Read Taking Back Beautiful Online
Authors: Devon Hartford
He kisses me gently. “Yeah, but I wanted to make sure you were completely healed.”
“I was completely healed six weeks ago.”
“Maybe if I had a small dick. But I’m gonna bore you out, woman.”
I chuckle, “The babies already bored me out. I’m like a wind tunnel down there.”
“Oh yeah?”
The next thing I know, I feel his fingers worm down the front of my yoga pants and under the waistband of my panties.
“Mmmm,” he grins. “You’re wet.”
I smirk, “It’s all those sexy boxers fighting in the ring. Not you.”
“You wish.”
His fingers find my clit.
“Oh…” I moan. Then they press inside me. “Mmmm. Keep doing that.”
“Feels like a velvet vice to me.”
“Then you better do something about it. It’ll be feeding time for Roman and Rema sooner than you think. We’ve got maybe an hour.”
“Then for the next hour, it’s my feeding time…” He yanks my yoga pants down along with my panties and dives face first between my legs.
I’m writhing and moaning a second later. When I come hard, I do my best not to scream so I don’t wake the twins.
He lifts his slick face up and his sunshine grin lights up my world. “I will never get tired of eating this beautiful furry pussy of yours.” He pushes his sweats down and kicks them off before pulling his T-shirt over his head. As always, his body is rock hard. So is his cock. “And I will never get tired of fucking this beautiful body of yours.” He lowers himself between my legs and slides right in, filling me to the hilt. As he starts thrusting, he stares into my eyes and mutters, “Daphne, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, inside and out. And every inch of you is mine to take.”
I grab his ass and pull him into me. “Every inch of
you
is mine to take, Mr. Horse Cock.”
Thanks to Apollo, and a whole lot of hard work on my part, I took my beauty back.
And I will hold onto it forever.
Just like I’ll hold onto Apollo.
And our children.
If it hadn’t been for those cellos, none of this ever would’ve happened.
#b#b#b#
APOLLO
Five years later.
“Hey, Dad. I’ve got some people I want you to meet.” I squat down in the grass beside his San Diego hillside tombstone. “Say hello to your grandkids.”
“Roman! Rema!” Daphne calls out. “Come over here! Your daddy wants to show you something!”
The twins are chasing each other around on the lush lawn. They run over to their mother, laughing.
“You’re it!”
“No, you’re it!”
“Okay, you two,” Daphne grins, “Settle down for a moment.”
I cross my legs beside Dad’s grave.
Roman and Rema tumble into my lap, giggling. They both immediately attack me.
I chuckle, “Wrestling later! Daddy wants to tell you something.”
“What?!”
“Tell us!”
Daphne and I never really talked about when we would tell the kids about my father, their grandfather. But they started asking the last time we visited my mom’s house and saw all the pictures of Dad she still keeps out. So we made this trip today special for them.
I say. “Roman, Rema, do you see this grave?”
Rema leans forward and runs her finger over the raised brass letters. She gasps. “That says Michelle Armstrong! Is that Grandma Michelle?!” She’s terrified. “Did she die?”
“Noooo,” Daphne croons. “You just saw Grandma Michelle last week. She’s fine.”
“Then who is James?” Rema asks.
I hug both of my children against my chest. My voice is tight. “Grandpa James was my daddy.”
“Is he died?” Roman asks.
I kiss the top of his head.
Daphne is kneeling behind me, rubbing my back.
“Yes, sweetie,” I say to Roman. “Grandpa James passed away before you were born. Before I met your mother, in fact.”
“Oh.” Roman says solemnly.
“Why did he die?” Rema asks.
“Because his heart was sick,” I say softly.
“Oh,” Rema says.
I kiss the top of her head. “I want you two to know that your Grandpa James loves you very much.”
“But he’s dead,” Rema says. “How can he love us?”
“Because love lasts forever. And I know that he loves you almost as much as I love you.”
“He doesn’t love us the same?” Rema asks.
I smile and squeeze her. “No. No one loves you as much as I do. I mean, no one except your Mommy.”
Rema smiles at Daphne, “Mommy, I love you the same as Daddy.”
Daphne says, “I know you do, sweetie. I know.”
“I do too!” Roman says.
I hug them tightly against me.
Daphne wraps her arms around the three of us and envelopes me and our children with love.
I miss you, Dad. I miss you every day.
I promise I’ll do my best to give my children and my wife everything you gave me and Mom.
I’ll give them all the love I have.
#b#b#b#
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Thank you so much for taking the time to live with Apollo and Daphne and their families for a while. If you enjoyed
Taking Back Beautiful
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#b#b#b#
CONTINUE READING!!
Devon’s #1 Amazon Best Selling
romantic comedy and fan-favorite novel:
COVER MODEL
A Steamy Standalone Romantic Comedy
BY DEVON HARTFORD
They called him Connor HUGE.
Connor Hughes f**ked his way through every girl in my high school.
Except me.
We
hated
each other.
That arrogant a**hole insulted me, tormented me, and
ruined
me without ever laying a finger on me.
After graduating near the top of my class, I escaped to UCLA, got my degree, and threw myself into a career as a serious journalist. But I never forgot the damage Connor did.
At least I’ll never have to see him again.
Until my editor at
Trending Magazine
tasks me with writing a tell-all article about Connor. Turns out my insufferable bad boy nemesis grew into the ultra-gorgeous model whose perfect body steams up the covers of half the romance novels on the bestseller lists.
Now I’m stuck shadowing him all weekend long at the world’s largest Romance Convention. I’m forced to watch in disgust as 45,000 women throw themselves at him and worship his shirtless body while he taunts me incessantly.
We hate each other as much today as we did seven years ago. But I can’t stop stealing glances at his perfect abs and perfect a**.
My better judgment tells me to drop everything and run, but
something deep inside me is dying to know if he’s as HUGE as the rumors…
***Cover Model is a steamy standalone with an HEA***
PROLOGUE
ELECTRA
GRAD NIGHT, 2008.
“Not on your life,” I chuckle, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever hated.
I stand toe to toe with Connor Hughes, the gorgeous young man I hate more than any other human being on the planet.
“You totally want me.” He flashes his insolent grin, the one that makes all the girls in school drool over him and write his name in their notebooks and stalk his Facebook page in hopes that he’ll mention them. “You’ve
always
wanted me.”
My anger rises and I snort, “I’ve
never
wanted you.
Connor.
” I spit out his name like it’s filthy. “You must think I’m pretty stupid if you think I’m going to let myself become yet another notch on your bedpost.”
In the distance, a flickering rainbow of lights beam from the grad night carnival set up behind our high school. All that frolic and fun seems a million miles away.
Ten hours ago, Connor and I walked separately across the stage in the North Valley High School gymnasium and got our diplomas from the principal. When Connor got his, he took a bow to an uproar of cheers and applause. Everybody loves Connor Hughes. Except me. When I took my diploma, nobody made a sound, not even the crickets.
Now it’s four in the morning and I’m all alone with Connor under the starry night sky.
I fold my arms defensively across my chest and growl in his arrogant and undeniably handsome face. “The only reason you want me is because you never
had
me,
Connor
. We both know that if I was dumb enough to have sex with you, you’d get what you’ve wanted all along, and you’d move on. Just like you did with every other unsuspecting girl you’ve fucked. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He opens his mouth to speak. A strained half syllable wheezes out but catches in his throat. “I—” He deflates, his muscled shoulders sagging.
“That’s what I thought,” I smirk. “I’m just another notch for you. But I’ve got news for you, Connor
Screws
. You will
never
catch me. I will
always
get away. After everything that you’ve done, I will
never
be one of your notches.”
I turn on the heel of my brand new bowtie flats and stride across the damp grass field toward the main parking lot. I never look back, promising myself that I will
never
think about Connor Hughes
ever
again.
As far as I’m concerned, he is out of my life forever.
Good riddance.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
CHAPTER 1
CONNOR
SEVEN YEARS LATER…
“Fuck, you’re tight,” I grunt as I push my dick deeper into her pussy. “And wet as fuck.”
We’re sprawled on the king-sized hotel bed where we’ve been fuckin since the sun came up.
Her eyes are clamped shut and her face is screwed up as tight as her pussy. “Ohhhh, yes, Connor, yes…” she moans. “I’m going to come again…”
They always do.
This will be her fourth orgasm this morning, and the seventh since last night when we stumbled up to my room.
I slam into her harder and harder. “Squeeze my dick, babe. Fuckin
squeeze
it… Yeah…”
Her mouth splits open and she cries out, “
Yes, yes, oh my god, yes!!
” Her nails claw my shoulders. This chick’s a fuckin beast between the sheets.
I’m down with that. “Come on my dick, Juh—” I stop myself because I almost said Jasmine. She doesn’t notice. I don’t think this chick’s name is Jasmine. Jasmine was Tuesday. At least I
think
it was Jasmine. Or was Jasmine on Wednesday and Siobhan was Tuesday?
Who knows.
I should just stick to calling all of them Babe.
The only thing I do remember about this chick is that she told me earlier she’s half Chinese and half Brazilian. Exotic as hell. Long black hair, tanned caramel skin, perfect bod, killer tits. Crazy hot. You don’t come across a chick like this every day, but I’m going to come inside her in a minute.
When she picked me up last night, she was easily the hottest chick in the club. I spotted her out of a sea of plastic Beverly Hills blondes immediately. I grew out of my blonde bimbo phase three years ago. They’re usually shitty lays. But this chick around my dick is top shelf. Prime Grade. Just like that choice beef they serve down in the restaurants of Brazil. Or is that Argentina? I can’t remember. For me, the month long jungle photo shoot I did down in South America was one big blur of exotic pussy, killer booze, and killer food. The steaks down there are unreal.
I nearly laugh out loud at the thought.
I can’t believe I’m thinking about Argentinian beef while I’m fuckin this hottie, but I am. No matter how much I think I’m into a chick, my mind always ends up wandering during sex.
“I’m coming, Connor,” she squeals as her pussy grabs my dick like a fist.
Yeah she is.
Time for me to let loose myself and get this over with. I’ve got shit to do today. I groan wordlessly as I pump harder and shoot a load into the condom. It’s good but not great.
It’s never great.
But it helps me forget about
her
.
For a minute, anyway.
The second I roll off Babe, or whatever her name is, and close my eyes, I see
her
face.
I fuckin
hate
that.
After seven years, I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw
her
face.
One of these years, I’m going to forget about Electra Warmoth.
Or not.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
ELECTRA
I didn’t spend four years at UCLA getting a degree in journalism for
this
. Writing an exposé on a male model who poses shirtless for romance novel book covers?
Please.
What about this assignment says serious journalism?
None of it.
Sleek modernist decor on the seventh floor surrounds me as I walk along the luxe patterned carpeting toward my destination. Early morning light shines through windows at the end of the long hallway, stabbing my eyes. I need coffee. It’s way too early for this nonsense.
I’m beyond irritated about being here.
Why?
Late last night, Vince Pitts, my annoying ass of a Managing Editor over at
Trending Magazine,
insisted I cover this silly story if I wanted to keep getting work from him. I’m a freelancer, and only a junior contributor at that, which means I barely scrape by on what I earn. Considering I still owe a king’s ransom on my student loans from getting my journalism degree at UCLA, I agreed. So here I am at Rom Com Con 2015, short for Romantic Comedy Convention, which takes place every summer at the sprawling Beverly Hills Resort and Convention Center.