by J.Haney & S.I. Hayes Genre: Interracial Romantic Suspense
They thought they were safe in their elite little world. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
When Charity Daniels was seventeen she fell in love with Literature, and a man who taught it. Their forbidden love was held back until graduation, until legally she could be his.
Flash forward three years, Charity is studying at Yale and still in love with her Princeton Man.
Quinn (Q) Everett is on scholarship at Yale, and finds himself inexplicably in Charity’s path. He tries to stay away, but his mouthy best friend thinks he knows better. Suddenly it’s lunches and crashing private plans for the duo just to see her.
But their flirtations do not go unseen, and Logan’s love turns and goes from jealousy to murderous intent.
Can these unproven lovers stay the course and avoid the devious plot of a scorn man or will everything crash and burn?
*Trigger warning: Violence
**Strong Sexual Situations
Some things just can’t be helped. I hadn’t planned on proposing Saturday night, but the flighty way Charity acted when I mentioned Princeton and NYU made it necessary. I would never ask her to abandon her studies. It’s not easy for someone with her financial background to get into Yale. She needs to graduate, it will add to her resume and mine. I’m a Princeton Alumni, graduating with an advanced degree in English and Education with a focus on American Literature. I had fallen into the job at Charity’s High School when my cousin, who was a janitor there, let it slip that their senior honors prep English teacher had died, leaving the school in a bit of a pickle. I swooped in and was hired on the spot.
The Charity thing? It’s not like I went looking for little girls or anything. With the help of her friends, she pursued me, and let’s face it, when soft, wet, fresh pussy like that chases a man, he can only run so long and so far. We abstained until her graduation night, then she was on me like a bear with a honey pot. I was hooked. I made a promise to myself that she would be the mother of my children someday.
Charity is smart, but I’m cunning, and I won’t hesitate to undercut her if necessary to make sure I get what I’ve planned for. A beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful wife who knows when to keep her mouth shut. I’ve spent the last three years grooming her, showing her what to wear and how to speak because God knows that her Southern twang, while endearing to some, comes off low to the elite crowds. I’ve shown her what glasses are for water and which are for wine, as well as giving her an appreciation for the fine arts and music. Things that, without me, she would have never gotten to experience. Certainly not wasting away bussing tables at Petropolis, that’s for sure.
Sunday, she came and went after working at that menial diner job, which was just as well. I had papers to grade and a resume to tweak. Her presence would have just been an annoyance. I did, however, enjoy the back of her throat for about twenty minutes before letting her leave with a pearl necklace.
It’s Tuesday evening, poker night. She should be here soon to help put out the spread before she goes out with her two girlfriends. I gamble, and she goes dancing, then we fuck like rabbits. It works, she’s always a little more pliable after going out with her friends. Friends that I both like and loathe. See, I trust her, but I don’t trust Hope. You could call her the resident skank, she gives great head and can ride you like a bucking bull, but you gotta tap it from the back because everyone’s had a piece of her snatch. Yeah, that includes me, but she’s also a couple years older than Charity, and I needed somebody to take care of the blue balls she was causing for nearly five months.
I’m in the kitchen, cutting up pepperoni and pepper jack cheese when I hear the front door open and close.
“That you, sunshine?” I call.
“Yeah, handsome, it’s me. You expectin’ somebody new?”
“Me? Never.” As she enters the kitchen, I notice her blonde hair is now spiral curled. If I wanted to be fucking her mother, I would be. My fingers tighten around the knife handle and my chopping gets louder. “I know cutting your hair was kind of my idea, but I think I was wrong. The curls don’t really suit you.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Well, I like it.” She reaches over and takes a baby carrot, prompting me to grab her wrist.
“Wash your hands,” I growl low in my throat.
She pulls away, dropping the carrot and going to the sink to wash her filthy hands. Great, now I have to wash the fucking carrots again. I glare at her as she gets out the mini-dogs, puffed pastry, and pizza rolls. PPPP
She left in an Uber, and she’ll return in one too, no doubt. Paul, Hank, and Toby come with their two-hundred-dollar buy-ins and we break down the case of Miller High Life. In no time flat, I’m feeling really good, and if the pair of queens in my hand is any indication, I’m about to win two grand. Not bad for a night’s work.
“Seriously, Logan, you asked her to marry you?” Paul snorts. “I mean why buy the cow?”
“Yeah, man. Besides, what about all that college trim a guy like you can score? Especially those Jersey girls.” Toby practically drools as he scratches his balls.
I can’t wait to be rid of these losers. I only kept up with them because they were my collogues at the high school and prospective employers are always looking for team players. So here I am, playing along, doing poker nights, helping with the PTA, and signing up to direct school plays. Drama always brings out the pretty, nubile, aspiring actresses.
“Let him be, he’s broken her in. Would if any of us could do the same.” Hank shakes his head and raises me a hundred bucks. He must have something good. The next card flips in the river, and I’ve got them beat. My pair of queens just became a triple threat with sevens high. Daddy’s gonna be fucking like a rock star tonight.
“I’m just keeping my assets protected and staking a claim. What I do when she’s not around, well, that’s my business, now isn’t it?” I grin. “Call, let’s see it.”
“Fuck, man, I was bluffing.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“I’m done.” Paul burps, rubbing his beer belly.
“I’m through too, you cleaned me out.” Hank stands shakily.
“You’re not driving,” I say as I stand with a wobble. “I’ve got sheets, get on the couch.”
Hank nods and burps like he’s gonna puke. I grab him and get him to the toilet before he explodes. “Okay, good night, everyone!”
The guys make their way out the door just as the Uber pulls up. Out steps Charity, redressed in slut attire, including a hot pink, pleated plaid min-skirt, white racerback tank, thigh high fishnets, and feet stuffed into four-inch fuck me pumps. Looking past her, I can see that the other two look very much the same.
“Great,” I whisper as Paul and Toby whistle, passing her and the barely there skirt. She falls up the steps and I catch her, lifting her up to me.
“I trp-trip-ped…” She giggles.
“You wearing Hope’s stuff again?”
“Yep, had a school girl con-con- con... test. I won.”
“Did you now? So did I.”
“Do you really not like my hair?’
“I’m liking this skirt,” I remark, my fingers slipping between her legs, sliding her panties aside.
“Mmm… Yeah?” She bites her lip, flexing her hips as I wiggle into her folds and drag her into the house.
I push her over the couch, kick her legs apart, and wrangle my cock out of my trousers and to her now gaping hole. She squeals as I dive into her, seeing Hank, who I forgot about. I cover her mouth with one hand and rip down her top with the other. Hank seems to like what he sees. Soon, he’s got his cock out and is stroking as I pound this girl into the sofa. I pull out, coming on her ass as Hank comes on her tits. I close her legs with a smack to her outer thigh, leaving the two of them there panting like savages.
J. Haney was born and raised in Kentucky, currently residing in Greenup County, Kentucky with her family, where she is the proud mamma to Jessalyn Kristine and co-owner to Proud Momma Designs, which she runs with her amazing Momma. J. Haney’s work tends to lean toward sweet and sexy, with suspenseful undertones giving her readers something to hold onto. It’s what she calls Real Life Romance.
S.I. Hayes was born and bred in New England, currently living in Ohio. Running around Connecticut, she used all of her family and friends as inspiration for her many novels. When not writing Paranormal Drama or Erotic Romance she can be found drawing one of many fabulous book covers or teasers, to see them check out her web site.
The pair met while working for a previous publisher and became fast friends, their split dynamics and views on life, family and love in general led to the idea of A County Fair Romance and A Sex, Drugs and Rock Romance adding to it Working Class Beauties and soon Kincaid Falls. Along with various Standalone novels. So, keep your eyes open and a fresh pair of panties close by, you know just in case.