BURLY Read online

  BURLY

  Jessa Kane

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  1

  Murph

  I’m an ugly son of a bitch.

  The only thing I’ve ever been good for is protecting people, so I joined the Navy fresh out of high school. That’s where I met my best friend, Joe. He was there when I wrestled for cash on the ship, leaving men devastated in my wake. We were side by side while enemy fire rained down from above, our lives flashing before our eyes. And needless to say, we’ve been drinking buddies for the last year since our tours ended, our return to civilian life slow and difficult.

  We dealt with it in different ways.

  He concentrated on family life.

  Me? I have no family. So now I take contracts for the government. The dirty, secret part of the government no one speaks about. The long arm of the White House that reaches out and eliminates troublemakers or threats to democracy.

  Joe barbeques and cleans the gutters on his suburban house.

  We’re night and day, but we’re best friends.

  After everything we’ve been through and the way he invites me in like a stray animal, there is no excuse for the way I look at his daughter.

  But goddamn, there is no one sweeter on this green earth.

  Just like her father, Angelica is my polar opposite. She’s beautiful. I’m scarred up and terrifying. She’s eighteen and I’m thirty-seven. She has the voice of an angel. She’s everything pretty, lighthearted and positive. I’m a murdering bogeyman.

  Right now, I’m sitting on a stool in Joe’s house, elbows leaned on the counter of the marble island, a cold beer in front of me. Joe is frying up steaks on the stove and relaying some gossip about his neighbors, but my attention keeps straying to the backyard where Angelica is practicing a dance routine in nothing but bike shorts and a sports bra. My cock is so hard, there is going to be an imprint of my zipper on that stiff flesh all night. Fuck.

  Does she know what she’s doing?

  No. No, she has no idea.

  She’s innocent as hell, even if her dance moves are provocative. Designed to make men pant and sweat. She sweeps her long golden hair up into a ponytail and starts the routine again, bending forward and snapping straight, rolling her ass one way, then the other. Twirling in pirouettes and reaching up, up, an expression of rapture on her face.

  Joe turns from the stove and catches me watching, giving me no choice but to own it. I snatch up my beer, take a long pull and set it back down. “What is she doing out there?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” His pride in his daughter is unmistakable. After Joe came back from overseas, he had too many differences with his wife to make it work. Angelica splits her time between them now. “She has an audition tomorrow with a talent agency. They scouted her at a dance competition a few weeks back. It’s a pretty big deal.”

  I nod, unable to keep my gaze from traveling back to the too-young blonde just outside the window. “What happens if it goes well?”

  “They’ll sign her. Start representing her to labels.”

  Angelica is on her way to the top. I’ve known that since meeting her. She’s a triple threat of beauty, talent and personality. As a man twice her age with a thick middle and a shadowy profession, the infatuation I have with her is downright pitiful. It’s shameful the way I come here and collect mental images of the girl, bring them back to my barren apartment and fuck my fist.

  Out in the backyard, she whips her hair, rolls that incredible body and I have to adjust myself under the kitchen island. Joe should kick me out of his home and never speak to me again. Hell, he should take aim at me with a shotgun. If he knew about the secret pictures I take on my phone, if he knew about the depraved fantasies I have starring his daughter, he would try and have me arrested.

  There’s no help for it, though.

  She’s under my skin. Into my heart with her humor and compassion.

  There’s no getting her out.

  Speak of the angel, she comes skipping into the kitchen a moment later, a smile brightening her face when she sees me. “Murph!” She throws her arms around my neck and lays a kiss on my cheek. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Just having a beer,” I mumble, painfully aware of my hard-on. How close she is to touching it. “I should get going soon, though. I’ve got some work to do.”

  “Oooh.” She props her adorable chin on her fist, leaning toward me on the island, gray eyes sparkling. “Is it something top secret?”

  Despite my aroused state, my lips still twitch at her mischief. “You know I can’t tell you anything about what I do.”

  She sticks out her bottom lip and I have an image of her laid across my knee, her tight ass lifting up for a spanking. “What if I guess correctly? Could you give me a wink?” Her voice softens. “Your secret would be safe with me.”

  God. This is torture. The way she’s leaning, I can see straight down her loose sports bra to the smooth little globes that bounce every time she dances. Or walks. Her vanilla sugar cookie scent is wreaking havoc on my brain. In a perfect world, she would be in my lap right now. I’d slide a hand inside that bra and roll her nipples around my palm, make her purr for me. And I can’t believe I’m having these thoughts while her father is ten feet away. It’s inexcusable.

  “You’re free to guess,” I say roughly. “But no winking from me, kid. The less you know, the better.”

  She whines a little in her throat and I barely leash a groan. “Are you a bag man for the mafia?”

  I stare back stonily.

  “Come on, I had to get that one out of the way.” She twirls her ponytail around her finger. “I have far more creative guesses.”

  “Let’s hear them.”

  “You’re a human wrecking ball, demolishing houses with a kick of your boot.”

  I have to crack a smile at that. That’s not completely out of the realm of possibility, considering I’m six-foot-five and built like a motherfucking tank. “Next.”

  “You wrestle bears to entertain eccentric billionaires.”

  Joe snorts from his position at the stove. “That really paints a picture.”

  “What? It’s a good guess!” Her gorgeous face is lit up like Christmas, cheeks rosy. “Dad says there was no man alive who could beat you in wrestling on the ship. Maybe you had no choice but to move on to larger, fiercer animals.”

  “It’s true,” Joe pipes up. “Murph never got pinned once.”

  Angelica gasps and claps her hands together. “Will you show me a wrestling move, Murph? Please?” Warning bells go off in my head, loud and shrill. “If I get signed by the talent agency, I might have to move to Los Angeles and I’ll need to know how to protect myself. Give me some pointers.”

  “She’s moving to Los Angeles?” I shout at Joe.

  He holds up his hands. “She’s an adult now. She’s responsible enough.”

  “It’s not her I’m worried about. It’s everyone else.”

  Joe laughs. “Stop worrying.”

  I make a harsh sound. “When you see the kinds of things I’ve seen…”

  “In your job as a…” She trails off, gesturing hopefully for me to continue.

  “Nice try.” I rasp a hand along my shaved head. “I don’t like this.”

  “You don’t like anything,” quips Joe good-naturedly. “We’ve got ten more minutes to dinner. Go show Angelica some moves, then we’ll eat.”

  This can’t be happening. This man—my best friend—is encouraging me to wrestle with his hot, eighteen-year-old daughter. Does he think I don’t have a pulse? The Pope himself would sprout wood
at the sight of Angelica in those shorts. “Not tonight, I—”

  “Please?” She tugs me by the elbow and I go reluctantly, because saying no to this girl goes against my very existence. All I want is for her to be safe, happy. To have everything she deserves. And she deserves a hell of a lot more than some battle-worn mercenary. “Show me something,” she cajoles, stopping in the center of the living room floor, leaving more than enough space on either side of us.

  “You don’t need wrestling moves, kid. You need self-defense moves.”

  “Fine.” She bounces on the balls of her feet and I have to drag my attention away from her tits. Jesus, if I wasn’t wearing a loose T-shirt, she’d be able to see my erection. I should put a stop to this now, but hell, maybe there’s a devil on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, telling me how good it would feel to hold her. To be skin to skin, her curves wedged up against me.

  I grew up without a stable home life. There certainly were no hugs or affection being given out. And because I resemble a beast more than I do a man, I don’t get a lot of human contact at all. I’ve never yearned for it from anyone the way I do with Angelica…and the need is growing daily. I’m starved for the feel of her petite body against mine. Famished. She’s so sweet and feminine.

  What would she feel like?

  “Okay!” She stretches her right heel up to her butt. “I’ve always wanted to take self-defense classes, actually.”

  “Promise me you’ll enroll in some if you…” I have to clear the misery from my throat. “If you move to LA.”

  She draws a crisscross on her chest. “Swear.”

  “Good girl.” I swallow hard over those two words. God, I’d give anything to say those words to Angelica while feeding her inch after inch of my cock.

  Fuck it. If this is my only chance to touch her, I have to take it.

  Just for a minute or two, I can pretend she’d be with an ugly fuck like me.

  “I’m going to lay down on the ground,” I rasp, following through. “Now you…” I’m already breathing hard just thinking about what’s to come. “You straddle my hips. I’m going to show you how to break free of a mount hold.”

  She nods solemnly, only hesitating slightly before doing what she’s told. I savor the sight of her standing above me, her bike shorts molded to her eighteen-year-old pussy. And a second later, that hot little pocket of flesh is pressed to my cock, her thighs on either side of me. Fuck. Fuck, she’s so warm and firm. Her lips pop open when she realizes I’m hard and I wait. I wait without breathing to see if she’ll scream for her father or climb off—and I’m shocked when she doesn’t. When she plants her palms on my chest and whispers, “What now, Murph?”

  A groan tries to break free of my mouth, but I cage it in time. Is this really happening? “All right, kid,” I say hoarsely. “If you’re ever in my position and someone is attacking you from above, your first move is to lift your lower body. Like this.”

  I thrust my hips upward and she rises with a squeak, her tits jiggling around in her sports bra. Her hands fly to my shoulders for balance, bringing her forward, her face stopping inches in front of mine. “M-Murph,” she whimpers, wiggling on my elevated lap. “What d-do I do?”

  “Now you trap my arm…” I move her arm into the correct position. “And roll your hip toward the trapped arm side. Try to reverse our positions.”

  Jesus, this is it.

  I’m going to be on top of her.

  I can hear her father banging around in the kitchen and I hate myself for this, but I’m too hard up, too fucking obsessed with Angelica to stop this now.

  With a grunt, I flip the world’s most perfect girl onto her back and ram my hips into the cradle of her thighs—and I don’t mean to, didn’t plan it, but I come.

  I come so hard, my body becomes an earthquake, an eruption of hot, sticky need tearing out of my balls, up the stalk of my dick, pelting the zipper of my jeans. Soaking denim to skin. I swallow a shout, my neck tendons straining. My body moves on autopilot, hips slamming hard, grinding up against Angelica’s pussy, my eyes devouring the beautiful surprise on her face. The O formed by her bee-stung lips, the gasp of disbelief.

  God help me, that only serves to heighten my pleasure.

  My shame. Her wide-eyed shock.

  I’m a big, ugly beast and I’ve given in. I can’t take the way this beauty teases me, even if she doesn’t mean it. I can’t help this. She’s so soft.

  “I couldn’t hold it any more. Fuuuuuck. Beating off only helps until I think of you again, then I’m back to being so goddamn hard. All the fucking time. Because of you.” I give in a little more. I flatten her sexy dancer’s body to the carpet and hump her through our clothes, seed frothing from the head of my cock. But I’m careful to keep a forearm balanced on the ground so I don’t crush her. “Is this what you wanted? You thought I could wrestle you without coming? Proves how innocent you are, Angelica.” I grind down hard. “Proves this is a tight little virgin cunt, just like I thought.”

  Footsteps come toward us from the kitchen.

  Reality comes crashing back in and I roll myself off of Angelica, who lays there motionless, her chest heaving up and down.

  Jesus, the way she’s looking at me. Like she doesn’t know me at all. It wounds me. Makes me want to howl with agony. I’m a sick man, using my best friend’s angelic daughter to get off. I’ve burned her trust. I never deserved it in the first place. And I’ve got to get out of here.

  I stand up and turn on a heel as soon as Joe enters the room. “How did the wrestling lesson go?”

  I’m surprised as hell when Angelica sits up and fixes her askew ponytail. “Oh, um…good.” She flashes me a look I can’t interpret. “G-good.”

  “I have an emergency call,” I say gruffly, swallowing the dryness in my throat. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  Pushing through the front door of the house and out into the summer night, I ignore Joe’s calls of my name and keep walking. I should stay out of their lives, never see either of them again—that’s what would be best for these people who were unlucky enough to invite me into their lives.

  I’m obviously not a trustworthy friend to Joe and I’m an even worse protector of Angelica. I can’t even protect her from my lust.

  But I know that’s never going to happen. Staying away from her completely has proven impossible, and after what just happened, I can already feel my obsession turning into something deeper, uncontrollable. With one last look at her through the window, I make a vow to protect her better. For the rest of my life. And I climb into the cab of my truck, burning rubber out of their picturesque neighborhood, cursing my lack of willpower on the way back to my solitude.

  2

  Angelica

  One Year Later

  I don’t want to be a pop star anymore.

  Camera flashes go off too close to my face. Fingers reach out from behind the barriers, clawing at my skin and clothing. I just finished a concert at the Staples Center and it’s as though the entire audience is now converging on me, demanding selfies and autographs. My security guards are making attempts to block the fans from grabbing me, but it’s pandemonium.

  “Where is the car?” I call over the screaming, stumbling forward blindly.

  Someone yanks me by the elbow and I lose my balance, falling forward onto the pavement and skinning my knee. Getting to my feet unsteadily, I hobble forward, grateful when one of the guards ushers me in the right direction.

  “This way, Miss Price.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, though they can’t hear me.

  My chart topping single, “Candy from a Baby,” is blaring from somewhere in the crowd and I block out the familiar chorus. The last year of my life has been a complete whirlwind. I was signed by the talent agency and a week later, I was on my way to Los Angeles to record a demo. A month after that, it seemed like I couldn’t swipe on my phone without hearing my single. Or seeing a picture of me walking to the store, sunbathing on the roof of my condo, pumping gas, bu
ying coffee.

  Now? I can’t even set foot outside my door. The release of my album made me a household name. This is what I wanted, though. Isn’t it?

  A wave of relief hits me when my waiting SUV comes into view and my security team fairly throws me into the backseat and slams the door. Gingerly, I touch my wounded knee, leftover fear cascading down my spine and turning into a violent shiver. Hands bash against the windows of the vehicle, the door handle jiggling from people attempting to gain access to the car.

  I give in to my impulse to lie down on the back seat, drawing my knees up to my chest and taking several deep breaths. This is not what I envisioned when I decided at a young age that I wanted to be a performer. Sure, there is still a certain euphoria that comes from being on stage. The roar of people singing along and feeling every word is truly indescribable.

  But I can’t help but feel like I sold my soul.

  My manager, Taryn, climbs into the front passenger seat and lets out a hoot, propping her Prada boots up on the dashboard. “Amazing show. They are rabid for you, Angelica. Rabid.”

  I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

  Is it really me they love? Or the image created by the label?

  Stop being a baby. There are millions of people who would kill to be in my position. I have a new house in the Hollywood Hills. A-list celebrities in my contacts. How dare I complain about getting exactly what I asked for?

  Swiping at my nose, I sit up and straighten my shoulders. “Are there any bandages in the glove compartment? I fell on my knee.”

  “You did?” With a look of glee on her face, Taryn turns slightly in the passenger seat. “Oh, that is going to play well in the press. I’ll put a call in to TMZ. Angelica Price: injured by fans outside the Staples Center. I’m sure someone has already sold the footage.”

  She never checks the glove compartment for bandages.