Topped (17 page)

“Yeah, yeah. You earned it, though. Truly. Who beat us, anyway?” Joe nuzzles my neck. “Who do we need to off?”

I rest my head against his, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness and joy, and look at the listing. I have to read it twice to make sure I’m really reading what I think I’m reading. What the hell.

“
Tamed by the Dino-Pornographer
by, get this, Bethany Bonafont.”

Joe pulls his head back, mouth gaping. He looks at his phone. “Shut up.”

“It can’t be…” I one-click that sumbitch faster than I have ever clicked anything in my life. I open the Kindle app on his phone, and we dance around the kitchen, waiting for it to load.

Joe takes his phone back, clears his throat, and reads dramatically, “Mandi Pose hated her life, until Tommy Prickle waltzed into it.”

“That
bitch
,” I breathe, in shock. “Mandi Pose? Tommy Prickle? That ho stole our story before
we
could monetize it! And how the fuck does she climb the charts so quickly? God, I hate her.”

“There’s only one thing to do.” Joe waggles his brows at me. We dive for our laptops and spam out messages to our fans and his street team (I make a new note to get one immediately all over again) to one-star the hell out of that stupid book and upvote every bad review in sight.

Ding dong, the witch will be dead.

We close our laptops and snuggle on the couch. We don’t talk anymore, because we don’t have to. Our bodies speak for us, through soft touches and gentle kisses.

“You know…” I run my hand through his thick hair and down his ear lobes. He leans into me, and it feels so intimate without being sexual. It’s nice, like finally unveiling the thing I’ve been missing. Jane was right, that sage. “I kind of feel bad for her, really.”

“How’s that? She’s awful.”

“True, but she’s awful because she is clearly miserable. She can only get off writing other people’s stories and stirring a bunch of drama. I mean, how sad is that?”

“We get off on writing other people’s stories.”

“Not anymore.” I stand and grab his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. “Now, we’re going to write our own. And it’ll be the hottest, weirdest, most amazing thing anyone has ever read.”

“Maybe you can show me a thing or two about being claimed by conifers,” he says suggestively.

“I hope you enjoy a pinecone in the butt.”

“Baby, as long as it’s with you, I don’t care what we do.”

I stop at the doorway to kiss him. “Maybe nothing that crazy. Pinecones can splinter. I hear.”

“You know what I want?” He takes my hand and kisses it.

“What?”

“Our own HEA. But with delicious kink.”

I smile. “It’s like you read my mind.”

T
he End

I
love writing “The End
.” It always feels like it’ll kill me to get there, but once it happens, everything’s worth it. That part of this story was as true as anything I’ve ever written. This one made me super nervous, but people are responding to it, so I’m going to call it good.

It’s just, when one writes oneself into a story, as a villain nonetheless, one wonders what harm will come to one’s reputation. In real life, I’m not actually married and my friends are super nice and I’m only mediocre successful and I totally
slipped
when I told her about the award situation. I’m not a snatchface, I swear.

It’s late. I pour some boxed wine (hey, it’s come a long way since Franzia cornered the market) and sign out of my Bethany Bonafont account.

I have a new book to write under my real name. Sorry, Mom. I open a new Word doc and type out the title.

Long Shot

By Kayti McGee

(
M
ake
sure you flip to the end of the book for some special boner, I mean, bonus treats!)

F
irst and foremost
, I have to thank everyone who read
UnderCovers
—readers, bloggers, fellow writers. You guys are freaking amazing and I have no clue how I got so lucky.

Nothing in my life happens without my own personal Snatches, Laurelin Paige, Sierra Simone, and my beloved Melanie Harlow. Thank you. But like SUPER thank you.

You are only third place in the thank yous, but not in my
heart
, Social Butterfly PR! I can’t believe I’m still allowed to work with you after announcing, “LOL! I want to put a book out in two weeks!” For a SECOND TIME. Jenn and Heather and Nina, you aren’t butterflies, you are angels. I promise to give you three weeks notice for the next one.

Ashley, I’m sorry I can’t meet a deadline to save my life. Let’s be neighbors so I can steal your wine.

Candi Kane, I ducking love you.

My other Porkers, my Montessori crew… #nowords (#nojudgies)

And finally, my Melissa. No thanks are enough.

K
ayti McGee is
a Kansas City native who now calls Colorado home. When she isn't writing, she's making up recipes to go with her favorite books.

She also partners to write romantic comedy with Laurelin Paige under the name Laurelin McGee. They’ve released two books together as well as a novella.

Topped is Kayti’s second solo novel.

• @KaytiIsWriting
  
• kaytimcgeeauthor
  

W
ritten
with Laurelin Paige as Laurelin McGee

Miss Match

Love Struck

MisTaken: A Novella

U
nder the Covers
novels

UnderCovers

S
ofia Antonescu was pissed
. She swatted at the low hanging branches more vigorously than was necessary. How dare her partner–well, okay, boyfriend–how dare he sleep with that little twit of a photographer? As if she wouldn’t notice that they were sending her out to find wood for the campfire. Yulia certainly found plenty of wood, in Boris’s ill-fitting khaki pants.

Ex-boyfriend, that’s what he was now. Only all the joy of dumping him was robbed by the simple fact that he was already knee-deep in pussy. She snapped another branch.

She could do this whole thing without him. It had been her research project, looking at reindeer in the old-growth Virgin Kami forest. It had been her passion and skill that had secured the grant. It had been
his
insistence that they bring the photographer.

“Oh, Sofiya, imagine how professional will be your reports!” he had said. And, “Oh, Sofiya, we can Instagram and blog from the forest and create so much interest all of Russia will follow along!” And her favorite, “Oh, Sofiya, this will free me up to do nothing but care for you.”

When he had said “we,” her silly little head had stopped worrying whether this was a bid for Boris to resurrect his failed journalism career, and started anticipating a proposal. “We,” he had said. She had begun to wonder how his last name would sound behind her first, (stupid), and imagined a wedding in the woods. It would be firelit, like the proposal.
Snap
, went another branch.

She would have worn white, because although she had slept with Boris many times, he had been her first, and she believed that counted. She had even decided that it must be her wedding night when he would finally give her an orgasm. She had been close several times, she was certain,
snap, snap
, but once he was her husband everything would surely come together.

On top of the treachery of Yulia, she was stung by the fact that it was the other girl’s orgasmic cries which had alerted her to the betrayal. Was there something wrong with her body, that she had never risen to such heights of pleasure with Boris? Or did he simply prefer the taste and feel of Yulia, enough to persevere toward her climax?

Infuriated, Sofiya stopped and screamed. Opening her eyes, a clearing, ringed by ancient spruce, suddenly appeared before her. Intrigued, the biologist walked forward. The perfect circle pattern was unusual, but in a forest of this size, not impossible. She headed into the ring to examine the lichen, which seemed to nearly glow in the late afternoon sunlight.

If only she had the presence of mind to pilfer Yulia’s camera when she stormed out of camp! The lichen did appear to possess a phosphorescence, something previously unknown to scientists in this part of the woods. But then, if she hadn’t thought to commandeer the canned goods, flint, and available blankets as the shrieks of delight covered her theft, pictures would be the least of her troubles.

Sofiya decided to set up her rudimentary camp right here in the clearing. Luckily, the weather at this time of year was still mild, even after sundown. Lucky, also, that sundown was late enough that she could light a fire to cook her meal and put it out before it could alert those two cheaters to her whereabouts. The heat from the small flame she created was also warm enough to keep her jacket tied about her waist. Two small potatoes nestled into the coals while she stretched.

An early fall breeze stirred the barely-changing leaves. The resulting rustle comforted Sofiya, as if they were whispering soft reassurances to her. The crackling fire relaxed her as much as the gentle sounds of wind in the pine needles. The warmth was becoming overwhelming. Sofiya shrugged. She was alone.

First, she slipped her light jacket off, followed by her jeans. Her nipples perked against the thin cotton of her shirt. She wore no bra, it was too much hassle out here in the woods. Her panties were lacy, though, Boris’s favorite. That
sukin sin
.

She lay back against her favorite blanket, atop a log. Lulled by the crackling fire and the whispering branches, her eyes closed. Sofiya began to fantasize, one of her favorites, about a knight on a horse riding up and swooping her off to his castle.

HE would have flowing blonde locks, and eyes as green as the trees around her. One shockingly muscular arm would anchor her as they rode, bareback of course. Her pussy would grind against the horse with every gallop, so by the time they got back to his castle, she would be wet and ready for him.

Sofiya slipped a hand inside her panties and found that she was already wet. A light moan escaped her as she pictured the canopy bed he would throw her down on before ripping off his shirt, his pants, and finally, his impressively large codpiece. She moaned again, louder, imagining him stroking his giant penis as he prepared to enter her.

Around her, the trees were whispering again, almost as if they were calling to her. She rocked her hips, her wet clit sliding against her fingers. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. First she took off her shirt, then slipped her panties over her hips and down her legs. The breeze was now caressing all of her like a lover.

Feeling naughty and exposed, Sofiya smiled. Boris never knew about her secret wild side, but alone in the woods she felt safe enough to indulge. Naked before nature, she ran her hands down her body. Goosebumps arose on her skin as the sensitive tips of her fingers gently stroked her breasts, stomach, and thighs.

She lay back down on the blanket, ready to give herself the orgasm Boris never could, while dreaming of the man he could never be.

Suddenly, she felt a tickling around her ankle. Probably the blanket was rolling up a tad, she thought, and she kicked it back down. Nothing was going to distract her from the best orgasm of her adult life. As it turned out, nothing did.

As Sofiya allowed the feel of wind and smoke to arouse her, the tickling sensation continued, around her ankle and up her leg. Her eyes closed again, in pleasure, as she folded the new feelings into her fantasy. Maybe the knight would tear apart the feather pillow she was on and tickle her with it.
Oh yes
, she thought,
feather me
, but the tickling feeling was climbing.

By the time she opened her eyes, the pine branch had wound its way all up to her inner thigh. Her first thought was horror at the plant-based situation she’d suddenly found herself in. But then, she remembered her desire for outdoor nudity, and how turned on she became when she’d allowed her tits and her pussy to be exposed to nature. So the pine-needle-clad branch was sneaking up on her, she should let it happen.

The sensation of the needles on her skin awakened Sofiya in brand new ways. Prickling feelings ran up and down her legs, causing both chills and wetness in her most intimate areas. The only thought that kept running through her mind was how
wrong
this was.

Wrong or not, it felt amazing. The tips of the branches were brushing up and down, over her super-sensitive nipples. With each sway of the wind-swept pines, Sofiya found herself more aroused. Against her will, there was a sudden sensation against her clitoris.

When she looked down, Sofiya was shocked to see a branch undulating against her as shamelessly as any man.

The cluster of needles was scooting up and down her engorged clit, causing sensations she’d never dreamed of, even in her Boris-as-knight wildest fantasies.

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed, not caring any longer that her unladylike reactions would be broadcast to the entire forest.

“Yessssss, fuck,” she heard back, even as her hips rocked into further pleasure from the conifer cunnilingus. Were the trees actually answering her? The individual tips of one hundred pine leaves spun against Sofiya’s hot, wet pussy as the branch showed her what kind of man she had been missing out on.

“I’m coming! Oh God! I’m coming!” she screamed into the wilderness, as her vagina betrayed her by clenching around nothing, as the evergreens forced her pleasure. The muscle spasms slowly subsided as she descended from the heights. Oh, God, she hoped Boris and Yulia hadn’t heard her falling apart for some aspect of her biological study. Oh, God, she also hoped this hadn’t been a dream. She could come that hard in the name of research every day. But what sort of undiscovered species was she dealing with?

As Sofiya l ay on the blanket, recovering from the unexpected intrusion, she felt a familiar sensation on her legs. This time, it was both of them spiraling up and around, surrounding her delicate pale skin. Each of her legs was covered and gently spread before she had even registered how this alien creature must want her tight pussy.

She was certainly wet enough to receive it, but was this what she really wanted? Nude, surrounded by these pleasure-enhancing spruce tips?

Open to anything, slutty and sexy.

Yes, this was what she wanted. Her legs, unaided, spread even further, allowing the branches access to her tightest, wettest parts.

As Sofiya stared at the unknown specimen, it crossed her mind briefly how fast her scientific curiosity was trumped by her delight at finally being forced to orgasm, and so intensely.

“Ssssssssofiyyyyyyyyyya,” came the hissing of the trees. So it wasn’t her imagination, they really
were
whispering to her.

“Who–what are you?” Her voice quavered, but remained strong. There was no point in being shy with this species that had just witnessed her most intimate noises and faces and feels. Her curiosity was just as strong as her desire.

“Weeee are the Lesssshiiiiii. The ancient spiiiiriiiiits of the foressssssst.” Sofiya was speechless. Somehow the idea of spirits seemed so much more unbelievable than some new sex-crazed species of confider.

“But–why? Why me? Why–this?” She gestured to her nude body, confused and unbelieving, and still very, very around.

“You haaaaaave been wroooonged by a maaaaaan. We offer cooooomfoooooort,” hissed the branches. “You ssssnapped our limmmmmbsssss, but we undersssstood you. We have ssseeeen the wrongsssss this Borissssss has dooone.”

Sofiya’s head dropped, suddenly embarrassed. The only part of her pain that gave her hope was that no one knew. But she had been spied upon, they knew everything!

“She fakessssss her orrrrgasmssssss, you knoooow,” said the trees. Suddenly, she perked up. If that was true, then–well, there was nothing wrong with Sofiya at all! In fact, she now knew for a fact that she was capable foe art-shaking orgasms without Boris at all.

“May I have another?” she asked, emboldened by the revelation. There was no way she could bring any of this research back to the lab. Yet, now she felt the entire month-long camping trip was worth every moment. And just maybe a new, anonymous blog could recount these events for curious biologists. The trees didn’t answer, but the branches began to snake towards her core once again.

This time, they weren’t quite as gentle, and to her surprise, she enjoyed the rougher feeling.

Her legs were secured further apart this time, but she had no time to reflect as her arms were also snared. Sofiya’s whole body was hoisted into the tree. This time, she didn’t feel an ounce of fear as the Leshii entangled her in prickly pleasure.

Suddenly, the tree before her bean to emit a cracking noise. What was it, she briefly wondered, before seeing a bulbous shape beginning to form beneath the bark. The outer layers sloughed off as it grew. She stared in wonder before realizing the tree was growing a smooth, wooden cock for her.

It nudged the slick entrance to her vagina, and she tipped her hips to allow the phallic protrusion to slide in.

Sofiya rocked her pelvis back and forth, savoring the feel of such a large member. Boris, she now realized, was lacking in size as well as talent. AS the tree fucked her, it also used its needles to tickle her most sensitive areas again. Being sore from the last round only increased her sensitivity, and she cried out. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me just like that!” Her orgasm was building, and she knew it was only a matter of time until she exploded.

As she moved more vigorously, the cock stopped and withdrew. Sofiya almost cried at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She wiggled, trying to get it back.

Then she realized it was growing again. The cock was now double-headed! And forming on the end of the second was a small pinecone. As she stared, open-mouthed, a drop of sap beaded on the tip of the cone, followed by another, and another. What was it for? She was already so wet. It wasn’t until the new growth began to inch back towards her that she understood. The tree-spirit was going to claim her ass.

She gasped as the pinecone knocked at her backdoor. As the enormous branch re-entered her soaked pussy, she relaxed, and let it have its way with her. Each layer of the cone pressed against nerves she had never felt before.

Sofiya knew now that her butt had been awakened, it would never lie dormant again. “Oh! My ass!” she screamed as the pine trees fucked her forwards and backwards. She came so hard she saw stars, and then came again almost immediately.

“I can’t take anymore,” she panted, but the trees knew better and tickled her clit until she felt her pussy tighten once again. This time, something was different. The log inside her felt like it was expanding. She had never felt so full, both holes stuffed with wood. This time, when she began to spasm and come, she could feel it—the tree was coming too.

Sap spilled out of her exhausted body as she slipped into sleep. Sofiya woke in the morning to find herself wrapped in loving branches. She stretched and sighed, remember the night’s exertions. Sofiya unpacked the rest of her gear. She wasn’t leaving this clearing for a long, long time.

The End