by Zoey Parker
“Blade?” he asked as walked up to us. “Maggie, nice to see you again.”
“It’s Robert now. No longer Blade,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you Evan.”
“Thanks, man. I heard you needed some help running this place, and I figured why not, right?” He gave a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, I need people like you, Evan. Good people who care and will take care of each other.” He patted Evan on the back.
“I hope I can be of service.” He seemed more timid than I remembered. I wondered how the last year of his life had gone.
We had been able to live off the money Robert had made working for Vlad over the last year. I had still gone out and found work to keep us from depleting all his money, though. I had worked for the children’s home and for a couple of lawyers who knew him from his days with the Marauders. I had probably held five or six temporary jobs over the course of the year, until Robert had started to come back around.
“Hey, you want to take a tour of the place?” Robert offered Evan.
“Yeah, sure. I guess I should.”
“Baby, we’ll be right back, unless you want to come, too.” Robert gave me his look that begged me to take him up on the offer. I shook my head and laughed, and he was off with his new friend. Anyone who would go on a tour of the shelter was his friend.
“So, you need any help getting this place together?” I heard Evan ask as they walked off.
Of course, Robert had his own ideas for how his shelter needed to be run. It wasn’t just a shelter. There were rooms upstairs on the second and third floors of the building. Downstairs, the first floor housed offices, including a nurse’s station. There was the front desk, where guests and residents could go for help with nearly anything. There were drink and snack machines. There were game rooms.
The real fun occurred in the basement, where there were laundry facilities and a large commercial kitchen designed to cook enough food to serve everyone working and living at the shelter. For the most part, he planned to staff the shelter with residents, who would cook and do laundry, things like that, for one another, as a way to earn their keep and maintain low operations costs.
He also had hopes of having career counselors stop by once or twice a week for people struggling with employment. He wanted an on-call nurse, psychologist and psychiatrist. He wanted to help people, not just provide them with a place to sleep and a few warm meals before kicking them back out on the street.
It was definitely ambitious, and I had definitely heard him go on about it enough over the last couple of months that I had his whole little spiel memorized. I waited downstairs by the receptionist’s desk for Robert to return with Evan.
“Hey, baby, Evan said he wants to come on board,” he said as he practically bounced back up to me. “And he says he can help drive residents to appointments, things like that.”
“That’s awesome. You need someone to be able to do that,” I said with a smile.
“I figure I need to do something to give back. Look, I need to hit the road. You’ve got my number. If you need anything let me know, but I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning to help you finish setting the place up,” Evan said, shaking Robert’s hand.
“Hey, great to see you, man,” Robert beamed.
“And always a pleasure, Maggie,” Evan said, ever the gentleman.
We stood and watched him walk out, dodging the delivery crew as they moved about like busy ants.
“I knew I was going to see him again,” Robert said. “You don’t help someone like that and never see them again.”
“What a coincidence,” I said. “It’s been right about a year since the last time we saw him.”
“Right. And a year ago, I would have told you it was no coincidence, that it had been planned, but now. There’s no reason for us to run into each other like that, not that kind of reason anyway.” He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.
Once the deliveries were done, and Robert had checked everything over to make sure it was up to his standards, he sent everyone home and locked the place up. He beamed as we walked down the steps from the door of the old building. His excitement radiated like heat or light from him. At the sidewalk, he stopped and turned to look at the building in the dying afternoon light one last time before we got in the car.
Night fell quickly on our way home. It felt hours later than it was by the time we walked into the house. In his excitement, as soon as he closed the door, Robert turned me around and took my face in his hands, kissing my lips passionately.
I grabbed him and pulled his hips and pulled him against me. Our tongues tangled. Our bodies pressed together. He started walking me backwards toward the bedroom. Our love for each other mingled with passion as we pulled each other’s clothes off and left them in a trail leading from the front door back to the bed.
By the time the mattress pressed against the back of my legs, I was in my bra and panties only. He was in his boxers, barely holding his eager desire in. I climbed back onto the bed, and he grabbed my panties, sliding them down my legs as I slid away from him. I unhooked my bra and shrugged it off my shoulders, revealing my breasts to him as he pulled down his boxers. As the waistband slid down past his shaft, I watched him rise for me. I grabbed my breasts and rubbed them for him, playing with my nipples making them hard to entice him to come to me.
I picked up my legs and spread myself open for him. He climbed onto the bed and ran his hands up my thighs, between my legs, and up my stomach. His fingers tangled with mine as his hands cupped my swollen breasts. He brushed his fingers over my sensitive peaks. He kissed my belly gently, lightly, as he climbed up my body.
His hips settled in between my legs, pressing against mine as the tip of his head pressed against my lips. I was already parting for him, my body just as eager to let him in as he was to enter me.
His lips encircled my nipple, pulling it into his mouth. I sucked in a sharp breath and arched my back. I put my hands behind his head and held him down on my breast. I rolled my hips, urging him to enter me.
“Make love to me,” I breathed as he lingered just outside my wet entrance. My desire ached to have him inside of me.
He kissed up to my neck, my chin, and then my lips. He pushed his hips into me ever so slightly, pressing his head past the opening to my center. I held his head in place as our lips worked each other and our tongues twisted and tangled around each other. I lifted my hips against his, pulling him deeper into me.
I moaned into his mouth as he entered me all the way, his shaft driving in to its base. My muscles clenched around him immediately. He pulled back, and I felt every inch of him pass through my wet, tender lips. My body shuddered as he pulled away. As he pushed back in, I grabbed his arms and held on tight.
He stroked my g-spot with every thrust. He filled me completely, stretching me so he could fit inside. He pumped himself into me with a steady rhythm, driving me closer and closer to orgasm with each thrust.
“Kiss me,” I whispered. “Please, kiss me again.”
He leaned down and our lips met. We pressed our mouths hard together as he moved against me faster, harder, driving himself deep into me repeatedly. He stroked me faster and faster, the pleasure growing so intense I couldn’t breathe. My body began to tense up beneath him as my pleasure grew into ecstasy.
I gasped as my legs began to shake. My insides quivered. “I’m going to cum,” I told him in a jerky, breathy voice. I held onto his arms as I started to shake. My orgasm rolled through me, jerking my body. I writhed underneath him.
He pushed into me slowly and held himself against me as I shook against him. I could feel him growing harder, stiffer inside of me, until his warmth filled me. I pulled his face down between my breasts and arched my back, groaning as my orgasm reached a crescendo with his.
“I love you,” I called out as my body started to relax.
“I love you, too,” Robert told me, whispering it into my ear as he kissed my neck.
>
He relaxed and slid out of me, coming to rest on his back next to me. I had never known someone who could take me there as quickly as he did, and he did it every time. I pulled his arm around me and pressed my ass up against him. I rubbed it against his relaxing manhood, hoping to rouse him again.
He made me insatiable sometimes.
His hand rubbed on my belly again, calming my hips. “One day soon, you’re going to start to show,” he said, his smile obvious in his voice.
“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes.
“No, it’s going to be beautiful.” He kissed my shoulder. “You are going to be beautiful carrying our child, baby. You don’t even know.”
I smiled. Sometimes I didn’t know what excited him more – the prospect of being a father, or the new shelter. I knew one thing for certain, though: that baby and I had nothing to worry about with Robert by our side. I was home, and there was no need to run anywhere but into his arms.
THE END
Thanks for reading! Did you like my book?
If so, you should join my mailing list!
I’ll keep you up-to-date with the latest news on Zoey Parker releases, giveaways, and ARC opportunities?
Click the banner or link below to join.
New subscribers receive a FREE steamy short!
http://dl.bookfunnel.com/22mfxgmiow
STARSTRUCK: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Destroyers MC)
By Zoey Parker
She thinks she’s an angel. But I’m gonna make her my horny little devil.
I’m from the gutter. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
But when I decide I want something, no obstacle can stop me.
As Abby Woodard’s new bodyguard, her body is literally my responsibility.
And I plan on being very… hands on.
It’s like she’s playing a game:
How far can I push him?
She should know better.
I’m not a man who likes being provoked.
But that isn’t stopping her.
The back sass, the disobedience…
It’s all becoming too much.
Time to do what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I ended up in this stupid job:
Bend the little princess over my knee and spank her until she learns her lesson.
What happens after that is… complicated.
Explosive.
Unexpected.
And it crosses every damn line in existence.
Maybe I shouldn’t have f**ked her.
But now that I have, there’s not a man on earth who will keep me away from what’s mine.
Chapter One
Abby
I hated this part, but smiled anyway amidst the wild applause and the smattering of flashbulbs that told me dozens upon dozens of pictures were being taken. Tomorrow, I’d be awash in them, picking them apart as I scanned the headlines and the media blogs in search of the ones where I looked terrible. The ones where people would point out panty lines in my twelve-thousand-dollar dress and nitpick at my choice of black four-thousand-dollar heels. I’d cringe as they told me that I was too racy to be a real lady, or too modest to be progressive. And then I’d just throw up my hands as some cameraman managed to capture the only picture in which I was not smiling and proceed to post it on the front page of some tabloid with the headline: Abby Woodard, What a Bitch.
But that was all for tomorrow. Tonight, I had to be a superstar.
Smiling broadly to show my pearly white teeth, I did my best to look both confident and yet pleasantly surprised at being given such a prestigious award for my groundbreaking performance in The Blue.
The clapping and applause continued as I made my way up the polished marble stairs with the shimmering overhead lights that washed out my face and made me look even shinier amidst the silver sequins of my dress. It was floor length, though the split up the leg nearly went to my panties, so I gathered it up in my hands, mindful of my four-hundred-dollar manicure. I hurried up the steps, trying to be both eager and demure.
Not an easy task, but I worked hard at it.
As a twenty-something actress, I was quickly becoming vintage. Soon, I’d be too old really to play the heroine roles that I craved. They’d be reserved for eighteen- and nineteen- and twenty-year-olds while I slowly grew into the less coveted roles of “mother.” Maybe I’d be lucky and get to be a MILF, but short of that, I was well aware that I only had a few precious years as a lovely, desired starlet, and I intended to milk it for all that it was worth.
When I reached the stage, my heels clicking as I approached Bill Peck who was at the podium holding my abstract crystal award, I tried to keep my breathing and heartbeat even. Despite having performed thousands of times for the camera—and a few times for a couple of small theaters in Europe—I still got stage fright when I had to come up on stage like this and address a crowd. Silly, maybe, but no less terrifying.
I reached for my award as Bill gave it to me and then shook his proffered hand. He leaned forward and did those funky little air kisses that I hated so much, but I reciprocated anyway, even as I felt as though my smile might crack at any moment.
Keep it together, I reminded myself, thanking Bill profusely for the award he had absolutely nothing to do with.
He ushered me to the podium next and I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before putting my lips near the mic to give my speech. I’d of course prewritten one even though I couldn’t be sure that I would win anything. There were a lot of decent nominees for this one and despite the yes men in my life, I wasn’t dumb enough to think there was no competition.
Still, it was important to be prepared. But it was also important to not look prepared because that would mean you were somehow overconfident. As a woman, that was dangerous because it made you appear like a bitch to the public.
And in this world, public opinion was everything.
“I’d like to thank my uncle Caleb for being the only man who ever managed to stand with me through it all…”
# # #
Almost two hours later, I was finally leaving the awards ceremony. You would think that after actually receiving the award and then giving my little acceptance speech, things would progress rather quickly. But in show business, it was all about smiling for the camera. The more people took my picture, the more publicity I got. And the more publicity, the more work, the more money. It was a never ending cycle, and if I thought about it too much, it not only made my head hurt, but it left me with an awful sort of feeling. Like what was the point?
So I made a point of not thinking about it.
I waved one last time and let the paparazzi get a few last pictures in before sliding into the car, which was some fancy sleek black Audi that I didn’t know the first thing about except that it was expensive, but still very reliable and safe. I was all about reliable and safe, even if it was the new fad to live a little dangerously.
I’ve got enough danger in my life already, don’t I? I thought miserably, finally letting my smile fall as the car door slammed shut. I wasn’t in a limo or anything, not tonight, but I still had a driver.
“We’re going to the after party on Rouge,” I informed the driver, whose name I couldn’t recall. He was new and I didn’t know if he’d last yet. I wasn’t about to waste precious memory on someone who wasn’t going to last.
“Yes, ma’am.”
We drove off and I stared out the window. It had been a long night already and I wasn’t actually looking forward to the after party. It was being hosted by a fellow starlet—Riley Rankin, a bitch if ever there was one—and the only reason I was going was to keep her from saying all sorts of crap about me.
I could only imagine what TMZ would say tomorrow if I didn’t go.
We drove only ten or so minutes, and I spent most of it primping. I needed to make sure hair and makeup was in order before I showed up, otherwise Riley would have a field day. My blonde hair hung loosely about my shoulders in perfectly sculpted curl
s, not too flamboyant, not too thin, and my makeup was a light smoke that shimmered just enough to offset my silvery sequined dress.
I looked fabulous, as my agent liked to say, but sometimes—
My thought broke off, thankfully, as the car came to a stop. I gave it just a beat, letting my chauffer come around to get my door for me. A moment later he offered his hand and I accepted it, like some sort of princess instead of merely a twenty-three-year-old actress. It was strange to be treated like royalty after all it had taken to get here, but I’d learned to roll with it a long time ago.
I flashed a bright smile at my driver, then walked toward the large mansion that was designed with the flashy ostentatiousness that came with “new money.” I wasn’t too concerned with all of that, though I felt like I was walking up to a party at Jay Gatsby’s house.
My uncle lived not far from here, just up the road as a matter of fact, but you wouldn’t have expected it from a man like him. Hard as nails and not one to take crap from anyone.