Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3)

ABOUT THE BOOK AND THE SERIES...

As some of you know, Unlike Any Other and the Unexpected series began with a simple thought—more like a question.

Have you ever watched a movie, a favorite television series, or listened to a band play some music, and seemed to connect with the artist? Believed they are a part of your life?

But, do we really know them?

And this is where I was stumped. We don’t, and that led me to thinking about how many secrets they must harbor.

What is behind closed doors?

After many revisions, our Unexpected series goes as follows:

Unlike Any Other
~ Gabe’s story

Unsurprisingly Complicated
~ Mason’s story.

Uncharted
~ Jacob (JC’s) story

Uncut
~ Matthew (MJ’s) story

Unable to Forget
~ Porter’s story

I can’t believe that we’ve reached book #3 already.
Uncharted
. During
Unsurprisingly Complicated
I gave you a teaser, a glimpse of what’s to come for Mr. Jacob Decker. And though, my original plan for
Uncharted
had been to start the story from where we left off during
Unsurprisingly Complicated
, I once again made a few modifications. I realized that it wasn’t fair for you or Jacob to come in to his story from that point forward. With that in mind, this book became a two-part story where you meet the old Jacob, the not so great Jacob and… well you’ll have to stick around to learn the rest.

After you finish the book, and if you enjoyed it, please do me a big favor and leave a review. Let other readers know about it and spread the word.

Thank you much,

Claudia
♥

TO MY GREAT GRANDMA—NATALIA—WHO SLIPPED AWAY FROM US LITTLE BY LITTLE.

My fingers grab her bony hips as I bury myself deeper with each thrust. My balls slap against her ass every time I ram into her tight cunt. “Living the dream” is subjective to one’s preference. This is part of mine. Music, drinking, fucking…existing. Hers? She wanted this as her going away present—to fuck the rock star.

Interns are the easiest fucks when they’re about to finish their assignment. They understand my “only one time, live for the day, never repeat” philosophy.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” As AJ, my sister, yells, I stop mid-thrust. She has the same nagging tone she’s used ever since she learned how to talk. Releasing the intern’s hips, I contemplate my options on how to get out of this one. “Jacob, outside there’s a sign that reads ‘Decker Records,’ not ‘Decker’s Whorehouse.’”

If the situation didn’t suck, I’d be laughing at what she said. Matthew, our brother and the third amigo, will appreciate it; I make a mental note to remember to text him about it.

“Damn it, AJ, don’t you know how to knock?” I use the old “feign anger” trick, hoping to brush her away quickly before she decides she’s going to cut off my balls. I look around for sharp objects she could use to threaten me and reach over my intern to push the letter opener to the other side of the desk…just to be safe. “My office, my business.”

I look over my shoulder and see my sister’s back, her heels tapping on the floor. As annoyed as I am with her, it shames me that she caught me mid-fuck. It doesn’t sit well with me that my little sister is witnessing this. But the disgrace disappears when I spot the fine piece of ass standing next to her. Damn, I would like to tap that—unless she’s a friend of AJ’s. Then I have to forget the subject. Trying to take advantage of the few seconds of silence I have left, I pull out, slip off the condom, and fix my pants while watching my former intern lower her skirt.

“What do you need, Princess?” I shove my hair away from my face and tie it up with the rubber band I carry in my pocket.

“Have you heard of sexual harassment?” AJ spins around, giving me that “red glare of doom” she inherited from our father, Chris. “Ana, this is the job I talked to you about over the weekend.”

Great. So the fine body is the famous Ana, and she’s here to see me. I’ve avoided this woman ever since she met my sister—more than a year ago. Mostly because my brother-in-law said, “She’s kind of okay, but if you mess up with her, your sister will cut your balls off.” Not in those exact words, but he gave us some lecture about using her friends for an easy fuck. Matthew and I manage to dodge any event where Ana’s involved—not that there are very many—because we both fear that our lack of control might ruin one of the few female friendships AJ has, which will piss her off. Girls come by every day. We each have only one dick which has to be kept away from my evil sister’s circle; the sister who’ll castrate us if her temper raises to the red zone.

“I… Thank you for everything,” my former intern stutters after fixing her underwear and hair. “My friends will be so jealous that JC Decker fucked me. I only wish your brother had been around to do me too.”

AJ’s eyes go wide, her palms shake in desperation, and she gives me a look as if asking for confirmation. I shake my head. Matthew and I have never,
ever
had sex with the same girl, or in the same room. That’s not our thing, but we respect those who like that shit. To each their own.

“Check yourself for chlamydia,” AJ yells as the girl heads out of the office. “Crabs are common here too.”

“I don’t have chlamydia or crabs,” I argue. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“Interrupting your coital activities of the day.” She enters the room. “Remember that incident with the skanky singer who OD’d last Friday—the same night you were caught drunk with two girls in L.A.?”

The platinum blonde and the red head with huge boobs—thank you Dr. Plastic Surgeon. I had planned to only do one of them, but I had a blast dancing with both and couldn’t pass up the two-for-one deal. It sucked that the deal fell through because the former trustworthy bodyguard—Arthur Bradley—interrupted me. Plus, the next morning, the few good memories of the night ended up rusted with a bunch of crap.

“Yes, I remember, and that shitty article we released to the press worked like a charm.” AJ prepared it, not me. “Everyone is off Pop’s ass because of your A+ writing.”

“Matthew wrote it.” That catches me by surprise. I need to start paying attention to what my parents and sister say more often. “Now, back to Ana. She’s an image consultant. Ana does corporate and personal branding.”

“She here to do a makeover on me? Make sure I look all pretty and fancy?” I use a hillbilly accent while releasing my hair and shaking my head. “Make me a suit, little sister.”

“Don’t fucking mock me, Jacob.” She takes a couple of steps toward me and gets in my face. My almost-a-foot shorter little sister manages to make me feel small, both in size and age. “Ana’s going to help you clean up all the shit that’s going through the media. Not you in particular, unless you want her to recommend a good stylist. Though the ends of your hair could use a trim, Prince Charming.”

I pull a strand of my hair and look at the supposed split ends. I have no fucking idea what she’s talking about, but a grin tugs at my mouth as I realize she’s not here to change me. During the last fucking weekend, those were the words I couldn’t tune out—“You need to change, Jacob… JC, get your act together.”

Change, change, change, blah, blah…blah, blah!

“Well, let’s get started then. Ana, this is my brother, JC. Jacob, Ana.”

Finally, I move my gaze from the hot body and look at her face. For several beats, I remain paralyzed. Shit, she saw me fucking that girl.

The apparition before me is familiar, but she’s wearing high heels instead of a pair of raggedy, pink Converse. A gray skirt hugs her curves in place of the old, ratty capris with the doodles all over the legs. A tight, white, button-down blouse that accentuates her fine rack—Ds, maybe double Ds—replaces the pink T-shirt that had matched her pink lips.

As a man, I appreciate the fantasy of the eye-candy I’m looking at. If it weren’t for those dark eyes, I wouldn’t have recognized the woman in front of me. This is the complete opposite of how the teenage girl I once knew looked or dressed. She is now a grown woman who I want to taste. Damn, those tits are fuller, just like her heart-shaped lips. Slick, long hair covers her shoulders, but with feathered layers that frame her face. An elegant, classy, real woman with curves. A refreshing change from my usual fuck.

Pria “Ana” Walker isn’t a child anymore. She now wears makeup—some stuff over those long lashes that make her eyes bigger, radiant, and warm. So warm they can heat the cold caves of my life. Something snaps inside me, but I don’t allow anything to resurface from my past. She watches me with a scrunched up, disgusted face as if I’m a rat she has to exterminate. My insides clench because I shouldn’t be reacting this way.

We’d met, and I’d said some pretty fucked-up things during our first encounter, but came out triumphant in the end. My lips fight with my soul as the pleasure of the time with her starts to come back.

Then I remember everything else about those days and the history of my life. We don’t need Ana here; I refuse to have that woman around. I can be whatever my family wants without some lady transforming me into whatever the public wants. I let loose the asshole within me and lash out at her.

“Ana.” That one cold word comes out of my lips. No wonder I couldn’t find the bitch. She concocted that fucked up name. I fucked up my life while searching for her, then destiny finished the job.

“You remind me of someone.” I tilt my head and look at her from head to toe. “She went by some weird name though.” I snap my fingers and look at AJ as if I’m trying to recall a name. “No fucking idea, sure it never mattered.”

This “Ana” girl thanks my sister and says some shit I tune out. She looks at me and spits some venom. “Pria. The name was Pria, Jacob. Short for Cypriana. I might’ve changed my nickname, but you…” she turns to look at AJ, “you might want to consider a brand new personality for him, Ainsley. Rehab might come in handy too.”

With a lifted chin and a snobbish posture, she leaves. The brush-off worked. She’s out of my building and my life.

“I don’t need rehab.” My sister stares at me after Pria, Ana, or whoever that woman was, storms out of the office. “Do I?”

“Jacob, what just happened?” AJ’s eyes are on me. “She knows you. You did your typical male ritual with her, didn’t you? Fucked her and told her, ‘Sweetheart, I never stick my dick in the same place twice.’”

“No. I…AJ, drop the subject.” I’m working hard to find my footing. If anyone could throw me to the fucking lions and enjoy watching while they shred me to pieces, that would be my evil sister. My parents swear she’s sweet and nice; Matthew and I know better. “This isn’t any of your damn business.”

AJ doesn’t know about Pria. The only information I shared with her was that we had sex. AJ has no idea about the name, the supposedly
romantic
week, lost phone, or the encounter with her a year later. The encounter where I discovered she had moved on with a preppy guy and began her transformation, resulting in the tight-ass I saw today.

I look at my wrist, at the leather cuff covering the tattoo that reads “soulless.” A product of those days: the weeks of hell I lived through right after she left my house, and then seeing her with another guy a year later. I went to the tattoo shop and had it done. Seeing her with someone else and watching all my hopes vanish made me feel as if something had been ripped out of my body, leaving me lifeless. Soulless.

“She’s your ticket to fix all your shit at the record label—and your image,” my sister says, beginning to unveil her evil plan. “We only scratched the surface with the press release. She’s great at what she does, and she needs a job—and us. Ana doesn’t have a support system like I did, JC. She’s drowning, and she’s my friend. It’s a win-win situation. Tell me what happened between the two of you.”

Drowning? The woman I saw stood proud with a casual demeanor until she saw me then froze with the shocked stare someone would have while confronting a ghost from the past. However, she recovered in a matter of seconds. Just like my sister, who put on a strong front, fooling me to believe she had been doing great, but instead had been living through hell alone.

A heavy mist fills my lungs; worry for what Pria might be going through blocks my mind. It’s not that I care for her, but…no one should face hell alone.

“Not now, AJ.” I use my smooth voice, working hard not to show any emotion. My triplet likes to dig until she finds answers. “This is important.”

Switching gears, I decide to head out and find out what is going on with Pria. If someone can help me with the details and won’t ask questions, it is Mason, my brother-in-law.

“What?” he barks over the phone.

“Remember Pria Walker?” I had asked him to look for her, and when I’d only given him a nickname, he looked at me like I was some idiotic fool who was fucking insane. I guess having a nickname, a last name, and no other information made it impossible for him. “Her full name is Cypriana.”

“Yes, Cypriana Walker. Why didn’t I think of that when we met her?” His faint voice on the other end of the line makes me want to punch him. “There, I found her. I’ll send you the bill later. Now, leave me alone. Some of us have a real job, and I promised my woman I’d be home early.”

His wife is too busy meddling in my life to worry about him right now.

“I need the address. Can you text it to me, please?” I walk around my desk, end the call, and look at my sister. “You sure she can fix the shit you and the ’rents are nagging about?”

“I—yeah?” I dismiss her confusion while turning off my equipment. “She’s great.”

“I hate to take off, but…” I grab my wallet and car keys, marching to the door. “See you later, Princess. Lock the door on your way out.”

“I deserve some explanation, Jacob Christian.” That scream makes me rush through the building before she can catch up.

An explanation? That’s a mouthful. It wasn’t simple to explain Pria Walker. It was long ago. And yet, yesterday’s music is trying to revive itself in my body. Why? Why is she back?