Bro'

BRO’

By

Joanna Blake

Copyright © <2015>

All rights reserved.

Chapter One - Interruption

Chapter Two - Infatuation

Chapter Three - Inquisition

Chapter Four - Acquisition

Chapter Five - Equation

Chapter Six - Depression

Chapter Seven - Persuasion

Chapter Eight - Inebriation

Chapter Nine - Aggravation

Chapter Ten - Aggression

Chapter Eleven - Emotion

Chapter Twelve - Deception

Chapter Thirteen - Restitution

Chapter Fourteen - Deduction

Chapter Fifteen - Devastation

Chapter Sixteen - Competition

Chapter Seventeen - Domination

Chapter Eighteen - Seduction

Chapter Nineteen - Devotion

Chapter Twenty - Rejection

Chapter Twenty One - Obsession

Chapter Twenty Two - Assumption

Chapter Twenty Three - Elevation

Six Months Later

I have been so blessed to become immersed in the indie book scene. Throughout it all, a few steadfast friends have encouraged me and kept me sane. Sabrina Paige, Jordan Marie, Cora Brent and Jess Peterson, thank you for making me laugh on this crazy journey! And for kicking my butt when necessary.
 

I am so lucky to have worked on this book with my photographer Shauna Kruse of Kruse Images & Photography, cover artist Margreet Asselbergs of Rebel Edit & Design and of course our wonderful cover model Craig Gerish. And again (!!!) the amazing Jess Peterson of Breathless Book Promotions for guiding me through the promotional process. Thank you all, you sexy things!

Check out the links at the end of this book for more information on all of them!

Of course, to everyone at Pincushion Press: I would not be here without you. I often wonder how I got to be so lucky.
 

And to my amazing team of fans who nudged me to hurry up and release a new book and continue spread the word: this is for you!

Xoxox,

Joanna

Chapter One

Clay

I stared at the girl kneeling in front of me. Her light blond head was bobbing up and down on my cock with more enthusiasm than skill. My lips curled a bit into my signature sneer. I couldn’t help it. Jessica was boring the fuck out of me.

“Not now babe.”

“But Clay-“

I tucked my dick back into my pants.

“I said, not now. I have to pack.”

I turned around and didn’t turn back until I heard the door open and close behind me. I didn’t have to feel bad about it. Yeah, I still had a semi, but if that’s the best she could inspire, it wasn’t worth my time.

I judged a situation, a girl, on how hard my dick got.

The first few times with Jessica had been after, or during, parties at my Frat house, Sigma Kau Delta. So I’d been more than a little inebriated. Jess was hot, so I’d chalked it up to Whiskey Dick. But when she started popping over to my room unannounced, I’d started to get bored.

After all, she wasn’t the only chick I was banging on the regs. I had plenty of girls to chose from, and if all she gave me was a semi, then she wasn’t getting another ride on Mr. Fancy.

I smiled and tossed a stack of freshly laundered polo shirts into my duffle bag. Besides, there was lots to ‘inspire’ me back home. Girls I’d banged in High School. Girls I hadn’t banged in High School. Even that little cutie who lived on my father’s estate.

I chuckled and whipped out my phone, pulling up her number.

Nevada, also known as Mouse. A stripper name if I ever heard one. But she wasn’t like that. She was quiet, shy, sweet even. And her big hazel eyes had been following me around since she and her single mother had moved into the apartment above the garage. I snickered. I’d always teased the girl that she was lucky she didn’t live in the regular servants quarters, behind the stables. Because it smelled like horse shit over there.

I punched out a text, deciding I might give her the time of day this summer. Maybe she’d even get a taste of the good stuff. Me.

Miss me?

I dropped my phone into my pocket and went back to packing. I didn’t need to wait for a response. I knew damn well she had missed me.

She always did.

Nevada

I stared at my phone, frowning. Lucy raised an eyebrow.
 

“Another guy Nev?”

“Yeah. I mean, not really.”

I smiled sheepishly at my roommate and picked up the dustpan again.

“Sorry. A guy from home.”

“Uh huh. I thought you said you were a late bloomer.”

“I was! I am I mean. He’s just… a friend.”

Lucy laughed.

“A friend whose mind is going to be blown when he sees you all grown up?”

A blush tinged my cheeks. I’d gone away to freshman year in the fall as a skinny little 17 year old. Now I was 18 and I’d somehow, miraculously, finally grown up. My mother had told me
 
it would happen eventually but I hadn’t believed her.

Up until seven months ago, I’d been flat as a pancake and smooth as a stick.

But not any longer.

Now, I stopped traffic with my figure. My long honey colored hair and big eyes only added to the allure, or so I was told. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t put out. Not yet anyway.

I’d become quite the hot commodity on campus but I wasn’t really impressed by all the attention. It’s what was inside that counted anyway. I guess people always wanted what they couldn’t have. But either way, I couldn’t help hoping that
he
saw me that way too.

Clayton Westfield.

The bane of my existence.

Also the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.

I sighed, admitting the truth to myself. I had been hoping he noticed that I’d finally grown up. Just for the satisfaction of seeing the look on his face.
 

“I hope so.”

“I’m sure. Just don’t forget, books before boys.”

“Yes mama bear.”

Lucy was a sweetheart. A flamboyantly feminine girl with a solid head on her shoulders. Even if that head was topped with a mountain of poofy blond hair. We were so different on the outside but inside, we were far more alike. We both had the same values. Girls, before guys. Work hard. Be nice. No pretensions.

I was beyond lucky that we’d been assigned to the same dorm room.

The dorm room we were now frantically trying to clean up. It wouldn’t mean as much to Lucy, her being from a well to do family and all, but I did not want the three hundred dollar charge for leaving a dirty room to show up on my mother’s desk. Things were tight as it was, even with the partial scholarship she got me as part of her job.

“Nev, what time does your bus leave again?”

“Two o’clo- oh FUCK!”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been in the room when we moved in so we’d left it for the next girls who would live there. But right now it said something ominous.

It said 1:45.

“Oh my God! I have to go- I’ll never make it!”

“Yes you will- go go go! I’ll finish cleaning up, don’t worry.”

Lucy tossed me my bag and I hugged her tightly.

“Love you!!!”

“Love you too- text me Nev!”

I slung my backpack over my shoulder.

Then I was out the door.

Chapter Two

Clay

I adjusted myself in my seat and leaned back. The stewardess brought me my drink, a bloody mary. I slipped her a twenty and dismissed her from my mind. She stood there for a moment, confused. Then she tottered off on her impossibly high heels, her firm ass wiggling suggestively.

I knew it was for my benefit.

I wasn’t impressed. I did take a moment to wonder how she walked in those things.

What the hell did she do if it got turbulent?
 

I was sure she was used to guys throwing themselves at her. She was cute and the warm invitation in her eyes had been unmistakable from the moment I boarded. Being in first class did have its perks. Like having the occasional flight attendant take you into the private bathroom to lick your johnson. But I was tired. I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, who knew if she was even good at it?

Been there, done that.

Trust me, the mile high club is not all it’s cut out to be. Not that I ever let a tight squeeze get in the way of getting my rocks off. But I was distracted.

Nev wasn’t texting me back.

Everyone else from Pembrook was though. My phone was on vibrate but it was still blowing up. It had been all day.

When you coming home bro?

Party at Stew’s this weekend

Hey Clay I’m home if you want to chill

The last one made me grin. It was from Jen. She’d been my most regular fuck buddy since Junior year of high school. That was four years ago. Considering my spotty track record with women, that made us practically engaged.

Not.

It did mean that when she said ‘chill’ it meant getting my dick waxed.

I picked up my phone. Hell, why not? Jen was a cool girl. She knew I wasn’t looking for a relationship. She just liked my cock. And she was good at handling it.

Soon

I flipped through my texts again to the one with Nev’s name. The little hooker hadn’t bothered to write back, but it said clear as day that it had been read. I grinned.

I’d make her pay for that.

That could be fun.

Nevada

The bus jolted to a stop, making my stomach lurch. I’d barely eaten since yesterday and now I was getting car sick. The driver was a complete lunatic.

I hated buses. I always had. Which was ironic since it was more or less the only way I travelled.

I had been on a plane exactly once, when I was eight years old. And that was to go to a funeral. My grandfather’s funeral on my mother’s side.

Not that we even knew the relatives on my father’s side. Or if he had any.

Usually, we took the train home to the tiny midwestern town my mother had grown up in. I liked the train, with its gentle rocking motion and endless things to look at out the window. But after my dad left, it was bus city. We just couldn’t afford anything as nice as a train ride, let alone flying the friendly skies.

That’s until Mom got the job working for Mr. Westfield. She’d come on as head housekeeper but quickly became indispensable to the wealthy, powerful man. He owned many businesses but was primarily known for his wineries in Sonoma County. That’s where we lived now. On his mammoth estate in wine country.

It was beautiful of course. But boring. Especially if you didn’t have money coming out of your eardrums. I existed in a non-existent category somewhere between ‘the help’ and ‘old money.’

Still I tried not to complain.

How many poor girls got to live on an estate? Mr. Westfield had even paid for me to attend the Pembrook Academy, where his own son attended school. I grimaced, thinking of his impossibly perfect son. So handsome he should be on a magazine cover. So rich, he never had to think about money, other than how to spend it. So connected, he’d been turning down invitations before he was born.

Clayton. Also known as Clay.

He was excellent at sports, including tennis, golf, track, baseball and soccer. He was smart, acing his tests without much effort from what I could tell. I’d literally never seen him with a book. Even in the hallways at school.

Not surprisingly, he was arrogant as hell.

And wild.

My God he was wild. I’d been watching his antics for years now. He was just two years ahead of me in school so I’d had plenty of time to observe him.

He was the most popular guy in school and I was a nobody. A nobody who lived in his world. Directly, actually, physically in his world. He could have hated me, or looked down on me. But he didn’t do either. Not that he went out of his way to hang out with me or anything.

The funny thing was, he didn’t ignore me the way you might expect. He never made me feel like a hanger on. In fact, when I was little he’d been kind of sweet to me, even playing tennis with me a few times, even though I was hopeless.

But all that changed when he started noticing girls.

And they noticed him.

Did they ever.

With his athletic build, dark hair and impossibly blue eyes, Clay Westfield was a heartbreaker with a capital H. And I was definitely not immune to his charms.

He was the one I dreamed about at night. Even though I hated everything he stood for. Rich, spoiled, lazy. Loud. Entitled.

Nothing had ever been handed to me in my life. I’d worked hard to catch up with the kids at the Academy. I was smart, but I’d moved around so much that I was behind. The other kids knew I was different. Called me names.

Mouse was the one that had stuck.

Even Clay called me that.

But he never made fun of me in front of anyone. I knew I was beneath his notice for the most part. He did like teasing me on the rare occasions we spoke in high school.

He knew of course, that I had a monstrous crush on him. At first I was too young to hide it, and later, well, the cat was out of the bag. He’d chuck me on the chin and flash his pearly whites, turning my insides to mush.