Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology

by Skye MacKinnon

  I was taught to revere women and here I was coming off as a complete and utter idiot.

  "Can you let me go now?" Lina muffled. Her warm breath against my pectoral muscle heated a line of fire from my chest to my dick. I bit my lip and gently let her go rolling her to the side. She didn't get up. In fact, she laid on the tile of my foyer, her eyes tightly closed, arms crossed over her chest as her breaths slowly came back to normal.

  I leaned up on my side and used my free hand to brush back the locks of hair that curled around her neck freeing them. If only we were lying side by side in a bed and not on cold tile.

  “Are you alright?” I asked scanning her body for a bump or bruise our earlier collision might have caused.

  I watched her throat gulp.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  "Hey. I'm sorry."

  "Uh does that usually happen?"

  I chuckled trying to push off my embarrassment. Often, I thought, as in after every game because I thought I never had a chance with Lina, then sure, but I didn’t want to scare her off by telling her the truth. I played dumb like a jock for this one.

  "Which part, princess?"

  I studied her face which was all soft angles and peachy cream underneath the heavy blush she sported at the moment.

  "The uh, you know." She waved her hand around and I didn't know if I should just say it or pray she'd let it go. I mean, I could have said it was the two naked women in my condo, or my raging hard on just for her, or the fact that we were still sprawled out on the floor and it would have been more embarrassing to get up in the moment then just lay here and melt into the tiles. Oh yeah, and the smashed pumpkin currently stinking up the place.

  So much for that roasted pumpkin soup recipe I saw on the cooking show I liked. When I wasn’t playing football, or fucking random girls, I actually liked to cook my own food. The guys on the team called me a health nut, but proper nutrition was important. I didn’t struggle to leave my home country half a world away to not make it here. I knew it took hard work.

  Pretty sure this would have doomed most couples off to a rocky start, but I wasn't deterred. After all, nothing worth having wasn't worth working for.

  Lina nibbled on her bottom lip driving me crazy. I either had to make a move and kiss her to stop masticating her lip to shreds or actually get up off the floor and stop this insane energy between us.

  "I'm just going to assume you mean a little of everything, so let me clarify." Grunting, I rolled over to the opposite side tossing the sheet over my hips before I got up off the floor. I extended my hand to Lina pulling her up off the floor. I miscalculated my strength and momentum and hauled her up into my arms flat against me.

  I won’t lie and say I minded it one bit.

  "Ooooof." Lina made a sexy inelegant sound that had me fantasizing about doing all sorts of sordid things to her another time. However, I needed a shower, a clear head, and some god damn coffee to get my wits back in the game.

  "First, I don't typically entertain women in my home." I said, sort of, kind of lying. I did, but only of late because I didn’t have a shot in hell with her. Or so I had thought until she showed up today.

  Lina raised her delicate eyebrows and yeah, who were kidding. She wasn't going to believe me and even I didn't believe me given my state of undress, but here we were and there wasn't much I could do to dissuade her. This was one of those actions were definitely going to speak louder than words situations.

  "Okay, let's forget about the last ten minutes and focus on the now." I knew this was going to be a hard sell, but I was desperate to try, desperate for her. Of course, I'd gone and fucked it all up six ways to Sunday, but a guy had to try.

  Lina looked me up and down, her lips quirking to the side as she spoke. "Well, you're kind of naked right now, so I don't know how I can take any of this seriously, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." She didn't look convinced at all, and really, could I blame her?

  I pasted on my camera press ready smile and ushered her to a stool at my counter. She sat hesitantly, but stayed.

  "Excellent." I smiled. A girl who could roll with the punches was definitely a girl after my own heart. "Coffee?" I asked.

  "Sure." She said glancing at anywhere but me. "Don't you think we should clean up that pumpkin?"

  "The pumpkin can wait. My apology can't." I turned away to fill the coffee pot with water and get the dang thing brewing. It was probably the only thing I was capable of making in the moment. No time for eggs Benedict or a fresh croissant. I was a foodie at heart and consumed easily six thousand calories during a heavy training cycle and playing back-to-back games. If I wasn’t frugal with my money, I would have hired a chef.

  "Alright."

  Since the coffee was going to take five minutes to brew, I fiddled with the door to the fridge unsure of what to do next.

  "Is it alright if I grab some pants?"

  "You don't have to ask me, but sure. It's probably best."

  "Great. I'll be right back." I shuffled in the ridiculous sheet hoping I didn't drop trow and embarrass us further. I shut the bedroom door and let out a breath of relief. My dick was still saluting the flag singing the Star Bangled Banner back to the Motherland, and my muscles were cramping with how rigid I held myself. This was a disaster.

  Chapter 2

  Lina

  Oh my god. Petre Stalinksy, also known as the Russian bear with a ball. He was the current tight end for the Ducks football team and buck ass naked in the next room. I had the goods literally in my lap. There wasn’t a cucumber in the tri-state area that could compare with his package. I was on fire with mortification. Glancing around his condo, I wondered if I should leave now while I could still escape unscathed or brave this whole shit show.

  I was only supposed to make the delivery. Be discreet about it, my brother stressed handing me the key to his condo and the code for the gate. This was a big deal and the job paid well. Get in. Get out. That was it. My dad was struggling to keep us afloat and a big deal delivery like this might ensure other deliveries which would keep us financially stable and help pay off my mother’s medical bills. We needed this, and I was terrified I might have screwed it up.

  Smashed pumpkin was all over the floor, and the anxious neat freak in me needed to clean it up before it started staining the grout in the tile. I got off the stool hopping down because I was short and my feet didn't reach once I'd sat up there. I moved around the counter and stopped to listen for Petre. I could hear the shower running and figured this was my chance. I'd clean and then run. No one could say that our grocery delivery service wasn't top notch. It definitely wasn't worth the twenty percent tip after being subjected to the Jessica Rabbit twins with their hungry eyes and emaciated figures.

  I rummaged under the kitchen cabinet and found some cleaner. Paper towels were on the counter and I bunched a handful to pick up the pumpkin. I was so busy trying to clean the mess along with my dignity that I didn't hear Petre behind me. Hands gripped my hips spooking me, as my hands were meshed with cool stringy pumpkin guts.

  "Lina, ahren, what are you doing." Petre helped me up and we did a sort of walk shuffle toward the sink.

  "Cleaning up the mess." I gulped hoping I didn't sound nearly as foolish and breathless as I felt.

  His hands made their way up my body and over my arms under our fingers twined together cupping and fingering the pumpkin flesh. Was it weird? Sure. Kind of gross? In a fruit fondling sort of way that mimicked a sex act I was yet to be familiar with considering I was a twenty-year-old virgin.

  "I told you not too, you naughty girl." Petre whispered over my shoulder and into my ear, His wet hair dripped on my shoulder and droplets of water slid down my neck and underneath my shirt slowly making their way between my breasts. Lord, was it getting hot in here? I couldn't tell as his fingers slowly untangled the pumpkin from my hands making an even bigger mess of his sink. String and seeds filled up the stainless-steel bottom, covering the drain. I don’t know why he ha
dn’t directed me to the garbage can. For all the hand fucking we were doing, we could have reenacted the scene from Ghost. If I squinted, Petre had a young Patrick Swayzie-esk look the way his hair flopped over his forehead and the way his shoulder muscles bulged. He was the kind of football player who looked hot without all the padding on. Rumor had it that he had started his athletic career as a ballet dancer which was why he was so nimble on his feet. He only started playing football because his family moved to America when his sister started modeling, not that I followed our home team fanatically or anything. It was common knowledge, easily googled and totally available to the public or so I tried telling myself. Alexandra Stalinksy was currently globetrotting in Paris and Milan as the face of Chanel.

  "Sorry." I stuttered. I was such a fool. What would a guy like Petre Stalinsky see in a girl like me? I took part-time college courses and lived at home. I wasn't a ball bunny looking for a rich guy to keep me in style with purses and busy with parties. I delivered groceries for crying out loud.

  "Don't be sorry." He said turning me in his arms. I was pressed against the counter from behind and lined up with his chest again. Just like on the floor, we were flush and perfectly aligned for me to feel every hard part of him as well as the pulsing one against my belly. I shut my eyes and nibbled my lip to the point of pain. I needed to focus. I needed to grab the rest of the groceries from my sad Honda Civic's rusted trunk which I'd parked next to his shining Range Rover. Clearly, we didn't belong.

  "I still have a few packages to bring up."

  "Have dinner with me." His eyes glowed a bright green under the LED lights and sucked me in like an ocean whirlpool.

  "What?" I asked confused. I came barging in forcing him to evict his house guests and now he was asking me to dinner.

  Was this a date?

  He chuckled.

  "I'd like it to be a date, but considering we started with dessert first, maybe dinner for now? You know, pumpkin pie and all."

  "Oh my god." I swallowed my tongue back trying to focus on the moment. We nearly copulated over his kitchen sink and he was making jokes.

  "You said that already, and I'd still like it to be a date." He brushed my hair back and then pulled his hand away. My dark hair had chunks of pumpkin in them. Fantastic. There was no way I could reasonably explain that when I got back to the store. Those organic pumpkins were a special order from a farm in New Jersey. My dad was going to kill me when I got back.

  "But you just had sex with two ball bunnies?" I pointed out angry that he was suggesting whatever it was that he was suggesting. Dinner and a what? A pizza-fuck? Netflix and shenanigans?

  "I know, it looks bad." He scratched the back of his neck with the grace to look at least a little embarrassed.

  "It is bad." I stated biting my lip and tensing my leg muscles. Last thing I wanted to do was stomp my foot like a surly child, but he made out with all the cheap hookers in town and was asking me to share a meal with him after the fact.

  Maybe I was being a prude?

  Was I being unfair?

  My young heart felt conflicted and confused like I couldn’t put all the details together while my brain fogged with the stench of fresh pumpkin without the sugar and spices to temper it into something sweeter.

  Petre nodded his head.

  "Guilty. If I had known I'd even have a shot with you or would be seeing you today, I would have declined their company."

  I snorted.

  “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Petre used the cleaner of his two hands to tilt my chin upward and look into my eyes.

  "If it’s any consolation, I think they might have been more into each other than me."

  "Poor you." I huffed. It wasn’t lost on me that this beautiful specimen of a man could have whoever he wanted, even two women who seemed to have no use for him beside his pretty face and million-dollar condo.

  "Ah, ahren. I'll have to prove myself worthy. Unfortunately, I'm kind of a jerk." He said lowering his head to mine. His voice went soft and growly doing silly things to me. I was shaking from the inside out with anticipation.

  "Wait, what?" I murmured, my eyes locked firmly on his mouth descending closer and closer to mine. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me? Wait. Backup. Where had his mouth been just a moment ago, and did I even want to know?

  “Because I take what I want when the opportunity presents itself.” Growly voice made me push all the unpleasant thoughts aside. I was sure I had a travel size bottle of mouthwash somewhere in the van downstairs.

  “And has it?” I asked, mesmerized by his green eyes and freshly showered scent that filled my nose blocking out the pumpkin.

  “It most definitely has.” His mouth covered mine and I couldn’t stop the squeak followed by the hum and purr of his lips moving over mine manipulating, sucking, licking. His hands resumed their tangle in my hair keeping me firmly lip locked in place. It was like a warm, wet massage I never wanted to end.

  This was nothing like my first kiss with Tommy from across the street when I was seven, or even when I got myself locked in a closet with Benjamin Poole from the eleventh grade. We both had braces and got stuck for about five minutes before we untangled. Luckily, we had been conned into participating in seven minutes in heaven and had a solid two minutes left to come up with a plausible story. He’d been checking out my elastic bands when we got startled and banged together getting stuck. Hey, sixteen-year-olds are pretty gullible.

  Then I remembered exactly what I saw when I walked in here and pushed against his chest with all the strength I had. Kissing was one thing. Roaming hands were another and led to more things I wanted, but shouldn’t want. He didn’t budge for a second, but then he grasped my hands and pulled back his mouth cocking his head to the side as if to look at me and ask why I stopped things.

  “You!” I growled trying to finagle my hands out of his grasp so I could wipe my mouth off.

  “Me, yes.” His eyes sparkled with amusement and I didn’t want to be anyone’s fool. Not this man’s or anyone else’s.

  “You’re not a fool, ahren.” He crooned.

  Drat and blast. I was speaking out of turn again and out loud at that.

  Hello, inside voice, I’m on calling you now.

  “I must be. You just had your man parts all over those women and now kissing me? Asking me to dinner. I don’t even know if the mouthwash is still in the van.” I muttered fluffing my hair and peering around his broad shoulder to see how far away the door was.

  Petre let out a chuckle before glancing down at me sheepishly.

  He shrugged.

  “Admittedly, it looks bad.” He said.

  “You think?”

  “I honestly wish I could take back last night, but I can’t. I want to do this right. Dinner. Walk you to your door, and god willing another kiss like this goodnight where you aren’t sending out a search and rescue team for mouth wash.”

  My whole body shivered contemplating that idea. It did sound nice. Most mouthwashes were overrated anyway.

  “Fine, but you can come to the car and haul your own groceries.” I said feeling a little proud I was able to tell him no, sort of, kind of. I mean, it wasn’t everyday a professional football player asked one out.

  “Deal.” He grinned.

  Oh heavens, what had I gotten myself into?

  Stay tuned to M.C. Cerny for Lina and Petre’s dinner date… will there be pumpkin pie for dessert or another foodie disaster?

  About the Author

  M.C. Cerny is a USA Today Bestselling author of fresh sexy books. She experienced her first real ugly cry reading, Where The Red Fern Grows, and never looked back. She lives with a menagerie of human and feline fur-babies in rural NJ. When M.C. is not writing, you’ll find her lurking in Starbucks, running stupid marathons, and eating all the tacos.

  WEBSITE: www.authormccerny.com

  NEWSLETTER: https://geni.us/postitnotes

  Her Melon Masters

 
A House of Durand Story

  Erin Bedford

  Heat level: 4

  Having vampire boyfriends was hard.

  Having ones who didn’t like watermelon was even harder.

  This human will make her masters love her favorite fruit even if she had to take one for the team.

  Chapter 1

  Darren

  The farmer's market had the usual hustle and bustle of a Saturday morning. The sky was clear and sunny, far too bright for any of the masters to try and sneak out of the house. Sunlight and vampires were not copasetic. They wouldn't bother themselves with coming at all if it weren't for the lovely woman walking beside me.

  "Oh, look!" Piper exclaimed, pointing a finger at the nearby tables, her blonde ponytail bouncing with her excitement. "They have bath bombs!"

  I arched a dark brow at her. "If you want custom-made ones, I'm sure Antoine and I could be persuaded to get you some. They would be of far better quality than these."

  Piper's light brown eyes rolled, and she snorted that cute, pert nose of hers. "You're not going to get sexual favors out of me by being a snob. These people are small business owners. They need our support. Not some big conglomerate."

  I laced my fingers with hers. For once, I had removed my gloves and changed out of my usual butler attire. I wanted to be a normal couple with her. Walk the streets, holding hands and pretending like our lives weren’t constantly in danger. We rarely got these moments, and I wanted to cherish them.