★ ★ ★ Afterburn Aftershock is now live on Passionflix! ★ ★ ★
Never bring politics into the bedroom.
Never mix business with pleasure.
New York Times and international bestseller Sylvia Day’s Afterburn Aftershock is live and STREAMING NOW only on Passionflix!
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Looking back, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t dropped my phone in the toilet. I mean, I could’ve walked away from him if I’d had it with me.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it was all over the first time he saw me, and he would’ve found another way. Probably—if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Shade always gets what he wants, and apparently he wanted me.
Right from the first.
“Did you get my text?” Sara asked, pushing through the office door. I’d just finished tying my apron around my waist, and was leaning toward the cracked mirror on the wall for one last makeup check before punching in.
“No,” I replied, frowning. “Dropped my cell in the toilet this morning. I called the phone people. They said I didn’t have any insurance, so I’m fucked. I put it on Future Me’s list of things to worry about.”
Sadly, Future Me’s list got longer every day. She was supposed to pay our credit card bill, figure out whether we should break up with our boyfriend, and find a better place to sleep than my sister’s couch. She also needed to lose ten pounds and magically fix the rusted-out Kia Sedona currently broken down in my sister’s yard.
Present Me would’ve felt guilty about dumping all this on the poor thing, but I only had three minutes left to punch in and start slinging drinks for drunken bikers, so it would just have to wait.
Yup. I’m organized like that.
Studying my reflection, I ran an eye down the length of my body. Tight tank with a hint of bra showing? Check. (Nothing like some boob action to bring in the tips. Not only that, Rebel had said he’d be here tonight, and he always liked seeing the girls.)
Lipstick was bright and shiny, no smudges on the teeth. More eye makeup than I’d usually wear, but ever since I’d started hanging out with Rebel’s biker friends, I’d kicked it up a notch. Made me look wild and sexy. Not gonna lie—I liked this new me. I liked her a lot. I guess if there was one good thing about my sister’s life falling apart—and me moving to Violetta to help with the kids—it was that it’d forced me to change my life, too.
About Joanna Wylde:
Joanna Wylde started her writing career in journalism, working in two daily newspapers as both a reporter and editor. Her career has included many different jobs, from managing a homeless shelter to running her own freelance writing business, where she took on projects ranging from fundraising to ghostwriting for academics. During 2012 she got her first Kindle reader as a gift and discovered the indie writing revolution taking place online. Not long afterward she started cutting back her client list to work on Reaper’s Property, her breakout book. It was published in January 2013, marking the beginning of a new career writing fiction.
Joanna lives in the mountains of northern Idaho with her family.
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Chella plays the game of Taking Turns with three men as she comes to terms with her sexuality.
I’ve never been afraid of the dark…but that doesn’t mean I wanted to live in it. And maybe everyone wants what they can’t have, but I should’ve thought it over before I accepted the key and unlocked the door to their forbidden world.
Number One is mostly silent. He watches me with them very carefully. His gaze never wanders. His interest never wanes.
Number Two is mostly gentle. But it’s the other side of him I like best. The wild side.
Number Three is mostly reserved. He refuses to cross the line. Even when I beg.
It was carnal, it was sensual, and it was erotic. That’s it. That’s all it was supposed to be. A trip into the dark. A peek into the forbidden.
I just didn’t expect to like them.
“You want it hard tonight?” I ask. “You want me to fuck you hard?” I grab her hair and pull, making her upper body lift up off the mattress. My other hand is digging into the flesh just below her hip.
I scoot back and reach under her thighs, drawing them up so she’s on her knees, and press her face into the pillow as I pound her from behind.
“Yeah,” I say, half speaking, half moaning. “You like it like this, don’t you? You let Bric fuck you like this all the time, don’t you?”
I reach around and smack her tit, which makes her yelp. A high-pitched yelp I’m not familiar with. For a second I think I’ve hurt her, and I slow down. But she backs up into me, covering my dick again. Burying it deep inside her. Everything is already so wet. She feels so goddamned good tonight.
“You fucking whore,” I say, letting go of her hair so she falls face-first back into the pillow. “You let Bric fuck you like this, Rochelle? You like the way he slaps you around? Hmm?”
Hell, I like the way Bric slaps her around. And as soon as that thought enters my head I laugh.
“Maybe we’ll do it rough next weekend. You want that? You want us to fuck you hard? Stick our dicks inside you at the same time?”
Another unfamiliar moan.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, still kinda laughing. But then I let it go and just… fuck her. I grab onto her ass and do it hard. Pounding her with so much force, her head is inching closer and closer to the headboard of the bed.
I don’t stop when it finally makes it there. I just keep thrusting until the pounding is compounded by the headboard crashing into the wall.
She’s moaning. Close. So fucking close to coming. I reach underneath her body and strum her clit to the rhythm we’re making. She goes wild. Wild like I’ve never seen her before. Writhing, and moaning, and gasping for air.
I draw back, grab her hips, and flip her over, one hand pushing her head aside so her cheek is pressing into the pillow, the other one still playing with her pussy. I watch my dick as it slips in and out, just barely able to make it out in the dim, filtered light from outside.
I grab her hair, so fucking ready to come, and yank her head so she has to look at me. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t care. I press my hand over her mouth and close my eyes too. And then I spill inside her. Throwing my head back to let out a groan of relief.
Her legs are trembling from the exertion. Little spasms as she gasps for breath. I laugh a little as I roll off to the side and wrap my arms around her. “What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you tonight?”
I bury my head into her neck and smell her hair.
“Did you get a new shampoo?” I ask. “You smell so different.”
“You want a date with Bric on Sunday? Hmm? We can skip Smith if you want.” I kiss her neck and then pull back and open my eyes. Trying to get an idea if she’s up for this kind of fun. It’s been a while so I—
I blink my eyes. Three times, fast.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry—”
But I’m up and out of the bed, fisting her hair and pulling her with me. She drops to the floor, whimpering.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask. “Where the fuck is Rochelle?”
I lived in the dark for three years. My whole world revolved around the whims and happiness of three men. It was just a trip into the forbidden. A way out of a bad situation and forward into nothingness.
Quin, with his easy smile and charming good looks. He was always there for me… Until he wasn’t.
Smith, and his dispassionate attention. He was never there for me and he never regretted it.
Bric, the one who listened, but only to himself. Self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and self-serving. He was never the one I wanted.
And now he might be the only one I have left.
It was good while it lasted, I guess. But it could’ve been so much more. It could’ve been so much better.
And that’s why I’m turning back.