I feel this sensation inside my chest; it’s like a thump. It’s… it’s something that I can’t put into words. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of losing her, by the thought of not being there for her. That she won’t be there to snipe at me, or that she won’t be there for me to see, hear, smell.

  I’ve got my nose in her hair and I kiss the top of her head, and I hold her tight against my body.

  I really don’t want to lose her.

  How did we end up like this? I would have never guessed it.

  “Alright,” I say. “I’ll come out here.”

  She lifts her head to look up at me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Why not? Will be fun.”

  “We can go to Paris!” she says. “It’s just a train ride away, not that expensive, too. Or in between semesters we could go up to Ireland, or Scotland. We could go traveling for weeks at a time, and then when summer holidays hit, we could do a bigger trip. What do you think?”

  I smile, can’t hold back a laugh, and kiss her on the lips. “Yeah,” I say. “That sounds like a plan.”

  She pulls out her guidebook, and peers at the index. “You hungry, Chance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to go to Camden Market?”

  “What is it?”

  “God, don’t you know anything about the place we’re in? Didn’t you read a brochure or something?”

  “I was too busy listening to you yap away.”

  She ignores me and reads from her guide. “Curious cobbled pathways, and with over seven hundred stores, stalls, and vendors, you can walk around for hours and always see something new.”

  Cass looks up at me. “What do you think?”

  “Oh God, you’re not asking me to go shopping with you, are you?”

  “Yes, I am. We can get some food, and besides, you might see something you like.”

  “Why not, then?”

  “Great!” She flips her book shut, and we start tracing back our steps to get to the nearest subway station.

  “Hey, did you quit smoking because I don’t like it?”

  “No,” I lie. “Just a change of pace.”

  “You’re a bad liar, Chance.”

  We go there together, and all I’m thinking about is how I can’t wait to be living with her, here in London, in two months’ time.

  I’m in love with my step-sister, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Well, maybe our parents could just get divorced already, because that’s never going to work.

  ###

  About the Author

  Saffron Daughter

  THANK YOU to my readers who have made me a Top 100 Erotica Author. I'm not sure how long it will last, but I'm so grateful!

  Email me at Saffron.Daughter@gmail.com anytime! Sign up for my mailing list to receive information on new releases, as well as exclusive free ebook content: http://eepurl.com/KAjob

  Saffron Daughter is my pen name, and I'm in my early thirties. I'm a successful professional, engaged to be married to the love of my life, and I've traveled to over thirty countries. I also likes to write risqué and spicy erotica, especially of the taboo kind.

  In my spare time, I do all the cliché things; walk on the beach at sunset, take my two rescued mongrels for long treks, and spend time with my fiancé any chance I get. But when I find a moment of peace, in between the job, the lover, and the dog
s, I'm tapping away on my keyboard, penning my every dirty thought.

  Thank you for supporting an indie author. Anything you can do, be it write a truthful review or tell a friend, I would appreciate.

  Also from Saffron Daughter

  Pierce Her Stepbrother: Her Stepbrother Fighter: He fights for money... but will he fight for me?

  Pierce Fletcher. He's a tattooed, foul-mouthed cage fighter. He's a sexy, panty-melting prick. He's a cocky, condescending jerk.

  So why am I falling for him? I never thought the first boy I'd ever have was a boy I'd hate to want.

  But things happen, right? We all make mistakes, right?

  So picture this: The morning after my mistake, I get an email, and it's from my father...

  ...Telling me he's going to marry Pierce's mother.

  He's about to become my stepbrother... and he's still in bed next to me.

  What do I do?

  What would you do?

  Pierce Her Stepbrother is a steamy, explicit standalone novella about a young couple that find lust, and must overcome hurdles to find love. It is not part of a series, and has a happy ending. It contains graphic language.

  This book contains a cameo from characters Chance and Cassie, from the book Chance Her Stepbrother.

  This, I Can

  Do – Willsin Rowe

  Lungs of steel. That’s what we should have named her. Abigail is far too refined for my little bundle of energy and noise. But Bradley insisted his daughter should have a family name, and I never could say no to that man. Oh, when he rolled over this morning and put his hand on my hip…well, if he’d voiced the question, I highly doubt the word ‘no’ would have come anywhere near my lips. Well, right up until Abbie started squealing at least. That would put the damper on anything.

  With my baby’s wriggling form lying face down over my forearm, I strolled around the living room hoping she’d drift off to sleep, or at least shut the hell up. But even the noise and discomfort couldn’t stop me thinking about Bradley’s big, strong hand on my voluminous hip.

  It would have been our first time making love since becoming parents. So far the upheaval of our lives had pushed all that aside. I wasn’t sure if Bradley had unbelievable self-control or worn out palms, but so far he’d never pressured me.

  Sure, we could squeeze in a hug here or a kiss there, and he was always ready to give me a good, hard foot massage. The way he worked me over was near-orgasmic, if that counted for anything. Bradley's foot massages were better than any sex I’d had before I met him. Even so they weren’t a patch on the earth-shattering orgasms he’d conjured out of my body in the past six years. Whether with fingers, tongue or cock, that man could play me like a harp.

  But the turmoil of Abbie wasn’t the only thing that got in the way. There was also the fear. What if, now I’d been pregnant once, my body just jumped straight back on that bandwagon? Having one teething infant was so difficult. Going back for a second helping sounded absolutely terrifying.

  Abbie’s rasping wail pulled me back into the present, and I winced with shame. It wasn’t the dirty thoughts that made me embarrassed. It was the fear. My baby needed me right now and I was thinking of my own needs. What kind of mother does that?

  A tired one, that’s what kind. The night still weighed heavily on my eyelids, and Abbie’s tiny nubs of teeth caused havoc in every part of my daily life. My little girl’s a real biter, which was bad enough when she only had gums. Now it’s sheer torture. I can barely feed her at times, which makes her grumpier and me even more stressed. Another way I’m failing my baby.

  Her pain is my pain, in every way. But when she screams and I’m three parts zombie, I just want to put her in her crib and hide in a soundproof room. With wine.

  The thought of that—of abandoning all responsibility—had me eyeing off the pantry. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had a drink before noon, but I hadn’t done it since college.

  I shifted my little caterwauling cutie up to my shoulder and bounced her, out of habit more than hope. A glance at the clock reassured me I was in this for the long haul. Nap time was over two hours away. She was dog tired, no doubt about it, since she hadn’t slept any better than I had. But she was dry and warm and still squawking, so it had to be the teeth.

  In the face of Hurricane Abbie there was no chance of problem-solving, so in desperation I laid my little noisemaker in her crib. Abigail’s determination—she definitely got that from her father—drove her to pull herself shakily to her feet so she could stare me down balefully. How could a baby make herself clear, even though she had no words yet? Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, mommy?

  Bitey little bubba had destroyed two pacifiers in the last three days and I hadn’t managed to get to the store. Her last surviving one wasn’t on the changing table, where I always leave it, and a quick search yielded nothing.

  As if sensing my worry, Abbie screamed a little louder and grabbed my finger.

  “Oh, sweetie. Give mommy two minutes. Please.”

  I pulled loose from her anguished grip and scuttled out to the phone, dialing Bradley’s work number as I hurried back to Abbie’s room. I’d read the books and I knew the theories; that I was supposed to let her be so she could learn to work it out by herself. But when I was deeply entrenched in the moment, when she was blaring like a siren, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone. Long term be damned, I could barely get through the next moment.

  “Charles Electronics, Richelle speaking.”

  “Hi, Richelle, it’s Teresa. Can I please speak to Bradley, please?”

  “Sorry? I can barely hear you. Is that a fire engine?”

  “No, it’s the latest club mix. All the kids are getting down to it. Can I please speak to Bradley?”

  Richelle sighed and muttered something I wouldn’t have heard even without Abbie’s noise. The moment I heard Bradley’s voice I almost wet myself with relief. It almost didn’t matter he was four miles away. His beautiful baritone seemed to cradle me. It reminded me I wasn’t in this thing alone.

  “Hello, Bradley speak—woah. My little girl’s really got a head of steam going, huh?”

  “So’s your big girl. I need to know where you put her pacifier.”

  “In the trash.”

  “What?” A spider of panic stretched its legs through my belly.

  “She killed it, Tez. You know we can’t use it once it’s torn.”

  “Oh, fu–…uh, I mean phooey. That was the last one.”

  “I’ll get out at lunch and pick up some more.”

  “And a quart of tequila.”

  “Done.”

  I closed Abbie’s door, just to get a tiny break from the wall of noise. “Brad, I…” Fear stole my voice. Or maybe it was shame.

  “What is it, Tez?”

  “I–I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

  “Oh, Tez. She’ll sleep soon, I’m sure. Then you can take a nap as well. I’ll be home by–”

  “I don’t mean just this morning. I mean…” I was scared to finish that sentence.

  “How long’s she been going?”

  “Since just after you left. You must’ve woken her.” I hated that tone in my voice, but someone had to wear the blame. And it needed to be someone other than me.

  “Ah, damn. I’m sorry, Tez, I tried to be gentle.”

  “It’s fine for you. Nobody squeals at you for hours. You make your mess and leave me to fix it up!” I let a breath wash in and out and it calmed me down a bit. “Sorry, babe. It’s just so constant.”

  “I know, and I really am sorry, Tez. But there’s no way I could go to work without saying goodbye to my angel.”

  “Angel? Of darkness, maybe. Next time, babe…you wake her, you take her.” In that moment I was deadly serious. There was some kind of kinship between Abbie and her daddy that I seemed not to be privy to. I just got all the work. It made me jealous as hell sometimes when all he did was walk into the room and she’d be all suns
hine and rainbows.

  As if she could sense her missing daddy on the phone, Abbie started squawking like I was murdering her. Even with the door closed I had no hope of hearing Bradley.

  “Babe, I’ll have to call you back. When my headache goes to sleep.”

  I hung up without waiting for a reply. Times like this I wish I’d taken him up on his offer to stay home and let me go back to work.

  Abbie kept squealing, each note of pain shriller than the last. I slapped my hands over my ears and yelled back at her, and for just a moment I felt so good in such a childish way. Of course, all Abbie heard was a challenge to her position as head screamer, and cranked it up another notch.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I usually avoided swearing around her, but in that moment I was a trapped animal, and none of the rules applied. Of course, a second later I wanted to suck the words straight back again. Mommies don’t swear.

  I slapped Abbie’s door a couple of times. “Cry it out, sweetie. You’ll be fine. I just need a moment.” So far, my daughter had won every battle, but this time…maybe today would be my day. It had to be.

  Two minutes. Five minutes. And the only change was that the pitch of her squealing actually grew shriller. A hundred different times, almost of its own accord, my hand flew to the door knob, but I stopped short of turning it. I had tried everything already, and I had failed. When was it my turn to throw a tantrum?

  In our cosy little house the only place I could escape my bawling bubba was in the shower. It was about time to hose the breakfast out of my hair anyway. I popped my head in to make sure she was safe, which earned me a brand new look of scorn, then ducked into the bathroom.

  The white noise of hot water cascading over me was more beautiful than a symphony, just because of what it was blocking. It was rare for me to shower this late in the morning. Usually I squeeze in a quick one between when Bradley wakes and when he leaves for work. Everything had gone against me this morning.

  The heat seeped its way into my body, gradually mixing into the mess of fear and stress in my head and diluting it. It was all still there, but it somehow seemed…thinner.