by Jessa Kane
PRETTY DARING
Jessa Kane
Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane
Kindle Edition
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Don’t miss Grant and Sienna’s story!
CHAPTER ONE
Ophelia
I pull my Bugatti into a parking space outside the old apartment building and blow out a breath. This neighborhood is a far cry from mine, but I’m definitely no stranger here, considering my housekeeper, Leeza, forgets her heart medication at least once a week. With my mother living in Prague indefinitely and my father practically sleeping at the office, I’m the only one home on a consistent basis, so I’m required to fetch it for her.
Well, not required exactly.
There might be a slight chance the kooky maid has grown on me.
Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud.
I was on my way to the beach when Leeza called me, bemoaning her forgetfulness, and I made a quick turn, speeding to Queens, where Leeza has lived for decades in her small two-bedroom. I’m going to grab the medication, drop it off at my family’s townhouse on the Upper West Side and attempt to reach the beach by sundown. Honestly, I graduated high school a week ago and haven’t gotten a single ray of sunshine on my pale behind. It’s time.
Adjusting the strap of my bikini top, I climb out of the car and lock it behind me with a beep. I use the set of keys Leeza gave me long ago to enter the rusted metal door of the building and climb the filthy staircase to the second floor. We pay Leeza a small fortune to clean the house and feed us, enough to live in much nicer digs, but she refuses, claiming she doesn’t need anything fancy to be happy.
I can’t help but think she’s on to something, since my parents have a billion dollars and I’ve never met two more miserable people.
As for me…I don’t exactly know if I’m happy.
I know I should be. Right? I have everything an eighteen-year-old girl could want. I’m going to Princeton in the fall. Just like my father, mother and various grandparents. I’m driving a car that isn’t even for sale yet in the United States. My future is secure.
I’m sure this impulse to run screaming in the opposite direction will pass.
There is also the teeny tiny issue of me being blackmailed by my father’s business partner. Yeah. We can’t forget about that.
As if I could. Part of the reason I’m escaping to the beach today is so I won’t stare at my cell phone terrified, waiting for it to ring. Terrified to hear that snide voice that has been haunting my nightmares for a month, ever since Wagner started calling.
Making demands.
Determined to forget about the fact that my family’s future might be in jeopardy—unless I comply with Wagner’s demands—I shake out the correct key to Leeza’s apartment door, insert it into the lock and turn. I’m so accustomed to entering Leeza’s place and going straight for the row of pill bottles on her kitchen windowsill, I almost don’t notice the man sitting in the leather easy chair by the window.
When I do notice him, my heart careens into my lungs and I stumble sideways into the wall, gasping for breath. “Oh my God,” I wheeze. “Who are you?”
His face is shrouded in shadows until he leans his huge—and I mean freaking huge—body forward and his silver-gray eyes cut through the mid-afternoon haze. Jesus, is that…Thor? God of Thunder? They could actually be twins. Although this guy is definitely the bad twin. The tattoos adorning his musclebound arms are a collection of skulls, death and mayhem.
“You first,” he rasps, his long, inked-up fingers flexing where they rest on his knees.
I eyeball the door, judging I can escape in two, three seconds tops. “Um…I-I forgot the question,” I stammer.
Did I imagine the corner of his mouth jumping? “Who are you?” he says, slowly. “And why are you in my mother’s apartment?”
Mother?
Everything clicks at once.
This is Leeza’s son, Ezra. Although she’s talked about him hundreds of times, I’ve never met the man face to face.
I simply haven’t had a chance since he’s been imprisoned in Rikers Island for seven years. She mentioned him coming home soon but didn’t give a specific date.
When did he get out?
My heart starts to race even faster when I notice the packed duffel bag across the room. Did he get out of Rikers today? The evidence certainly suggests so. But before I can try to talk or act my way out of this suddenly hairy situation, Ezra rises to his feet and I’m knocked back another step. My God, his dirty-blond head almost reaches the ceiling. If I try to run from this man and he catches me, I’ll have no chance of escape, plus he’ll be pissed off.
This is not a man one pisses off.
I definitely shouldn’t be…attracted to the danger surrounding him. Definitely not.
He takes a step forward into the light, highlighting the planes of muscles beneath his worn white T-shirt, the thickness of his thighs…and I feel a weird clench in my tummy. One I’ve never experienced before. It’s part fear, part excitement and I’m not sure if I like it. I do know I want to feel it again so I can make an accurate judgment. That’s only fair.
“I’m waiting for an answer, little girl,” he says, his voice dark and muddy.
My nipples tighten into painful points and I cross my arms to shield them from his view—and that’s when I remember I’m wearing a bikini under the slinkiest of beach cover ups. The sheer, white kimono barely brushes the tops of my thighs. When I put my outfit on, I didn’t expect to get out of the car until I reached the beach and this attire was acceptable. The tiny pink triangles over my breasts and feminine mound hardly seem sufficient now, with this powerful giant staring down at me.
“I’m the, um…neighbor. I live down the hall.” I’m not sure why I lie, exactly. Maybe because people tend to hate me because of what they perceive to be my easy street lifestyle. I’m not sure if I want to avoid Ezra’s hatred because I’ll be safer that way. Or if I just want to be a woman to him. Just a normal woman without a twenty-million-dollar trust fund.
It tends to make people weird.
After eighteen years of everyone categorizing me as a spoiled brat upon hearing my last name, I just want to be someone else for five minutes.
“What are you doing here?” Ezra prompts again.
“I’m watering the plants,” I respond, smoothly, gesturing to the dying greenery on the television stand. “Your mother asked me to come by. I’ve…never seen you here before.”
His tongue slides with interminable slowness across his lower lip, those silver-gray eyes hungry on my thighs. “Just got out of lockup about an hour ago,” he growls.
“Oh.” My stomach flips. “How nice.”
“That’s not the word I’d use after seven years.” He steps forward and I notice the outline of his erection. It’s growing larger and more prominent with every move he makes in my direction. And I can’t help it, I’m…excited. Ever since I was a young girl, my parents, teachers and friends have all called me rebellious. I’ve always thought them categorizing me that way was ridiculous. Maybe they were just boring. But no. I’m obviously a full
-on crazy pants. Men haven’t really interested me until now. This very second. I’m drawn to the mayhem in his eyes. He wants to do something to me and I must be insane for wanting to know more. To experience it.
It’s possible I’ve just been sheltered in my daddy’s mansion too long.
Whatever the reason for my body tightening in odd places, I find myself lifting my chin and rasping my thighs together for his viewing pleasure. “Do you have plans now that you’re out—”
“How old are you?” His big chest heaves and he jabs the air with a blunt finger. “Is that pussy legal?”
The body part in question squeezes at his vulgar language. “I’m eighteen.”
His whispers a thank you up at the ceiling. “Look, little girl. I’m in a bad fucking way here.” He comes closer until he’s towering over me, and without looking down, I sense him fondling his huge arousal through his jeans. “I don’t go around asking little girls to fuck. Not before prison and not after. But those years inside caught up with me the second you walked in. I’ve never seen anything so goddamn pretty.” He drags a finger down between my breasts. “If I don’t get my nut off inside you, they might as well put me back in prison because I’m going to lose my mind.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ezra
And here I thought doing time had robbed me of every last ounce of decency. It must not be true, because I’m definitely ashamed of myself, talking to this fresh-faced girl like she’s a fellow prison inmate. Honestly I’m not sure what’s gotten in to me. I had no plans to find a female today, even though I’ve been celibate for seven long years. No, after dropping off my stuff at my mother’s house, the plan was to get a cold beer and watch the ballgame.
Then she walked in.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never seen anything so pretty. Before, during or after prison. She’s a tight little brunette princess with high tits and eyes that spell trouble. Yeah. This one would keep a man on his fucking toes. There’s about a million thoughts taking place in her head right now and she thinks it’s not obvious. It is.
I want every last one of those thoughts to be about me.
My cock isn’t just hard out of lust. It’s pressing painfully against my zipper because I want to lay this girl down and mark her as mine. My skin is hot, blood thickening by the second, an involuntary tick in my cheek. Get her wrapped around your cock. Make her yours. There has to be a thousand men trying to lock this sweet thing down. I’m not about to let her leave when someone else could lay claim. And they would—in a heartbeat. I’d take her away from whoever stole her, of course, but the thought of another man breathing near her makes my blood pressure skyrocket. I’m sure as hell not letting it come to that.
First order of business. I need to get between her thighs. She’s rubbing them together and biting that lip. Might as well be waving a red flag in front of a bull.
Who is this girl?
Why is she affecting me like this?
If I don’t get my nut off inside you, they might as well put me back in prison because I’m going to lose my mind.
That’s the last thing I said to this goddess and she’s understandably shocked. Join the club, baby. I’ve never needed anything as bad in my life as I need to touch her. There’s something about her that tells me she’s going to bring trouble back into my life when the plan was to leave it behind. There is nothing that can stop me from hungering for her, though. Nothing can stop me from wrapping a light hand around her slim throat and rubbing my thumb in circles around her delicate hollow.
“You this soft and smooth everywhere else, too?”
“No,” she whispers, shifting. “Everyone says I have a hard head.”
A crack of laughter leaves me. There’s something about this girl. She’s making my pulse beat in a new way. I thought my heart was dead after so long inside those concrete walls, but every moment being around her revives me a little more. Maybe it’s the life that crackles inside of her. The fact that she hasn’t run away from me, even though I’m a scary motherfucker. She isn’t just beautiful, she’s brave. Or reckless. All of it—all of her—calls to me. “I want to know all about that hard head, but I need you to lie down and open your thighs for me first.”
Her mouth forms an O. “Is that a normal way to speak to someone?”
“Don’t know.” I press my thumb to her jugular and watch her pupils dilate. “Nothing normal about how bad I need to ride you.”
Her exhale rushes out over my wrist. “A-and what happens after that?”
“Then…” I slide my hand up and grip her jaw. “Then I’m guessing I apologize for being so rough on that princess pussy, clean you up and do it all over again.” A crazy thought occurs to me. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
“No? Me? No.” She laughs. “Of course not.”
I’m not going to lie, I love the idea of being this girl’s first, but I’m too worked up to show the kind of finesse a virgin needs. I’m fitting to tear into this girl like a dog with a meaty bone. I’ve got pre-come trickling down the inside of my leg and my balls are aching something fierce. I don’t think I’ve been this hungry for sex a day in my life. It’s her. She’s doing this to me. I need to get my cock buried in her tempting package of a body before I bust in my jeans just from looking at her. “I’ve been in the pen for a long time, little girl. I’m sure men trip all over themselves trying to get a date with you—and here I am, begging to fuck when we just met. But I’ve got no choice.” I put my mouth against hers and taste her sweet breath. “You’ve got me hurting so bad, princess. You have to cure me.”
After a minute, she nods and my hands move on their own. One second, she’s standing in front of me, the next she’s flat on her back on my mother’s couch, bouncing from the impact of being thrown down. There’s no mistaking how tight her cunt is going to be. Not when she’s blushing like a schoolgirl and that tiny strip of pink material between her legs covers her entire pussy. I have no business trying to wedge my cock inside a girl half my size—and I’m starting to feel like a bastard for what I have to do—but then she sits up and strips the see-through cover up over her head, letting it drop to the floor.
“I can see how badly you’re hurting,” she whispers, her eyebrows drawing together, almost as if she’s puzzled. “I-I don’t like it. I don’t like you hurting.”
She’s my soul mate.
I know it in this moment.
I’ve never believed in that shit until now, but the closer I get to where she lies on the couch, the tighter my heart wraps around my jugular. I’m being propelled toward her by a magnetic force and she must feel it, too. It’s what makes her brave enough to lie down for a man who looks like he’d kill with his bare hands. “You don’t want me to hurt, princess?”
“No.” She shakes her head slowly and holds her arms up to beckon me closer. “I can’t explain it but…your pain is making me hurt, too.”
Needing—craving—her naked skin against mine, I unzip my jeans with shaking hands. Not wanting to scare her, I leave my cock tucked inside its denim prison and strip off my shirt, watching her pupils expand, her toes curling into the couch cushions. “I know I look scary.”
Her wide eyes roam over my scars and tattoos. “Maybe a little.”
I grunt. “Only people who have to be scared of me are your enemies. Not you. Never you. Understand me, little girl?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I reach down and hook my finger in her bathing suit bottoms and yank them down her legs, revealing the kind of wet, little pussy that could launch a thousand-year war. “Goddamn, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” I take her knees in my hands and hold them open, settling myself between her legs on the couch, the cushions groaning under my considerable weight. “Show me the tits.”
Her flush deepens and I’m worried I’m being too coarse, but she slides the triangles to the side and shows me her pouting red nipples. They sit on top of two plump, beautiful mounds and she doesn’t know it yet, but those pretty babies
are going to get her titty fucked on the regular. Probably as soon as I’m done blowing in her pussy.
“You are one gorgeous goddamn princess, aren’t you?”
“You look like the King of Asgard,” she mumbles.
“Yeah?” No idea what she’s talking about, I lean down and get a closer look at the only pussy I ever want to see for the rest of my life. “Is the king supposed to fuck the princess?”
“N-no.”
I tease her slit with the tip of my tongue. “Oh well.” As soon as the taste of her honey hits the back of my throat, it’s like a newer, rawer hunger wakes up inside me. I’m already desperate to get inside her, but now I’m ravenous. And impatient. There’s no way I’ll get my dick inside of her without eating this pussy first—and I ain’t complaining—so I seesaw my tongue between her folds to separate them and groan when I meet her clit for the first time. It’s little and pink and it swells for my mouth like it’s been waiting for me to come treat it right. I curl my tongue around it like a snake and twist, sending her hips bucking up off the couch.
“Oh m-my God.”
“Ezra is your God now, little girl. Call my name or nobody’s.”
Her thighs fall open nice and wide at my commanding tone and lust plows into my bones. Fuck yeah, this sweet thing is my soul mate. She’s been molded and designed just for me. I don’t have to be afraid of scaring her or being too rough. Every signal she’s giving me tells me she isn’t just tolerating it, she loves it. And when her nails score my scalp and she whimpers my name, I’m lost. I growl into my next lick, making her clit my target. The faster I can make her come, the faster I can bury my cock in her delicious cunt. I eat her like she’s my last meal, snarling and licking and using my thumb to tease her clit when I have to pause for breath. Her smell fills my nose, making me an animal.
“Ezra,” she sobs, rolling her hips up to meet my tongue. “I don’t know what’s happening. B-but please keep going.”