Romance: The College Bad Boy: A Young Adult Romance

by Veronica Cross

Richie had finally given up throwing a fit that afternoon and resigned to a nap when there was a knock on the door. Dickie was on the farm and Annika was looking forward to taking a power sleep also. Dammit, Lucy! I could have used you twenty minutes ago! As Annika threw open the door, expecting to see the cheerful brunette, she was stunned to see Luke on her doorstep. Before she could utter a word, he stepped over threshold and kissed her. Annika went to step back but Luke overpowered her, kicking the door shut with his foot. His hand encircled the back of her neck and he pressed his mouth against hers, bruising her lips. There was no sign of the gentle, boyish Luke she had grown to know. He bit her lower lip and stared into her eyes as if challenging her to stop him. Time froze as they looked at one another. Suddenly, she pulled his face toward hers, their tongues meeting and teasing. He pulled her head back and ran his mouth over her slender throat, down behind her ear and met hers again. She backed up against the wall and allowed for him to pull off her sweater, hands trailing down her back and up her breasts to erect, full nipples. He bit her lip again, this time drawing blood. His hand rested on her throat, pinning her against the wall as his face moved around her engorged breasts. He licked the milk away and moved his free hand up her skirt between her legs and slid his fingers over her throbbing clit. He sighed when he felt her wetness. He began making soft circles with his finger over the pulsating button. Annika moaned quietly and his hand tightened around her throat. Her eyes rolled back and she closed her lids as she felt a rush go through her, bringing her closer to climax as his fingers worked up speed. She was beginning to rise on her tiptoes as she got more and more wet until suddenly she knew she was about to cum. Breathing heavily, she dug her hands into Luke’s shoulders and abruptly, her legs were wrapped around his waist as he plunged into her, hard and deep, without warning but in perfect time to her orgasm. She squirted hot and fast over his huge, rock hard cock as he continued to nibble on her neck, his hands firmly on her perfect ass, rutting into her like a rabid dog. She screamed out, lost in the heat of being pounded against that wall. The angle was hitting her just so that she was having orgasm after orgasm, soaking Luke so that her juices were dripping down his balls onto the floor. Faster he pounded on her, gearing up for his own ejaculation.

  “You are mine. You belong with me, Annika.” And he came so hot inside her, she could feel him in every inch of her body.

  The wedding was scheduled for the last Saturday in May. Annika didn’t want to push her luck by setting a June wedding date.

  “The universe has already been too good to me,” she told Dickie. He had laughed. “The universe only hands out equal and opposite reactions to what you put in, my dear Annika. If you’re getting good things, you must have done something right.”

  “Tell that to my step-dad,” Annika muttered. She was getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Dickie was already set to go, looking exceptionally dapper in a black dress shirt and khakis.

  “Your step-father was a porn producer who seduced your mother, one of his actresses,” Dickie replied flatly. “He’s hardly one to give advice or opinions on anything.” Annika spun and looked at him

  “I never told you that. How do you know that about Larry?” Dickie shrugged and laughed.

  “I know you like to think you’re mysterious, Annie, but there is very little Google doesn’t know if you ask the right questions.” He smiled at her. “You have never looked more beautiful, fire crotch. Motherhood becomes you.” Annika ran a hand through her hair and smiled back at him. Then her beam faded as she saw sadness in her best friend’s eye.

  “What’s wrong, Dickie?”

  “Nothing! Why?”

  “I can tell something’s up.” His smile faltered a bit.

  “I am so happy for you, Annie. I really am. I…I just hope my time comes soon too.”

  They were late arriving and when they got there, Luke mockingly gave Annie a lecture.

  “Late to your own party? This won’t fly once we’re married!”

  “Once we’re married, I won’t have to dress a queen!” Annika retorted. Instantly, a man flew to Luke’s side.

  “Did someone say queen?” he asked, delicately, extending a hand toward Annika. Luke rolled his eyes.

  “No one was talking about you, Andrew. This is my fiancée, Annie and her friend, Dickie. He’s the queen we meant…this time. Guys, this is my cousin, Andrew.” Dickie shook his hand and Annika noticed an instant spark between the two.

  “Let’s go, wife, before they start redecorating our house,” Luke joked.

  “That is ignorant and stereotypical!” Dickie yelled after them.

  “It’s not our fault you think garden gnomes are cute!” Andrew screamed simultaneously. Howling with laughter, Luke and Annika ducked into the garden and stole away to Louisa’s swing set.

  “I love you, Annika,” Luke told her, looking into her eyes with the same affection and adoration he had from the first day he had seen her. “I love you and our son and I will never let you go.”

  “Luke, I have something to tell you.” The look of bliss faded from his face. He squeezed her hands.

  “You can tell me anything and I will love you. I promise. Always. What is it?”

  “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have another baby.”

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  Mail Order Bride: Escaping Europe

  Veronica Cross

  Escaping Europe

  Copyright 2016 by Veronica Cross

  First electronic publication: January 2017

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.

  Escaping Europe

  Part I

  Chapter One

  “Hey lardo, you got yourself a nice accent there. Really matches your tie!” Christopher cackled, gesturing at his brother’s shirt. “You’re almost forty, bud. Maybe it’s time you learned how to use a fork!”

  Some of the other family members chuckled and Jon looked down at his top. Immediately he saw the gravy stain over his breast and felt himself blushing. He picked up a linen napkin and began to dab at the blot, causing it to smear.

  “Oh, nice one!” Chris taunted, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and Jon was grateful for the few seconds of silence the motion bought him.

  “Johnny, stop rubbing at it!” his mother chided, shaking her head in exasperation. “You’re only making it worse.”

  Obediently, he stopped, suddenly unsure of what to do. His cheeks aflame with embarrassment, his dark brown eyes rested on the kind gaze of Chris’ wife, Elyse.

  “I’ll get you some club soda, Jon,” she told him, standing from the table.

  “He can do it himself, Ellie,” Chris snapped, his smirk fading as she turned away. She barely glanced her husband as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I’m closer,” she replied as the swinging door closed behind her firm backside. She was six and a half months pregnant but still as agile as she had been the day she had married Christopher five years earlier.

  “Your wife is
a keeper,” Jordan commented, eyeing his brother-in-law’s partner with more interest than his own wife liked. Jon and Chris’ sister, Tristan glared at her husband but said nothing, her attention suddenly diverted by her toddler daughter who had discovered the cat. Tristan’s dark expression caused a riff at the dinner table despite her silence. It was not Jordan’s fault per se. Elyse was a beautiful woman. It was not simply her Patrician beauty but she had such an unpretentious air, it was impossible not to feel comfortable in her presence. If Jordan had finer filters, he would have been able to contain his shameless ogling but alas, Tristan’s high school sweetheart was not known for his tact.

  “Yeah, she’s something else,” Chris agreed, taking a sip of wine. Jon felt himself cringe, recognizing the devilish drunken haze in his oldest sibling’s eye. He knew what was coming and not for the first time, he wished he was as much of a drinker as every other member of his family. He glanced somewhat enviously around at the tipsy people in his midst, wondering what it was like to be able to silence inhibitions on a whim.

  “Now we just have to find Jon a woman even a fraction as good as mine!” Chris continued, shooting his brother a coy smile. It was not so much a desire for his sibling to find happiness which Christopher longed for as it was a need to humiliate him as frequently as possible. The boys were only two years apart and should have been best of friends, but it became apparent at a young age that Chris and Jon had very little in common. As teens, their mother insisted that it was healthy sibling rivalry but as the two grew into adulthood, Chris’ jabs became more constant and hurtful. Jon finally recognized that his brother was ashamed of him. Who could blame Chris? As the oldest, he had been athletic, popular and charismatic while Jon had always had his nose stuck in a book, battling his weight and struggling with social anxiety. Chris got married in his last year of college and had his first child when he was twenty-two while Jon attempted online dating once every six months, only to end up feeling incredibly rejected and retreating into his shell. Chris never gave up an opportunity to make his younger brother feel inadequate and he had years of experience. As a result, Jon tried desperately to avoid spending time with him but of course, Christmas dinner was not an option when Mary-Anne Hewson was the matriarch of the family.

  “He loves you, Johnny. You can’t take everything so personal. You have to learn to grow thicker skin,” Mary-Anne told her son firmly.

  “Yeah, well I’m almost forty, mom. I don’t think I’m doing any more growing,” he replied dryly.

  “Well, I certainly hope not around your waistline. Honestly, Johnny, you need to find someone to cook for you. You’re eating fast food all the time, aren’t you?” She stared critically at him and Jon hung his head in shame. It was not hard to see where Christopher got his personality. Despite Mary-Anne’s well-meaning intentions, her words could be just as cutting as her oldest son’s. It seemed to Jon that since the passing of his father five years earlier, Mary-Anne had become an even darker person, never stopping to weigh the impact of her “advice” before she spoke.

  Elyse returned from the kitchen, a can of club soda and another linen napkin in her hand. She waddled gracefully toward him and instantly began dabbing at his shirt.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, Ellie, he can do that himself!” Chris barked, his face red with anger. His fork dropped to his plate with a clatter and he balled his fists in protest. Again, Elyse ignored him and continued what she was doing while Tristan, Mary-Anne and Jordan stared open-mouthed.

  “Nice, Ellie! Hitting on Uncle Jon!” Kevin, Chris’ seventeen-year-old son piped up and was quickly reprimanded by his father with a backhand to the head.

  “Ow dad!” Kevin yelled, rubbing his blonde head and glaring at his father. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Show some respect to your step-mother!” Chris yelled. “Elyse, stop that right now.”

  Albeit unperturbed by the outburst, Jon’s sister-in-law ceased what she was doing and smiled warmly at him.

  “Now it won’t leave a stain,” she told him. Blushing furiously, Jon nodded, unable to speak. She reclaimed her spot beside Chris and resumed eating her supper as if there had not been any interruption.

  “So, uh, Johnny, how is work going?” Tristan asked after a moment of awkward silence. He turned gratefully to his sister.

  “It’s busy. I have a lot of projects on the go,” he answered truthfully, about to delve into the world of web design. His work was his pride and joy, his escape from the deep depression which was his life. Before he could continue, however, Chris snorted.

  “You would think that with all the money you’re making, you’d have landed yourself a trophy wife by now.” Their sister had had enough and she whipped her napkin onto her unfinished meal as if she had suddenly lost her appetite.

  “Chris give it a rest,” Tristan snarled at her brother. “Not everyone makes marriage a sport.” Another round of shocked silence overcame the table as Chris’ face went pale. Elyse was his third wife and while Jon would have never uttered the words, he wanted to kiss his sister for saying it. Jon glanced furtively at Elyse who simply kept eating, a sardonic smirk on her face. Her expression seemed to read “you deserved that, Chris.”

  “How dare you!” The oldest sibling jumped up from the table as if he was going to strike the woman. But he was no match for Tristan who, although was the youngest by ten years and a hundred pounds smaller than the oldest Hewson sibling, had the mouth of drunken sailor and the brains of a sober astronaut. Just as fast, she was on her feet, staring Chris down, their almost identical hazel eyes clashing furiously.

  “What? It isn’t slander if it’s true. Or don’t you remember that from your two-month bout of ‘wanting to become a lawyer?’ Sit the fuck down and leave Jon alone,” she hissed. “I am sick and tired of not being able to enjoy a single goddamn family meal without listening to your bullshit.”

  “Tristan Anne Hewson-Miller!” Mary-Anne gasped, horrified at her daughter but Tristan did not waver and she silently challenged Christopher to speak, her bright eyes flashing with danger.

  Chris opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Elyse touched his arm and as if he was drugged, he immediately sat back on his chair.

  “Sorry about that, family,” Tristan said nonchalantly, also sitting but still staring down her brother as if daring him to speak. “Someone had to say it. And by the way, Elyse, I meant no offense to you.”

  “None taken,” Elyse replied smoothly. She smiled softly and turned to her brother-in-law.

  “Now, what were you saying, Johnny?”

  Jonathan Hewson the Third was a wealthy man by society standards. His income crossed into the low seven figure bracket and while he was self-employed as a web designer, his clientele base grew monthly. He had a small group of underlings whom he never saw as everyone was employed from the safety and comfort of their own homes. Tristan, an accountant by trade, had been pushing him to set up his business properly before the International Revenue Service came knocking on his door but Jon had been putting it off because of his social anxiety. He did not want the stress of hiring secretaries and looking for office space. He also did not want anyone to know this. It was for this reason that he continued to carry on his thriving business from the security of his three-bedroom condo in Connecticut. No one would have guessed Jon was a success judging by the way he lived. A housekeeper came once a week to do the basics such as washing the windows and cleaning behind the toilet but the consensus around the cleaning agency was that Jon was wasting his money. The apartment was always impeccably kept and even if it had not been, he had so few belongings, it made the chores a breeze. He was a minimalist by nature and he loathed clutter. His rooms were functional with reasonably priced furniture but nothing ostentatious. He could not justify spending copious amounts of cash on material things not because he was frugal but because he didn’t feel as though he deserved them. There was nothing appealing about Jon to himself. He was not as attractive, witty, charming or athletic l
ike his brother. He carried too much weight despite his formidable height. And while he had been told he was a gentle soul, he never saw any redeeming qualities in himself. He tried to tell himself that he preferred the company of books to people but that was not true. He was insufferably lonely, something that even his sister didn’t realize about him. Tristan was the closest person he had to a friend in the world but even she was worlds apart from him, although not as much as he and Christopher. The age difference had much to do with the slight strain in the potential relationship but Tristan was also married with a young family and while she went out of her way to include Jon in outings and events, Jon always felt like he was the third wheel. He tried to frequent bars or art galleries but he was not much for socializing and when it came to meeting people, he found himself tongue-tied even though he wanted nothing more than companionship. It was inevitable, then, that Jon found other ways to curb his loneliness.

  The first one’s name was Amber and Jon had been sure that she was “the one.” She was slender, blonde and had vivid blue eyes which made his heart skip every time she looked into his eyes. She was a medical student at the University of Connecticut and while Jon desperately wanted her to move in with him, she had informed him that she needed to be closer to school.

  “I am going to be on-call a lot, Johnny,” Amber had told him in her honey-filled voice. Jon immediately rented her a lavish apartment near the college, fully furnishing it with everything she needed. She had been so grateful to him; she had waived the escort agency’s fee that week. After six months, Jon had set her up with a bank account which he kept healthily replenished. He had offered to pay off her tuition directly but she insisted on keeping paying some of her own way. Jon adored her independence. He was sure that Amber was happy and would never leave him. She rewarded him with heavy nights of passion and he spoiled her with shopping trips and jewellery. She was everything he could have ever wanted in a woman. He loved the way people looked at them when they were out together but Amber much preferred the privacy of being home where they could cuddle and watch movies. He was building up the nerve to ask her to marry him and secretly couldn’t wait to see the look on Christopher’s face when he saw how beautiful was his future wife. One day, however, Jon called Amber and her phone was out of service. Shocked, as he was the one paying the bill, he called the phone company who informed him that Amber had requested the phone be canceled. As she was also on the account, it was within their right to comply with her demand. With a growing sense of unease, Jon got in his 2003 Ford Escape and drove to her apartment complex. He did not see her 2015 BMW he had bought her in the usual parking spot in the carport. When a kid in his late teens answered the door, Jon felt his bowels turn to water. The boy explained that he had just begun subletting the apartment and the “chick before” had gone to Europe indefinitely. A mix of humiliation and anger flooded Jon when he finally accepted the fact that he had been played by a professional. When those emotions subsided, it was replaced with deep anguish. And more loneliness.