Shouldn't Have Dealt

by Mara Lynne

  He’s not saying anything now, and as for me, I don’t think I have the energy to talk when waves of excitement mixed with a shard of guilt and an immeasurable quantity of pleasure and desire are rippling wildly within me.

  I did not know it will feel this way.

  My breathing slows down, and my chest shivers as it follows his own. His wandering hands touch me anywhere he pleases, and every time his kiss shifts from gentle to feral, my fingers on his back claw into his skin like a tiger’s as though they too feel the intensifying and gratifying bliss he’s been showering me.

  When I feel the fabric of his pants against my bare legs, panic rises in me. It’s the kind of dread an explorer has when she’s going to embark on a journey alone, uncertain of what lies ahead.

  He takes his pants off, and it falls softly to the floor.

  He leans backward as his eyes narrow, eying me as I quiver with anticipation. Then he fists his hands on my hips and bends over me, kissing me again on my neck down to my breasts. They perk up as soon as his lips touch the end of my nipples. I could only close my eyes when I start feeling the explosion of sparks from there spread all throughout my body in seconds.

  I moan and cry for his name, my tongue longing to tell him to stop.

  It feels extraordinarily wonderful, though, and stopping this momentary delight is hard to do.

  “Oh, Hunter…”

  His fingers run through my right knee up to my thigh until they reach the lace of my underwear.

  No! I hear my senses cry.

  No…

  Without hesitation, his fingers pull down my underwear farther from my thighs and calves. Maneuvering his upper body onto me, he pulls my legs apart.

  I feel so naked. I feel ashamed of my body. Hunter has seen me—all of me.

  Yet he’s not saying anything. I’m afraid to look at him because I do not know what to expect. Will he still like me after seeing me bare? Will he still want to make love to me now that he sees I am not the perfect woman suited to the likes of him?

  All of my questions are answered when he places a kiss on top of my stomach. “I love you, Angel,” he murmurs,

  His erection brushes against my inner thighs, magnifying the severe and ardent yearning that has been disturbing me for a while.

  “It’s going to be fine.” His voice sounds soft, lovely, and reassuring.

  I heard it hurts when it’s the first time. I just don’t know how painful it would be for me and how I am going to take it.

  I squeal, my will forcing my voice not to beat the sound of the light rain outside, as he smashes right through my entrance. Every nerve in their dances and throbs like mad as I feel the pain of tearing tissues every time Hunter shoves deeper and deeper. The pain brings tears to my eyes, and I sob lightly as though expressing to Hunter that I can endure it.

  His puffing excites me. All his muscles around his shoulders, arms, and abdomen harden as he digs deeper and deeper inside me over and over again. My cry is his motivation, I guess.

  My toes curl as my core temperature reaches an alarming level. I already feel like a volcano with boiling lava inside me ready to escape, just waiting for the right timing to come out.

  And within a millisecond, it comes, and it just scatters freely inside me, menacing all my limbs to paralysis.

  My back arches when Hunter executes another powerful thrust. He is crushing me in so many ways.

  Heavens! So this is how it feels to go beyond Platonic intimacy—to be entirely consumed by pleasure and lust. I have nothing in my head but him—just Hunter Stone.

  He slows down, and gradually, the bond between us is broken, and he falls next to me.

  I still feel the ghost of his member inside me, and it still aches for him.

  Hunter pulls me close to his body, and my face touches his chest. He whispers to me, gasping, while he runs his fingers through my hair, “I look forward to the nights we’ll spend together.”

  Me too.

  I close my eyes and let the night take me into dreamland next to him.

  When I wake up, the other side of the bed is empty.

  Where could Hunter be?

  His wrinkled pillow suggests that last night was not a dream. It was real.

  We made love.

  It was a beautiful night with him, and I think today is going to be much better.

  I climb out of bed with the cover wrapped around me. My attention is caught by a bouquet of red roses on the nightstand. In an instance, I knew it is from him.

  He left a note as well.

  “You’re the first and last thing on my mind each and every day.”

  A smile forms on my lips.

  I did not know Hunter is romantic. Victoria always speaks of his son as though he knows nothing about romance, and yet he melts my heart with the roses and the note. If every morning of my life will be like this, I doubt I’ll ever love anyone other than him. I can already foresee the life I will have with him.

  I believe in what he says.

  I believe that anyone who loves truly can and will give his entire life to someone he loves, and Hunter did just that. I know I won’t regret last night’s events.

  I pick up the robe from the floor and wear it. My stomach grumbles as it craves for something really sweet this morning—perhaps a cup of hot chocolate and fresh strawberries. I’d really like to see him, too. Maybe he went out for a jog.

  I run along the corridor and down the stairs with undeniable joy and radiance on my face. Hunter’s not in the living room, nor the veranda. He might be in the dining room, so I head there.

  I am right.

  There he is, standing next to the window with his back to me and his eyes somewhere off the distance.

  I am about to call him when I thought of surprising him. Slowly, I tiptoe to him. I make sure to walk softly. No footsteps or sounds should be heard.

  Just a foot away from him, I hear him sigh. It’s a short one, but it suggests that he’s been thinking for quite a time.

  I slide my hands through his arms, wrapping them around his waist as though hugging him from the back. I close my eyes and feel the sturdiness of his back and torso. It feels the same way as it was last night. Hunter smells really good, his perfume sticking to my skin quickly, and tempting me to kiss him.

  But why isn’t he moving?

  Why isn’t he doing anything?

  His unusual coldness stuns me. Should a man who just made love to a woman he says he loves act like this? It’s like he doesn’t recognize me… like he feels nothing about my surprise embrace.

  I withdraw my arms and walk past him.

  There was only silence.

  My legs freeze, my jaw drops, and my eyes widen

  This can’t be real.

  My legs move a step back like they have a mind of their own.

  This can’t be real.

  “Hello, Angel,” Damien says, his gray eyes firm and unquestioning unlike the last time I saw them face-to-face months ago.

  This can’t be real.

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  Here is a sample from the first book:

  Prologue

  This is a wrong idea.

  Absolutely!

  I can already foresee the consequences of this move. One wrong move and everything will change. Then again, what can I do? This is more than life and death —emphasis there— more than life and death, period!

  Every time I look straight to his direction, I could feel my chest exploding. I hear it scream, No, don’t do it. There’s another way! My mind, too, surprisingly coincides with my rather divergent heart. This is a rare occasion. Most of the time, they fight like cat and dog, always in argument, the mortal enemies. It’s quite surprising that neither one of them is stopping me. My nape feels hot, and so are my cheeks. It
feels like I am going through my first job interview.

  Am I actually letting myself do this?

  Perhaps my sanity is finally doomed.

  I took a deep, deep breath then slap my face with my hand.

  Ouch! I don’t mean to hurt myself badly, but I think I need a wake-up call. Nope, I think I need the strongest motivation that will push me through this.

  I gather my legs and take another deep breath.

  “You can do this, Angel!” I murmur to myself.

  I walk straight across the hallway till I reach the corner where he was standing and chatting with his friends, beaming that ever popular smile that propelled him to the Student Body Council. Well, I’m not underestimating him entirely as I believe I have no means to put myself above him. He’s everything I am not. That is why he is the perfect negotiator, and I think he will have a high chance of accepting my proposal.

  “H-hi.” I find my voice trapped in my throat. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Me?” His lips curved, ribbing me intentionally. His friends start to poke fun at me by giggling with each other.

  “Yes,” I answer, shrugging off the tinge of mortification that is spreading across my cheeks.

  “Anything you want to say you can say to my peeps,” he confidently replies, not bothering to remove that smirk.

  “It’s a very personal matter.”

  “Okay!” He stands up and eyes me.

  I lead him to an empty room just a few walks away from where his friends are. I can still hear them laughing.

  “What is it?” he said with his hands on his hips and his brow raised.

  I gulp as my rehearsed speech demanded my mouth to be spilled out already.

  “You don’t have all my time,” he dryly says as he fixes his cold glare at me. Really, he can’t do better but humiliate me in the slightest possible way with those eyes. I don’t know why, but he has that effect on me. I always feel his eyes look at me like I am the lowest form of human on earth. Well, his friends do, too. Worse, I might add.

  Okay, here I go.

  “Do you want to have sex with me?” I blurt out.

  He drops his jaw.

  I shake my head at the thought of his reaction.

  Oh, my God! I have said it.

  If you enjoyed this sample, then look for Shouldn’t Have Asked.

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  Acknowledgements

  I would like to express my sincerest and heartfelt gratitude to the people who saw me through this book. First and foremost, my readers in Wattpad who gave me endless support and who made me feel important, my readers who have become my greatest and valued critics, and to some of them whom I established a friendship beyond virtual reality. To my sister, my first ever reader, who cried and laughed with me with the different stories I wrote, and who makes nasty remarks to make me a better writer, I understand why you have to be like that. I’ve made my dream come true, now is your time to make yours. And to my family, my Mom and Dad especially, thank you for not giving up on me and for not making me stop writing. I know how proud you are of me.

  I would like to thank Le-an Lacaba for enabling me to publish this book. Indeed, there are angels on earth, and you are one of them. To Aycee Perral, I thank you with all my heart for editing the book, for making it look and sound like a real book. I don’t know what you’ve been through editing this, but it must have been a headache. Thank you for the patience. Lastly, to the marketing team and to BLVNP Publishing in general, thank you for this opportunity. Thank you for letting people know about what Mara Lynne can offer. Thank you for making me one of your writers.

  Author’s Note

  Hey there!

  Thank you so much for reading Shouldn’t Have Dealt! I can’t express how grateful I am for reading something that was once just a thought inside my head.

  I’d love to hear from you! Please feel free to email me at

  mara_lynne@awesomeauthors.org and sign up at

  maralynne.awesomeauthors.org for freebies!

  One last thing: I’d love to hear your thoughts on the book. Please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads because I just love reading your comments and getting to know YOU!

  Whether that review is good or bad, I’d still love to hear it!

  Can’t wait to hear from you!

  Mara Lynne

  About the Author

  Other than reading and writing stories, Mara Lynne loves to daydream . Sometimes she would have a hard time falling asleep because of the many stories going on around her head. Unusual characters and twisted plots keep her company each night, and would only leave her once she had breathed life into them. She discovered the passion for writing when she was eleven years old–the time when she met the well-loved red-haired Anne Shirley. She fell in love with the kindred spirit Anne because she sees herself in her. There was a time when she even thought she was Anne of Green Gables! Seriously! It was like a mild case of identification, a defense mechanism for wanting to be somebody you adore or worship but whom you can never be. After Anne Shirley, she fell in love with all of Jane Austen heroines, with Anne Elliot as her most loved. She just loved everyone whose name is Anne!! When she is not writing, Mara Lynne works as a full-time registered nurse in England. She hailed from a city in the southern part of the Philippines.