Level Up: Violent Circle: Book Five

by Shade, S. M.

  Today, I’m just happy I didn’t get stuck with the closing shift, since that includes breaking down and cleaning all the kitchen equipment. When I clock out at eight, I give a wave to my coworkers who weren’t so fortunate and get a middle finger in return.

  My mouth waters at the smell of barbecue when I let myself in my apartment. Denton sits in the recliner with Becca on his lap, and Sasha lounges on the couch. “What smells so good?” I ask, sitting beside Sasha.

  “Ugh, not you. Why does Tasty Tacos smell like B.O.?” She scoots away.

  Denton and Becca laugh as I slide over and throw my arm around her. “Come on, you know you like it.”

  “Ew!” She giggles, squirming away. “Get away from me!”

  “Fine. I’ll go shower while you make me a plate of whatever smells so good,” I tell her as I get to my feet.

  “Do I need to go get Beulah?”

  A shiver runs through me. That doll is the creepiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, and if Becca didn’t love it so much, I’d have thrown it into the river a long time ago. “I’m going,” I grumble.

  She’s not wrong about the smell. I don’t notice it when I’m at work, just like the customers don’t notice it when they eat there, but damn I smell awful when I leave. Stripping off my black pants and polo shirt, I step into the hot shower and scrub with the scented body wash that Denton loves to give me shit over. Like men aren’t supposed to smell good. It’s not like it’s rose scented or anything, but it does wash away the Tasty Taco—or as Sasha put it—B.O. smell.

  Ever since the night of the festival, Sasha has pretended nothing happened, and since I haven’t been accosted with questions from Becca, I assume she didn’t tell anyone. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. Sasha is a smoke show with her little heart shaped face and upturned eyes. She’s as adorable as she is sexy, but I have a feeling that using that word to describe her might get me kicked in the nuts.

  After my shower, I dig into the barbecue beef in the crock pot, and I’m just finishing dinner when my phone beeps with a text from my friend, Harper. Harper is a game designer who graduated last year. He was thrilled to get a job offer quickly but has been regaling me with the horror tales of our chosen career ever since.

  Harper: Holy fuck. Have you checked your rankings?

  A bud of excitement grows in my stomach. On a whim, I self-published a mobile game on the app market. The game is simple, though I put a lot of work into it. I wanted some opinions outside of my friends and I figured it would look good on my resume when I start job hunting. It must be doing better than I expected for him to notice.

  I check on the game and nearly fall out of my chair. My phone rings, and I barely have it to my ear before Harper’s voice tries to deafen me. “Did you see it?”

  “Just now. How the hell is it doing so well?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a fun little game, but I don’t know how the word got out. You have to raise the price.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I try to think. “I don’t know. It might kill the climb.”

  “It won’t. If it’s this in demand, it’s only going up. Dude, if you ever listen to me in your life, do it now. Raise the price.”

  He’s right. If it’s going viral, I need to act now. A price hike might not be noticed as much at this stage as it will if it becomes super popular. Harper stays on the phone with me, marveling over what we’ve just discovered as I grab my laptop and adjust the price of what is now in the top forty games on the app market.

  If I knew this was going to happen, I might have named it something better than Cluck Chuckers. I mean, the whole point is to chuck chickens at different random objects. Objects which then turn into eggs and hatch more chickens to throw. The name seemed obvious, if not a little silly.

  “Okay, the price is updated,” I tell Harper. “If it kills sales, I’m bringing it back down.”

  Harper’s girlfriend yells something in the background. “I have to go, but congrats, Trey. This is going to be huge.”

  “I’m not counting my chickens yet,” I laugh, hanging up as he groans at my response.

  Puns. I’m a fan. It’s even funnier when others aren’t.

  If I thought the ranking was a surprise, it’s nothing compared to the shock of checking the account to see how much money I’ve made. It can’t be right. Not in a few days. Not from a stupid chicken chucking game.

  It’s more than I’ve made at Tasty Tacos the entire three years I’ve worked there, not that that’s saying much. It’s almost enough to pay off all my student loans, which is much more impressive. The numbers creep up before my eyes as more sales of the game come in.

  This is unbelievable. I let myself hope for a second that this will continue. That I’ll make enough to pay off the loans and maybe even get a new truck. Jezebel is on her last legs…or tires. Whatever.

  I know not to get my hopes too high. Most viral games spread quickly at first, then fade just as fast as people get bored with them. No way it’s going to last. Still, for my first game, this is extraordinary.

  Denton walks in, and I close the laptop. “Dude, are you watching porn in the kitchen?”

  “Yeah, I was seconds away from whipping it out. What do you want?”

  “I’m taking Becca to the movies. Do you want to go?”

  The words pop out before I have a chance to think about it. “Is Sasha going?”

  “No.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Still think you have a shot, huh?” he teases. Little does he know I’ve already taken my shot. I sure wouldn’t mind an encore.

  “With Becca? No, she’s made her choice. She’ll realize her mistake someday, but it’s too late.”

  He smacks me on the back of the head and walks away. The sound of the front door being locked lets me know they’re gone.

  My mind is still spinning with the news of how well my game is doing. Even worst case scenario, I’ll be able to pay off my student loans and put a success story on my resume. Maybe I can find a job in the industry that isn’t the constant nightmare Harper described.

  All that gets pushed aside with another realization. For the first time since the festival, Sasha and I are alone.

  “Yeah,” Sasha calls when I tap on her door. She glances up at me from the bed. “Hey, what’s up?”

  I’m up. Like instantly. She’s lying diagonally across the bed on her stomach, a book in front of her. The expression on her face is expectant, but all I can see is the perfect ass clad in gray yoga pants. I remember how it felt under my hands when she rode me and…

  “Trey! Did you want something, or did you just come in to stare at my ass?”

  I really didn’t think this through. “I can’t remember what I wanted so I’m going to go with ass.” My eyes sweep up to her face, and she rolls onto her side.

  “You’re a real smooth talker, aren’t you?” she scoffs.

  “My tongue is better at other things, remember?” Despite her attempt to seem annoyed or exasperated, I see the heat flare in her eyes. “Denton and Becca are gone for at least three hours.”

  Sitting up, she crosses her ankles and leans back on her palms. “And.”

  “And I want to fuck you again.”

  She blinks. “Just right to the point, huh?”

  Shrugging, I sit next to her feet and pick up the book she was reading. “You seem to like the no bullshit, direct approach.”

  Her hand darts out. “Give me that.”

  One glance at the title and I know why she didn’t want me to look at it. “Shiver Me Timbers? Are you…is this pirate porn?” Moving out of her reach as she reaches for the book, I flip to a folded page and holy shit, it is absolutely porn. I get a glance at the phrase quivering sheath before she lunges and snatches the book away.

  My arms encircle her, pulling her down on my chest as I lie back, trying not to laugh. “Come on, me beauty. Swab my deck and I’ll release the Kraken, arr.”

  A smile cracks her fac
e. “You’re a huge nerd, you know that, right?”

  Her lips are inches away from mine, and I can’t resist stealing a kiss. “You like me, though. You like a huge nerd. What’s the matter with you?”

  The way she pauses for a moment, I’m sure she’s getting ready to put some distance between us. Instead, she sits up, pulls off her top, and unfastens her bra, tossing it aside. Sitting beside me, she stares down at me as I run my hand up her belly. Her eyes close briefly when I rub my thumb over her nipple. She reaches between my legs, and the slight pressure of her hand has me hard as stone despite the clothing between us.

  Her tongue darts out to swipe at her upper lip, and all I can think of is having her mouth around my cock. As if she can read my dirty mind, she says, “I didn’t get to go down on you last time. It was really unfair to me, now that I think about it. I think we need a do-over.”

  “Babe, you can have a do-over, do again, do a hundred times, whatever you want.”

  She unfastens my jeans. “Says the man still wearing pants.”

  There’s no time to waste as I leap to my feet, pull off my shirt, and shove my jeans and underwear off. When she stands and starts to undress, I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her every move. Fuck, she has an amazing body. Slim and tight, with legs that go on forever.

  A few steps eat up the distance between us and she stands between my legs, letting out a soft moan when I suck her nipple between my lips. Her fingers caress the back of my neck as she pulls my head forward, encouraging me. The way she reacts, it’s clear I’ve found her weak spot, and I shower both nipples with attention while my hands explore her ass.

  She reaches beside me and grabs a pillow, drops it to the floor in front of me, and kneels down. Fuck, that look on her face is enough to get me off. In my experience, most women will give a blow job, but don’t seem to get much enjoyment out of it. The heated look of anticipation, like she can’t wait, that’s a new experience for me.

  Maybe this isn’t common knowledge among women, but blow jobs mainly come down to enthusiasm. And Sasha has no shortage of that. The way she handles me with her hands and mouth, sucking and stroking, all the time looking like it’s the best thing she’s ever done in her life. It’s amazing. Beyond mind-blowing.

  Making her stop is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I want inside her. “Fuck,” I groan, pulling her off of me. Before she can argue—I see that glint in her eye that says she’s about to give me shit—I get to my feet and spin her around. “Bend over the bed.”

  “Condom,” she reminds me, and I can’t believe I forgot. I’m always safe. This woman scrambles my brain. Her legs hang over the edge of the bed, and she jerks when I slap her ass.

  “Wait right here.”

  It only takes me a few seconds to run to my room and retrieve a condom, then return, but the sight of her waiting, bent over, ass in the air, makes me pause for a moment. She glances back with a slight frown. “What are you waiting for?”

  “You look so fucking sexy like that.”

  A small smile appears, and her cheeks turn pink as she turns her head. “Then come on and fuck me. We don’t have all night.”

  My fingers slide into her with ease, and she lets out a little moan. There are a million things I want to do to her, but I can’t wait any longer.

  “Jesus! Fuck!” she cries out as I sink all the way into her in one stroke. Fighting the impulse to fuck her into the mattress, I give her a minute to adjust. She squirms a little under me when I bend over, my chest pressed to her back. I run my hands over her shoulders, then down her arms before clasping the backs of her hands and pinning them to the bed.

  I feel her breathing speed up when I murmur in her ear. “You’re awfully bossy.”

  “You like it though.” Her ass presses back against me, trying to get me to move.

  She groans when I pull almost all the way out before sliding in again.

  “And you like that.”

  “I do. Don’t stop.” That pleading tone of voice does me in, and I give her what she wants. What we both want, whether she likes to admit it or not.

  Chapter Three

  Sasha

  The peace I feel in my body is warring with the chaos in my brain as Trey holds me, my cheek pressed to his broad chest. The man is a cuddler. Can’t say I hate that. I really had no intention of sleeping with him again, especially while I’m staying here, but something about him just seems to make me forget any apprehensions and dive right in.

  He’s so funny and kind, but mostly, he’s easy. Not in a sexual way, though that sure wasn’t difficult. He has such an oh well, come what may, laid back manner that’s somehow soothing after all the drama of my last—and only—relationship. Not that this is a relationship. Or will ever be one. It’s not just that I’m not ready. I’m not sure long term relationships are a good idea at all anymore.

  “I can hear your brain whirring,” he says, running his large hand down the back of my head. “Are you freaking out on me?”

  “Of course not.” Scooting down a little, I rest my chin on his stomach and look up at him.

  “Do you regret it?” His voice is even, as if my answer doesn’t matter, but I know better. And this is my main worry with this. That I’ll hurt him. I never want to make anyone feel like I did.

  I take his hand that’s resting on his chest, lacing my fingers between his. “No, not at all. You were right before, Trey, I like you. You’re sweet and funny and amazing in bed.” The best I’ve had, if I’m going to be honest. I didn’t think a big guy could move like that. “But I don’t want to get involved with anyone right now. I’m not…in a good place in my head for it, you know?”

  I’m a little surprised at myself, that I’m being this honest with him and not just getting the hell away. I’m not the emotional, show your feelings type. Most people see me as the smart ass—and when it comes to men—somewhat unapproachable tattoo chick who doesn’t take any shit. That reputation has served me well.

  “Okay, I get it. I’m not going to lie, Sasha, I like you too. If you decide you want to see where this goes, we can, or if you just want to hook up once in a while, have some fun, I’m cool with that too. It’s up to you, and you don’t have to worry I’m going to announce what we do to the world. It’s between us.”

  “I don’t want you to think it’s because I’m ashamed or anything. I just don’t want Becca and our friends making a big deal out of it and making things weird when we all hang out.”

  Trey chuckles, running his fingers up and down my bare back. “Oh yeah, they’d be insufferable. We’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Exactly.”

  He glances down at me and grins. “I know where Denton hides his weed. Do you want to go dip into his stash before they get back?”

  “I’m in.”

  * * *

  Sometimes it feels like the universe is just playing with me. Just sitting back, poking me with a stick to see how quickly I’ll lose my shit. I’m weak. Completely weak. The second Trey sat on my bed and talked about his tongue, I stripped like my clothes were on fire. And no matter how much I think I can control myself, I don’t trust myself one bit not to do it again. And again.

  It’s messing with my head because I’m not sure why I can’t resist him. It’s not like he’s pawing at me all the time, trying to get in my pants. But something about that smile and sweet disposition just makes my panties fly off.

  It’s ridiculous.

  So, I need to go home before I end up causing problems in our friend group. My plan is to just reschedule my tattoo appointments earlier in the day, try to get off work earlier and be in bed before too late, since I know the contractors will be rattling me awake early. Ugh, night owl is my default so I’m not looking forward to it.

  It doesn’t matter because my phone rings with a call from my landlord before I’m even out of bed.

  Mold. They found mold under the floorboards and now they’re checking inside the walls and tearing out god knows ho
w much. In the meantime, no one can stay there. In fact, I have to go today and get whatever I need for the next few weeks because they won’t even be letting anyone inside.

  The only plus side to this is they refunded my rent this month, plus I won’t have to pay next month’s either. But if I don’t want to stay in a cheap motel that probably has more mold than my apartment, I’m stuck at Frat Hell.

  “You’ll be here for Thanksgiving!” Becca exclaims with a grin. “Of course, we were going to invite you anyway, if you aren’t going home.”

  “You’re cooking for Thanksgiving?”

  “We’re having a sort of neighborhood dinner. We’ve reserved the multipurpose room beside the laundry room, and everyone is bringing a dish. We’ve had a few new neighbors move in so we figured everyone could meet and get to know each other.”

  “Make sure the new people aren’t serial killers?” I joke.

  “What is it with you and serial killers?” Trey laughs, flopping into the recliner.

  “Serial killers are a real danger…unlike bats,” I taunt, mocking that girly scream he let out during that fiasco.

  Becca sprawls beside Denton on the couch, and he pretends to guard the plate of food on his lap. “Clear your calendar the day before Thanksgiving. We can use Thanksgiving Day to recover. Violent Circle doesn’t do holidays half assed.”

  “Yeah, I remember the last party. Shit was crazy.” I guess I need to figure out what food to make. At least I have some extra money, which reminds me. “My landlord refunded my rent, and I want you guys to take it for me staying here this month.”

  All of them instantly protest. “Seriously, Sasha, our rent is paid up. It’s not necessary,” Trey says.

  “Then let me pay some utilities or buy groceries, at least.”

  “You can buy groceries,” Becca agrees. “In fact, please do, so Denton won’t. He gets generic brand everything.”

  Denton looks up, sandwich in hand. “I do not!”