Torn: Part Two (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (The Torn Series Book 2) (7 page)

“That's a large part of the reason.” She lowers herself back down into one of the chairs.

I place the bacon in the pan that I heated up, one strip at a time. Then I get started on the eggs, making Ann's first, since hers is the only one that's going to be sunny side up. The smell of breakfast food fills the air, making my stomach rumble.

“I need to warn you about my son,” Ann speaks up from the breakfast nook.

“Hm?” I glance over the bar at her.

“The reason he's coming,” she hesitates. “I didn't tell him that I hired you.”

“So?” I open up the breadbox to pull out the loaf of bread and start cutting slices.

“So he's a bit of a control freak. He's not happy that I went behind his back and hired someone to help me around here.”

“I don't see how that's any of his business.” I cut six thick slices of bread and take them over to the toaster, hoping that they'll fit inside. The only time I ever have to cut bread myself is when I'm at a restaurant. Doing it for breakfast just seems kind of weird. I feel like I should have expected that everything Ann had would be homemade, though.

“Butter those, will you?” She nods to the bread.

I set the sliced bread down to grab the butter container from the refrigerator and a knife from one of the drawers before returning to the toaster.

“I just don't want him to scare you away. He can be a little rude and brazen when he's unhappy. He probably won't treat you with much kindness.” Ann scowls. “I know this is a lot to put on you on your first day of work, and you didn't ask for this. I had hoped to keep you a secret, for a while at least.”

The sheer look of fear in her eyes is worrisome. Her son must be a pompous asshole for her to be this upset.

I drop what I'm doing and walk over to Ann, drawing her attention up to me. “Hey.”

She smiles softly, reaching out to take my hand in hers.

“You're a grown woman. You don't need your son bullying you. And I'm certainly not going to let him scare me off if that's not what you want. I'll try my best to be perfect so that he doesn't hate me.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You're a doll, Piper.” She pats the top of my hand. “But I'm afraid that my son is a stubborn man. It's going to take more than a nice breakfast to sway him. Speaking of which, you're burning the bacon.”

“Oh crap!” I run back to the kitchen. The smoke nearly bowls me over. I'm surprised I didn't smell it sooner.

I grab a fork and try to salvage the bacon though there are some pieces that are far too black for saving. While I'm debating on whether or not I should start over, the doorbell rings. My stomach instantly does a back flip. Ann has me all nervous about meeting her son, and if this is what he walks in on, I definitely won't make a good first impression.

“Could you get that?” Ann gestures towards the door.

A wave of discontent washes over me. Is she so afraid of her son that she won't even answer the door? I should be finishing up cooking breakfast while she buys me time by letting him in. For a moment, I think of saying as much. Instead, I wipe my hands on a dishtowel before scurrying towards the front door. When I get there, I pause. It's my first day at work, and it feels like everything is already going wrong. My day will likely only get worse when I open the door and face Ann's son. Hopefully, he won't be as much of a douchebag as she's making him out to be.

I straighten the front of my dress and inhale deeply before unlocking the door and wrapping my hand around the handle. My mouth curves into the largest fake grin that I can muster, and I internally practice my happiest greeting. When I pull the door open, though, any words that I might have said are replaced by a small gasp. My mouth falls agape, and one of the great mysteries of recent is solved. Sir Suit's eyes are gray.

From the Author

I hope you've enjoyed Torn: Part Two. Part Three will be available shortly.

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Bonus Excerpt from
Strife

Life isn't beautiful. Sometimes, it's as ugly as our worst nightmares. This is one of those times.

I kneel before him. He's attractive enough, with short dark hair gelled forward and big green eyes. The suit he's wearing gives the illusion that he's a decent businessman. No one in this business could possibly be decent though.

My heart aches as I realize that this probably won't be enough. It never is with these types of guys who like to take advantage of the vulnerable and desperate. I refuse to be vulnerable, but I'm definitely desperate. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Otherwise, he would be out of business.

“
That's a good girl,” James spreads his legs for me. The lusty sound of his voice makes me want to vomit. I can remember my adopted father saying the same thing to me with the same connotation. It brings back bad memories. Memories that I need therapy for. Therapy that I might never be able to afford.

I reach for his zipper, keeping my hand steady. I've done this dozens of times before, but this time it feels different. If I do a good job, I'll gain employment. The chance to suck a different cock every day of the week. Oh goody.

I bite back the urge to roll my eyes at my internal thoughts. I shouldn't feel so bitter. After all, I'm the one who called him. I'm the one who came here for this. I'm the one who asked for this interview.

I slide the zipper down, and my eyes bore into him. He might take it as a look of seduction, but it's really determination. Determination to do this so that I can earn the money it's going to take to keep a roof over my head and pay for college. Coming out to Hollywood to pursue my dream of being a movie star was a crap shoot. I knew that from the beginning. That's why it's important that I start working on Plan B right away before I end up on the streets.

I won't have to do this forever, I tell myself. Just long enough to get through four years of college. Long enough to destroy me emotionally completely.

Of course, that's what I suspect will happen. I've been through way worse than this though, and I've managed to come through it sane enough to carry on. Then again, I'm doing this voluntarily, so maybe I'm not so sane after all. I don't think it really matters right now. Just do what I have to do to get to my end game, and then worry about fixing myself afterward.

I half expect James' cock to spring forward the second his zipper is down. He doesn't strike me as the type of guy to wear underwear. Despite the very apparent outline of his erection though, I quickly realize that he is wearing underwear and I'll have to reach in there and wrangle out his trouser snake on my own. It feels like a chore. This whole thing feels like a chore—is a chore—but dawdling about won't get it done any faster.

I slick my tongue across my lips. It's meant to look sexy, but my mouth is as dry as the Sahara. I should have drunk more water before I came here. I hadn't expected this. To be honest, I'm not sure what I had expected. The naive part of me had hoped I would just fill out an application, answer some questions, and be on my way. Of course, it's not that easy. It rarely is when you apply somewhere so seedy.

His skin is hot to the touch, his cock thick and ready. I give it a few teasing strokes beneath the thin material of his boxers before I extract it, eying it like a predator does prey. The thought that I'm about to suck off a complete stranger makes me sick, but I had better start getting used to this feeling. I'll experience it a lot in the beginning before my emotions become desensitized to the act. It's merciful the way the body can adapt like that. I'm convinced that anything can become second nature if you do it enough, even the most dastardly of deeds.

James threads his fingers through my long blonde hair, and I wait for the anticipated bite of pain that will come when he tightens his grip and forces me forward. Even though I'm trying my best not to hesitate, the apprehension is there while my mind and heart try to process what this will do to me. Every second is a choice. Keep going and potentially secure my future, make a better life through the sacrifice of my body. Or go back, pull away, ruin this chance, and take the slow path.

I could always get a job at a diner or grocery store or something. Maybe I could make enough money to cover my rent. My education would have to be put on the back burner though, likely for years. Perhaps I'd be stuck working at a crappy minimum wage job for the rest of my life. The odds of me magically getting into show business are few and far between. It could happen but realistically probably won't. No, that won't do. I have to take the plunge.

And so I do.

The salt of his flesh dances on my taste buds as I close my eyes. James hisses in approval as I apply every dick sucking technique I learned throughout high school. My only two goals are to impress him and to keep my emotional barrier intact.

James does what all men do, wanting more, maneuvering my head by my hair. The pain brings tears to my eyes, and I look up at him so that he can see them, knowing that he'll like it. Men love it when they think their dick is too big for you to handle. I'm of the mindset that it's a pretty natural response for your eyes to water when something larger than the back of your throat is being shoved down it.

I fake a muffled moan, trying to show him that I enjoy this. It's so far from the truth, but hopefully he won't be able to tell. The four years of theater arts I took in high school are not going to waste.

My mouth makes crude sounds as I bob up and down on James' cock, lapping at the veiny underside whenever he's not trying to choke me. When he pulls me all the way off of him, I flick out my tongue to make circles around his slit, causing him to groan.

“
So fucking good,” he tells me before forcing me down again. “Now suck like you mean it.”

I do mean it. I mean this blowjob to get me a job that will hopefully take me away from the poverty stricken life I so recently fell into. Thinking about it now, it's funny that I grew up rich. Who would have guessed this would be how I ended up? I suppose the joke was on me from the beginning.

I think about sticking my hand back into James' pants to play with his balls. Men seem to like that, especially when they're about to come. That would be too much of a hassle though, and if he ends up not hiring me—if he ends up just being a fraud—I would be mega ticked off for putting in the extra effort.

Instead, I wrap both hands around the base of his shaft, jacking him off while I slurp on his glans. His back presses against the office chair he's sitting in, and he cranes his neck, his Adam's apple protruding. If he was a normal guy, it might be sexy. I learned a long time ago though that the most attractive guys are usually the ugliest inside. James is a perfect example of that.

I'm not sure how long he expects this blowjob to last, but I'm already growing tired. I've sucked and licked and teased until my jaw has gotten sore. Now, I just want it to be over.

Come, you bastard.

I dive down, taking him to the back of my throat and picking up the pace. He places a hand on the back of my head, pushing me down farther than I want to go. I tolerate it, making tiny, high-pitched moaning noises. The more aroused I can sound, the quicker it will get his rocks off.

Of course, he doesn't warn me when his climax hits, but I've sucked enough cocks to know when it's time to get out of the way. His hand is like stone, holding me down, but I maneuver sideways, allowing his dick to pop out of my mouth and for him to shoot his load straight up toward the heavens.

He frowns at me between panting breaths, his palm finding a new purpose around his cock to coax out the rest of his orgasm. For a moment, I worry that I displeased him by pulling away. Hell, it's apparent that I displeased him.

Still, even I have my limits. Taking a shot of baby batter from a guy I met less than an hour ago is one of them. If he doesn't like that, then I suppose there's nothing I can do. It's not like I can turn back time and correct my mistake.

I resist the urge to wipe my mouth with the back of my arm, deciding to gaze up at him and lick the glistening sheen of saliva and pre-come from my lips instead, hoping it will inspire some sense of longing, making him forget that I just disrespected him by rejecting his seed.

“
You taste amazing, sir.” I make tiny circles on his knee with my fingernail, pursing my lips and trying my best to look both sexy and innocent at the same time.

The discontent fades from his eyes as he catches his breath. For several seconds, he just stares at me, saying nothing. Then he reaches across his desk to pull some tissues from a box on the corner before using them to clean himself off.

I sit back on my heels, watching him, wondering if everything I just did was for nothing. I'm not sure what I'm going to do if it was. I need this job badly.

“
You can stand,” he tells me, tossing the come soaked tissues into the trash.

I pull myself up shakily, realizing that the cold tile did a number on my knees. It's funny how you don't notice the pain that you're in when your mind is preoccupied with other things. Or maybe that's just me—how my brain works. I've been in some pretty painful situations and have always tried to look for distractions. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it just happens on its own, like now.

“
Thank you for the opportunity to interview with your company, Mister Sumner.” I cross my hands in front of me.

“
What did you say your name was again?” He arches an eyebrow.

The fact that he forgot my name is insulting. The fact that he's too lazy to even lean forward and look at my application, even more so. This guy is a piece of work. He really is. And I just realized that he screwed me over.

“
Pepper. Pepper Kimbrough.” I hold my head up high, letting my disdain shine through.

This is the part where he tells me that I'm not what he's looking for. The part where I walk out of his office like the fool I am, used like so many girls before me. This is the part where I get to spend the rest of the night thinking about how much of a naive fuck up I am.

“
Pepper. I hate that name. It's not sexy at all.” He shakes his head, finally pulling his worthless ass forward to glance at my resume again.

Anger is building inside of me. I ball my fists to keep it at bay. He thinks my name is ugly, well I think that he's ugly. An ugly, horrible, despicable, little man.

“
We'll have to come up with something sexier to tell the clients,” he continues.

My mouth falls agape for a moment. “Does that mean I'm hired?”

“
Yes. You can start work as soon as you complete your blood test.”