Authors: Alice Tribue
Pieces of Him
Copyright
Published by AMT Publishing
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover Design by Letitia Hasser for RBA Designs.
Editing by Jenny Sims for Editing4Indies
Formatting by CP Smith
Translation of Love (Of Love #1)
Desperation of Love (Of Love #2)
The Of Love Series Set
Shelter You
Unspeakable Truths
Unspeakable Lies Novella
Contractual
Mirage
Max~
“I’m coming,” I yell, wrapping a thin, worn-out towel around my waist. Like many things in my apartment, it’s seen better days. Not because I can’t afford better stuff, but because I’m not used to living with anything more than the bare necessities. I only just finally sprung for updated furniture for this place a couple of months ago, and after sleeping on a brand new mattress, I could’ve fucking kicked myself for not investing in a new bed sooner. The banging on my door comes again, and I know exactly who’s waiting on the other side. It’s always the same person. Two, sometimes three, times a week, she comes, bangs on my door, and then lets me bang her. It’s been our thing for almost two years now. She comes by. We hook up. She goes home. There’s no commitment, no promises. It’s just me, the beautiful girl who works the cash register at the coffee shop I frequent, and our mutually beneficial arrangement. A fuck buddy kind of scenario that gives us both exactly what we need without any of the relationship drama.
“Keri! Jesus, what the hell? I said I was coming,” I yell as I throw the door open.
“You have a pervy old neighbor. He was staring at me and creeped me the hell out,” she explains, pushing her way past me and tossing her purse on the couch. Her blond curls bounce as she walks into the kitchen and starts rifling through my refrigerator. I roll my eyes and close the front door, heading her way.
“Don’t you normally work on Thursday night?”
Her head pops up from behind the refrigerator. “You memorized my schedule? I’m honored, babe.” She grins. “Jessica asked me to switch a shift with her because she has a wedding to go to this weekend,” she says, shutting the refrigerator door and unscrewing the top off a bottle of water. She focuses her pretty green eyes on me, taking me in from head to toe. Her lips tip up in another grin, clearly enjoying the view, and I finally remember that I’m standing here mostly naked. She looks up at me, and her eyes meet mine. Her makeup is perfect; her lips glossed making them seriously tempting. Her violet top is tight. It fits her like a glove, drawing my eyes to her middle and the swell of her tits. The jean skirt is even tighter than the fucking shirt, which is hard to believe, and it’s short, so short that it’s damn near indecent. And last, her black wedge sandals give her petite frame just enough height to make her legs look like they’d go on forever. The outfit screams trashy, but to me, it’s perfect. To me, it’s just right, because it reminds me of exactly what hides underneath the flimsy clothes and exactly what she’s going to let me do to her tonight. The thought of it makes my cock take notice.
“Come here,” I call, giving her the command. She, however, doesn’t move; she stands rooted to her spot, water in hand, eyes still on me, but no longer filled with the desire that was in them a minute ago. “Keri.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask impatiently.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Fuck. I was waiting for this. Waiting for the day she’d decide she was no longer okay with our no-strings-attached arrangement. Waiting for the day she’d come here and tell me that she wanted more from me, that her feelings for me had grown. I always knew it would happen. I’m actually surprised she lasted this long without bringing this shit up. She wants to talk, so we’ll talk, and then I’ll be done with her. I’ll let her down easy; explain to her how it is and why we can no longer do this. It’ll fuck with my morning coffee run, but I’ll just need to deal. I have to end this now before she gets even more invested, before the begging starts and the emotional manipulation, but she’s here now, right now … And I have to fuck the shit out of her one last time before I tell her that this is done. I have to. It’ll give me a little something to remember her by and tide me over until I find my next suitable fuck buddy.
“You want to talk? We’ll talk, but first, you come here,” I command, pointing at the ground in front of me. She knows I’m not fucking around; she hears it in my tone, and I can see the worry from moments ago being replaced with lust. She puts her water bottle down on the counter then takes three hesitant steps toward me. I tug on the towel and it loosens, her gaze following as it falls to the ground.
“Down, Keri. I want to feel your mouth on me.”
“Max.”
“Now, Keri,” I say placing my hand on her shoulder and urging her downward. She follows suit, letting me guide her down to her knees, and when she’s there, I grab hold of my cock and offer it to her as if it was a gourmet meal. She wastes no time in doing exactly what I want her to do, wrapping her pouty little lips around me and loving every minute of it. She takes me there quickly, and when I finish, she’s only too happy to swallow every last drop. It’s dirty and sexy and it drives me fucking crazy. I pull her to her feet, hike up her skirt, lift her up to the countertop, and have her spread her legs so I can return the favor, pushing her underwear aside and licking her from top to bottom. This is how I like it with her—crazed, uninhibited, and free. I take as much of her as I can until she’s crying out for me; her head falls back with a thump as it hits the cabinet above. Only when I’m sure she’s done, when her whimpers stop coming, do I pull on her hips and slam my cock into her. It’s a punishing kind of fuck, relentless and greedy because I’m pissed that she’s about to change our arrangement and that she’s forcing my hand. I’m unmerciful, and I don’t give a shit. She doesn’t either. She takes it because she always takes it how I want to give it and the girl is far from stupid. She must know on some level that this thing between us can’t go on.
“Max, please,” she cries, and I don’t know if she’s begging me to stop or to fuck her harder, so I choose the latter and pound harder, making it so that when she leaves here it’ll be on shaky legs and she’ll feel me for days.
When it’s done, we’re both spent, satisfied, and she has that dreamy look in her eyes. Once I pull out of her, I grab onto the counter for purchase as she slumps against the counter. It takes a minute to catch my breath, but once I do, I move away from her, grabbing the towel off the floor and striding into my bedroom, telling her I’ll be back. I toss the towel into the nearby hamper, throw on a pair of sweats and a plain white tee, and make my way back to Keri. By the time I’ve made it out of my bedroom, she’s righted her clothing and taken a seat on my couch, her hand clutching the still full bottle of water.
“Did I hurt you?’ I probe, now feeling like somewhat of a dick for being that rough with her. It was a little on the excessive side, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“No,” she mutters, not meeting my gaze.
I take a seat on the other side of the large sectional. With one leg cocked to the side, I throw my right arm over the back of it.
“What’d you want to talk about?”
Her eyes come up to mine, and if I had to take a guess, I’d say she looks scared, which makes this all that much worse. Because it means that somewhere along the way, this girl probably fell in love with me, which is beyond ridiculous. There’s nothing here to love. Nothing here worth loving. I’m an asshole, and I’ve never hidden that from her.
“It’s just ...”
“Jesus, Keri, just spit it out already,” I say, losing patience with this doe-eyed act of hers. She thinks she can guilt me into being what she wants, but she’s very wrong.
“I’m pregnant.”
Now,
that
… that gets my attention. The world stops, and all of a sudden, it feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Those two words are the equivalent of a missile being aimed and fired right in my direction and there’s no place for me to run for cover. A direct fucking hit.
“Excuse me?”
“Max.”
“No.” I shake my head at her trying to catch up here, trying to wrap my brain around what I just heard her say. “No way.”
“I just found out.”
“The fuck? You’re serious with this shit? You’re sitting there and telling me you’re actually pregnant?”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” she confirms with a nod.
“Bitch, you’re lying,” I accuse, moving my torso down so that I’m leaning closer to her now in a menacing way.
“I’m not lying.”
“Then who’s the father?”
“Don’t do that,” she says with the unmistakable sound of hurt laced within her words.
“Why did you come here, huh? What did you think I was going to say?”
“I just thought …”
“No. You knew what this was between us from the jump. This was supposed to be about fun. That’s it. No fucking strings—no fucking commitments, and then you come here and hit me with this shit? It’s bullshit.”
