WARNING: This is NOT a traditional love story. It contains disturbing subject matter, including themes of questionable consent for both male and female, as well as graphic sexual content. This is a work of fiction intended for a mature, 18+ audience only. The author neither endorses nor condones this type of behaviour.
After the devastating loss of her parents and subsequent depression, Olivia Brown decided a move from her parent’s family home in Cambridge to a house in London would give her the fresh start she so sorely needed.
Living off her inheritance, Olivia didn’t need to work, but she knew she needed something to make her feel like life was worth living. Painting was her one true love, but that wasn’t enough. So she started a part-time job in a bar, and the rest of the time she spent at a local soup kitchen, feeding the homeless. In the mornings, she bought hot beverages for her homeless friends, but there was one who never asked. This man, having the most facial hair she’d ever seen, the most captivating eyes she’d ever stared at, remained aloof. He never said a word to anyone, and never once looked her way. However, all this did was make Olivia want to find out more about this mysterious man hiding behind a face full of hair.
One perilous evening, her wish came true.
On the way back from working at the bar, Olivia was attacked. She screamed for help, relieved when her cries are answered…but surprised when she saw who her rescuer was. It was the eyes. It was the hair. It was none other than the mysterious homeless man.
That night, Olivia learned two things. One, his name was Kit, and two, Kit had skills… skills which didn’t fit a man living on the streets.
Day after day, Olivia slowly pushed the boundaries, coaxing out the man hiding behind the hair. Kit Chain wasn’t only trained like men she watched in movies, he was also the most beautiful. Bit by bit, Olivia managed to break down his walls, revealing secrets that would change her life. Secrets that would put both of them in terrible danger.
However, there was one thing about secrets…
Everyone had them.
WARNING: Contains strong language and sexual references.
“Livy, what have I told you about drinking too much?”
I started laughing. “Oh, come on, Uncle. Just a little more. I promise I’ll be good.”
“You’re only eighteen, Livy. You drink more than I do.”…
Uncle stared at me intensely. Even as shit-faced as I was, I could see he was a man of whom to be afraid. I knew his power. I also knew the power he had held over my father…and that was saying something.
I leaned over him, trying to snatch the bottle from his outstretched hand. He was teasing me and I didn’t like it. I was desperate for more Jack Daniels. It was my road to numbness… A road I visited as often as I could since my parents died.
“Please, give me more.” I leaned over again, but Uncle stretched his arm even further away. By now, I was practically on top of him and caught a whiff of his sexy aftershave. “I’ll give you a blowjob if you let me have my drink back.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. I hated that. “What the fuck do you find so funny?”
Uncle stopped laughing and looked at me sternly. “Livy, don’t ever raise your fucking voice to me again. You got that? I fucking own you. Remember that. One day, you’ll see. One day, when you’ve got your shit cleaned up and are ready for me, I’ll be there. For now, you must learn to know your place. Show some fucking respect.”
My mouth was dry as I tried to swallow. “S…s…sorry,” I stuttered.
Uncle looked at my expression and his own softened. He leaned forward, brushed his lips across my forehead and sighed. “You smell like a brewery, Livy. You’ve got to stop moping around the house all day. You need to focus your mind on something and get better. I know you have it in you. You always were my favourite girl.” He tilted up my chin to meet his eyes. He was showing me his kind eyes today. The eyes I thought might love me a little. “What is it you want?”
Closing my eyes, I tried to think. All I wanted was…nothing. I didn’t want to think or feel anymore. I just wanted nothing. I was sick of seeing my dad’s lifeless eyes staring back at me. Sick of fucking everything.
“I want a drink.”
Uncle sighed, obviously unpleased, and pushed me off him. “Where are you going?” I asked, watching him head for the door. He still had my bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.
“I’m going home, Livy.”
I started panicking. “What about my drink?”
He slammed the door behind him, making me jump. I had no Jack Daniels left in the house.
Fuck!
At that moment, I got angry. Picking up a glass ornament, I threw it at the door and screamed, “Fucking arshole!”
I slouched down and sobbed for the loss of my drink. I could still feel, and needed something to take the edge off. Only Jack could do that for me.
Jack was my best and only friend.
Jaimie Roberts was born in London, but moved to Gibraltar in 2001. She is married with two sons, and in her spare time, she writes.
In June 2013, Jaimie published her first book, Take a Breath, with the second released in November 2013. With the reviews, Jaimie took time out to read and learn how to become a better writer. She gets tremendous enjoyment out of writing, and even more so from the feedback she receives.
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