STROKED LONG (42 page)

Keep flipping the pages for a SNEAK PEEK of the first chapter of STROKED HARD

· Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release e-mail list at
http://www.authormeghanquinn.com/newsletter.html
and receive ONE FREE EBOOK per person.

You can also follow me on twitter at @authormegquinn, or like my Facebook page at
https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor/

· Reviews help other readers find books. I appreciate all of my readers’ reviews.

If you enjoyed STROKED LONG, don’t worry the series isn’t quite over, STROKED HARD will release November 1st, 2016. In the meantime, here is a list of my other books available.

The Romance Novelist Series

(Hilarious, laugh out loud romantic comedies)

The Virgin Romance Novelist

The Randy Romance Novelist

Romantic Comedy Standalones

(Full of heart, humor, and heat. Both heroes are sweet, yet demanding)

The Mother Road

Newly Exposed

The Bourbon Series

(Sassy, erotic romance with a gorgeous, protective alpha male)

Becoming a Jett Girl

Being a Jett Girl

Forever a Jett Girl

Repentance

The Hot-Lanta Series

(My first series ever. Baseball sports romance with lots of drama!)

Caught Looking

Playing the Field

Warning Track

Hit and Run

The Addiction Series

(Rock star romance, minor cheating and love triangles. Book three still to come, Rehab.)

Toxic

Fame

The Warblers Point Series

(Three Irish brothers, their younger sister, and the drama they get into. Love triangles. Book three still to come.)

Beers, Hens and Irishmen

Beers, Lies and Alibis

Meghan Quinn

(UNEDITED)

Prologue

HOLLIS

“There was definite cuppage. I saw it man. “

Reese shakes his head. “There was no cuppage. If there was cuppage I would have felt it. Her hand was no where near my crotch.”

I raise an eyebrow at him and lean up against the wall, an ice cream cone in my hand. Fuck my diet, when there is a soft serve machine, I take advantage of it. “Listen, I’m not here to tell you how you get tailored but when I’m sitting there, watching an old man, wrinkles as deep as the Grand Canyon on his forehead, move his hand up your inner thigh, graze your dick, and then back down, I’m calling cuppage.”

“Why is this something we are even discussing.”

I take a bite of my ice cream. Licking is for pussies…literally. “Because, I want to know…did you chub out?”

“For fucks sake.” Reese walks away, not answering my question so I chase after him.

“Is that a yes? Dude, talk to me. Is this something you’re worried about? You know I would love you either way, right? Greg Louganis is my hero and he’s gay. I’m for whatever puts jollies in your pants because let’s be honest, everyone deserves to get off, no matter what kind of private parts are touching.”

“Why can’t you just say love is love?”

“Because the way I said it is more fun.” Reese opens a bottle of water and chugs it, avoiding my question. “Seriously though, is that why you’re doing this reality show? Because you need a beard?”

“What? I have a beard?” Reese says, looking confused and rubbing his actual beard. The stupid fuck.

“Not an actual beard you dumb shit, I’m talking about a fake girlfriend to cover up for the fact that you’re gay and you’re not quite ready to come out about it just yet. They call those beards. So, is that why you’re doing this reality show? Because you need a beard because you’re gay and you really enjoyed the cuppage from the old man with a fucking shrub coming out his head? Dude had crazy fucking ear and nose hair.” I twiddle my fingers near my ear, pretending to be that unsightly shit.

“I’m not gay, dumb ass.”

I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. “Then why the fuck are you linking yourself with the biggest cunt on this planet since Hitler?” Let’s be honest, Hitler was a little bitch. I bet you anything, that dude had a massive bush bigger than his little peanut dick. It’s the only reason I can come up with for someone being that ornery and volatile.

Mein herr, zi can’t find your schnitzel.

“I told you.” Reese runs his hand over his face, clearly irritated with me.

“Refresh my memory.”

“Because, this is my last go around. After this year, I’m retiring. I need to curb my image, cash in on endorsements. Ashley, my publicist, is convinced this will do that.”

“Curb your image? What, do you want people to think you’re the biggest douche in the entire world?” I start slow clapping. “Because if that’s the case, you’re right on track to claiming your trophy.”

This will be Reese’s fourth Olympics, my third. He’s getting old for swim years and I get his need to retire and secure a future when he hangs up his goggles but attaching himself to Bellini Chambers to be on a reality show…uh not a fucking good idea. The only reason why Bellini Chambers is so popular is because Americans are masochists when it comes to reality television and love to hate the evil twat.

Hell my twin sister, Holly – yes, Holly and Hollis, my parents are fucking precious – loves tuning into
Rollin’ in the Bacon
just to watch what kind of self-absorbed bullshit Bellini will get into only to bitch about it to me later.

The worst part, she will call me up after the show airs to talk to me about it. You would think I would stop answering my phone, but for some reason, I enjoy hearing her voice, even if it’s to bitch about something. That happens when you almost lose your better half in a car accident.

“Is that why you came here? To harass me?” Reese asks.

I chomp on my cone and talk with my mouth full. “No, the free food, always the free food.”

“You know that’s going to catch up to you, right?”

Get fucking real. I lift my shirt and pat my abs, the same abs that have been voted on more than once for best in the country every Olympic season. Yeah, I fucking read Buzzfeed, especially when they do the “toilet” pics with divers. You try doing four tuck flips off a ten meter platform and not have a look on your face just screams “I’m shitting out a gerbil.” Thank you, Buzzfeed, thank you for making us look like we have chronic diarrhea. Slow clap for your employees.

“Metabolism of the gods.” I smirk. It’s true, but I also bust my ass in the gym.

“Just wait until you get to thirty.”

“Nah, I’m like a fucking tube of salami man, I get better with age.”

“Isn’t that wine?”

“Whiskey?” I ask. “Gouda perhaps?”

“Gouda? You fucking wish. If you’re a cheese, you’re a Kraft single: cheap and floppy.”

I stick the rest of my cone in my mouth and wipe my hands on my pants. Eh, my mom taught me better but she’s not here. “There you go again, poking at my dick. I might be cheap, but to hell if I’m floppy. Go ahead, touch my dick, I will get hard right now.” I step in front of him, hands on my hips and thrust my crotch at him.

Pushing my chest, he laughs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

I scan the room of production people milling about, setting up Reese’s photoshoot and search for any on-lookers. “Dude, that was good.”

“What was good?”

“You covering up your gayness. No one would have guessed you were gay with the way you pushed me away, not wanting to touch my crotch.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Pardon me, Mr. King, but can I get you to come over to hair and makeup.”

A joke about Reese getting his makeup done is on the tip of my tongue when I turn to see a little brunette with sun kissed hair, beautifully bronzed skin, and the biggest fucking green eyes I’ve ever seen standing behind Reese.

Holy shit.

The hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen is standing behind him wearing ripped jean shorts, a tight as hell white tank top, and teal Converse. Her hair is shoulder length, wavy, and looks so fucking soft that all I want to do is bury my head in it. But what’s really causing my pants to grow tighter by the minute are her pink glossed plump lips. I’m mesmerized by the way the lights bounce off them and I can’t fucking help the way my mind wanders, wondering all the ways I can have fun with those lips.

“Are you coming, man?” Reese asks as he walks away.

What? Oh shit.

“Sure. You need me to hold your hand like last time?” I ask, chasing after them. “I don’t mind, but when the scary blow dryer comes at you again, I won’t be cleaning your inner thighs from pee dribble. I did it once and it was fucking creepy. Never again.”

I don’t get a response besides the middle finger that is directed at me from behind his back.

Reese sits in a black chair, his large body making the poor seat look like a toothpick. He exhales and slouches as Miss. Pouty Lips starts to play around with his hair.

Jealousy instantly consumes me. I want to blast my best friend from his seat and take his place just to experience the way her pink painted nails feel running through my hair.

Are her toes painted pink as well? Or does she have them painted a different shade. Fuck, I don’t care, either way I’m hell bent on figuring it out.

“Do you have dryland later today or do you want to grab dinner?” Reese asks, pulling my eyes off her fingers for a second.

“Are you paying?”

“Cheap fuck.”

I shrug. “I save my money for more important things, like dates.” The girl looks up at me and gives me a courtesy smile. Eh, I’ll take it. “Dude, you’re so fucking rude.”

“What did I do?” Reese asks.

“Uh, you didn’t introduce me to your friend.” I nod at the girl.

“Because I don’t even know her name.” Reese looks a little shamed as he admits his fault.

I come closer and say, “Then you really are fucking rude.” I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Hollis and this is my rude as fuck friend, Reese.”

The girl shakes my hand quickly, giving me a brief taste of how her palm would match up with mine. “Melony. Nice to meet you.”

“Melony, what a beautiful name.”

Reese snorts, right between us. Not in an awkward kind of a way, more in a dude’s blowing up my game kind of way.

He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh shit, this is going to be good.”

Ignoring him, I keep my attention attuned on Melony. “Do you frequent these shoots often.”

Another snort. “That’s the best you got?” Reese asks. “Come on, man. You’re better than the old ‘you come around here often’ pick up line.”

He’s right, but fuck, I’m kind of thrown off my game a little. It’s the glossiness of her lips, they’re distracting me. Would that gloss help her slide right along my dick?

Melony ignores Reese’s barb and says, “I do all hair and makeup for the show, mostly for Bellini.”

Conversation door open.

“Oh shit, and you haven’t been burnt by dragon lady’s spitting fire yet?”

She flips her hair to the side and grins at me. “Why do you think my hair is short?”

Fuck. I like her. Just like that. The sexy grin, the flip of her soft hair, the way her eyes shined up at me, yup, I’m a fucking goner.

But just as soon as the words slip from her mouth, she straightens up and looks at Reese. “Oh crap. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, Mr. King. Bellini is…” she swallows hard and continues, “A nice lady.”

Reese waves it off. “She can be a bitch.”

It’s all he says but I know what he really means. Bellini is the epitome of the devil reincarnated. Unfortunately, he can’t say that given his situation, he has to be politically correct. Frankly I don’t know why he’s putting himself through this kind of torture. Trials aren’t for six months, you would think his publicist could come up with something else for him to do after his last stint at the Olympics. If I were him, I would fire my publicist’s ass.

“Reese, can you spare a moment over here for a second,” I squirrely man I know of by the name of Jasper asks. Reese excuses himself giving me the perfect opportunity to talk with Melony.

She’s washing some make up brushes, busying herself and staying as far away from me as possible. Too bad for her, I have other plans.

“Where are you from, Melony?” she glances in my direction but turns back to her brushes.

“Here,” she says curtly.

“Born and raised a Cali girl, huh? That’s—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” She holds her hand up. “I see where this is going.”

“And where is this going?” I ask, stepping closer to her.

She gives me the once over and puts her hand on her hip. “You say some cheesy stuff trying to get to know me. To be polite, I will entertain you and then you ask me out. I will say no and then you will take that as a challenge.”

I scrunch my nose. “You would say no?” That’s kind of a first for me, I’m interested to hear her answer.

“Not used to the word? Does the Olympic diver always get what he wants?”

“Ah, so you know who I am.” I knowingly point at her. “I knew you did from the way you tried to see through my shirt. Don’t worry, sweetheart, the abs everyone talks about are real.”

She scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”

Well, that’s a first as well.

“Are you trying to make me cry?” I tease.