by Gemma James
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Titles by Gemma James
Summary
Note To Readers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Epilogue
Bonus Book: Trashy Foreplay
1. It's the End of the World
2. You Poleaxed Me at Hello
3. Fate's Connection
4. The Touch of Your Hand
5. Three Simple Rules
6. Dangle
7. Baby, Come Home
8. The Interview
9. Bathroom Break
10. Double Trouble
11. Chance Encounter
12. Club Shadow
13. My Dear Friend Loneliness
14. Emotional Affair
15. The Perils of Dating
16. Meet the Parents
17. Hello, Jealousy
18. Market Confessions
19. Harsh Goodbyes
20. A Frank Talk
21. In the Shadows
22. When We Fall
23. After the Depravity
24. Lose Control
25. Owned
26. Alpha
27. Slip of the Tongue
28. Yellow Tape
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About the Author
Swallow Me Whole
Copyright © 2018 Gemma James
Ebook cover and interior design by Gemma James
Cover images used under license from Depositphotos
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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TITLES BY GEMMA JAMES
(CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE)
Trashy Affair Series
Trashy Foreplay (Trashy Affair #1)
Trashy Conquest (Trashy Affair #2)
Trashy Climax (Trashy Affair #3)
Standalone Novels
Epiphany
Swallow Me Whole
(DARK ROMANCE)
Condemned Series
Torrent (Condemned #1)
Rampant (Condemned #2)
Fervent (Condemned #3)
Vagrant (Condemned #4)
Deviant (Condemned #5)
Descent (Condemned #6)
Devil’s Kiss Series
The Devil’s Kiss (Devil’s Kiss #1)
The Devil’s Claim (Devil’s Kiss #2)
The Devil’s Wife (Devil’s Kiss #3)
The Devil’s Spawn (Devil’s Kiss #4)
SUMMARY
Sadie Sawyer wants to learn how to blow a guy. She’s my sister’s best friend. The girl I’ve known since grade school. The girl I’ve always considered off-limits. She’s the girl that crawled under a table in a bar one night and changed everything between us.
Now the brain in my pants is more than willing to step up. The rules are simple.
No kissing.
No screwing.
No falling in love.
But the more I let her use my body in the name of experimentation, the more I know being friends isn’t enough. Is it too much to want it all with her?
The taste of her lips.
The sweetness of her innocence.
The chance to earn her love.
I might have a real shot with her…if her douchebag ex and my past don’t ruin everything.
NOTE TO READERS
Swallow Me Whole is a friends-to-lovers standalone romance. Full-length at 77,000 words. Please note that parts of this story were previously published as a serial under the pen name of Angel Allen. This standalone novel includes the complete story.
For a limited time, Trashy Foreplay is included as a bonus book in this copy of Swallow Me Whole, so the main book ends at about the 58% mark.
Chapter One
Sadie
Moaning. It’s the first thing assaulting my ears as I approach my boyfriend’s office. My knuckles whiten, fingers tightly gripping the wicker basket I’m carrying. It’s late, and this visit is supposed to be a surprise.
Maybe I’m the one in for a surprise.
I stall outside his door, and there’s no doubt at what I’m hearing. Releasing a soundless breath, I feel my shoulders sag, same as my spirit. God, I feel like a fucking cliché right now—the clueless girlfriend catching her man cheating at the office late at night. It doesn’t help that I have that wholesome girl-next-door appearance bullshit to go along with the overdone trope.
At five feet and three inches tall, with thick red hair that doesn’t know the first thing about behaving, I’m not the poster girl for a man’s wet dream. And don’t get me started on the freckles smattering my nose and cheeks. I’ve been told my freckles are adorable, sexy even, but I’m sure the people who said it are full of shit. Especially now, considering the groans and grunts coming through the door of Jake’s office. I bet whoever she is, she doesn’t have freckles.
Adorable doesn’t get a girl anywhere with someone like Jake Jennings. He’s the epitome of mature and successful. Classic good looks, blond hair never out of place, strong jaw and broad shoulders. The man favors expensive suits, and he wears them well.
Being that I’m several years younger than Jake, dating him made me feel mature. My father approved—how could he not, since Jake is on the fast track to becoming a junior partner at his law firm.
Sounds like he’s on the fast track to getting laid as well.
Betrayal rises in my chest, coils around my heart, threatens to slice and dice. I should be used to betrayal and rejection by now. Guys have proven they can’t be trusted, and as for rejection…
I get enough of that from my father.
But he looks at me differently since Jake and I began dating. I hate the thought of losing that, of disappointing him yet again, but if the sounds on the other side of the door are an
y indication, I won’t have a choice.
Clutching the bodice of my little black dress, as if I can keep my heart from bleeding hurt, I tell myself to close the remaining steps to the door of his office. But I hesitate, grieving the could’ve been of another relationship down the drain.
Another lost opportunity to work past my fear of sex and intimacy, because tonight was supposed to be the night.
It’s the slimeball’s birthday, and he begged off from celebrating, claiming he had to pull an all-nighter on the case my dad’s had him working on. So I decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner I prepared for the occasion, hoping I could coax him into taking a break.
I’d hoped to take our relationship to the next level by giving him what he’s wanted for weeks.
A blow job.
A real blow job—the kind that involves messy thrusting and sucking, and zero inhibition as his ecstasy spurts down my throat. I’d even convinced myself I had enough courage to give him my fucking V-card.
God, I’m so stupid.
My best friend warned me about him from the get-go.
He’s got the douchebag vibe going on.
How can you tell?
It’s in the eyes, Sadie. The smug bastard thinks he’s better than everyone else.
Guess she was right, but I refused to hear it. A single glance in his direction shattered my brain cells, and I followed his come-hither smile like a cat on the scent of dinner scraps.
“Yes! Oh God, fuck yes, Jake. Your tongue…right there.”
A warm tingle travels down my spine, which is interesting since I’m angry as hell.
Turn away. You don’t want to see this.
I take three steps forward, and my hand stalls halfway to the knob. He left the door ajar—no point in worrying about privacy when everyone in the office has already gone home for the day. One soundless push of that door, and I’ll see for myself that Jake Jennings is scum.
No, he’s the grime that lines the tiles in my shower, the mud caking the soles of my sneakers from our hike last weekend. Thinking about the time we spent together sucker punches me. I draw in even breaths through my nose, trying to remain silent as tears burn my eyes.
The weather’s been mild for fall, even by Pacific Northwest standards, so we took advantage by getting outside for a few hours. Things got heavy up on that deserted hillside, where we’d spread out a blanket to stop for a picnic. His hands explored every inch of me, yet the day ended with a preamble of what was to come.
I should have known.
He’d wanted more, but when it came time to reciprocate, I ended up freezing with uncertainty. And that’s how it always goes with me.
Guys want what I’m not ready to give. What I’m not confident enough to give.
But Jake said he was different. He said he’d wait until I was ready. He even claimed he wasn’t angry last weekend, but the deafening disquiet between us on the long trek back to his car was the first sign that something was wrong. Our weeks of dates, flirty texts, and smoldering looks at the office were about to get complicated. I’d known it, felt it, because that wasn’t the first time I’d put the brakes on when he was ready to go full throttle.
For days I chewed over my insecurities before coming to the conclusion that I needed to step up my game. He’s a man with needs, and knowing it’s beyond time to move past my fear of taking the next step, I wanted to give him the most special birthday gift I could.
Guess he decided to get it from someone else.
“Get on your knees,” he groans.
I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. Careful not to give away my presence, I set the picnic basket of baked chicken and rice pilaf on the floor then wedge the door open a crack. My heart pounds in my throat as I peer into his office, despite the roaring voice in my head shouting to just walk the fuck away.
Now, Sadie. Walk. The. Fuck. Away.
But I can’t. My gaze fastens on the blonde sinking to her knees in front of him. She’s his assistant—someone I’ve never liked—which makes this even worse in the cliché department. Wearing nothing but a pair of heels and a wide grin, she curls her fingers around his jutting hard-on. His slacks puddle around his ankles, and…Jesus, he’s huge and ready and already dripping onto her double D’s.
I wipe the moisture from my eyes with quick, angry movements. I’m angry at him, and angry at myself for being incapable of looking away as she parts her lips and sucks his length into her mouth. He’s fisting her tousled hair as his hips move so fast that I can’t help but wonder if he’s choking her.
I kind of hope he is.
She purrs around his shaft, making him throw his head back, and a guttural moan escapes his mouth. “You take it like a whore every time.” He yanks her head back and seats the tip between her damp lips. “You want to swallow every drop, don’t you?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans, sliding her lips down his shaft again.
As I watch them, I question the very basis of my being, wading through the conflicting emotions roiling through me. Anger, betrayal, and admittedly, fascination because I want to be the one on my knees.
What would it be like to have a man at my mercy like that, to have the confidence to give head like a whore and enjoy every moment of it? Would our eyes lock on each other the whole time? Would the lustful glint is his stare give me a sense of empowerment?
I should be raging mad at finding my boyfriend with his dick in someone else’s mouth. Not to say that I’m not wounded by his betrayal.
But what I really am, at the core of my soul, is curious.
Confused.
Ashamed.
Hurt.
Yeah, definitely hurt. If he’d given me a little more time, not to mention some damn respect, it could have been me on my knees. I would have given him what he wanted. Could have given him what I wanted. Eventually, after the red haze of shock and hurt wanes, I know I’ll be glad I didn’t get on my knees for him.
He doesn’t deserve it.
And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve my V-card. This asshole doesn’t deserve shit from me, least of all another breath wasted on him.
Leaving the picnic basket on the floor outside his office, I whirl with silent footsteps and creep out the way I came. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t hold on to the anger long enough to drown out the hurt. Hot drops of humiliation drip down my cheeks as I jab the button for the elevator.
Determined to get my shit together before I arrive on the first floor, I dry my eyes. Holding the tears back isn’t easy, but I’m dressed up on a Friday night, and no way am I going to waste it by crying over a loser like Jake.
Chapter Two
Sadie
“You better slow down there, Sadie.”
Ashton Levine, with his caring eyes—the kind of eyes that put puppy dogs to shame—attempts to commandeer my sixth…maybe seventh shot? Before his grabby hands slide it out of reach, I toss it back. My eyeballs water as it burns down my esophagus like the last five rounds of tequila did.
Wait. Is it five or eight? Shit, maybe Ash is right. I’ve lost count.
“She’s messed up over something,” Amanda says. Mandy is my best friend. She’s also Ashton’s twin sister. The two of them cage me in, forcing me into the middle of the cozy circular booth the three of us are sharing. I’m a little annoyed by the furtive glances they keep throwing toward each other. Worried glances.
Probably because I called from Club Hoppin thirty minutes ago, bawling into the phone while camped out in a dirty stall in the women’s restroom. That’s where Mandy found me.
So much for not crying over losers.
“Ya think?” Ashton arches an incredulous dark brow at his sister. They’re always at each other’s throats, despite the two of them being closer than most friends. Maybe it’s a sibling thing…or a twin thing. I wouldn’t know since I’m an only child.
I slam the empty shot glass onto the wooden table and turn to Mandy, blinking several times until her porcelain comp
lexion and sleek brown hair come into focus. “Be a best friend and get me some fries?”
With a sigh, she squeezes my shoulder. “I’m on it.” As she rises to her feet, she shoots a warning look at Ashton. “Don’t let her out of your sight. She never gets this drunk.”
“Got it covered,” he says, waving her off.
As soon as Mandy is on the way to the bar, her tall, voluptuous figure lost in the crowd of sweaty bodies grinding on each other, I face Ashton and prop one hand on his chest to keep from swaying into him. Damn, he’s built underneath that black T-shirt. Black seems to be his signature color, and it suits him since he could be the definition of dark, dangerous, and handsome.
Especially with those tattoos. His ink flexes with his biceps, and I follow the picturesque mural of a forest in the midst of a full moon traveling down one arm. I’ve seen him without a shirt, and I know his ink continues its tale on the left side of his chest. I run a palm down his ripped abs, envisioning the masterpiece on his skin.
“Do you live in a gym or something?”
“Jesus.” He removes my hand, but instead of letting go, he twines our fingers together. Holding hands is nothing new for us. We’ve done it for years.
“You’re like a different person when you drink, Sawyer.”
Smarting over his chiding tone—and his use of my last name—I give him a drunken glower and try to pull away. His grip tightens.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, searching my face with his light blue eyes.
Hell no, I don’t want to tell him. He has a tendency of getting under my skin with his questions and opinions on how I should live my life. Now that I think about it, I can see why he and Mandy fight a lot because he’s even worse with her.