Hi everyone. My next release is Grudge and I'd like to share a snippet with you. This is an unedited prologue of Grudge. Don't worry, my editor and proofreaders will catch those pesky errors that you might see. This prologue introduces you to the main characters in the novel.
“Oh, god, Daddy. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
Usually, hearing my boyfriend’s high-pitched scream, calling me Daddy while I was inches deep inside his slick ass was enough to tip me over the edge. Today, I was too distracted. So distracted, I pushed inside him with such force that his body slipped up the bed and he crashed into the headboard.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whispered, using the back of my hand to wipe away the sweat trickling down my temple. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I like how rough you are,” Terry moaned, scratching his hands down my back to grab my ass. “Put your dick back inside of me, and don’t stop, Daddy. I’m already so close. Fuck me, please.”
How could I be cruel and walk away now? I took a peek at my watch.
I grabbed him by his skinny hips and pulled him back down the sheet, slippery with lube, saliva, and sweat.
Fuck. I wouldn’t have time to take a shower after.
Shouldering Terry’s legs, I bent them up to his chest and stretched over him, rocking my cock hard against his p-spot. He clawed welts down my arms, his moans so fucking loud. If his hole wasn’t clenching tightly around me, I would have thought it to be nothing but theatrics.
“Yes! Yes! Yes, Daddy! So close, Daddy! That’s the spot, Daddy!”
Terry stiffened beneath me and yelled out his climax. It wouldn’t surprise me if those on the first floor of the apartment building could hear.
He was still shuddering when I pulled out of him and grimaced at the flushed head of my hard cock. There was nothing I would have loved more than to pump him full of my cum, but duty called, and I was now forty minutes late.
My dad would chew my ass out if he found out about this.
I pulled off the condom and walked through the door to the bathroom where I disposed of it. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I got it damp and rubbed at my body to get as much of the sex stench off me as possible.
“Dammit.” It wasn’t nearly enough. I needed a shower, but I couldn’t afford one right now. I tossed the towel into the dirty hamper and took up the can of body spray.
A cough had me turning around to come face to face with Terry. He hadn’t bothered to put on clothes, but sauntered naked inside and flipped the lid off the toilet seat to take a piss.
“Daddy.” He frowned. “Why are you in such a rush? You couldn’t even cuddle me for five minutes?”
“I’m sorry, Terry. I shouldn’t even be here.”
He smirked. “I didn’t mean to distract you with sex.”
“Hmm,” I grunted and walked out of the bathroom. “Stay with me for tonight, yeah?”
Back in the bedroom, I quickly pulled a navy blue T-shirt over my head and a pair of black jeans. Sitting on the bed with my shoes, I shoved my right foot in.
“What the hell is this, Mitch?”
Terry stalked up to me, shaking the empty condom that I’d thrown in the trash can a few minutes ago.
“Why is it empty?”
“Because I didn’t come.”
His face turned red, and he took a step back. “You didn’t enjoy sex with me?”
“Of course.” I fastened my other shoe and got to my feet. “It just takes a little longer to come today, and I need to go.”
“No, let me suck you off now.”
“I don’t have the time, Terry. Later I’ll see you, remember? I’ll fuck your face then and let you gag on it the way you love. Hmm?”
He pouted. “Daddy, please stay.” He grabbed the front of my shirt. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I can’t. I need to pick him up from the high school.”
He huffed a breath and crossed his arms. “I don’t understand why he can’t take the bus. He’s old enough.”
“You know why. He’s the Lacovelli heir.”
“Then why not send a chauffeur for him?”
“Because I’m his bodyguard. I ride with him at all times—no exceptions.”
A bodyguard didn’t begin to explain the connection, but Terry didn’t need to be bothered with the details of the arrangement. If he hated the idea that I’d quit sex with him to pick the boy up, he would make an even bigger fuss knowing if there was ever a choice, he would always come second.
He didn’t need to know that.
Hell, my own life wasn’t even a number one priority.
“I hate that pathetic kid,” Terry said, then giggled. “Who would have seen that coming? That Lacovelli’s only son would be such a dweeb.”
“That’s enough,” I snapped and paced to the door. “He’s my boss, and you should be respectful of that.”
“What? He’s only fifteen.”
“I’ll see you later, Ter.”
I slammed the door shut behind me and rushed for the front door.
What the hell?
Backing up, I stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and found a pimply faced youth who puberty had been unkind to, sitting around the island.
“Cesare, when did you get here?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“How the hell did you get here?” I entered the kitchen, and he shifted, keeping his head averted.
“I used the credit card you gave me and hired an Uber. Told them to take me here.”
Leaning forward on the opposite side of him at the island, I grasped his chin in my hand and turned the portion of his face he was trying to hide.
“Be gentle,” he gasped, and I eased the hold I had on him.
A purple bruise was forming along his jaw. It was the perfect sharp symmetry of his jawline that made me confident one day he would grow out of the ugly phase. Maybe that would help him fit more into his family.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Just a bully.”
“What’s this bully’s name?” Even fifteen-year-old boys had to learn the consequence of touching the Lacovelli heir.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You know better than that. His name.”
He mumbled Patrick West, and I filed the name away in my memory bank. Stepping away from the island, I got a bag of peas from the refrigerator and wrapped it into one of the dishtowels.
“Here, keep this pressed to your jaw. It will help with the swelling.”
He placed the towel gingerly on his jaw and sighed. “I knocked, but I guess you were too busy to answer, so I let myself in with the spare key you gave me.”
So fucking irresponsible.
I was lucky the only damage Cesare had sustained was a superficial bruise on his face. As Lacovelli’s kid, he was a big target, and I should have been there at the school to pick him up on time.
He grinned at me, showing off the purple and green elastic rubber bands of his braces. “I got him back good, though. I did that punch thing you taught me and socked him in the stomach.”
“Shit.” The Lacovellis didn’t get their hands dirty. They called the shots. “Let me see your hand?”
Cesare switched the cold compress to his other hand and showed me his right. The knuckles were red. I took his hand in mine and rubbed the area with my thumb. His bones felt so fragile beneath my touch, and I wanted to absolve the discomfort he had to be feeling.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
He pouted. “Why didn’t you pick me up on time?” He yanked his hand away and scowled. “Too busy with your boyfriend.”
My cheeks burned, and I glanced away. “I’m sorry. I lost track of the time.”
“My dad will be upset if he finds out.”
I groaned and sat across from him to study him. He had taken after his father instead of the woman who’d given him birth. Too bad because Boss had an ugly mug women only found attractive because of his money.
Cesare was too skinny, his head appearing bigger than his body with the hairstyle he insisted on wearing—a mop of thick, dark curly hair framing his face. His eyes were an unassuming brown, absolutely nothing special, and his long face was too thin.
None of that would matter. He was the Lacovelli heir and the sort of money he would inherit one day would make the hottest boys fall at his feet.
It still didn’t stop me from pitying him.
“What do you want?” I asked.
It was our little game.
I fucked up somewhat and, in exchange for his silence, I gave him something he needed.
“I want t-t-to—” He squinted, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red as he inhaled deeply. “I want to ask you something,” he said more slowly.
Fuck. His stuttering could only mean one thing. He wanted to know about that one thing I’d told him not to ask me about again.
“Please. I won’t tell Dad either way, but I want to know, and no one else will talk to me about these things.”
I sighed and peered at the entrance of the kitchen, hoping Terry didn’t leave the bedroom just yet.
He smiled and removed the ice pack from his face. Huh? He was almost attractive when he did, but he sulked so much that it was easy to miss.
“How much older does a Daddy need to be? I think I’ve found one.”
I scowled at him. “You don’t need a Daddy.”
“Sure, it’s nothing like you and Terry, but it’s a start. Just little things. Him taking care of me.”
“Are you talking about the Palmer boy?”
He bit his bottom lip and glanced away shyly as he nodded. I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face. Was it too much to have hoped the one time I’d caught them making out had only been an experiment?
“Yes. He said he loved me.”
“Listen to me, Cesare. You’re too young for this daddy kink stuff. That shouldn’t be your priority right now. You just turned fifteen years old. All that can come later.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Maybe I don’t, but I understand enough that your father will fucking kill you if he knows you’re gay, much less what you think you’re into. Your brain’s still developing, and that Palmer boy is two years older than you. I’ll tell him to back off and leave you alone.”
“No way! I love him too.”
“You don’t. You turn to him because your own father won’t give you any affection. Isn’t that what got you curious about this daddy kink stuff, Cesare? But the two aren’t related, okay? You’re too young, and that’s final. Patience is a virtue.”
His eyes flashed, and I stared into them.
I was wrong.
They weren’t just plain brown. They had flecks of gold in them, too. I’d never really noticed before, but he kept his head down so often, it was easy to miss his features. He’d only gotten bolder of later since he started fooling around with one of his father’s henchmen’s son.
“You’re not my f-f-father, Mitch,” he said, climbing to his feet. “You c-c-can’t tell me what to d-d-do.”
“Cesare, calm down.”
His stuttering was getting worse as it did when he got excited and angry, and the inability to get the words out only made him redder in the face.
“D-d-don’t tell me wh-wh-what—” He broke down and started to cry, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. “You d-d-don’t know what it’s l-l-like. To f-f-finally have someone who un-d-d-derstand and cares about you.”
“Hey.” I walked around the island and reached for him, placing a hand on his shaking shoulders. “That’s not true. You have people who care about you.”
“Who?” He sniffed, his chest rising and falling hard.
“I do. I’ve been taking care of you since you were five. Don’t doubt that I care.”
“Then why don’t you want to see me happy?”
“I want to see you happy and alive.”
“You think my own father would hurt me because I’m g-g-gay?”
“He’s hurt you for less before, hasn’t he?”
“Then you should protect me.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, regaining control of his temper.
“Always, but I can’t protect you from him. He hired me to watch over you.”
“But you swore,” he whispered, gazing up at me with eyes still wet. “You swore you would always protect me from anyone and anything that cause me harm. Why doesn’t that apply to him, Mitch? Why?”