Free Flesh: A Romance Novel Read online

  FREE FLESH

  A

  Romance

  Novel

  BY: DAYA DANIELS

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Quote

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Bonus Excerpt

  About the Author

  Copyright@ 2017 by Daya Daniels

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any way, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or any other means without the explicit written permission of the author, except for brief quotations of the book when writing a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and even facts are the product of the author’s imagination. Wait a minute...especially facts. Any resemblance to actual people—alive, dead, or someplace in between—is completely by chance and likely in your head.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. Holy hell, this is important. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Let’s not forget! All song titles in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Acknowledgments

  To my wonderful husband, I love you. Your support is priceless.

  Thank you to Emily A. Lawrence at Lawrence Editing for editing this novel.

  Thank you to J. Zweifel at Judy’s Proofreading for proofreading.

  I’m so very grateful for you!

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Readers,

  Firstly, I appreciate your support. Without you my stories would have no audience.

  Many of you may not know my journey, but it’s been an interesting walk/jog/run sort of thing on the road to becoming a writer.

  One morning a little over a year ago, while I was brushing my teeth, I had this crazy idea to write a book. That same day, I dropped everything and decided to just write.

  People said I was nuts, and I agreed! And although I had a general idea, I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing. But still, I gave it a shot. And I don’t regret it. It was wild, spectacular, and brave. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever done, along with bringing my two children into this world and jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

  I’ve made mistakes and corrected them. I’ve grown. I’ve improved...hopefully (smiles). And now I proudly own the label that I AM a writer. I live to write. If I wasn’t able to share my crazy imagination with others, I think I’d go batty! Yesss, it’s that bad.

  And I’ve enjoyed the creative process of writing every single book I’ve completed to date, but honestly, this story has been the most difficult one—emotionally, that is—for me to finish.

  The people in the story you are about to read will make you believe in true love, commitment, and sacrifice. They’ll also make you question those funny gray areas in life that so often have no right or wrong answers.

  Anyways, I hope you love Austen, Callie, and everyone else in this story as much as I do.

  Yours truly, Daya

  #loveconquersall#writelikeamotherfucker

  To all those who believe that great love is both fragile and reckless.

  PLAYLIST

  “Cold as Stone” – Lady Antebellum

  “Barton Hollow” – The Civil Wars

  “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” – Linda Ronstadt

  “Sex on Fire” – Kings Of Leon

  “She’s Like the Wind” – Patrick Swayze

  “Lonely People” – America

  “Poison & Wine” – The Civil Wars

  “Heart of Gold” – Neil Young

  “Dust to Dust” – The Civil Wars

  “The Chain” – Fleetwood Mac

  “The Waiting” – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

  “Crazy” – Patsy Cline

  “I Can’t Make You Love Me” – Bonnie Raitt

  “Somewhere Love Remains” – Lady Antebellum

  “And in the end, we were all just humans...drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”

  -F. Scott Fitzgerald

  CHAPTER ONE

  Austen

  HER HANDS—DELICATE, SMALL, perfect...

  I intertwine the fingers on her left hand with those on my right and squeeze.

  With a whine from her parted lips, she eases her hand out of mine. Her shaky fingers skate across the taut muscles in my shoulder and dig into my right bicep. I clench my teeth as I move against her softly, in a way I don’t think I’ve ever done this before. I brush my nose across her cheek, pressing my forehead into hers, inhaling the warm scent of her creamy skin I’ve grown so used to.

  My hips buck into hers and I’m losing it. I’m close. I can feel it. I clench down so hard my abs are beginning to hurt as I control my release. Her thighs quiver around my hips. A harsh exhale leaves me as I breathe into her cheek.

  The Civil Wars’ “Barton Hollow” sounds from the clock radio.

  She holds me tighter, her eyes squeezed shut. Another tear rolls from the left one then from the right. I can never stop them...

  And I don’t know why they spill.

  It isn’t my place to wonder. It isn’t my place to ask questions. I’m here to fuck.

  Then, she opens those ocean blues of hers and allows me to look into them, only I can’t see what’s behind them.

  She sniffles and a soft wail leaves her. It hits me hard, leaving me panting and desperate to console her. Inhaling loudly, my cock twitches deep inside of her.

  All I want to do is let go.

  I need her to let go...

  Only in this moment I don’t know what she’s hanging on to. I don’t know where she is...

  I kiss away her tears. “Callie,” I whisper against her temple.

  I move slowly. Her hot, sweaty skin slides along mine and the sensation of her peaked nipples brushing my pecs is enough to drive me insane.

  “Yes,” she replies on a shaky breath.

  I swipe her mahogany bangs away from her face and admire the long, thick mass of her hair as it fans out around her against the white sheets.

  I move a little more. Her left thigh shakes helplessly. I’m on the precipice of exploding.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I coo into the shell of her ear, nibbling on the salty lobe.

  Her chest shudders. My breathing deepens as I look down at the beautiful woman who is naked in more ways than one beneath me.

  “No,” she says.

  Unwrapping her arms slowly from around my neck where they’ve settled, I kiss her lips softly, delving deeper into her mouth with my tongue, consuming her, ensuring we’re breathing the same air. Her mouth tastes sweet like sin, salvation, and second chances.

  She lifts her arms. I take both of her wrists in one of my hands and pin them above her head. Shifting, she draws her knees back, allowing me to settle deeper in her heaven. With the movement, an embarrassing moan leaves me and my nostrils flare.

  She’s a sight to behold.

  This woman’s presence makes this shitty motel room we’re in that’s complete with rickety furniture, raggedy carpet, and stained walls seem like
we’ve upgraded to a stay at the Four fucking Seasons.

  I release her wrists and arch my back to look up at the crumbling stucco on the ceiling. With a violent slam, I grip the headboard in front of me so hard, I’m afraid I might rip it away from the goddamn wall.

  Her pink lips pout as she regards me—red swollen eyes that do nothing to dampen how pretty they are, a pouty trembling lip, and perfectly-shaped brows knotted tightly together in the middle of her forehead.

  I want to take my thumb and massage that crease away.

  More tears trickle from her eyes...

  I move slowly at first then faster, until I’m pounding into her wetness like a runaway freight train trying to make it to the next stop. Her mouth falls open and she keeps her gaze on me. The headboard steadies my heavy weight as I blast into her until my balls tighten. The bed creaks and the springs in the mattress squeak with our movement. Sweet sounds leave her mouth that become louder and only ratchet up my excitement.

  My muscles all over bunch and tighten, and sweat drips from my temples and down the middle of my chest. She stares up at me. Her expression is half-confused and lost.

  I know a horny woman when I see one. I’ve had enough of them in my lifetime. And Callie is begging for it.

  I pound into her, taking her smaller weight with me. And soon I’m moaning, hissing, growling, fucking her like some teenaged boy who’s never gotten pussy before.

  I slide my hand down her right thigh, digging my fingertips into her supple skin. That thigh shakes helplessly again. I stop for a moment. When I drop my head and look down at her, she slowly blinks and tweaks those pretty pink nipples of hers with her fingertips. Her heart-shaped face is contorted, turned on.

  I’m guessing this woman is much older than me, but she’s stunning, better looking than most of the younger women I’ve seen in my day.

  “Fuck me. Fuck me hard,” she demands.

  Another shiver ripples through her that makes me wince, even though I’m not in pain—it’s quite the opposite. I’m in fucking lust.

  My fingers curl around the top of the headboard and I’m at it again. The bed frame slams against the wall and the sound of the entire thing moving becomes louder. My vision blurs at the sight of my unsheathed dick covered in wetness, moving in and out of her pussy, her slick walls gripping me tight.

  What the hell am I doing? I don’t fuck women like this.

  I only fuck my Sunday customer like this. And I only see Callie on Sundays...I’ve been fucking her for about three months now. And lately, as the weeks went by, I found myself looking forward to Sunday, looking forward to this.

  The very first time we did this was the weirdest experience of my entire life. Wait, maybe entire is a stretch, but it was strange. If it weren’t for my persistence and how I found myself so attracted to her, I might’ve told her to reconsider ordering services such as mine then left.

  We talked for over an hour about nothing then we kissed. When my fingers skated over her soft skin, I knew I’d never want to stop touching her. She shook like a frightened nun the whole time and when we really got into it, she cried and cried. And once she even murmured the name “Trav,” which earned the lift of a brow from me, but I didn’t stop. Callie still cries, only now she doesn’t shake so much anymore.

  A whimper that leaves her brings me back to the present.

  I moan like a bitch when her greedy pussy I’ve been feeding for the past hour tightens and quivers around the swollen head of my dick. In a flash, I pull out, squeeze the monster with a hiss, and tap the shaft of it on her pussy, stalling, before I come by mistake.

  I’m incinerating. I can’t look at her. Confusion and irritation swim around in my head. What the fuck is happening?

  I’m usually a machine in bed, a fucking beast, a raging animal that fucks for hours. But when I lie with this woman, I get all wrapped up in something fucked up, something I can’t seem to escape, something that leaves me fucking confused when she’s gone.

  And, that’ll be soon.

  The flashing red numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand tell me it’s 11:00 p.m. I know she’ll have to go. I never know where. I just know she must be gone by 11:30 p.m.

  I push back into her tight slit with an animalistic grunt.

  The most euphoric expression passes over her features. “I’m coming,” she mewls out. “God, fuck me.”

  “No, not God,” and not Trav, I growl, fucking her harder, thankful I can have my release. “AUSTEN.”

  “Austen,” she whines from those pretty lips. “Austen.”

  “That’s it, Callie.”

  She cries out my name, desperate for me as I blast into her, settling into a hard rhythm, fucking her through her orgasm.

  Pounding on the wall jerks my attention to my right. “Keep it down in there! People are trying to watch TV!” A man’s muffled voice sounds from behind the wall to my right, but I don’t care.

  Callie wails. They become louder.

  I keep fucking her.

  And soon I’m coming, lost in between her thighs, watching the jiggle of her breasts that are exquisite handfuls as I vault her upward. Her breaths are strangled, soft and sweet, and all I can do when I growl through my orgasm is stare down at her and store this X-rated visual for the rest of the week, to be relived in my mind when I’m jerking off.

  Callie

  I STARE UP AT him, breathless.

  Chiseled pecs, carved abs, tanned skin, and close-cut, sandy-brown hair shaved on the sides that’s all over the place, from my hands making it a mess.

  This man looks like a god. But he’s dangerous. The caliber of man I’d describe as the credit-destroyer, heartbreaker, life-ruiner type. The type a woman like me would normally run away from. Far, far away.

  I don’t know much about him, but he seems tough, serious, as though life has dealt him a shitty hand and he’s just rolled with the punches, but he doesn’t let it define him.

  My eyes rove over the hard edges of his face and his beard that’s a gorgeous shade of brown in contrast with his skin. His eyes twinkle.

  A quick reminder that since I’ve known him, he’s been nothing but gentle, always treating me as though I’m as delicate as a flower petal, as thin as single-pane glass that’s on the verge of shattering.

  And he just might be right...

  Austen is six-foot-three and two hundred plus pounds of gorgeous. A man no woman like me should be fucking. He should be out going after younger women.

  Not that I’m that old, even though these days I feel like I’m a hundred.

  But I guess he would be, if he wasn’t being paid to do this.

  Today is Sunday. I’ve been in church all morning and now I’m here, lying naked beneath this man in a shitty hotel room in a seedy part of town. I’ve been waiting for this all week, all morning. I couldn’t even concentrate during the sermon that was about liars and thieves. And all I could think about was how empty I felt, how crappy the week had been, how slow the day seemed to be going by until I could see this man again.

  But every time we do this, I can’t stop crying.

  I bet he thinks I’m a freak, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t judge me, which makes me feel like I’m coming apart even more in his presence.

  The sheets beneath me are soaked in our sweat and my tears.

  Whenever we’re together, we don’t talk much anymore. At least not since the first time we did this. Now, I just don’t know what I’d say. I don’t know if people who do this talk before and after. I don’t know the protocol for this type of partnership.

  I don’t know his last name and he doesn’t know mine. I only know his name is Austen. And he knows my name is Callie.

  My chest heaves for breath as the waves from the powerful orgasm I’ve just had subside. I’m covered in the scent of him—man, sweat, and some fresh-scented body wash that dusts his skin. He never wears cologne, which I appreciate.

  He dips lower and consumes my mouth in a kiss, one aft
er the other, letting out a hypnotic moan in between them, nibbling on my bottom lip as he brushes his soft beard against my cheek, before he buries his face in my neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers when I realize he’s just come inside of me.

  “I’m on birth control. It’s okay.”

  He groans into my skin then kisses my chin lightly, adoringly. Then he moves his lips to my ear, licking my skin, tasting my tears. “Why do you cry, Callie?”

  I meet his light-brown irises and for a moment they look sad for me, curious and gentle.

  “We shouldn’t...” I fend off the threatening interrogation.

  He sucks his teeth and nudges his nose along my skin. “I don’t do this—fucking women bare. It’s too risky.”

  He means other customers...and for some reason I believe him.

  “I know.”

  He gives me a knowing look as if he’s aware I’m wondering: Why me then?

  But, I don’t want to know why. I figure it’s because he simply feels sorry for me. I know this guy is fucking half the women in Charleston and probably even farther out. He’s paid well for the services he provides. He earns every penny, sometimes going the extra mile with his mouth, which I always tip him for doing.

  His thick fingers rake through my hair, pushing the sweaty strands away from my face. He shifts so he’s hovering over me. I slide my hand around his neck and kiss him lightly, tasting his mouth. Our eyes meet for a while, but neither of us speaks.

  It’s weird until I say something.

  “I should go.” I take a quick glimpse at the clock on the nightstand.

  An odd expression passes over his features. He nods slowly. My eyes fix on the sight of his long, thick flesh as he eases out of me with a groan. He leans across the bed and clicks the radio off.

  I slip away from him to stand on shaky legs, glancing at his cum running down the inside of my thighs.

  When I spin around to look at him, he’s watching me with what I think is pride. He has his back against the headboard, with an arm behind his head. I take a deep breath and stare at my feet along with the dirty carpet beneath them before I head straight for the bathroom. I find him observing me again as I spin around to shut the door behind me. When it closes, I lean my back against it and take in the ugly white subway tile lining the wall of this tiny bathroom. It’s basic—functional, nothing fancy—like my life.