Indulgence (Taking Chances #1)
Read Indulgence (Taking Chances #1) Online
Authors: Jeanne McDonald
Indulgence
by
Jeanne McDonald
Please note this book is intended for mature audiences due to explicit language and graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Jeanne McDonald
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
Visit the author’s website at
www.jeannemcdonald.com
First Edition: January 2015
Edited by: Jo Matthews with Written Elegance
Cover Design by: Jada D’Lee Designs
Interior Formatting by: Jo Matthews with Written Elegance
Cover image by: druvo via iStock Photo
To Mary:
For referring to this book as Willie Wanka and the Sex Factory.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for a girl with a great sense of humor.
“I want you,” her soft, melodic voice dripped with desire.
My pulse quickened. This was not what I’d expected when I stepped outside to smoke. Gwyn took a step toward me. Her bright red hair blowing in the wind reminded me of embers from a fire burning wild and free on a cold, dark night. The gleam in her eye was that of an animal in pursuit of its prey—and apparently, I was her prey.
I took a step back, unable to take my eyes off her. “Jackson,” she purred. The sound of my name being uttered from her lips sent a wave of ecstasy coursing through my veins. My dick swelled and strained against the zipper of my jeans, aching for one thing and one thing only—her mouth, wrapped around my shaft and sucking me for everything this gorgeous creature was worth.
The corner of her lips twitched into a seductive, little grin. Gray eyes searched mine for a moment, reaching into the depths of my very soul. She tilted her head slowly to the side, analyzing me. The heat of her gaze radiated down my body. My skin burned with need. My heart raced with want. My cock twitched with desire. Every inch of me suddenly felt alive. My craving for nicotine disappeared, only to be replaced with an unquenchable hunger for this woman.
“Now,” she murmured.
All at once, images of her flashed through my mind. Gwyn bent over the table inside the bar with me pounding her sweet, wet pussy as hard and fast as we both could take. Another flash of her spread out before me, soft and pink as my cock filled her to the brim. Over and over and over again these images appeared, each making my dick thicker and harder. My body was on the verge of exploding, almost as if I were a teenage boy with no restraint.
“Fuck,” I breathed upon the final image of my mouth suckling her small, pert breasts.
With the tip of her fingers, Gwyn pushed me back against the wall. “Not yet, but we soon will be.”
There came a knock at the door. At first the sound didn’t register. I was too deep in the passion between Gwyn and Jackson. I’d waited for what felt like forever for this book to come out, and for these two to finally get their fuck on. No one in their right mind would mess that up for me, if they knew what was good for them.
An annoyed chuckle rumbled from my chest after a few moments of silence. The knock at the door must’ve been my imagination. I’d even turned off my phone so I wouldn’t be bothered. Sebastian Hawk was my all time favorite erotic writer, and rightfully so. This man was not only a master with words but a sex god genius on the page. Many of the situations he created in his books were beyond my wildest fantasies, but once I read them, they quickly became part of my fantasies. Every inch of me longed to feel that feeling again. I ached to be touched by a man, to be wanted and desired, and if I couldn’t get that in my real life, I was content to get it in the words of Sebastian Hawk.
I rolled my shoulders and blinked a couple of times to refocus my eyes on the dark inked words that fell in contrast to the beige pages. With a deep sigh, I delved back into the world of Jackson and Gwyn.
She slipped her hand between us, unzipping my fly. “I know exactly what you want,” she breathed.
“And what might that be?” I countered, shocked that I’d even found my voice.
“This.” Her lips parted as she captured my mouth with hers. Her sweet taste intoxicated me. Our tongues slid together in perfect harmony. The heady taste of her watermelon lip-gloss coated my taste buds.
“You’re mine,” she growled. I knew she meant it. I could feel it. All of the cat and mouse games were for show. I belonged to this magical creature. Caught under her spell.
Lost in her kiss, I felt her slender hand reach into my pants. She wrapped her warm fingers around my cock and pulled me free…
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
My head jerked up. “Oh, c’mon! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I wailed, slamming my book closed. Constant, relentless knocking ensued after my little outburst.
“Someone better be dead or dying!” I jumped to my feet and tossed my book onto the coffee table, mumbling a string of obscenities under my breath as I stomped to the door. After a quick peek through the peephole, I groaned and threw it open. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” Amber cooed with an annoying smirk on her face.
Under normal circumstances I’d say that Amber Sachs was my very best friend in the whole world, but at that moment, I’d say I hated her.
I raised my eyebrow, taking in the sight of her. Dressed in a purple leather bustier, thigh high boots and a black mini skirt that barely cover the apple of her ass, she reminded me of a woman I’d seen once in a porno. All she was missing was a black leather whip and a beefed up guy wearing nothing but a collar. “Halloween’s not for several months,” I groused, annoyance dripping from my tongue.
Amber cocked her hip, resting her hand on her thin waist. “Har-Har. Funny-Funny.”
“What? I’m serious.”
“Just let me in, Woman.”
I pressed my lips together in an evil smirk. “Not until you say trick-or-treat,” I sing-songed.
Amber’s smile grew mischievous as she shoved her head inside my house, surveying my living room. “Oh, I get it. I must’ve interrupted something. Were you getting laid?”
With my fingertips pressed to her forehead, I pushed Amber’s head back outside. She stood up straight, reminding me of how beautiful my best friend really was. Her bright red lips pursed with a hint of a smile and her hazel green eyes bounced with laughter. Her tall, lanky frame attracted attention—even when she wasn’t dressed her in dominatrix garb—and her silky blonde hair hung in perfect layers over her bare shoulders. She truly was a force to be reckoned with.
I waved my hand up and down the length of my body, indicating to my state of dress, which was nothing more than my favorite flannel night-pants and a tank top. “Does it look like I was getting laid?”
Amber shrugged. “No, but it looks like you need to.”
“Oh, hush.” I rolled my eyes and stepped aside for her to enter. I knew it was the only way I’d be able to get rid of her and dive back into my book where I belonged. Amber sashayed inside. She scanned the room as if she was still searching for someone. I closed the door and marched back to my seat, dropping down in a huff. “Now, what are you really doing here, Amber? Because it looks like you’ve got better places to be.”
She strolled to the couch and plopped down, mocking my pose. “Am I not allowed to visit my best friend in the whole world?”
I dropped my head and let my expression go blank. Amber was one of the kindest, most energetic people I’d ever meet, but she was as subtle as a politician. She was a little eccentric at times, but in a tight pinch, Amber was the one to have on your side. We met six years ago when I was throwing a surprise birthday party for my then boyfriend, Jacoby. I wanted to get him one of those erotic cakes, but couldn’t find a pastry chef willing to make one. I’d just about given up when I discovered Amber’s shop. She absolutely loved the idea I had, and even created her own mold to give me what I desired. Needless to say, we hit it off after that, and have been best friends ever since.
“Hmm. Let me think about that one.” I rubbed the side of my nose with my thumb. “You come waltzing in here wearing that,” I pointed toward her very revealing attire, “and expect me to believe that you’ve come over for a girls’ night. Yeah, I don’t buy it.” I slipped my foot underneath me and rested my elbow on the arm of my chair, waiting for the truth.
Amber smiled, her tongue darting out over her painted pout. “Believe what you want, but I tried calling you. You didn’t answer your phone and I was worried. That’s not like you. Usually you’re tied to that thing.” She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “workaholic.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to be disturbed?”
Amber chuckled. “It did, but I came over anyway.” She leaned forward and picked up my book from the coffee table. Flipping it over in her hand, I watched her lips move as she read the synopsis. “Well, I see now what I interrupted. Where’s your vibrator? I’m sure it’s going to need new batteries after you’re done with this thing.”
I grabbed the book from her hand, pressing it to my chest as if I were protecting it somehow. “You know where I keep Peppy, and I would never use him in here,” I snapped.
Amber let out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough. Now, are you going to tell me the real reason you turned off your phone?”
I sighed and laid the book on the armrest. “I told you, I wanted a little alone time. That’s all.”
“To wallow in self-pity,” Amber deadpanned.
I lifted my eyes, meeting her gaze. It was no secret that I’d let myself go a little bit since Jacoby and I broke up. Not that anyone could blame me. Six months ago, I was ready to give that man everything. I was ready to take the big plunge. Yep, I, Addison George, was ready to walk down the aisle and say, “I do.” Everything was perfect. I had the perfect dress, the perfect locale, and even the perfect bridegroom. Or so I thought.
Jacoby was my childhood best friend. That right there should’ve been a red flag. He knew far too much about me and my past. More than any husband-to-be should know, I’d assume. The poor man was there when my prepubescent hormones ran amuck, blessing me with one of the most disgusting female curses. Nothing could be more embarrassing than starting your period and then forcing your best friend to follow you to the nurse’s office so no one could see that you’d bled all over yourself. We both thought I was hemorrhaging. It took the nurse and both our mothers to calm us down. Damn, Mother Nature.
A few years later, our friendship bloomed into something more. Jacoby was my world. We were high school sweethearts and destined soul mates. When any of our friends were asked where they saw Jacoby and me ten years down the road, the answer was always the same—madly in love, with two kids, a dog, and a huge house.
We were on the road to exactly that scenario. A month before our wedding, however, Jacoby sat me down and informed me he was gay. Talk about the ultimate shocker, but then again, it probably shouldn’t have been. If the movie Clueless taught me anything, it was that all the signs were there. Jacoby was a far better dresser than me. He could be classified as quite the pretty boy with his perfectly coiffed hair and creamy complexion. He loved musicals and classic films; and he was the only person who enjoyed romance as much as I did.
Even with all the classic signals, I never saw Jacoby for more than the man I loved. We had everything in common, and our sex life was amazing. That had to account for something, right?
The funny thing was, I couldn’t tell you who cried harder during that heartbreaking conversation. He told me he never wanted to hurt me, and if he could change the way he felt, he would, because I was his ideal woman. All those years he tried to push back the feelings he had for other men, hoping that loving me was enough, but apparently it wasn’t. By the end of the discussion, he vowed to make things right with me if I would give him the chance. My first instinct was to kick him in the balls, but so many years of friendship kept me from going down that far. Instead, I decked him. That felt good. And even he had to admit he deserved it.
“No. I wanted to read.” I lifted my book and waved it around, proving my point.
“Is that so?” she questioned, her tone full of skepticism.
“It is.” I squirmed in my chair, wrapping the hem of my shirt around my knees.
“You can’t lie to me, Addison. I know you. You need to get out of the house for something other than work.”
“I go out.”
“Going out to buy another one of your mommy-porns isn’t going out.”
I gasped, dropping the book in my lap. “Sebastian Hawk’s books are not mommy-porn! He’s a brilliant author who weaves words in such a way they transcend poetry and prose.”
Amber shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t care what you read. All I’m saying is that you need to be out there,” she pointed toward the front door, “living. It’s Friday night. Let’s go out and have some fun. I just heard about this new sex club, downtown.” Hazel green eyes met mine, prancing with excitement.
I shook my head, releasing a soft laugh. “Thanks, but we both know that’s not my kind of scene.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been to one.”
She had me there, but the book in my lap softly called my name. “Maybe another time.”
“Perfect,” she purred. Amber reached down into her oversized bag, which had been dropped on the floor, and pulled out a large envelope. “How about in December, then?”
I leaned forward, resting my eyes on the package she’d pushed in front of me. It was a bright white envelope with a beautiful gold insignia in the top left corner. “What’s in Decem…” I stopped. The emblem registered in my mind and I gasped in surprise. I peered up at Amber, who looked like a cat who’d just eaten a canary. “How did you get this?” I asked in disbelief. “This is impossible.” My fingers slid over the embossed emblem of a gold apple encompassed in a whip with a masquerade mask resting haplessly against the entanglement. Etched above the insignia was the word, Indulgence.
“I know people,” she bragged. “Consider it a late Christmas present.”