Read The Land of Rabbits (Long Shot Love Duet #1) Online
Authors: Aven Jayce
The Land of Rabbits (Long Shot Love Duet #1)
THE
LAND OF RABBITS
_________________________
Long Shot Love Duet Book 1
~ AVEN JAYCE ~
Copyright © 2016 by Aven Jayce
A&M Michigan Editing
Cover & Design by Triple J Marketing
Cover Image © likoper/
Dollar Photo Club
Published by Beautiful Dirty Press
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to, events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book can be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without written permission from the author. Purchase only authorized editions.
DESCRIPTION
ADLYN
My mother was murdered a year ago.
The loss destroyed me.
I started drinking heavily and had to take time off from school.
Now, at the age of twenty, I’m living with my aunt and uncle while trying to get my life together. But they’re horrible influences. Swingers. Yes, they cheat on each other, something I’d never do. They also take me everywhere they go, afraid to leave their depressed niece alone, and this weekend the trip is to
Afterglow Retreat
.
Afterglow—a hidden resort in the Adirondack Mountains where people can pay an outrageous five grand to have sex with a fictional character of their choice.
Hell, five grand for a fantasy playmate? As far as I’m concerned, we’re going to a whorehouse. They’re prostitutes, and I refuse to pay for sex.
Except the gorgeous Quinn is there—and let’s just say...
I’m fucked.
This is a love story... maybe.
Welcome to The Land of Rabbits
Long Shot Love Duet Book 1
This novel contains adult content and is intended for mature audiences. It ends in a cliffhanger. Book 2 will be released during the fall of 2016.
Dedicated to all the beautiful rabbits...
Stay warm.
Eat plenty.
Fuck daily.
Live free.
Chapter One
“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I’m doing this.”
Jess has been saying that every five minutes since we left Albany. There’re four of us in her elegant, oak brown VW Touareg, traveling to the Adirondack Mountains for a night of fresh air, great food—and as it’s been explained to me—wild and passionate sex. However, I’ve opted out of the sex part. I’m not going to sleep with a guy who’s been paid to role-play a fictional character of my choice. And the key word is
paid
. I’m merely tagging along because my Aunt Nadine’s concerned about leaving me alone for a night.
At twenty, I’m well beyond the age of needing a babysitter, but I’ve been drinking heavily and on a downward spiral ever since my mom was attacked and murdered a year ago. Her cellphone, sunglasses, watch, and a cheap ring were stolen from her body. It was a senseless killing for a bunch of useless crap that has me riddled with guilt. I sinned, so I’m to blame.
Now, my aunt’s made it her job to get me back on track and back in school. She says she wants to see the ambitious, fun-loving Adlyn Margo Moore shine again, and she’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.
“Jess, if you don’t calm down, you’ll have an orgasm before a man even lays a finger on you,” my aunt says to her best friend.
“I know!” Her palms smack the steering wheel in buoyant amusement. “I want a finger
in
me, not on me. I haven’t been with a guy in ages. Oh. My. God! Are we there yet?”
“What’s ‘ages’ to you? A month?” my Uncle Brian says, laughing. “I told you not to invite her, she’ll cause a scene. Then our days of returning to erotic bliss will be over. Done. Finished. Should’ve left her at home to watch the dog.”
Uncle Brian’s right, Jess is overbearing. She’s the type of friend my aunt has to apologize for, not just after she takes her places, but before—a warning to all that she’s coming. And this trip’s no different. The woman’s a forty-something, mid-life crisis Gen-Xer, still listening to Alanis Morissette and Hootie & the Blowfish, a neglected middle child, divorced twice, and stuck on the terms “totally,” “awesome,” and “way cool.” Not to mention phrases like “don’t go there” and “what’s your problem?”
“Don’t go there, fella,” she says to my uncle. “What’s your problem?”
I rest my case.
My aunt and uncle, who insist that I call them Nadine and Brian, act more like friends than relatives. They’re what most people label a non-traditional husband and wife team. I found out about their “open” marriage when I moved in with them while dealing with the overwhelming loss of my mom. “Open” in the sense that they’re referring to this trip as a fantasy one-nighter vacation.
The place is advertised online as a “massage retreat” in the woods. I find that laughable. You can’t disguise the fact that the owner is shelling out dick and pussy at a high price. Simply put, it’s prostitution. This is a place where women and men pay to live out their fantasies for the night. And out of politeness to my aunt, I haven’t complained too much about the trip. I don’t want to hurt her feelings or waste her money.
The full payment to hold our spot is nonrefundable. A jaw-dropping amount of five grand for each of them, and my room—a room that I won’t be sharing with any guy—cost them five hundred. Five hundred for me to sit, read, maybe get a drink, as I wait for them to finish their dirty business. In my opinion, that’s an extravagant expense.
“Addie.” My aunt uses my nickname with affection. “There’s still time to change your mind. You sure you don’t want some company for the night?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Jess looks in the rear-view mirror, her blonde hair frozen in an ‘80s style bob, an inch off her shoulders and covered in a heavy film of Aqua Net. “You’re twenty, get excited and stop being such a dweeb. Your aunt and uncle would’ve been divorced years ago if they weren’t swingers. I say bring on the big penis tonight. Bring it!”
“We’re not swingers,” Nadine insists. “Brian and I only have sex with other people two or three times a year to spice up our sex life. This isn’t weekly.”
She nods. “You’re swingers.”
“No. I won’t use that term. Ever. People frown when they hear it. Makes me realize there’re a bunch of closed-minded prudes in this world. What we do isn’t uncommon.” She sounds defensive. I suspect she and my uncle had a rough patch at one point, which may have led them down this road. “Who wants to fall into a mundane routine in the bedroom? We have mind-blowing sex after we’ve been with a stranger and we sure as hell appreciate each other a hell of lot more. But we’re not swingers. And anyway, this next adventure’s new to us.”
“My bad. Whatever bogus term you want to give it is fine with me.” Jess smirks. “You can’t blame me for being excited, though. I’m not used to paying for a fictional man or sleeping around.”
The word “prostitution” comes to mind again.
Brian taps my arm and unleashes an eye roll, implying that Jess is full of shit.
“I can see you,” she says. “I
don’t
sleep around.”
“Watch the road,” he retorts while wetting his finger to clean dried mustard off his New York Giants shirt. I wouldn’t say it’s the sexiest choice of clothing when you’re headed to a mountain retreat to get laid, although it does fit his stereotypical jock appearance—the head coach of a college football team with the build of Bruce Willis, sporting a crew cut in an attempt to camouflage his developing bald spot, and consumed every evening with beer and ESPN. He’s supportive and generous, but also a meathead. “Keep your eyes peeled for deer. And if you do see one, make sure you don’t swerve too far and drive us off a cliff!”
“Brian, chill out. I’m an excellent driver.”
He continues his playful nagging while I stare at the back of my aunt’s head, daydreaming that my mom’s sitting in front of me. She had the same straight brown hair with the aroma of a carnation. I lean forward and inhale, wondering if Nadine uses the same shampoo as my mom did.
“Nasty, isn’t it?” Brian notices my nostrils flaring. “Pure mountain air isn’t for everyone. Bet you miss the strong odors of Jersey.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she’d love a big whiff of rotten eggs and burning rubber,” Jess mocks.
“It has the scent of maple syrup.” I stick up for my hometown, tired of hearing the same ignorant response from non-New Jerseyans. “Sweet and tarry... like melted sugar—”
“Turn up here. It’s on the right,” Brian directs.
“I know. I know. I’ve got GPS.” Jess turns onto a dirt driveway and continues between the tall, shadowy pines.
We pass a sign that reads,
Authorized guests only
, and another a minute later that puts me on edge.
Trespassers will be shot.
“Is that real?”
“Doubt it.” He pats my leg. “Sex hideaways like this do whatever it takes to keep the riffraff away, including putting up deterrent signs.”
I’m reassured for now, placing my arm out the window and using my shoulder as a pillow, feeling the warm summer air waft across my face.
It’s a pretty evening.
The sun is flickering through small openings in the tree canopy, my outstretched hand reminiscent of a twinkling light, while the blurred ground resembles a muddy stream.
Glints on the outside mirror attract me to my reflection. I’m pale for this time of year, my cheeks gaunt, blue eyes sullen, and brown hair dull. It’s all because of depression. I should eat healthier... and more often.
“Yikes!”
Jess slams on the brakes, causing my head to smack the passenger seat.
“Ow, fuck!”
“Dang it, Jess. Did you hit it?”
“Shit, I think so.”
“Addie, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I rub my forehead. “What the hell was it?”
Jess steps out of the car, repositioning her shirt to cover what she calls her giant beanbag ass. Squinting at the front tire, her nose scrunches when she looks at the ground. “Double shit. It’s a rabbit.”
“Is it moving?” Nadine opens her door, stopping when Jess squeals and jumps back.
“It’s fine,” Brian says. “The little furball just scampered off. You must’ve stunned it. Both of you, get in the car and let’s find this place.”
“I thought it came back from the dead and was going to attack me.” Jess gets in, fixing a strand of hair that escaped her solid bobbed mass. “Those critters are cute, except they have fleas and...”
Her hand freezes in mid-air, distracted by a guy walking out of the woods.
“... and... hello. Do you see... uh... holy Moses... wrong hair color to be the one I chose for the night, but wow! I love tall men. Love them. I bet he’s six-feet. Maybe they’ll let me switch. Or better yet...” Her sight’s now aimed at me. “He looks around your age. You totally gotta get some of that tonight. See that bulge in his pants?!”
“Jess, I’ve tried. Leave her alone.”
“Not this time. Your niece needs some action. It’ll lift her spirits.”
“I already said I was fine. Stop insisting a man’s gonna solve all my problems.”
People think a good fuck will help me forget my life’s been turned upside down by my mother’s murder, that somehow cock is the cure. Well, I’ve had dick. I don’t consider myself to be a priggish woman.
“My legs don’t open for prostitutes,” I add. “And I don’t need to screw some random guy to feel better about myself.”
No, wait. Jess is waving him over. Fuck, she’s gonna embarrass me.
“Hi, sweetie,” she says.
He places his forearms on the driver’s side door, leaning in to flaunt a golden tan and killer abs. Jess is right—he’s hot.
His caramel brown hair is tousled on top, with the sides and back trimmed short, and after a glance at Nadine then straight past Brian, welcoming amber eyes lock on mine.
“I take it we’re on the correct road to
Afterglow Retreat
.” Nadine flashes a wild smile.
His tongue rides across his lips... an approval based on first sight and no bio.
“Her name’s Adlyn,” Brian says. “She’s a beautiful woman with strong morals, unlike the rest of us. Sorry kid, you don’t stand a chance.”
