My Devil Read online

  Copyright (c) 2019 by Ellie Jean

  All rights reserved.

  Editor: Ellie McLove—My Brother’s Editor, www.mybrotherseditor.net

  Formatting/Book Cover: Stacey Blake—Champagne Book Design

  Visit my webpage at ellie-jean.wixsite.com/author

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or places is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which has been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  WARNING: The book is recommended for readers aged 18+. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offend you.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part Two

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Stay up to date with Ellie Jean

  Other Books

  To all the woman and men who take a chance on finding love. You are strong, special and inspiring.

  Devil:

  an atrociously wicked, cruel, or ill-tempered person

  a person who is very clever, energetic, reckless, or mischievous.

  Unicorn:

  A Unicorn is a mythical creature, someone amazing who is hard to catch or simply a very rare find.

  Stiffness rips through my entire body.

  Coming home from my audition, I slowly close the front door. My hand clamps around my bag and coldness creeps up the back of my spine with each moan I hear coming from my bedroom. My legs are frozen in place while I try and collect my thoughts about what is taking place behind my semi-closed light aqua door.

  My ears know that low, deep groan. For the past four years, I have been the one extracting those sounds from him. My stomach drops like I am descending from the pinnacle of a rollercoaster. A lump develops in my throat, feeling as if a ball of sandpaper has clogged itself there, preventing sounds to emit.

  A shrill scream erupts from behind the door and the headboard of the bed clashes with the wall, no doubt leaving marks with each thump. The woman continues to wail, dramatizing every thrust reverberating through her, presumably from my fiancé.

  “Fucking hell” roars out, jolting me to my senses. My bag drops and the coldness I felt seconds ago is replaced by heat and fury. My head pumps hot blood through it making it pound louder than the grunts.

  “Christ, that’s the best lay I’ve had in a while, baby.” The bed squeaks underneath their bodies and I know that someone has rolled toward the side of the bed, ‘cause it happens each morning and night as I climb in or out of it.

  “Aren’t you glad now you answered my phone call. That cock of yours needs an expert riding it regularly, not a little girl. How the fuck does she hold your interest?” The whore, in my bed, with my now ex-fiancé, has the nerve to freaking bad mouth me?

  My body reacts by itself. Walking to the outer edge of the door frame where my two hands collide with the door, pushing it, when the words hit my ears, “When are you getting rid of your doormat?”

  A naked, tanned woman is perched on her elbows on my goddamn bed, spearing her ice cold blues into mine. She doesn’t flinch a muscle. Leighton at least has the decency to jerk his unclothed body back from eating her small tit. Anger radiates from him perhaps because I’ve intruded into his sexual fantasy time with his whore.

  What the fuck? I’m the one who should be outraged. My feet stand on the threshold, my eyes taking in the scene in front of me. They look so comfortable with each other, I wonder how long this deceit has been going on?

  Calmly, I state, “He will be getting rid of me as soon as I grab my bag and my clothes. So I estimate about five minutes and I will be out of your hair.” Rage boils through me, but I won’t give either of them the satisfaction of seeing how much this is tearing me apart.

  Pulling my eyes from them, I go to the closet and reach up to take my bag down from the top shelf. It’s then I start shoving my clothes into it and next my shoes. I latch on to a black overcoat, throwing it toward the bed.

  “Do us all a favor and cover your disgusting body with that.” The bed creaks again. Indignant huffs murmur across the room.

  “Lace.” A now unknown confident voice hits my ears. How had I been so blind? “We need to speak about this. Meet me in the dining room.”

  Throwing the last of my toiletries into the crammed bag, I zip it up. “Sure thing. Loverboy,” I sneer through my lips walking for the last time out of my bedroom into the kitchen and dining room. I have no desire to listen to what this dickhead has to say. But I have to find another bag in the house to put the photos I have splashed around the room in before I leave this all behind me.

  I won’t be coming back…

  Opening the utensil drawer, I take out a steak knife, laying it on the counter just as Leighton, with his muscular chest, beige suit pants and boyish good looks rounds the corner to the kitchen.

  “Lace, honey. You know she means nothing to me. It’s just business.”

  “What the fuck, Leighton? Is that how you think you’re going to get out of this one? She’s in my bed. In our bed. How many times?” My blood pressure is rising. My voice is starting to climb octaves. I take a deep breath, relaxing my hands. “Just tell me, how many fucking times?”

  “I see you’re working yourself up about this whole thing Lace. How about we talk about this down the street at the cafe over a coffee and the orange cake you like so much?”

  Is this guy insane?

  Who knows, but I am going crazy listening to his bullshit.

  “Stay the hell away from me. I won’t be sitting down for coffee, I won’t be coming back to this place. I won’t be seeing you again.” A sense of self-assurance washes through me. I walk around the room, gathering the photos of my family into the bags. Leighton is raking his hands through his hair.

  “You do what I say when I say. Don’t ever forget that, honey. This isn’t over between us.” The serene voice he was using moments ago has disappeared.

  “Whatever. You must be delusional to think I will stay because you say so. Go back to your whore. I noticed she still hasn’t come out. I don’t know what you’re waiting for?”

  “Don’t forget who you’re talking too, Lace. I own you, remember. We will be married.”

  Tying the handles around the bigger bag, I straighten my
back to my full length.

  Swiftly, I seize the knife from the cold granite surface, throwing it marginally to the left of his mediocre dick.

  A howl blasts through the room.

  “Don’t ever fucking forget who the hell I am, cocksucker.”

  Looking at my ex-fiancé, a fierceness clouds his eyes, clutching his thigh now seeping thick red blood onto his beige expensive pants, I grasp the handle on my luggage and pull it behind me. Crossing the hallway, I almost collide with the female who revealed to me my ex’s extra-curricular activities.

  “He’s all yours.”

  Opening the front door, I place my audition bag over my left shoulder, pulling the wheelie bag behind me to start a new beginning.

  “Hell…I thought LA was the place of opportunity, the place where dreams came true, the city of bright lights and stars.” Sitting on a dirty sidewalk, knees drawn up, I’ve taken my wedge heels off so I can rub my feet. And, I’m talking to myself like I’m bat shit crazy.

  Maybe I am…

  I blend in so well with the bag ladies that feed the birds, muttering to themselves so they have regular conversation. I must really take the time to talk to them next time. I know how they feel.

  Alone in this vast city, wandering the streets looking for a job that I believed would be easy to get, I deduce I was seriously misinformed. I’d put it on par with finding out the ready-made protein shake I had been buying to help with my weight loss was riddled with sugar. How dumb did I feel finding out that day I was practically drinking a can of soda three times a day. And I wondered why I was putting on weight? Idiot…

  Let’s say, being strong-willed and pig-headed has landed me in some sticky situations, but I always bounce back. Like, climbing the largest tree in the garden to put up Christmas lights when my father told me to wait…. No…didn’t and I ended up there for half the night. Dad decided I needed to learn a lesson…He’s not the most paternal father. Or the time I wanted so badly to see the new Mark Wahlberg movie, because who wouldn’t want to see those arms and abs, but for some ridiculous reason, to me anyway, I wasn’t allowed out so I snuck out, drove myself there, only to find myself surrounded by three, six-foot-plus brothers within ten minutes of the start of the movie, who insisted on staying and making more noise and commotion than you would see at a theme park. Slinking in my seat, mortification sunk in when their scantily clad women, who came in even later, started sucking face and moaning. Disaster…

  Looking up at the sky, of course divine intervention will intervene for me this time but not in my entire twenty-plus years, I contemplate my choices. Return to my family in Phoenix, where I will be expected to comply and conform. Yeah, no, I’d rather stick a knife in my own eye. I love them to death, I would do anything for them and they would sell their soul for me but I need my space and more freedom then they allow. I’d tried living their way but it is now time for me to woman up and give it a go on my honest own. Without a guy. Only myself to answer to. I could choose to give up on the dream of becoming a lighting technician and find something that will keep me fed, housed, and clothed in LA—sounds doable. Or go the whole hog? Go hard or go home kind of motto?

  “What will I do?” Shouting at the clouds, again like I’m insane, there seems to be a running theme, I squish my eyes together and think. I’ve never been a quitter. I’m here and survived the asshole ex who has been trying to call me every fucking five minutes for the past two days. I won’t give in. I’ve found a small cheap apartment that I can afford for a month. It’s nothing flashy, not even nice but it has a bed, other furniture, a kitchen, and bath. I don’t need anything else and I can sell my bomb of a car if I need extra funds.

  But do I put myself through more heartache? Isn’t there only so much a person can take before you have to say, “Well, I gave it a shot, but it just didn’t work out?” I’m just not sure. And I am normally so sure about everything. There’s a first for everything, I guess…

  Placing my shoe back on, I kneel on the sidewalk… okay, so yes, I am crazy… and join my hands. Thankfully there’s only the odd person around and they probably think I’m drunk. “Come on, tell me what to do. I promise I’ll listen.” I must be serious about what I’m saying, listening to commands is something I struggle with. You’d only have to ask my family about that one.

  “Hell. What are you doing?” an irritated, commanding voice, not one God would own I think, fires at me.

  My body jumps.

  My eyes go instantly from looking at gray, filthy concrete to black boots that are larger than a size twelve, and you know what they say about the size of feet and other appendages. I really should be more concerned about my own safety, but at this point, I don’t care. As you can see, my mind goes quickly to the gutter possibly ‘cause I’m kneeling close to one. They wander up to black jean-clad legs that mold against his ass. My breathing hitches as I check out his huge package if I’m not mistaken and stop there for longer than is polite, shifting up to his black dress button-up shirt, tight across his wide expanse of a chest. My skin breaks out in prickles looking at his solid arms. Tipping my head back, he’s so freakin’ tall, my eyes are met with two angry, green torrents. A scowl graces his ruggedly handsome face, bringing me back to the present, quickly. No… this isn’t God, he’s more like Satan, dressed in all black. The only color coming from his swirling eyes and pink lips.

  “Doesn’t concern you. You should run along. I’m sure your other death metal friends must be missing you.” Keeping my eyes on him, I stand up. You never know when someone’s going to roll you. Not that I have anything of value with me today. I’d wisely left it at the apartment. He totally looks like he would rob me in a heartbeat, steal me off the street and use me for his sex toy. Not that I would mind being his sex toy.

  I shake my head, trying to rid that out of my mind.

  His mouth almost smirks. Possibly in annoyance? “I’d say, you on my sidewalk does concern me.” Crossing his arms so his muscles bulge under the material, I try not to moan at the size of them.

  “And who says this is your sidewalk? Doesn’t the city of LA own it?” I try to sound authoritative, but it comes out weak. All my energies being spent on watching his arms.

  “LA is managed by so many.” His raspy voice lures me in. “But only a few who truly own it.” I don’t know what that really means but watching his mouth move and his tattooed hands grip his biceps, he could tell me anything and I would nod.

  I stand in silence, unsure what to say. I’m being watched like his prey.

  “You know, it’s not safe around here.” He looks around the street and then his eyes rake over my blousy, flower shirt, that shows way more cleavage than I normally would. I thought it and my tight black pants may help in the job searching. I’m not above using my assets to get what I want. His heated stare settles on my face. My skin flames under his menacing glare.

  “I’m beginning to see that.” My panties chose to combust minutes ago. I’m using all of my strength now not to beg him to take me wherever and use my body as that sex toy. Heat flushes over my skin and I need to get out of here immediately. “Right…yes…you’re absolutely correct, it’s not safe. Time for me to go.”

  “Look…” His hands wipe through his brown hair and he huffs. To himself more than me, like he’s annoyed with himself. “You look like you could do with a cool drink. I own a business across the road.” My eyes look at him with skepticism. “A public business, and no it’s not full of thrash, heavy, black or death metal fans as you would believe, where there are men and women. Come in and rest. It will give you a safe place to decide for yourself what you want to do.”

  Closing my eyes, my head can’t take more of this man’s sensual body, it’s so fucking tempting, distracting me from my own thoughts. “Will you leave me in peace once I’m inside so I can think of what the fuck I’m going to do for a job in this city to make money?”

  “Yes…I can do that. If that’s what you want?” He almost smiles.

&nbs
p; Isn’t that the ninety-nine dollar question running in my brain? Job and life problems have flown the coop, only me sexing after some random, seriously godlike hulk stays in my brain. Pulling out my phone, I swing my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ve got 911 on speed dial, so don’t try anything.”

  Holding up his large hands, he feigns innocence. “Trust me, I wouldn’t dare. The cops can be brutal in this area.” He chokes. Was that a laugh? There’s nothing innocent about this giant. “This way.”

  Striding next to me, I walk just behind him, that is until his hand reaches back and clasps around my waist guiding me in the correct direction. Warmth sprints through me but the zap that scorches my skin below the hand, blows my mind.

  A sense of danger courses through me, but I’m not running away.

  Perhaps my prayer has been answered…

  “You didn’t mention it was a strip joint you owned.”

  Her fiery tongue makes me laugh internally but her stupidity walking to an unknown place with a guy who she doesn’t even know the name of makes me want to punish her for the danger she is putting herself in.

  Kneeling on the pavement, in her tight jeans, showing off her delectable body for any predators to see is so fucking idiotic. I had a carnal need to take her, run my teeth along that slender neck. I wanted to help her in so many different ways. You may as well say her body rocked way past a ten out of ten, I wouldn’t compare her to anything I’ve laid my eyes on before. And I’ve gazed upon many.

  “You didn’t ask. Plus we prefer ‘exotic dancers with benefits.’” I try for a bit of humor to ease her. Guiding her to a quiet area away from the main attractions, I sit her down.

  “Well, you said it wasn’t full of metal die-hards, so I sort of presumed maybe a funeral parlor? The black clothing and all that.” She raises her eyebrows and smirks.

  A bellow rips through me. She nearly hit the fucking nail right on the head. The Savage Shadows are known for a hefty body count, but we don’t usually have needs for coffins to hide the remains.