Rumpled Between The Sheets

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015
Kastil
Eavenshade

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-288-9

Cover Artist: Jay
Aheer

Editor: Laurie Temple

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All
names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

First, I'd like to thank
Keenya
answering the call on which fairy tale I should draw
inspiration from for the next installment of my Beowulf Hollow series. I am
truly blessed to have you in my life.

The second shout out goes to my
family. Throughout the last couple of years and the turbulence in my life, you
stood beside me. Always supportive in my endeavors, I wouldn't be the happy and
free woman without your constant love. No matter what I write, you cheer me on.

Last, but not least, this book is
dedicated to all the readers who support writers around the world. Thank you
from the bottom of my heart.

RUMPLED BETWEEN THE SHEETS

Tales from
Beowulf Hollow, 2

Kastil
Eavenshade

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Fall 1976

Mary flipped through
the script in her hands. Each turn of the page had her scowl deepening. No way
was this a stage play she wanted any part in acting out. In New York to live
her dream of being a famous Broadway actress, her boyfriend never seemed to
find her that big break like he promised. She snorted in disgust and shook her
head.

"I'm not
going to do that." She jammed her finger in the middle of the page.

"Come on,
baby. You do it with me all the time." Paul nuzzled the back of her neck,
his arms worming their way around her waist.

"You're my
boyfriend, Paul. I'm not going to pretend fuck someone on stage." She
tossed the script down. "I thought you said this connection of yours had
some small parts on Broadway,
not
this back alley
bullshit."

"Yeah,
well, you'd get paid more to do this than some minor role. All those vets
coming home from Vietnam are shelling out some clams to see this." His
hands invaded the bottom of her sweater.

"Why don't
I just go to one of those sleazy strip joints if that's all you want to see out
of me." She wrenched out of his grasp. There had to be more to this city
than tossing her bra to a sweat-stained stage while gyrating on a cold steel
pole. "I've got to get ready for work."

She snatched up
her apron and put it on. If she wanted a career waiting tables, she could have
stayed in Beowulf Hollow. Should Broadway ever base a play on the glamorous
lifestyle of a downtown waitress from a small Pennsylvania town, she'd corner
the market.

"I didn't
mean it like that." He picked up the script and set it on the small
kitchen table. "Just look at it later. If it's not your style, cool. I'll
see if Gretchen wants it."

Mary whipped
around. "Gretchen?
Really?"
Her fingers tied
the apron strings together. Paul had become all too friendly with that little
tart since she moved in three doors down. The fact she had the same light
blonde hair as Mary and a heavier load in her bra didn't make things any
better.

"Oh, no.
I didn't mean
it like that." Paul held his hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying
is
you need to relax. There's nudity on Broadway too."

"Yeah, back
stage when you're getting dressed. I've got to go." Tears hovered on the
edge of her long lashes. Mary refused to let them fall.

Paul caught her
as she tried to pass. "Don't go away all mad, baby." His breath
tickled her ear.

Her mind screamed
to rip free of his grasp but her heart didn't want to. She loved him through
his faults. "We're barely making it here. I need something big."

"You'll get
it, but you need your street cred, baby. Relax. Don't leave yet." Again
his lips caressed her neck. "I fucking love you in this outfit."

She craned her
neck to allow him better access. He suckled, the joyful pain of him leaving his
mark exciting her. The scarf she wore would hide it all. His fingers inched up
the knee-length skirt, pulling the fabric to her hips.

"Oh, baby,
no panties again. Fuck." His digits danced at her apex. With a shudder she
spread her legs. Paul took her invitation and rubbed her clit before sliding a
finger along her opening. "I love your sweet little pussy."

Mary grasped the
counter. A moan hissed through her clenched teeth. His hands were magic,
sparking her desire. Two fingers pressed against her opening before plunging
in. The wetness grew with each stroke and he pulled out.

"Taste the
sweetness, baby." He offered the plundering fingers to her and Mary took
them in her mouth. Each smack of her lips caused Paul to grind against her ass.
"Oh, fuck yeah."

He grabbed her
by the hips and spun her around. His lips covered hers feverishly, his tongue
parting the way. Breaking free, he lifted her on the counter and shoved her to
her back. Mary's head hung off the side and she held on for dear life as he
spread her legs wide. His tongue lavished her clit and he shoved three fingers
into her, the fourth one teasing her back entrance.

"Not there,
Paul." She'd never let him fuck her in the ass, though his want had been
apparent every time they messed around. He paused and she tried not to groan in
frustration.

"I'm just
playing, baby. Relax and enjoy the ride." In short swift strokes, his fingers
moved within her core. Stars danced in front of her eyes as she gasped in short
huffs. Pressure built below and she exploded with a cry. His heat faded away as
her legs quivered. As Mary gazed down, Paul yanked his pants down.
Precum
beaded on the head of his thick length.

Sliding off the
counter, Mary sank to her knees. She knew what Paul liked as much as he did
her. His lucid eyes matched his grin. She licked the mushroom head of his fat
cock before taking the shaft in her mouth. Her first love and first lover, Paul
had opened her up to sexual encounters. Barring anal, she'd do anything he
asked. Sucking his cock was a joy she'd never thought she'd be into yet the
sticky sweetness had almost become an addiction. Lusting for a taste, she worked
the bottom of his shaft with fervor.

"Oh no,
baby, I'm going to fuck you." He dragged her up and pressed her belly to
the kitchen table.
"Bad girl."
He smacked
her bottom before rubbing the spot. One more smack and he drove his dick in.
With his hands on her shoulders, Paul fucked her hard and fast. Again she cried
out, imploring him to go faster. His grunts joined hers.

He pulled out
with a groan. "Suck my dick, baby."

Mary scrambled
to the floor, eager. The smell of his musk coupled with the taste of her juices
spurred her to engulf his whole length. In that one moment, he unleashed his
cum. She swallowed as he stroked her hair.

"Fuck,
baby. You can do whatever you want." He helped her up, fixing her skirt.
"See?"

Mary slapped his
cheek affectionately. "I only do that for you."

"You're too
good for me." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll give the script
back. No Gretchen. Okay?"

She headed for
the bathroom. "Do what you want, Paul.
If it's a good
fit for her."
She couldn't go to work smelling like a porn shop
back room.

"Are you
sure?" He called out.

"Yep."
She gargled
with mouthwash and spit. After a good wash of her private parts, she slipped on
a pair of panties. Paul enjoyed a good fuck before she headed to work so she
tempted him by forgetting her underwear. Not that it took much to entice him to
the bed…or counter…or table. Or just about any place in their small apartment.
Her worry about Gretchen was all in her head. He might have taught Mary her
bedroom tricks thinking he was in control. However, one bend over with no
panties and he was at her mercy.

When Mary returned
to the living room, Paul still had his pants around his ankles. His cock
wavered between half-mast and full erection. "I really don't have time for
another round, Paul." She hopped over and pinched his cheek, giving his
cock a tug. "You're on your own."

"No
problem." He grinned. "I got my favorite issue of Playboy to get all
sticky."

Pam Rawlings
graced the cover of the November 1972 cover. Paul's first purchase when he
turned eighteen. Before they became lovers, she caught him whacking off with
his cock in one hand and the centerfold in the other. Mary had met him during a
small time production in a smaller theatre in the Bronx. When the show closed
down, he helped her get a job at a local diner. Paul worked in the back. Three
months later, they got a small apartment together and he lost his job soon
after.

Life hadn't
turned out like Mary expected. While Paul managed to get money to pay his half
of the bills, neither of them
were
getting ahead. The
diner, while a good revenue generator, brought in all kinds of lowlifes. Busty,
she’d started wearing sweaters to hide her cleavage. The work uniform was cut
too low. Although tips poured in, the drunks deciding she was a few melons on a
fruit cart made work almost unbearable. Her boss did nothing when she
complained, citing she shouldn't "flaunt her tits" if she didn't want
them to be appreciated. In that vein, she chose the sweater and he never said a
word about her covering the uniform.

She crossed the
street, only to slow when she noticed the lights weren't on in the diner. Several
of her coworkers lingered outside, huddled by the entrance.

"What's
going on?" She stood on her tiptoes to peer inside.

"We've been
closed down." Heather, another waitress, pointed to the sign. Her bubble
gum made a loud snap.
"The health department."

Mary shoved her
way through, her heart tightening in her chest. Losing her job would be rock
bottom for her. She had nothing else beyond a script for a sex show disguised
as a legitimate play. In black and white, she read the long list of violations as
Heather recited a dictionary's worth of swear words.

Nerves rattled, Mary
rushed away from the diner. Breath wouldn't come to her lungs. If it wasn't for
Paul, she wouldn't have gotten that job in the first place. She didn't want to
start over or go home to Beowulf Hollow a failure.

Tears bled from
her eyes, and she wiped them away. How would she explain to Paul that she might
not be able to pay her part of the bills? Walking up the two flights of steps,
she paused at the door to her apartment. She had to pull it together before entering.
Laughter leached out of the big gap under the door. The key shook in her hand,
poised near the lock. Giggling turned in heated moans.

"I love
your sweet little pussy."

She couldn't
mistake Paul's voice and the same words he’d murmured to her earlier. The keys
dropped to the floor. Shaking, she bent to retrieve them and her head banged
against the door. It creaked open. Across the room, slung over the kitchen
table, was Gretchen. Paul was balls deep, their flesh smacking hard together.

Mary's throat
constricted and one choking sob left her lips.

Paul jerked his
head around, never slowing his thrusts into Gretchen. "Oh, shit." He
slapped his current fuck toy as he withdrew. She eagerly dropped to the floor,
pausing when her eyes locked on Mary's.

"Oh hey,
girlfriend!"
She smiled before sucking the offered cock before her.

"Man."
He pumped his cock. "I'm helping her with an audition. Honest."

Mary laughed to
keep from crying. Gretchen would be stupid enough to fall for that line. The
casual way Paul continued to fornicate right in front of her angered her. Shame
for not seeing what kind of man he was heated her cheeks. All the scripts
scattered around the house. All the girls he brought over to read with her who
couldn't string two sentences together. Nothing more than private auditions for
his poontang express. She kept her back stiff and walked to the bedroom. Most
of the clothes she had were not her style so she grabbed a small suitcase and
packed it full, taking her favorite black pumps that she'd bought with her
first paycheck.

Out in the
living room, Gretchen was piecing together her strewn outfit. Still oblivious,
she waved as Mary emerged from the bedroom. "I think I'm going to get the
part!"

"Good luck
with your life, Paul." Mary threw her keys at him and walked out. In the foyer
of the building, she checked her mailbox. Paul's letters hit the floor as she
sifted through each piece. She stuffed what was hers into her purse and left.
With no plan, she headed to the nearest motel within her budget for the night.

A year of her life
down the drain with nothing to show for it.
Light rain fell
from the heavens as she entered the office of the motel. The oversized man at
on the other side of the counter licked his dry, cracked lips like a lion
eyeing up a gazelle. She thought about turning around and finding another place.
As she turned to leave, the clouds opened up and the light drops turned into a
downpour.

"Just—"
She paused, revisited the connotation of asking for a room for the night. Her
pocketbook whimpered as she changed her mind. "Two nights, please."

"Forty
dollars."
His fingers brushed the back of her hand when she placed a wad of ones on the
counter. She flinched, ready to gag when his calloused pads scrapped against
her knuckles.

"2B,
doll."
His eyes roamed the length of her.