Jewels And Panties: (Book 1-15) Billionaire Romance Series

by Brooke Kinsley

  "Jealous?" she smiled.

  I shook my head.

  "Because he's far too young for me. I like a real man."

  Her hand slid up and she gripped my cock. It responded to her immediately, twitching and heating up. I craved to have her stroke me and I found myself closing my eyes as I thought about being inside her once again.

  Then, as her fingers began to curl around my length, a jingling bell interrupted us and she jumped up. Pulling her phone out her bag, she groaned and held a hand to her head.

  "Shit, I'm going to have to get this. It's their dad. I'm supposed to be picking them up tonight."

  I didn't need to be told who it was. It was her ex, the cock-blocking bastard.

  Before she answered, she leaned in and gave me a quick, hard kiss.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be."

  "I want to see you again. Outside of here.”

  "I'd love that too."

  I kissed her one last time before taking her hand and kissing that too. There was a heaviness in my chest as I watched her move away to answer her phone. I didn't want to say goodbye yet. As I turned to leave, adjusting my pants to hide the bulge, she touched my arm. It was the lightest of touches but tender and loving.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw her talking into her phone, her voice angry and terse. But her eyes were on me, her fingers still tracing lines down my forearm.

  She blew me a silent kiss and I blew one back, my stomach flipping as I walked away.

  Chapter Eleven

  ETTA

  How could I have been so stupid? How could I have assumed things were going right for a change? This house was my prison and it was going to be my coffin too.

  I looked into his gloating face and wanted to tear it to pieces with my bare hands, but I was too exhausted. Now, starved, dehydrated and terrified, I couldn't think straight. The world around me felt spaced out and my limbs were weak.

  Still, the knife was by my side, a lot more useful that a gun with no bullets.

  "Upstairs," he said.

  Just one word, one command. Something in my gut told me that if I went back up there I'd never come back down. With every fiber of my being, I was going to fight to leave this place. He was going to have to do a lot more than simply say one word.

  "Upstairs, I said! Are you fucking deaf?"

  I glowered at him, wishing that he could see just how much hatred I felt for him.

  "Get upstairs!"

  He lunged forward to grab my arm and I swung the knife. He grabbed my wrists and held me back, the tip only inches from his throat.

  "Bitch!"

  I pushed with all my strength but I was no match for him. He was overpowering me and laughing in my face as the last ounce of energy drained from my body. I fought harder, imagining the blade severing an artery. I imagined his body falling to the floor as I plucked out the keys and darted for the door. Yet, no matter how much I imagined it, I couldn't fight much longer, and neither could he.

  With his teeth gritted tight together and the tendons in his neck pulling themselves taught until thy looked as though they could snap, he struggled against me. We were locked together in a stalemate with our limbs rigid. His eyes were becoming watery, his face turning crimson. There was a streak of white saliva seeping out from his teeth, making its way down over his bottom lip.

  His eyes were wild and bloodshot. I didn't recognize them. There were times when I was younger that I'd stare into his eyes for hours. When we made love I'd get lost in them. Now I was looking at a stranger.

  With his teeth still clenched, he grunted, his voice coming from some deep and desperate part of his body that was coming to life. I could feel my arms shaking, the muscles ready to collapse at any second. I couldn't fight him anymore and he was starting to realize. There was a triumphant look in his eyes, as his teeth finally parted in a twisted smirk of victory.

  He pushed one last time and my arm buckled, the knife falling to the ground. I dropped to my knees but he was too fast and scooped it up with his bony, nimble fingers.

  Pointing it right at me, he came alive. He was in charge again and he knew it.

  "Upstairs," he ordered.

  I remained still, my back pressed up against the wall. He was going to have to drag me up there himself.

  "Get back up there!"

  Tears were streaming down my face, salty and hot but I didn't know I was crying until I felt a splash on my arm. I was disconnected from my body, the scene in front of me unfolding as though it was happening to someone else. I felt hollow and empty like my mind was floating away, protecting me from the violence I knew was coming my way.

  My eyes flicked up to the top of the stairs. I didn't want to think of what could happen up there. It was dark with the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. There was a glimpse of the edge of the mattress, smell of stale beer and cigarettes and something more feral; fear and human excretions.

  He waved the knife in front of my face, the blade catching the light so that I could see the exaggerated reflection of his face.

  "Etta..."

  My name sounded dirty on his lips. It sounded like it wasn't even my name at all.

  "Don't make me hurt you."

  My throat felt clamped up but in a moment of anger, I managed to make a sound.

  "Fuck you."

  Enraged, he clutched the knife tighter, the blade shaking back and forth like a leaf in the wind. He was losing it, the streak of saliva now dripping down from his mouth like he was rabid. He was going to kill me. In the moment I was at least certain of that.

  I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to see it when it happened. Holding my breath, I braced myself and waited for the blade to enter my body. It was coming. I could feel it. Any second now it would penetrate me like a deadly phallus and I'd feel its white heat. Just a few more seconds to live.Just a few more moments to think of Lincoln.

  If I had to die I wanted to think of him and nothing else. With my eyes clenched so tight I was seeing stars, I imagined his arms around me and the softness of his lips on mine as he cradled me into the afterlife. Maybe I'd see him again in another life. He spoke of fate and I believed him. We were meant to be together. Maybe this just wasn't our time.

  In front of me, I could sense Craig pulling back his arm ready to plunge the knife into me. He was breathing faster with the excitement, the creak of his leather jacket signaling his movements.

  I thought of Lincoln's hands entwined in mine and for a second, I was sure I could smell him, feel the touch of him behind me in place of the wall.

  I was ready to die.

  Then a knock sounded.

  It came from the front door, cheery and musical. I opened my eyes and saw the look of anger on Craig's face morph into confusion.

  "Hello? Etta? Craig?"

  It was my mom's voice, light and happy and pure music to my ears.

  "Mom!"

  "Etta?"

  We could see her press her hand up to the frosted glass as she peered in.

  "Oh there you are," she sang as she noticed the shape of our two figures in the hall. "Let me in, won't you. It's freezing out here!"

  Craig glanced at me, the maniacal look in his eyes intensifying.

  “Well,” he smirked. “Two is always better than one.”

  Before I could stop him, he was jangling the keys and unlocking the door. He pulled it back to reveal mom’s tanned face.

  “Oh, hello Cr-“

  Her face dropped as she saw his twisted expression, then the knife. Looking over his shoulder, she saw me and the tears that were flowing down my cheek.

  “What’s happ-?”

  “Get inside,” said Craig with the knife pointing at her heart. “Maybe you can teach your daughter to be a little more obedient.”

  Hot Pursuit

  Jewels And Panties Series

  Book Ten

  Brooke Kinsley

  © 2017 All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publica
tion may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  "Erotica is literature designed to be read with one hand...”-Brooke Kinsley

  Description

  LINCOLN

  Every second away from her is a second I can’t stand but I know we’ll be together again.

  The thought of holding her is the only thing that’s keeping me going.

  With nothing but a trail of devastation behind me, I can only move forward.

  But first I need some help from a friend.

  A friend that’s going to help me reveal a secret.

  One that puts Etta’s life on the line.

  ETTA

  Lincoln will save me.

  It’s a thought I have to repeat over and over.

  But every second in this house is a second closer to death and I know time is running out.

  Then when I’m sure I’m sure Craig has reached boiling point, he reveals something.

  Something that makes my blood run cold.

  And I know that if I don’t escape right now…

  There’s no escape at all.

  Chapter One

  LINCOLN

  I was in a jungle with rain dripping from the leaves and lashing my face with its warmth. Opening my mouth, I tasted the sweetness of the water.

  It was hot, almost to the point of being unbearable and I began to undress. But as I looked down, I saw I was wearing pale blue scrubs, not too dissimilar to the ones I wore in theater, but there was something strange about them.

  Looking closer, I saw the fabric was made of worms, thousands of them, icy blue and dead, they crawled and crawled across my body and I just stood there, in my suit of worms feeling the heat press me down into the earth.

  I was paralyzed and tried to lift a leg only to feel as though I was wading through lead syrup, my limbs only moving a fraction of an inch although I was straining against the invisible force with all my strength.

  Then I saw her.

  Her dark hair blew out behind her as she remained dry amidst the constant flow of water. Her eyes were sparkling, looking right at me, but at the same time, they weren't noticing me at all. It was then that I realized she was looking over my shoulder.

  My head moved as though my neck was filled with rusty springs. At last, I managed to see what was behind me.

  Craig.

  His face was a blur, his body nothing but blackness shrinking in and out of the dark, green leaves. The three of us stood in the rainforest, all trapped within our own positions. I tried to speak but my jaw was locked shut.

  In front of me, Etta stood with her hair still fanned out around her like a glistening aura. My arms were tingling with the need to hold her but they wouldn't move.

  Etta! I called in my head.

  "Lincoln," she whispered.

  Honey, I'm trying to find you. You know that, don't you?

  A single tear came to her eye and she brushed it away.

  "Don't give up," she said and turned on her heel. Her feet were bare but as she walked, they remained free from the stagnant stinking mud.

  Don't go!

  "Find me," she said as she walked away, her figure dissolving into the mass of plants and wildlife.

  Somewhere overhead, a bird chirped but its voice was mechanical like a chainsaw spluttering into life. I looked up in time to see it fly down and perch on a branch in front of me, its wings coated in feathers that were made of steel and as it turned to me, I saw its chest had been torn apart. Wires and cogs moved inside it, the rain seeping in until the complex machinery of its organs began to rust, the water turning dark and murky until it ran away from its body like blood.

  Don't go!

  Her body disappeared until it became a sliver in the distance, then nothing at all and I was left staring through the trees begging her to come back.

  Meanwhile, the bird cocked its head to the side, bled more rusty water onto my shoes then flew away. Now I was all alone with the monstrous shadow of Craig behind me but as I turned around, I saw he was also gone.

  I was alone.

  It was just me and the constant dripping of the rain.

  Even my suit of worms had disappeared and I was now naked, the warm water running down my exhausted muscles. I was skinnier than I remembered, my ribs poking out through my papery skin.

  From somewhere high up above the treeline, the sound of thunder rattled through the clouds like long swords smashing together.

  It got louder and louder until my body began to shake and... I awoke with a start, jumping in my seat.

  The inside of the car was unbearably hot, the consequence of falling asleep with the engine running with the heat on. My face was coated in sweat and my suit, always so crisp and clean was now damp and crumpled.

  Rain was cascading down the windows while the nearby traffic on the highway rushed past like rising and falling waves in a storm. As I looked ahead, all I could see were the blurred outlines of red tail lights.

  Beside me, the banging continued and I flinched. Looking to my right, I saw a hand rapping at the window.

  "Hello?"

  Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw the red and blue lights and the gold and black writing of the Normont Police department.

  "Shit."

  I slapped a hand to my cheek.

  As if the night couldn't get any worse.

  "Mr Bosworth?" the young cop asked.

  I slid the window down and a gust of cold, wet air hit my face, reviving me in an instant.

  "Hey," I said, aware that he was looking at my face and wondering why I looked so terrible.

  Right now, I must have been a far cry from the glossy images he'd seen of me.

  "Mr Bosworth?"

  He flashed his badge in my face.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Erm, yeah... I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

  He pressed his lips together, the rain streaming down his face although he seemed oblivious.

  "We had a report of a man unconscious on the side of the road with the engine running."

  "Not unconscious. Just sleeping."

  "Sleeping, then."

  He narrowed his eyes.

  "You don't look so well Mr Bosworth. Could you step out of the car for a moment?"

  "No, I'm in a hurry."

  "You were sleeping."

  Fuck, what had even happened. The last thing I remembered was driving down the highway with nothing but Etta on my mind when my body was overcome with exhaustion. Pulling onto the hard shoulder, all I'd meant to do was sit for a minute and recuperate but I must have fallen asleep.

  "Step out of the car, please."

  "I really should get going."

  "Don't worry. We'll be quick."

  I glanced at the dashboard and saw the gas had almost run out and it was almost midnight.

  "Please, Mr Bosworth. Step out of the car."

  His hand moved to his hip and I knew I didn't have a choice.

  I looked at his young face then back at the dashboard. There wasn't enough fuel to even get five miles but it would get me somewhere. Looking ahead, I could see the hospital, lit up and large on the horizon.

  “Sorry, kid,” I said and stepped on the accelerator.

  A look of confusion swept over his face that soon turned to horror.

  “Mr Bosworth!”

  It was too late. He stumbled back as the car sped away from his side and I watched him for a moment in the rearview mirror as he reached for his radio. He’d be calling for backup and they’d be
here in minutes. But that was all the time I needed.

  Chapter Two

  ETTA

  The sound of crying filled the room. At first, I thought it was coming from my mom but as I looked over to where she was huddled in the corner, I saw that she was silent and unmoving. Reaching a hand up to my cheek, I felt it was dry.

  The familiar creak of a leather jacket brought my attention to the third person in the room. Craig was pressed up in the corner, sobbing into his hands. The gun lay in the middle of his crossed legs, pointing at me. I wondered what the chances were of me being able to snatch it from him.

  Mom, as perceptive as ever, must have read the look on my face because the next thing I heard was her hissing across the room.

  "Don't you dare."

  I looked over and saw that in spite of the deadly situation, she still hadn't forgotten to be a mother.

  "I mean it," she said. "Don't move."

  I nodded and hung my head.

  Between the three of us lay the mattress, wet in the middle and browning at the edges. The whole room was filled the smell of fear and excrement.

  In the corner, Craig continued to cry, unable to hear our frantic whispering over the sound of our sobbing.

  "What the hell has been happening?" mom asked. “I was only away a week when I saw your photo online with some billionaire and I come home to this.”

  Her eyes were wide and terrified, her whole body shaking from the cold. Sat below the window with her hand tethered to the radiator, she was in the path of the draught from the broken window. I so badly wanted to leap over to cover her, hold her and tell her I was sorry she was caught up in this mess.

  Yanking at my wrist, I felt how the brittle rope was on the cusp of falling apart. I'd been working at it for hours, pulling and pulling, digging my nails into the knots to prize it apart one fraction of a milimetre at a time. Now, although my wrist was becoming red and raw, my hard work was starting to pay off and I found that there was some room to wiggle my hand around.