Jayded
Jayded
Shevaun DeLucia
Words Written, LLC
Rochester, New York
Copyright
©
2015 by Words Written, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed
“
Attention: Permissions Coordinator,
”
at the address below.
Words Written, LLC
Rochester, New York
www.shevaundelucia.com
Publisher
’
s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author
’
s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout by East Way Photography
www.eastwayphotography.com
Cover Art by George R. Parulski, Jr.
Jayded / Shevaun DeLucia
ISBN 978-0-9863951-0-9
Table of Contents
To my number one fans
—
you give me a reason to
follow my dreams
–
Dom & Ang
Jayded [
ˈ
jā-d
ə
d]
adjective
:
1. to sexually pleasure to the extreme
2. to be sexually pleasured to the point where all other lovers would be inferior
CHAPTER ONE
Kyle
A breeze rushes over me, sending goose bumps across the surface of my skin and chilling me to the bone. I pull my tangled covers up over my shoulder and bury my face deep into the warmth. Ahh, so snug.
Just then, my alarm shrieks loudly through the room. I don
’
t want to move. Fuck work today. Ugh! If only I could lie in bed all day and get paid for it, life would be perfect. On second thought, I could do that as a male escort! I laugh at my dirty mind, shake my head, and smile. The things I come up with.
I take one last breath and blow it out forcefully before I push the covers off and feel the breeze glide over me once more. Brr! I jump across my bed to shut the darn thing off, almost falling on my face when my foot catches on the sheet.
It
’
s the middle of January, and still, to this day, I cannot fall asleep without my fan on. It is an old habit acquired from childhood. The sounds of the whipping blades drowned out the noise of Junior, my older brother, snoring
—
something I had to endure when sharing a room with him as a kid. I
’
ve needed it ever since. It
’
s one of my weird addictions.
I rub the sleep from my eyes, a parting gift from the good ole Sandman. I just hate morning time. I think I
’
ve been up no more than five minutes before my phone rings. I don
’
t even need to look at the caller ID to know who it is.
I press the green button and put the phone up to my ear as I walk to the bathroom.
“
Hey, Ma. Why must you always call me this early in the morning?
”
I grumble. I grab the washcloth from the towel rack and hold it under the hot, steaming water.
“
Well good morning to you too, son! I just wanted to remind you to dress up today. We have a possible partner coming in to visit. Your father is going to be on his shitstorm-rampage getting the office prepared,
”
my mother says. I sigh knowing today will be a rough one. I can hear her take the phone from her ear as she orders her french vanilla coffee with sugar and extra cream. She stops at the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru each morning.
“
Did you need me to grab you one?
”
she asks.
I finish wiping off my face with the steamy washcloth.
“
Nah. I
’
m good, Ma. I
’
ll grab one on my way there.
”
“
Ok, love. I
’
ll see you in a few.
”
I put my phone on the counter and finish my normal morning bathroom routine. I can
’
t help but feel a little stoked that it
’
s business casual dress attire today. That means the girls are going to be on fire, dressed in pumps, tight dress pants, or maybe even some nice, tight ass-grabbing skirts
—
yeah buddy
!
I work down the street at my parents
’
publishing company: Saunders Literary Agency. My parents both built the company from the ground up. They have made it into a very successful business that
’
s going on ten years now. Just last year, I decided to join the team after finishing my last semester at college.
Believe me, being twenty-four and working for my parents is not my ultimate goal in life, but I had to keep the money flowing. There was no way in hell I was going back home to live under my parents
’
roof while I figured out what to do with myself.
There are a couple of girls at the office who have caught my eye, but nothing worth talking about. They were more like wham-bam-thank-you-ma
’
ams. Elizabeth, the long-legged wonder with a nice rack
—
I just had to get my mouth on that. I dated her on and off for a couple of months, but she wanted too much from me. She wanted to be exclusive, and when I told her we needed to cool off for a while, she went all stalker-mode on me. She turned into a stage-five clinger! So I ran.
Bottom line is I
’
m twenty-four, for Christ
’
s sake! Who the hell wants to settle down at twenty-four? One piece of ass for the rest of my life? That shit isn
’
t happening! At least, not anytime soon. I
’
ve been lucky enough to have parents who
’
ve stayed together all these years. I
’
ve gotten to watch what true love looks like through them. But for me
—
I
’
m just happy living as a bachelor.
My parents met at the same age I
’
m at now, and they are the small percentage who
’
ve made it, stuck with it. They
’
ve been together almost thirty years, and they
’
re still going strong. My childhood was nice. It was textbook normal, with some occasional hiccups. But marriage and family is pretty much non-existent in my future, at least for now.
