Sharing Samantha

by Madison Faye

  Sharing Samantha

  Madison Faye

  Contents

  Free Books Offer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Also by Madison Faye

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2018 Madison Faye

  Cover: Coverlüv

  Photography: Wander Aguiar

  Models: Andrew, Evan, Forest

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  Chapter 1

  Samantha

  Fucking Thanksgiving.

  My mood is already sour, but when I realize the asshole across the room has seen me, and is currently making his way through the crowd towards me, the last shred of my attempts at just getting through this god-awful day go up in flames.

  This is not what I need right now. Not when, for one, it’s stupid Thanksgiving, which, for those of us without any real family and who suck at making friends, is an all-around crap holiday. For two, I’m spending it at my stepmother Lynn’s house, who treats me like a second-class citizen at best.

  Oh, I can keep going.

  There’s also the fact that I’m twenty-seven, somewhat recently single, and even more recently without a job, since the dating website I was working for as a front-end programmer just abruptly went under.

  …Who knew that no one wanted to use a dating site called Fingr.

  Oh right, and my apartment back in New York City has, as of two days ago, been condemned for structural issues.

  Winning at life right here.

  But all of those things I’ve been grinning and bearing, especially since I arrived at Lynn’s house this afternoon in upstate New York. Being here without my dad around anymore always sucks. On holidays, it’s worse. And with everything else going on? Well, it’s a lot. The only reason I came was that the prospect of having Thanksgiving alone with fast food and free HBO in a shitty motel room somewhere sounded more depressing than words can even describe.

  So, here I am. At least it’s snowing out. I do love the snow.

  Oh and to make things even more fun, Martin is here. Martin is Lynn’s complete frat-boy douchebag of a son. Which unfortunately makes him my frat-boy douchebag of a stepbrother. He’s a complete tool, and to make it worse, he’s an obscenely rich and successful tool. Martin runs a hedge fund in New York, and is every bit the asshole finance guy you’d imagine. He’s also a total creep and has on more than one occasion suggested we “just bang, to get it over with.”

  Gross.

  But like I said, all of those things I’ve managed to accept in a way. All of those things I’ve got bottled up nicely inside. But this?

  Nope, this is my breaking point.

  The guy walking towards me through the crowd would be Ken. Ken as in, my ex. Ken as in, the ex who cheated on me, started dating the girl he banged behind my back.

  And here he is, at my stepmother’s annual “night-before-Thanksgiving” holiday party. To make things even more fun, Lynn doesn’t tolerate alcohol in her house. Which means, being single, being unemployed, being homeless, and being confronted and forced to say hi to my asshole of an ex is happening completely sober.

  …I would literally cut someone for a glass of Chardonnay right now.

  “Happy holidays, Sam.”

  Part of me wants to respond with just a fist to the mouth, but I take a breath. I’m not pissed at Ken for cheating on me because we were in love or anything. No, I know we weren’t. I know it was just easy to date Ken when he asked me out. After all, I knew him from home, and with both of us living in New York, it was just…yeah. Easy.

  I’m pissed because getting dumped like that sucks. And him going off to start a relationship with the chick he slept with is just a bruise to the ego.

  “Hey.”

  Hey. That’s all I manage. Ken smiles.

  “Great party. Lynn is the best. Must be great to come home to this, isn’t it?”

  Lynn is a manipulative, psychotic bitch, actually. And coming home is a nightmare.

  But again, I just smile dryly.

  “So, you came home for Thanksgiving too?”

  Ken nods, flashing this smarmy grin that makes me question how on earth I ever found him attractive enough to date. I look at him now and so much of me hates that he’s seen me naked.

  “Yeah, I…” he frowns. “You’re not really on Facebook much, are you?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  I frown. “Oh?”

  “So, Sam, I’m home because…”

  “Hey baby!”

  Ken beams, turning, and suddenly, my jaw drops.

  Oh, you’re fucking kidding me.

  On the list of reasons why today sucks, this one might just take the grand prize. Because giggling as she grabs my douchey ex-boyfriend’s hand and snuggles into his arms, is Shellie.

  A.k.a: The skanky cunt that Ken cheated on me with.

  “Oh, hey Sam!” She beams. There’s not even any malice or cruelty in her eyes. She’s just really clueless enough not to see why this might be weird for me.

  “Uh, hi,” I mutter icily.

  Again, I’m not pissed because I was “in love” with Ken or anything. It’s just an ego thing. And it fucking stings.

  Shellie beams, her face red and rosy. “Do you wanna see it?!” she gushes.

  Ken frowns. “Hon, maybe she doesn’t—”

  “See what?”

  Shellie giggles and raises her hand up. “Ta-da!”

  Nope. I lied. This one takes the prize. Because now, I’m officially single, jobless, homeless, standing in my awful stepmother’s kitchen, on a holiday I loathe, talking to my ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on me with.

  …And they’re engaged.

  Just to repeat myself, I would literally kill for a glass of wine right now.

  I stare at the huge diamond in a daze, blinking and not really able to find words.

  “Isn’t it huge?!” Shellie gushes.

  I just nod dumbly.

  “So?” She arches her brows at me, still beaming that annoyingly chipper smile at me like we’re friends. Like she didn’t completely knowingly sleep with my boyfriend.

  “So…what?”

  “Any news on your end?”

  I frown.

  No, Shellie, in the two months since Ken left me for you, I somehow have not managed to get engaged.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  My frown deepens, and I’m trying to find words, when suddenly, there’s a deep, rumbling, sexy as fuck voice behind me.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  I whirl, and come face-to-face with…a chest. A very broad, very muscled chest with a fitted, tailored dress shirt pulled tight across it. My eyes drag up, over the crisp white linen, over the top button open at the neck. Over the super-hot scruff on his chiseled, defined jaw, and over perfect, tantalizing lips. My eyes drag higher, over a sculpted nose and Armani-model cheekbones, and when they land on those sharp, ice-blue eyes, my breath catches in my throat.

  Whoa.

  Tall, built, and totally gorgeous, and I have no idea who he is.

  “She’s
with me.”

  Those eyes lock on mine, and those perfect lips of his curl slightly at the corner in this roguish grin.

  Uh, yes please?

  “I—”

  “There you are, babe,” he purrs out, his eyes still locked on mine as he moves right into me. His hand slides across my hip, making my pulse skip and my skin tingle. I blink rapidly, staring at him, my heart hammering in my ears as everything else just sort of tunes out.

  “Oh, uh…hey,” Ken stammers out. But the tall dark and sexy guy standing right in front of me doesn’t seem to even acknowledge him.

  “So, you two are…”

  This time, the man looks up, his eyes landing right on Ken.

  “We are,” he’s says evenly. “She’s mine.”

  Those big arms circle around me, my breath catches as he pulls me right into him, and my hands land on that perfect, muscled chest. He leans in, and the whole freaking world melts around me as those gorgeous lips of his crush against mine.

  He kisses me slow and deep. Sparks explode through my head, fire erupts through my body, and I melt into him, losing track of everything else before slowly, teasingly, he pulls away.

  “Let’s go, baby,” he murmurs. “Nice meeting you,” the man says offhandedly to Ken and Shellie, his eyes still on me as he takes my hand, turns, and starts to pull me away.

  I have no idea who he is, or where we’re going.

  …And I am so okay with that.

  Chapter 2

  Reece

  “Thanks for the save,” she says quietly once we’re away from whoever the dick bag was that she was talking to.

  “Anytime.” My eyes stare right into her emerald green ones and I’m lost. That gorgeous red hair falls like fire around her face, and it takes more control than I’ve ever managed to stop myself from grabbing her, tangling my hands in that hair, and just fucking kissing her again.

  Kissing her, and then carrying her to the nearest empty room so I can tear her clothes off and devour every inch of her.

  This is new to me. Feelings like this, and feelings like this that hit this hard. I’ve never looked at a woman and felt the fire erupting inside that I did the second I laid eyes on her from across the living room. I’ve never been floored, and felt my heart jump into my throat like that. I’ve never looked at a girl and felt my heart thunder and my cock swell rock hard in seconds.

  And I could read her body language, even if I couldn’t hear what she and that douchebag were saying. I could see the way she froze up, and how her hand closed to a fist.

  That’s when I stepped in. That’s when I said fuck it and just kissed her. And I’m pretty sure life is never going to be the same after having just done that.

  She blushes, her teeth raking over her bottom lip in this way that’s way sexier than I think she intends it to be.

  “Well, I’d say buy a girl a drink first, but…”

  I smirk.

  “Want to get a drink?”

  “Desperately,” she blurts out, blushing as I grin. “But, no booze in the house. Lynn’s rule.”

  I frown. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh.” I reach into my pocket for the little metal flask of bourbon.

  …Hey, if I was going to get through a god-awful holiday like fucking Thanksgiving, I knew I was going to need it. Thanksgiving for guys like me, or for guys like my best friend Gavin? Well, it sucks.

  “Good thing boy scouts always come prepared, huh?”

  Her brow shoots up. “Are you serious?”

  I half pull out the flask, and she grins.

  “Are you an angel?”

  I laugh. “So, since we’re in the dry house, you think there’s some place we can sneak off to?”

  Her face goes red with a blush.

  Good.

  I want her mind going there. I want her pretty head going to dirty places when I say that. My eyes drag over her curved hips, her narrow shoulders, that blouse hugging the swell of her tits. That fiery red hair and those piercing green eyes.

  …That mouth that I’m fucking dying to taste again.

  “There’s always the garage?”

  “Lead the way.”

  I watch her walk in front of me through the crowd, off down a side hallway towards the garage. No, specifically, I watch her ass.

  A lot.

  And I groan. Fuck, that ass in that skirt does all sorts of magic to the rapidly growing cock between my thighs. It’s not even an especially brazenly sexy skirt or anything like that. It’s knee length and fitted, black, with slight little grey pinstripes running down it. And I’m fucking mesmerized as I watch it tease the backs of her thighs and hug that tight little ass.

  She’s got on black heels, and the sleeveless white blouse has my balls tingling at the sight of her bare shoulders.

  …Shoulders. I’m getting hard for fucking shoulders. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again.

  But really, it’s the whole package. It’s that body, and that stunningly gorgeous face. It’s the red hair that’s begging to be wrapped around my fist as she bounces that ass up and down my cock.

  Fuck. I want her. Badly. And I know I’m not the only one who’d be into her. Gavin would fucking lose his mind over this girl, just as much as I am. I know my best friend like I know my shadow. And I know damn well he’d be as into her as I am.

  We step into the garage, and she shivers, her hands going to her bare arms and rubbing them. It’s not as cold as it is outside with all that snow coming down, but it’s chilly in here.

  She turns to me as I pull the flask out, and when I pass it her way, she grins as she takes a sip.

  “Yikes,” she wheezes, her eyes watering. “Not what I was expecting.”

  I chuckle. “And what were you expecting?”

  “Would it be terrible if I said Chardonnay?”

  I laugh. “Nope. Whiskey or nothing.”

  “Right, now, I’ll take it.”

  I grin, taking a swing from the flask before passing it back her way.

  “I’m Sam, by the way.” She half blurts it out, eying me. “Well, Samantha.”

  And suddenly, I freeze.

  Oh fuck.

  “McCue?”

  She nods, not seeing the “oh shit” look on my face as she takes another sip.

  “Yep.”

  Double fuck.

  The moment I saw her, I wanted her. Badly. And I still do. But, now I know who she is. Now, the red hair, the knowing her way to the garage so easily, it all makes sense.

  I just kissed Samantha McCue. As in, Martin McCue’s stepsister. As in, the douchebag piece of shit junior VP of Prism Capital, the hedge fund that my buddy Gavin and I have been chasing after for months to sell our algorithm to.

  Shit.

  To be clear, Martin is a scumbag of the highest degree. Worse than even most greasy finance types. Trust me, Gavin and I both know, because we used to be in the finance game. But years ago, we pivoted to the technology side of things, quit our trading jobs, and started up North Star Analytics. Now, instead of spending twenty-four hours a day watching stocks, we use our background in math and programming to build algorithms that help hedge funds like Prism Capital stay sharp and on their game when it comes to trades and acquisitions.

  …Yeah, super exciting stuff, isn’t it?

  But that’s the reason I’m here, and why Gavin is on his way up from the city as we speak. That’s why the two of us, who hate assholes like Martin McCue and loathe Thanksgiving are spending it here in upstate New York with Martin and his mother.

  …And his stepsister.

  Because as much as I hate to say it, we’re here to suck up and kiss that prick’s ass. Martin’s a douche, but this is business, and selling to Prism will be our biggest move yet. Selling to Martin’s fund will open all sorts of other doors for us. Basically, it’s the most important sell of our lives.

  It burns, because he really is a real piece of shit. But whatever. You do what you have to do. Gavi
n and I know that more than most. The two of us came from jack and shit. We stuck together to make it through the foster care system when both of his parents lit out and my mom finally overdosed. We worked our asses off, got our butts into a great college and then business school.

  And now, here we are. And here I am, my eyes locked on her, my cock pulsing between my thighs, and my jaw clenched tight.

  Samantha McCue. The girl I just kissed is Martin’s fucking stepsister. Now, I can see that chafing anyone. I mean, I get it. I don’t have a sister or a step one but still. I’d be pissed if some guy I was thinking about getting into business with came and just fucking kissed her, if I had one.

  But it's more than that with Martin. It’s…creepier than that with him. Cause Martin isn’t just an asshole, he’s a sleazy asshole. The guy has half a dozen pending sexual harassment charges against him that his own company is trying to bury internally. And in the few short weeks we’ve known him, especially since he invited us up to his mother’s place for Thanksgiving dinner, he’s mentioned a few times how much he likes his stepsister Samantha.

  …How much he really likes her. Let’s just say he’s got a thing for Samantha. Actually, he hasn’t really shut up about it. And he’s said some real fucked up stuff, too.

  And I just kissed her. And I’m standing here alone with her, imagining tearing her clothes off—imagining her sliding that sweet, tight little pussy down on my cock as she rides me good.

  Shit.

  I should walk away. This job is make or break for Gavin and me. Fucking it up just to…

  I lose my train of thought. Because right then, I look at her, our eyes lock, and fuck, I’m lost. Right then, I fucking drown in those big green eyes.

  Hard.

  My skin prickles, blood roaring in my ears. And fuck, my cock turns to steel in my pants. My cock wants to fucking tear a hole in my pants and her damn skirt. It’s fucking primal is what it is.

  It takes me second to realize she’s said something, and I shake my head clear of the thoughts of claiming her.