Extra Extra (Working Girl Series Book 1) Read online

  It’s not that the streets are empty, but it is lighter than usual. Maybe I’m being paranoid. I’ve been in Cali getting fat off sex, food, and a good time, with no responsibilities. Seeing the city now, after having been on a break from the hustle and bustle, must not be overwhelming me like it usually does. Give it a couple of days, and I’m sure everything will go back to its hectic self in my head.

  When the cab arrives at my building, I pay the driver and reluctantly grab my rolling suitcase from the trunk. As soon as Franklyn, the building doorman, sees me, he rushes over to help me with my luggage.

  “Afternoon, Ms. Hartford. Did you have a nice trip?” he asks with a beaming smile on his face.

  “It was great,” I answer, letting him take my suitcase from me. Franklyn is older, but he can still move and lift things like he’s in his twenties. He’s really nice, not stuck up like the rest of the people in the building. The trainer in the indoor gym makes me want to kick him in his balls and then take a shower because of the lecherous way he stares at my body.

  “That’s good to hear. It’s always nice to spend time with family.”

  “It is,” I agree. When we get to the elevator, I take my suitcase from him, insisting I can roll it the rest of the way myself. I don’t want him gone from his position too long on my behalf. The residents who live here are snootier than the help and in my personal opinion, bipolar. The concept of we only have one doorman and God forbid, you have to wait your damn turn does not compute in their minds, like a broken computer. Plus, I’m in a hurry. The Turd should still be at work, which leaves me with about an hour to pack some clothes for tomorrow. I would wear what I have on me, but nothing in my suitcase is suitable for the workplace. I wasn’t thinking straight when I packed for Cali and just threw shit in there without looking. I was lucky the clothes I did have matched at all. I could buy a new outfit, but then I’d have to deal with the masses and I rather not people today. That’s what tomorrow is for. I want to check out Chaz’s place and take it easy while I think of a battle strategy for work.

  Thank goodness, I’m one of the few ants with an office. By now, I’m sure they all know I called off my engagement and flew off to Cali. I’ll need my armor at full strength to deal with all the judgmental stares. At least my office provides the necessary, very appreciated four walls of a blockade.

  With a scan of my fingerprint, the door opens and I step inside. Maybe it’s because I’m too busy staring at the perfectly cleaned island without a dick drawing in sight or my cute little devil face that I didn’t notice The Turd sitting on the sofa with his iMac on his lap. That is until he speaks and just like that, my heart sinks at the sound of his voice.

  “Welcome home, baby,” he greets me with a wide toothy smile. When he gets up and pulls me into his arms, I let him, standing there, frozen like a deer in the middle of the road about to get hit. My gaze not on him, but his glasses, sitting carelessly on the coffee table. All my thoughts are just as frozen as my body. I do not hug him back nor do I push him away. I’m numb. A robot whose batteries just went dead. It’s when his hands cup my ass when I snap out of it and I go to push his away, but he holds me still and says, “Don’t,” in a commanding voice I’m not use to hearing unless we’re having sex.

  “Let me go, Tu-Andrew,” I cry, trying harder to push him away.

  “I said don’t,” he growls, and this time, I go back to being completely still. “Do you know how much I missed you? How crazy I was going when you wouldn’t return my calls?” he whispers in my ear. His warm breath brushes against my lobe and I shiver. Not from arousal, but fear. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to jump on a plane and drag you back. I was this close,” he replies, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together until they’re nearly touching.

  Fuck this shit. I’m not the docile type. Narrowing my eyes, I let him have it. “Why? Weren’t you too busy stealing my dream, you asshat?” I yell.

  “Babe, you’re always overreacting. Just like the childish drawing you left on the kitchen island. Do you know how much it cost to get it replaced, by the way? Because the marker you used was permanent and wouldn’t come off?”

  "I don’t give a shit about the counter. What about my job, Drew? That was my interview and you stole it!” Yes, I’m yelling. Let the neighbors call the cops for all I care.

  “Damn it, Brooklyn. My father explained to you why you couldn’t do the interview and it made sense. If you’d stop being such a hothead, you would have understood and wouldn’t have run off to your brother’s like some brat.”

  “Drew, so help me God, if you don’t let me go right now, I’ll knee you so hard in your nuts, they’ll be nothing but flat pancakes for the rest of your life. Then, you’ll have to explain to your future partners why your balls keep getting stuck to the roof of their mouth.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s me and you forever, Brooklyn,” he declares before nibbling the side of my neck. Fuck, he’s playing dirty. The asshole knows I can’t resist a good nibble.

  “You’re delusional, Drew. You might want to call someone and get help.” I push him away and this time he moves, but only an inch. He’s still close enough for me to see the swirls of different color blues in his beautiful eyes, and the excited crazed look as they beam on me, like I’m a new wrapped present he wants to explore.

  “You know you don’t mean that. You’re just still angry with me. Give me a couple of days to make it up to you and you’ll be just fine.” Reaching over, he squeezes my breast before softly rubbing his thumb across my nipple until it hardens. My traitorous body reacts to his touch as sex kitten Shelly jumps up and down inside me like she’s jumping on a trampoline. Bitch, sit down. Have you forgotten he’s the enemy? Sophia, do your damn job and clothesline that tart. “Looks like your body isn’t mad at me. I bet Shelly is begging you to forgive me.”

  His voice is hoarse and sexy like, and he’s confusing the hell out of me. Why am I mad at him again? Oh yeah, he torched my dream. “Give it some time. You know Nancy’s favorite movie is Fight Club.”

  “I have an idea. Let's go to the bedroom and I can prove to you how much your body missed me. How much I missed you,” he replies in a rough, gravelly tone. He moves in closing the space between us, taking my hand and lowers it to his crotch, so I can feel how hard he is.

  He smells so good. Sandalwood and his natural scent of man mixed together assault my nostrils, taking cheap shots at my common sense. Fucking Satan, he’s here to lure me into his trap. Promising me flowers when there’s fire on the other side. I literally slap myself on my forehead, hard. I’m sure I left a mark, but a little pain is well worth not slipping down the slide of crazy with him as my partner.

  “What are you doing? Are you okay?” he asks all concerned like.

  “No… I mean, yes. Drew, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work or something, stealing other people’s chances to make it in the world like the Grinch?”

  “I sent one of the interns to the airport and had him message me as soon as your plane arrived, then I came here to greet you. Since you’ve been ignoring my calls, I didn’t know if you wanted me to meet you at the airport or not.”

  “Do you hear how crazy all that sounds? Stalkerish even.”

  “I needed to see you. You were being a brat. I did what I had to do. Now, you’ve sulked long enough, holding onto this unwarranted anger. You couldn’t do the job, so my dad sent me. You act like he didn’t praise you in the meeting. Every top brass there knew who did all the leg work. Couldn’t that be enough?”

  “No, Turd, that’s not enough. I did all the work and you’re the one who got all the glory because you’re Daddy’s little asslicker who’s too much of a pussy to tell him no. Throughout our whole relationship, he’s been a thorn, wedging himself in deeper and deeper into our relationship, but I’m the only one who felt the pain. You were always so blinded by him. You never saw the way he’d talked down to me, failing to see him treat me like shit when no one was
looking. Always laughing off the stuck up high society country club bitches he’d throw in your path and pretend to not hear his taunts of my lack of a pedigree like I’m supposed to be upset I’m not some trained dog. I warned you upfront when we started dating that I don’t cook, I’m not your maid, and I would leave your ass if you ever bumped your head and treated me like shit. The only reason why I haven’t until now is because it was your father being an ass, not you, but now, I’m done. I’ve reached my ‘take it up the ass’ limit. You failed me, Drew. You’re always fucking failing me and I’ve had enough.”

  “Babe, calm down. If you feel so strongly about this, then we can talk to my father together tomorrow in his office. You’re going to be his daughter-in-law soon. It will be a good thing to air out everything before then. In fact, it’s about time we set a date. We’ve been engaged for far too long. How about in two months? A Christmas wedding and a big reception at the Four Seasons sounds nice.”

  “Drew,” I call, interrupting him, but he keeps talking.

  “It’s beautiful this time of year. I know it’s short notice, but with...”

  “Drew.”

  “...my father’s connections, they will gladly open up a spot for us.”

  “Drew!” I shout so loud, I’m sure they could hear me out in the hall.

  “Have-you-gone-mad?” I pronounce slowly, making sure he hears each word. "I thought barbecuing my ring was enough, or not answering your calls and replying to any of your messages. Clearly not calling you back would have made my intentions clear, but apparently, your mother dropped you on your head way too many times when you were a baby, squashing much needed brain cells. Visual aids aren’t your thing, I get that now. This is me verbally telling you, I’m not fucking marrying you. We,” I say, circling my finger between us both, “are no more. Over. Splitsville. Dunzo!! Whatever word you need to hear in the English language or any other language for that matter so you can comprehend there is no more me and you. No us! Comprende? In fact, I have a moving crew coming in tomorrow. I’m only here now to get some clothes for work.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move, so I take that as my sign to get this show on the road. It’s better to rip the Band-Aid off than peel slowly. When I head for the bedroom, his arm shoots out, and he grabs me by my forearm in a painful grip. “Drew, you’re hurting me,” I gasp, but it’s like he doesn’t hear me. His eyes are dark and cold, and I do not recognize the expression on his face. It’s too hard, nothing like the Drew I know. Not even when he’s being dominant during sex.

  “Drew,” I try again softer this time, and he pins me with his cold gaze before slamming his mouth on mine. His lips attack me, his tongue demanding entrance, pushing its way through when I don’t open the gates. It’s hard and punishing, ready and willing to destroy. He’s here right now to prove a point and doesn’t care how he does it. Walking us backwards, he pushes me against the wall and pins me there with his hard body. His hands cage me in while his mouth bites my skin urgently. There's no more gentle nibbles. They are long gone as he makes a path down my neck until he gets where my shoulder and neck meet and latches down hard before sucking the pain away. He’s branding me. Leaving a childish mark for all to see. I push him away, but he pushes back, and I hit the wall with a loud thud.

  “You’re mine, baby. Mine!” he roars. “We’re having a little tiff, that’s all. After I give you a couple of orgasms, you’ll be fine and all will be right in the world.”

  With that crazed look on his face, he yanks at my shirt and the material tears down the middle exposing my front to him. I’m wearing a front snap bra, and he undoes it, freeing my heavy breasts before palming them in his hands and squeezing them together. His tongue, rough like sandpaper licks my nipples and I clench my clit, squeezing my legs together while I hold back a moan. I don’t want this. Not with him, but my body is a big fat traitor and it responds to him and gives him exactly what he’s coaxing out of it.

  Lost in my head, I miss when he undoes his slacks and frees himself. I don’t stop him when he moves my hand to his hard cock and makes me palm it. “You feel how hard I am? That’s just for you, baby. My queen. My whore,” he whispers the slur against my lips. It’s all him, guiding my hand up and down his length and it’s him that pushes my skirt up one-handed and rips my panties away until the prize he wants is right there with no barriers to stop him.

  “You love me, yet you’re willing to rape me?!” I yell. A lone tear escapes from my eye, and he watches the path it makes fascinated until it drops and disappears on the skin of my collar bone.

  “It’s not rape when you’re mine,” he answers before, lifting me and slamming into my body. I scream and he moves, jackhammering in and out of me with a sense of urgency. I’ve always had big tits since puberty and was blessed by the tit fairy and they bounce freely in his face. His tongue laps at them, making a game out of catching my nipple and sucking on it. His touch is rough and bruising as his dominant side leaks out of him.

  “Fucking hell, your pussy is always so damn tight. A vice on my dick. Pure fucking torture.” I want to tell him then put me down, stop this, but I don’t. The words won’t form even though I’m screaming them in my head. Brooklyn has retreated into the dark corners of my mind, it’s Shelly who’s up front. The one out of the five of us who’s better suited to handle this. Handle him because if Brooklyn had to endure this alone, nothing of her would be left afterwards.

  He takes his time. His strokes long and hard until he pulls back and puts me down, pushing me to my knees. I watch him as he watches me with a look of sexual arousal while he pumps his dick in front of my face. I notice the changes in him since I’ve been away. How his eyes normally a soft blue are dark almost black. That crazed look hasn’t gone away. It implanted itself on his face making its home as one of his expressions. Denying my words, he’s trying so hard to prove to himself, and maybe to me too, that I’m still his. This is what happens when a psycho becomes delusional. In his head, he’s not raping me, but fucking his fiancee. In his head, he’s keeping the dream of us alive. I was a fool to think leaving him would be easy, that he’d let me go.

  “Open your mouth,” he demands and Shelly does as he orders. With a loud groan, he watches fascinated as he jerks his cum into my open mouth and all over my chin. It’s a lot, and he smiles crookedly, satisfied at the mess he made of my face.

  Before helping me up, he rids himself completely of his pants and briefs and then pulls me over to the kitchen where he pushes me against the kitchen island in the same exact spot I drew on. “Hop on and spread your legs nice and wide.”

  Again, Shelly follows his every direction, hopping onto the counter and spreading our legs open until my glistening pussy is open to the air like a blossomed flower. His smile is sinister and I’m confused when he steps back out the way, but stays within eyesight. “Good girl. You’ve gotten real good at following directions while you were away. Now, I’m going to stand right here and watch you play with that dripping wet pussy and big ass tits while my cum drips down your face.”

  “Drew, no," I cry.

  “You don’t get to tell me no, Brooklyn,” he growls, interrupting me. “Play with yourself. Now!” Fucking hell, he’s gone crazy. The quicker I do this, the sooner I can get the hell out of here and leave the crazed sex freak to himself. How did I not know he had a couple of screws missing? Not loose, gone. The Turd is Alice in Wonderland, Mad Hatter, I’m one teacup short of a full set crazy.

  Shelly rises to the challenge while I pretend I’m anywhere but here. She uses my fingers nimbly to work my cunt just the way we like it and uses my other hand to pinch and squeeze my tits, paying each one equal attention. She soon has my body grinding on the cold island, lifting my ass as she chases down the impending orgasm.

  “Fuck, you look so beautiful. My cum dripping off your face is a nice touch. Such a good little whore. Lick your lips and lap up as much of me as you can with your tongue.” What is with him? He’s never been this freaky
. He hums approvingly as Shelly follows his every instruction without argument. Already, his dick is hard and proud. Lifting in the air in a straight line as he watches me, and he strokes it like he did before he came on my face. My mind disappears again and it’s Justin I’m putting on a show for. Who I’m picturing when I finally explode. It’s his gorgeous face that brings spots of color before my eyes.

  “Shit, that’s hot.” Stomping over he pulls me off the island, turns and bends me over until my tits lay flat on the cold stone. I just came, I’m so soaked that when he slams into me and starts pounding into my pussy like it owes him money, and he’s the thug here to collect in flesh. Shelly’s moans are loud, and he presses the flat of his palm on my back harder, practically squishing my tits into the counter’s surface. “Big, fat tits, perfect heart-shaped ass. You’re the total package, Brooklyn. Perfect for me and me alone. You feel my dick? It was made just for your cunt. You were put on this earth to pleasure and amuse me,” he growls possessively.

  In and out his member beats inside me until I’m a moaning mess bent over the island. A submissive whore tamed to accept his cock. Shelly is a pro and soon, I’m screaming my release, cumming all over his dick. He follows after, pulling out and jerking his seed all over my back and ass. When he’s done pumping sperm all over me, we’re both exhausted. In a daze, I walk to the bathroom and strip from my ruined clothes before stepping into the hot shower. The Turd doesn’t follow and I’m grateful, especially when my legs buckle from right under me and I fold in on myself into the fetal position, making myself as small as possible on the tiled floor as I ugly sob while the water from the showerhead falls on my curled body. So, this is what a nervous breakdown feels like. I should have stayed in California.

  7

  New Beginning

  By time I leave the bathroom, The Turd is nowhere in sight, which I’m truly thankful for. I don’t think I’d be able to keep it together if he was out here waiting for another round. Here I was worried about Justin cheating when I haven’t been back an hour before I’m fucking my ex. Sure, he forced me to do it, but that doesn’t count. Does it? It’s not like he held a gun to my head, but that crazed look was enough for me to step in line and not face the consequences of telling him no. I don’t know anymore. I can’t rationalize shit right now. I’m a fucking mess. If, I’m not even sure if I was raped or not proves just how much of a mess I am. I participated, sorta, and may have enjoyed it, kinda. I came multiple times, who cares if it was on my finger while picturing Justin. When I did cum on The Turd’s dick, it was only because of Justin. Those who get raped are not supposed to be enjoying themselves and picturing someone else between their thighs like some harlot. Right? Right? I need help. No, scratch that, I need to get the fuck out of here before The Turd comes back and then seek help.