The Brat (The Playgirls #3) (7 page)

Epilogue

Brooke

“And then, he proposed!”

She still couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

“That’s all well and good… but why is there a cat peeing on my handmade leather loafers?”

Brooke rolled her eyes, handing Jack a wipe.

“They are still training.”

“
They.”

Shane emerged from the kitchen, dropping a kiss on her forehead, before turning to Jack.

“Dude, someone had put them in the bin.”

That was that. Jack did a one-eighty, going from angry grouch to doting cat lady.

His eyes suddenly lit up with something that made Brooke say “oh oh” out loud.

Last time she’d seen that look, he’d gone to tell Shane she was going to hire a hooker boy, for kicks.

“You need to give them away, right?”

“Sure. Some of them.”

He got his phone out and called someone, before winking at Brooke.

“Hey,” he said, using a tone she’d never, ever heard. He’d suddenly lost the whole overconfident prick thing. “Hi Aria. It’s me. Jackson. I mean, Jackson Barnes. From VandB.”

He let the person on the other end let a word in, before breaking into a huge smile.

“Oh, good. Listen, I wonder, what’s your take on kittens?”

The girl was stunning. Drop dead gorgeous. Small frame, a golden skin and jet black hair; green almond-shaped eyes… Hell.

“Look at them! Dios mio, they are fucking adorable.”

Brooke could tell her what was adorable: her, when she launched into a volley of insults – some in Spanish, other French, and the occasional English ones, too – when Brooke explained how she’d found them.

And Jack’s enamored glances over his laptop.

Aria chose hers, probably the smallest, ugliest of the lot, who’d tucked into her shoe and promptly pissed on it as soon as she’d arrived.

“He chose me,” she said.

“Hey, didn’t that one wee on me, too?”

It definitely had. Brooke managed to hold of smirking until she was gone.

Then, she started.

“Jack and Aria, sitting in a tree…” 

Shane

Three months later

There would be hell to pay when he got his hands on her.

Shane had disappeared for all of two minutes to take a leak, and upon his return, every member of their small party was snickering at his expense, their eyes glued to their phones.

Getting hold of his, he swiped his way in and instead of the generic background, he got what they’d all supposedly received.

There he was, three years old, naked and covered in chocolate, smiling like a smug bastard. A few years later, dressed up as a princess, crown and all. Then, he was a teenager, winking at a group of girls, before missing a step and falling on his ass. Every single embarrassing thing that had happened to him, at the sound of the damn pony song he knew by heart now. 

“Where is she?” he seethed.

That was met with more laughter, of course.

“Where is my wife?”

Eventually, the trail led him to their suite; he pushed the door and all but came in his pants.

Brooke had worn a simple dress, befitting the venue of their wedding: they’d gotten married on a beach. He’d expected her to have chosen an equally simple lingerie set – something white and maybe lacey. He wasn’t fussy.

Instead, she’d gone for the opposite. Suspender belt, red-rimmed stockings, black silk. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a little bit of leather there, too.

“I’ve been a naughty, naughty girl,” she breathed, wrapping a hand around the hilt of a flogger.

She ran it along her skin as he watched, completely mesmerized.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

On that note, she threw the flogger his way, turned around and sat up at the corner of the bed, presenting her ass. 

Oh hell. He was going to embarrass himself.

“Tell me your safe words.”

“Red and yellow.” 

Shane removed his jacket, loosened his tie and approached her with slow, measured steps, until he was at hand’s reach.

Swift.

Her ass went red at the first hit. Gently, he ran the leather on her skin, stroking her with his free hand…

“Are you wet, little closet slut?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed, sounding needy as fuck.

Swift.
He got her on her back, rather than her ass, surprising her. Pushing her panties asides, he chuckled to himself. Yes, definitely wet.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl. I’d planned on taking you gently, Mrs. Vaughan. But you’re asking to be destroyed.”

Swift.

Shane freed his dick, something he hadn’t done once in the entire length of their three month engagement, because he knew that if it had gone anywhere near her, he would have nailed her on the closest available surface.

He was glad they’d waited. He loved that he, unlike most fuckers out there, got to be the first taking his
wife
.

Running his dick along the lips of her pussy, gathering his moisture, he asked:

“Do you feel that, Mrs. Vaughan?”

“Yes! Please…”

Swift
. 

“Please what?”

“Please screw me so hard I can’t walk for a week, dearest husband.”

He pushed in in one thrust, feeling the barrier as he impaled her from behind. Shane felt like he should bump his chest or roar.

“That can be arranged.”

I really do hope that you liked the Brat.

Stay in tune for my next release by joining my
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. I often offer free advance copies!

So, next in the series… That’s up to you! Get in touch and let me know whether you’re more interested in
Dana and Tyler
’s Vegas Wedding,
Jack and Aria
’s story, or if you’d like me to go back to LA and work on
Emma
!

Next, I’m giving you a preview of something very different I’m working on.

Age of Blood.

Age of Blood is a much darker, more explicit kind of story. For that reason, I have decided to publish it under
Scarlet Winters
.

I’m so grateful that most of my readers follow all of my books – you really are supporting me.

The thing is, you know what you can expect with me: a hot, steamy, but romantic and kinda sweet story…

Age of Blood will be similar, in the sense that I don’t write pure erotica: there’s a story, and it’s predominant. But it definitely comes with a warning label. 

Riverville, 2031

Age of Blood

She'd been five the day the vampires took over; she had never known anything else.

Fay had it better than most in the city; she was an AB neg, and a virgin, to boot. In this world, that meant something.

“Vincent,” the exquisite ebony beauty seated in front of her master exclaimed when she entered the room, tray in hand.

She was carrying four cocktails with an alcoholic content so high the scent was enough to intoxicate her.

“Isn't she delightful!”

Fay was used to her master showing her off; he called her every time he had company.

There were three strangers in the room, now; the woman, and two men, who both looked her age. That meant nothing: all of them seemed to be somewhere between twenty and thirty. What mattered were their eyes. The older they were, the more inhuman they became.

While the black beauty, her master, and one of the strangers could have passed for humans, if they’d had collars around their necks like her, the last man in the room never could have.

His eyes were glowing like emeralds, frightening and stunning beyond belief.

Worse yet: they weren't leaving her.

Her nipples erected – a simple, natural reaction to his mesmerizing, penetrating gaze – but given the fact that she wore absolutely nothing, save for the chains on her hands and feet, she blushed, knowing they all saw it.

If they'd been kind, they would have ignored it, but they were vampire, so they laughed at her expense.

She ignored it and did her job, setting their cocktails in front of each of them.

When she passed the younger stranger, he put his hand on her thigh, between her legs, and caressed it, before thrusting a finger deep inside her. She didn't make a sound.

“Careful,” Master Vincent said, narrowing his eyes. “She's pure. I like it that way.”

“Of course,” the vampire replied, knowing what that meant: he was allowed to do whatever he pleased with her, save from fucking her.

Fay was lucky she was plain, despite the appeal of her blood and her purity, or she might have suffered more. Linda, her cousin, was a remarkable beauty, and an O positive. She got fucked everywhere, by everyone. Everyday.

The vampire curved his finger and circled her clit with his thumb until she couldn't help it: she had to come.

Just when she gasped a wordless cry of pleasure, he took her wrist and bit down. He only grazed her skin: she was there for their pleasure, not to feed them.

Her orgasm was explosive, as always. Whatever could be said about vampires, they definitely knew their way around vaginas, and the familiar sharp pain never failed to hone her senses.

More laughter erupted around the table. Fay kept her eyes low on the ground but in the corner, she caught a glance of the old one.

He wasn't laughing. Not even smiling.

“Fuck. That was good.”

The vampire slapped one of her ass cheeks, before bringing his hand to his lips and licking her cum from his fingers.

“How did you acquire such a delicacy, Vincent?”

A valid question: Vincent wasn't what one would call a powerful master. He owned his home and the little village of mortal around it was his to command, but Fay knew of vampires who held full cities within their grasps. There was a talk New York belonged to just one vampire – who was royalty, to them.

Vincent could never have afforded to buy an AB neg virgin.

“She’s from Riverville,” he replied, smirking.

When the vampire had emerged, fifteen years ago, they'd only asked for recognition, and acceptance. Obviously, the humans had had some things to say about that; the hate groups had flourished overnight, stalking any vampire they found, attempting to kill them during the day. They'd called them abomination.

In the end, Bram Stocker had been humanity’s downfall: the detractors should have read Twilight, instead.

Vampires didn't need to sleep during the day; they simply preferred being active at night. Turned out, garlic and crosses had very little effect against them, too.

It took the vampires three days to change the world to their advantage. Then, they'd sat down calmly, and divided their new playground amongst their nobility.

Vincent, an inconsequential, lowly fiend with a drop of noble blood, had been given Riverville, a small country dwelling with under five thousands inhabitant.

Amongst them, there had been little Janette, Bruno, and little Fay Turner.

It could have been worse; he might have called her to serve in his home the moment he smelt her blood, but he gave her a dozen precious years of freedom to go to school, and grow into a woman.

Thankfully, he was no pedophile.

“You're so lucky,” the ebony vampire sighed, tapping the table. “On here, child.”

Fay knew better than to point out she was twenty-one; not a child, by any stretch of imagination. She obeyed, sitting on the hard wood.

“Good girl. On your knees, face down, ass up.”

She assumed the familiar position, and closed her eyes as she felt a wet, rough tongue lapping at her pussy. Whose was it? No idea.
It doesn't matter,
she told herself.

Teeth pierced her skin on her thighs, arms and legs and she was lost in pain and pleasure, unable to stop herself from uttering a long moan.

Then, he spoke.

She didn't know how she knew it was
him
, the old one. Perhaps because everyone else in the room froze, or because the voice held more authority than anything she’d ever heard.

“Enough.”

Just like that, the three vampires stopped touching her. Fay was grateful and slightly aggravated, too. In one hand, she hated feeling like a helpless rag doll, existing for their entertainment; she should have been ecstatic about the unexpected deliverance.

On the other hand…

She was very aroused, and he’d interrupted them before her release.

“We’re here to discuss business, remember?”

There was a long pause.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Vincent cleared his throat, before saying, “I’ve never dealt with Adrian Klein, personally. However, we’ve frequented the same circles. I’d be delighted to tell you what I know.”

Fay didn't move one muscle, but her heartbeat betrayed her. She willed it to slow down.

Hell. Vincent was openly lying.

She knew Adrian Klein; he was a frequent visitor in the house. He’d bitten her so many times she couldn’t hope to count them.

There had been no touches from him, though – oh, no. Adrian preferred men, to her endless joy: unlike most, who simply relished in humiliation, he loved inflicting excruciating pain.

Most probably hearing the frantic rhythm of her heart, Vincent tapped the table, demanding her attention.

She lifted her head.

“Go, child. You have an exam to study for, don't you?”

She nodded and left as fast as she could without running.

♦

William sighed, tired of the gentle approached. If it had been up to him, the liar in front of him would have been hanging by his entrails, slowly bleeding on his carpet, until he consented to speak.

It wasn't up to him; not anymore. Now, they had a fucking government. One of the million stupid things which had come from the Grand Reveal fifteen years ago.

He'd been against coming out of the shadows at the time, and every single year, he was proved right. Vampires were old souls, reluctant to change; that meant the industrial progress that had never stopped for centuries had suddenly come to a close. Soon enough, they'd be back to tapping stones to build fires.

Well, he amended, looking at the delightful ass of the girl who fled out of the lounge, not every change was for the worse.

In another life, a woman like her would never have crossed his path.

She would have been a good girl, probably married right out of college, with a kiddy on the way by twenty-five.

William’s only contact with human had been in the decadent society who loved BDSM, that kinda thing. Those who had no issue with power play, biting, and blood. Those who loved pain.

Nowadays, they could enjoy what they craved: innocence.

He would have loved to taste her, but orgies weren't his thing; the dozens bites marring her skin had disgusted him. Revolted him. He'd wanted to throw her over his shoulder, take her out of there and take care of her until she craved nothing and no one but him.

Wow. Where had
that
come from?

Forcing himself to concentrate, he smiled pleasantly at the liar.

“Thank you. Any information about his whereabouts or his activities would be helpful. The King has summoned him a month ago, now – and he's not happy about being ignored.”

Actually, Michael didn't give a fuck about Adrian; William, on the other hand, cared very much.

“I can imagine. Why has he been summoned?”

William’s eyes flashed silver, and Vincent had the decency to look down.

Good, the man wasn't a total idiot.

“Nothing of importance. Well, I see there's no cause for my being here, after all. Jessica, Mark.”

His two soldiers rose, leaving the room before him.

Then, just as he'd reached the doorframe, as though it had barely been an afterthought, William turned back and said:

“By the way… That AB neg virgin?”

Vincent was surprised; he'd probably noticed he hadn't touched the girl at all.

“What about her?”

William served him his best smile.

“How much do you want for her?”

♠

She'd gone back to her small room and, as she'd been asked to, opened her textbooks.

Slaves like her had one common purpose: they were there to impress. That being the case, sometimes, she was required to talk – and when she did so, she had to stand out.

She already had a nursing degree and Vincent was making her pass a bachelor in literature; it wasn't a chore, Fay generally loved losing herself in books.

Not right now, though. She just couldn't concentrate.

After a while, she gave up and put her fingers between her legs, trying to get the edge off by herself. She'd never been very good at that, though.

She sighed, returning to damn Shakespeare, but the words wouldn't make sense in her mind.

Attempting again, she closed her eyes and wet a finger with her lips before caressing her clit.

That was good.

Her moan surprised her, making her smile. Another hand tentatively touched her nipples. That was getting better.

She'd been masturbating for a good five minutes when she realized she recognized the face of the guy she imagined in her mind right now.

Hell. That old vampire.

She might have chastised herself for it, but she could understand the fascination.

He had been hot.

Most vampires loved to fit the stereotype, with dark, edgy clothing; capes, sometimes. He'd worn a smart, sharp light blue suit, and his golden hair had been a mess – he rocked the just fucked look.

Shit. What a poor excuse for a human she was, lusting after someone who saw her as an entertaining toy, or maybe an appetizer.

She'd decided to take a shower when the door of her bedroom opened; no knock, so she immediately dropped to her knees, her head low.

Another human would have asked permission to enter; they respected each other.

She wondered who it could be; Vincent himself, or one of the servants who had permission to enjoy whomever they pleased?

“Get up.”

For the first time since she'd been brought to the house, she failed to obey an order; instead, she lifted her head and stared, open mouthed in shock.

It was him. The sexy ancient.

“Do you have clothes here?”

It took her a while, but she managed to gather her wits, and nodded.

Sometimes, when they were having a formal ball, Vincent liked to show her off with clothing. Of a sort.

“Then get dressed. We don't have a lot of time.”

Finally finding her voice, she replied:

“I don't understand.”

Then, with a few simple words, he forever changed her world. For better or worse, she couldn't yet tell.

“I've bought you.”