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CHAPTER ONE
“Lily!It’shere!It’sfinally here!” I shout at my sister through the phone. “It only took 9 months but it’s official!” I stare down at the packet of signed and finalized documents with a wide grin. I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach or the slight tremble in my hands.
I’m officially free.
“I am so happy for you girl! I can’t believe it took so long but now that you’re finally officially single, we have to go out and celebrate tonight!” she screeches.
“Bitch I’ve been single for 11 months. Hell, I was practically single for the last year of my marriage,” I laugh, “but I’m not sure I want to go out anyways. I was thinking of just celebrating at home with wine and a smutty book.”
“Fuck that Vi! For one, you already read too much as it is. You need to get out more. And for two, your divorce papers literally came through today. You need to celebrate. Maybe going out to a club will give you some more ideas for your fancy sex book you’ve been writing,” she says with a giggle.
“It’s done actually, I finished it last night,” I murmur, allowing the surreal feeling to take me over a little bit.
After 9 months, I finally finished my first book series. To say it’s been a labor of love is an understatement. I worked on it day and night at any available moment I had, and then some. Considering I already work a full-time job, finding the time to work on it’s been difficult, but it had to be done. The words just came to me suddenly and frequently.
I jotted them down on bits and pieces on paper or on my phone when the thoughts and scenes would come to me.Frequently at the gym. Then I would come home and type them out, combining the detailed smut and occasionally downright depravity that spiraled through my brain. And somehow, after all this time, I finally typed the last words yesterday. Now comes the even more difficult task of completion; editing, publishing, and figuring out how the fuck to get people to buy and read it.
“Holy shit! Well then, we are definitely going out to celebrate! I’ll tell Remi and text Poppy. You just get your ass ready, and we’ll pick you up at 9:00! Don’t disappoint me Vi, you better look hot,” she orders before ending the call.
I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it, brows furrowed in confusion. What just happened? I said I didn’t want to go out and now I’m going out.
“That sneaky little bitch.” I grumble.
Lily, my sister, for all her faults, really does care about me and my wellbeing. Her pushing me to go out is just her showing her concern for my mostly introverted habits. Especially since my marriage ended, she’s been extra concerned about me. She’s constantly reminding me that I’m not the happy-go-lucky woman that I used to be. Doesn’t she realize that I lost those pieces of myselfbeforemy relationship with Elliot ended?
Almost a year ago, I found my husband whom I had been with for 6 years, aggressively railing his business partnerLucy,in our bedroom when I came home early from work with a migraine. It was safe to say, I took issue with the scene in front of me and our marriage was effectively over from that moment on. That was the final nail in the proverbial coffin for me.
The most fucked up part is that it wasn’t even just the cheating or that he was fucking her that destroyed me. It washowhe was fucking her. Wrists and ankles tied to our mahogany four-poster, gag ball in her mouth, a sheen of sweat covering both their bodies, her muffled moans and screams coming from behind her muzzle, and my husband’s relentless pounding into not her cunt, but her ass.
I stood at the door to my bedroom watching for God only knows how long, stuck in my tracks, unable to move or speak. All I could feel was anger. Hot, burning anger. What blew me away was that it wasn’t angerabouthim cheating, in fact, part of me figured that he had been for quite some time. It had been almost a year since we’d had sex. While I got off by myself just fine,albeit lonely as it was, I knew there was no way he wasn’t giving it up somewhere. But what royally pissed me off, was the manner in which he was fucking this chick.
Since the beginning of Elliot and I’s relationship, he had always been such aloverin the bedroom. Completely and utterly fucking vanilla. No matter how many times I asked and even begged him to fuck me into the headboard, tie me up, spank me, or even just eat me out, he wouldn’t.
He would say that he was too lazy or tired or just wanted to “make love to his wife”. When we first got together, I liked that about him. I liked that he said he respected me too much to do those types of “filthy” things to the woman he loved. But like seriously? What does a girl gotta do to get a little bit of degradation and kink in her life? You can still respect me while destroying my pussy,I promise.
So, there I was, watching her get the sex I had always fantasied about, and I found myself angry and turned the fuck on. I wanted what she was getting and at that moment, I realized that while I wanted it, I sure as shit did not want it with him.
So, I pulled my phone out, took a short video as proof, turned around, and walked my happy ass out of the house. Twenty-four hours later, I left him divorce papers on his office desk with a flash drive of my little homemade video. He called and begged and pleaded when he found my gift, and I laughed and denied and hung up.
While he was at work, I packed my shit up and moved in with my sister Lily and her wife Remi. It took two months for him to finally come to terms with the fact that I was not coming back for anything more than to split the assets and pack the rest of my shit. When he finally accepted it, he signed the divorce papers. Months and months of arguing, negotiations, and tense packing sessions and it’s finally over.
Soon after I left Elliot, I decided to finally put pen to metaphorical paper and started working on my first book. I’ve always loved writing and have started and stopped a lot of pieces but have never had a full-blown book idea and the inspiration to complete anything. But two weeks into my new living arrangements at my sisters’ which was an hour from mine and Elliot’s house, I walked into my new gym for the first time and was suddenly, unbelievably, inspired.
Not by a place, but by a person. OrpeopleI should say. Three people to be specific. Three otherworldly, gorgeous, buff, tattooed men. I walked in and my gaze snapped straight to them like a moth to a flame. They were across the large space, at the free weights, all laughing with each other with weights in their hands and my thighs instantlyclenched.
I’ve gone to various gyms for a long time. I’ve seen the ridiculous meatheads that prowl around all of them. Too fit, undoubtedly cocky, acting untouchable like God’s gift to the better sex and the temple between our thighs. I’ve been on the receiving end of that weak-ass game many times. But never have I even been drawn to one of them. Never have I found myself wanting to lick the sweat off of another human being so badly in my entire life, let alone three someones.
I gawked from the front desk where I was checking in and stared all the way to the locker room before I finally schooled my insane reaction. When I came back out, as if it was planned, all three of them looked up from their activity and met my gaze.They. Were. Gorgeous. Fucking utterly, downright, sexual lollipops. And right then and there, my obsession began.
For months, I watched them whenever we’d be at the gym together. All three of them always worked out at the same time. They arrived together, sweated together, joked together, lifted together, and made me salivate together. I watched them and I took fuckingnotes.
We never talked. We never bumped into each other. I had an obnoxious awareness of where they were at any given moment when we shared the space, and it seemed they had the same for me. No matter how much I tried to get my nerve up to approach them in the beginning, I just couldn’t muster it.
But then, one day two weeks in, while on the stair master, I got the inspiration for my book.Theybecame my inspiration. I decided to write my very own little reverse harem book inspired by the three erotic, buff alphas at my gym. The scenes and writing began to pour out of me that night. And from that moment forward, the idea of speaking to them became completely terrifying. I had to keep my obsession and writing a secret, and they had to stay in the little box I stashed them in: fantasies and rub club material.
So, I did what all great, sexually charged women do and avoided that shit like it was an STD-riddled dick wrapped in a cactus. I watched, I noted, I enjoyed, Idrooled, but never more. Every time I saw them it was like I was a druggy getting another fix.
I got spank bank and book material. I watched them and imagined what their personalities would be like, their names, their habits, their sexual styles. I created characters for them based on their faces and bodies and gave them a story. Those three rough-looking men became the main characters of my dreams both in my sleep and on paper.
