Provocative Professions Collection (34 page)
Read Provocative Professions Collection Online
Authors: S. E. Hall,Angela Graham
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #romance. anthology, #Erotica
"Amelia," he groans from above me. "Open your eyes, baby. See me."
With strenuous effort, I force my lids to comply despite their hunger to remain closed in delirium. Eye to eye, Shaw holds my stare while he thrusts into me, steady and forceful as ever, but with a new tender adoration.
He braces his weight on strong elbows near my ears, lowering his head to tangle our tongues. Transfixed further into our thundering connection, I wrap my legs around his sturdy waist, locking my ankles and arching my pelvis up in hungry need.
"Shaw," I purr, savoring the sweet friction as he unites us over and over.
"Say it again. My name. My Amelia," he grunts, now lavishing my nipples with hot wet affection.
I do more than say it, I scream it, as we consummate our relationship with face to face, real name, mutual giving and receiving sex.
Praise Zeus, Apollo, or whosever's responsible for this enigmatic, captivating, insightful man storming into my life…cause an hour later I get the from behind, animalistic fucking I crave just as much.
Yes, this is exactly where I belong. Even with Vaughn's metal now filtering through the walls, nothing will ever feel more right.
Connect with S.E. Hall
S.E. Hall is the author of the Amazon bestselling Evolve series:
Emerge
,
Embrace
,
Entangled
(novella), and
Entice,
as well as the bestselling stand-alone NA romance,
Pretty Instinct.
She also co-wrote
Stirred Up
and
Packaged
, stand-alone erotic quickies with her CP and friend, author Angela Graham and is honored to be a part of the
USA Today
and
New York Times
bestselling
Devour
box set. Stephanie resides in Arkansas with her husband of 18 years and three beautiful daughters of the home.
Text SEHALLBOOKS to 41411 for text alerts on new releases and sales.
Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/S.E.-Hall/e/B00D0AB9TI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_2
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/S.E.HallAuthorEmerge
Blog
http://www.mysehallauthor.com/
About Angela Graham
Angela Graham resides in Tipp City, Ohio, with her three beautiful children. She is a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of the Harmony series,
Inevitable, Irreplaceable,
and
Indestructible,
as well as a novella,
Indulge.
Collaborating with S.E. Hall, she has released two erotic short stories and is currently working on the next.
Text SEXYBOOKS to 24587 for text alerts on new releases and giveaways.
Visit her at:
Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Angela-Graham/e/B00D3RZ5U2/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1395967926&sr=8-2-ent
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/angela.shockgraham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf
Website
www.loveangelagraham.com
Handled
Volumes 1 & 2
S.E. Hall and Angela Graham
Copyright 2014 S.E. Hall & Angela Graham
All rights reserved
This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part,
without written permission from the author.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Editor: Erin Roth, Wise Owl Editing
Formatter: Joni Wilson
Dedication
To those who handle our "spontaneity" with love.
Contents
Prologue
"Hell yeah, baby, just like that."
Powerful, commanding hands grip the back of my head and weave through my hair, directing the speed and angle as I suck him deeper down my throat. My tongue strokes the thick vein of his cock while I bob faster, keeping up with the frantic rhythm of his thrusts.
On my knees, one hand fondling his balls, the other wrapped around his thigh for balance, I close my eyes and give him exactly what he wants. Rough and depraved.
"So close," he pants, digging his fingers further into my scalp as he begins to fuck my mouth even harder, reckless now. His balls draw up and tighten in my palm, his dick growing impossibly rigid. He's about to explode, bucking forward once more and roaring as he finally comes.
"Fuck, don't stop, Holly!"
What the hell and who the fuck?
Stop is exactly what I do, falling back on my heels as his cum shoots over my lips and across my cheek. He grabs his cock and milks the final drop, release not to be cut short by minor details.
"Holly?" I leap to my feet, venomous bordering on murderous, using the bottom of my shirt to wipe his spunk off my doused face that's now pinched tight, my eyes glaring right through him.
Mouth agape, breathing labored, his own eyes bulging, he's unable to form a coherent sentence, remaining annoyingly mute. Men don't realize, they're busted either way they choose to go in times like these. No words scream, "I'm gonna dig my hole deeper if I talk because you'll outsmart me" louder than actual silence. And
if
they speak? They're right—we will, in fact, one up them until that deceptive foot is shoved directly in their mouth.
"Answer me!" My hands fly to my hips. "Holly as in the new the girl at your shop, Holly? That one?"
"Shit," he mutters, stuffing his somewhat stubby, mediocre
at best
, dick back in his jeans. He holds his hands up and out defensively. "Baby, it just fucking slipped out. Doesn't mean anything."
"There're two times men don't lie: when they're coming and when they're about to come," I hiss, eyes narrowed. "You need to leave. Right now."
"Paige, come on, calm down. I'm sorry, alright?" He's desperate and whiny
. Huge turn off
. "I swear, I've never touched her."
I shoulder check him as I storm out of the living room, where I'd
planned
to have a XXX kind of night, toward my bedroom. Fuckwad, aka my soon to be next mistake, Corey, follows right on my ass, catching the door as I try to slam it in his face.
He forces his way into the tiny room, pathetic puppy dog eyes and bottom lip pooched out. "Paige, please."
"Corey, seriously, just go. I can't be held responsible for what happens if you don't." With this much anger bristling through me, I'm surprised at how composed I sound. That's not a good sign for him at all. I'm not just hurt,
I'm pissed
. At myself. When will I learn?
Sure, we'd only been fucking a few months, but that's the longest stretch for me
ever
. And for once, I finally felt myself opening up a little, letting him dip a toe or two into the cesspool that is my untrusting heart…only to wreck it some more.
I lied. I'm not just pissed,
I'm livid
.
"Dammit, Paige. Listen to me." He grabs my arm and whirls me around. "I never did shit with her. She's hot, all right? So yeah, I sometimes think about her. But it's totally innocent! 100% superficial."
"You flirt with her at work?" I ask, arms crossed over my chest. Not that his answer matters—we're done here—but I might as well see how deep the typical bullshit runs.
"No more than anyone else," he says, popping his shoulders.
Wrong answer.
But I'd say there's a
little
more room left for that foot in his mouth. "You ever jack off thinking about her?"
His hands tug at his hair, head dropping with a tormented sigh. "Honey, all guys..."
"Cheat, I know, thanks for the reminder. You can get the hell out of my house now!" I pry open the door he's attempting to block.
Corey releases a deep rumble of frustration. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? I said her
name
, that's it! I didn't cheat!"
"Yet!"
"Paige, I'm being honest with you and
you're
acting like a total cunt."
No, I wasn't, but I'm happy to show him the difference. Moving back, I open the drawer to my nightstand and pull out my .22, the only dependable thing in my life.
"Grab your shit and leave." I turn so he can see I now hold a gun, my eyes deceptively cool. Overreaction? Probably. Am I tired of being shit on? Yes.
"Are you insane?" he yelps.
Perhaps.
"Goddamn it, Paige!" Backing up slowly, hands in the air, all color drains from his face. "Put the gun down!"
"No, not until you leave. You may not have screwed her, but you just proved that I'll never be enough for you." I gulp down the annoying weakness I can hear edging my voice and reaffirm an icy tone. "So we're done. D-O-N-E." I smile sweetly, half tempted to curtsy.
When he stops to stare at me, waiting for God knows what, I release the safety, point the gun at the ceiling, and pull the trigger. Good thing I'm on the top floor.
And just like that, the most recent asshole flees from my life.
"Tell Holly I said hi!" I yell as the front door slams. Plopping down on the bed, I stare up at the cracks surrounding the bullet hole, chunks of plaster falling on my head.
Guess I'll be moving again. Like soon.
Happy New Year to me!
Chapter 1
"It's Amelia, I'm not in right now, leave a message after the beep."
Six days and fifteen messages later…I still get my cousin's answering machine. Something's definitely wrong. Amelia used to be the one calling me,
often
, to talk about everything from the ridiculous little things her cat did to the latest book she read. And now I hear nothing? My concern has reached a whole new level—
fear
.
I drive twenty over the speed limit the entire way to her place, lugging everything I own, my car packed to the brim. Sadly, it all fits in my rusted out Sedan, but I digress. Either Amelia's dead or being held hostage somewhere. No other options make sense. This is
Amelia
we're talking about…she's not exactly the poster child for spontaneity.
By nightfall, I'm pulling up to her apartment complex, hoping like hell she's there. I stow my trusty .22 in my purse, then pull the hood of my coat over my head while jogging through the snow to her door. I knock a few times, impatiently waiting, then finally resort to pounding with my fist.
Nothing. I lean in, ear to the door, but the only sounds from the other side are distressed yowls from Lucy. Luckily, I still have the emergency key Amelia gave me when she moved in here.
I open the door slowly, more concerned than ever. Amelia would
never
leave her cat to fend for herself.
One foot inside the apartment and I feel, rather than see, her rub against my leg.
"Lucy," I whisper, scooping up the fluffy ball of fury, hoping she's not declawed and ready to unleash her wrath on any jack-in-the-box intruders lying in wait.
Buy me some time to grab my gun, sacrificial feline
.
My other hand fumbles blindly for the wall switch, and a sigh of partial relief escapes as I flip on the light. The apartment looks the same as the last time I was here, months ago, minus Amelia or any signs of robbery. Shamelessly holding Lucy
way
out in front of me, I creep as stealthily and silently as possible toward the bedroom. Wishing I had some WD-40 handy, cause you know this damn door's gonna creak on volume bullhorn, I push it open and toss the poor front man of this operation—the cat—on top of the lump under the covers.
