A grandiose ego pushes Mona MonDragon to pursue high school nerd turned gorgeous ballet dancer Ivan Boss. Unfortunately, her perceived sure-thing week of no-strings-attached sex isn’t so sure. Her ego takes a major hit when he not only rejects her but pretends he doesn’t know her. When she jumps through hoops to have him, she begins to question if what’s driving her to take such chances is something residual from childhood.
Whether it is or not, all she knows is his wish is her desire. Revenge drives Ivan Boss, and when the object of his hate comes back into his life after 10 years he battles the part of him that loves Mona with the part that wants her to pay for torturing him when he needed her most. The internal struggle heightens when he starts to see her as human, and he begins to question his ability to follow through with his ultimate revenge.
“You remember me, don’t you, Ivan?” she whispered, obeying his order.
His hand lifted the long length of her leg by the back of her thigh, and the warmth of her skin beneath the opaque pink tights stung him. Of all the times he dreamed of touching her so intimately, it had to be when it was all too late. She winced at his touch, though let him turn out her knee.
“Like this,” he said, ignoring her question. “Can you feel the difference?”
“Yes.” She was breathless.
He didn’t release the back of her thigh. His hand could have been fused to it. The jerk in his tights reminded him he was a man, but the pain in his chest reminded him he was a scorned man. He let her go, leg falling to the floor as if it needed his hand to hold it up. “No,” he said, wiping the haze from her eyes, “I don’t remember you.”
She frowned. For the first time in his life, he made her feel something. He made her feel unsure, and it pleased him, but that was short lived. He walked away, calling out another exercise before she could see in his eyes that he did remember her—if she hadn’t already seen it.
When the hour-long class was over, the women rolled out of the stuffy room like hurt cattle. He was hard on them—punished them for what Mona did. It wasn’t fair, but he didn’t care about fair. Life hadn’t been fair to him, so why should he give a shit? Before he knew it, there was no one left but him and her.
“Did you enjoy the class?” he asked as he wiped down the metal barre with a towel. Honestly, he didn’t care if she enjoyed herself. He only needed her gone.
“Cut your shit, Ivan,” Mona said, eyes darker if that were possible as she glared at him through the mirrored wall.
“Excuse me?” He only caught her stare in the mirror, didn’t turn to face her. The mirror gave him space—an illusion of protection.
“You know me, Ivan Michael Boss. You’ve known me since you were five years old. Why the hell are you saying you don’t remember me?” Her eyes narrowed, and red colored her cheeks.
It was true. He had known her since he was five years old when the world was puppies and ice cream and there was nothing wrong with falling in love with a girl. Because, that’s how long he’d been in love with her, since he was five years old.
“I knew a Ramona when I was five years old. You are not her. I actually haven’t seen her since I was fourteen.” Fourteen is when she was initiated into the “in crowd” and left him for dead.
She was rendered speechless by his omission, and that annoyed him. He didn’t want the softness in her eyes to derail him, yet that’s exactly what happened. He looked away from her reflection, fully focusing on folding the towel over the barre.
“I’ve always been Ramona, Ivan,” her voice softened.
When he looked up, she turned from the mirror and faced him full on—nothing between them.
“Is there a reason you decided to take my class?” He couldn’t stand the talking. He couldn’t stand the doe eyes. He couldn’t stand her to be human, because she hadn’t been that to him in a long time.
A sly smile stretched over her full strawberry lips. “I thought we could have a…reunion of sorts while I’m in town this week.” Her lithe body slithered closer to him, a hand blindly finding the metal barre for balance.
He didn’t back away the closer she got. The slightest hint of vanilla wafted off her body. Sweetness identified. The look in her eyes could have dropped him to his knees, and he knew what she wanted. It was what they all wanted. She wanted to use his body for her pleasure. The notion of sex with him colored her face further, and he had a decision to make.
“What makes you think I want a reunion with you?”
Her face fell, the edges of her eyes narrowed. “When did you become such an ass?”
“About ten years ago.” He smirked, gaining strength from her pull on him.
She averted her gaze for a moment. What is she thinking?
“What are you asking me here, Mona?” he asked, forcing her eyes to meet his again. This time there was something odd in them.
She shrugged, though didn’t move back from the possibility of rejection. That was unexpected. Mona never got rejected—in fact, she did the rejecting. “Sex with no strings attached.”
He did his best not to gasp. Did he hear correctly? Did Mona outright ask him for sex? The tightness in his briefs caused him to shift his stance, not graceful enough as she turned her attention to his crotch and smiled at the display. He cursed his body for betraying him yet again.
She was light as a feather as he lifted her buttocks. Her legs tightened around his waist, squeezing tighter and tighter around as he released one hand to retrieve his keys from the hoodie pocket. They barely made it through the small rusted gate of his bungalow house in Neartown before they clasped together like desperate magnets.
“Just give me a sec,” he grumbled, though not taking his mouth away. His teeth clashed against hers, but she kept kissing him.
Finally, he’d gotten the door opened, and didn’t take much time to shut the door and whisk her through the small living room, eighty-year-old hardwood creaking beneath his feet. His breathing echoed between his ears, his cock hardening with each exhale. Mona gyrated against him, he moaned out. “I’m gonna fuck your pussy raw. Do you understand me, Ramona?” He meant it in the most non-brutish way possible.
She yelped, catching his gaze, her mouthing parting from desire. “You already did that.” Her voice was husky, deeper than he’d heard it before.
He chuckled, pulling his mouth away. “That was nothing. You may not be able to walk tomorrow.” Her eyes widened. “I’m just warning you.”
“Then you’ll have to tell Tom why I didn’t show up for training.”
“I’ll be more than happy to tell Tom of all the ways I fucked his student so hard she couldn’t get out of bed.”
She laughed. “I’m sure that will go over well.”
He grunted. Tom. Tom probably wanted to fuck Mona himself. Ivan didn’t like that thought. Crossing over into his bedroom, he stopped at the doorjamb. “You ready for me?”
“Just shut up and give it to me.”
“I’ll be the one giving orders here, lady. And you’ll answer my question or I’ll let you go.” He still had to let her know who was in control, especially when he thought it wasn’t him.
He knew what it was like to fall. The longer he held her, the more he fell. How could he remain in control, when she could so easily take it from him? “Then I’d answer if I was you.”
She bit on her bottom lip, swollen from kissing him. His eyes lingered there until she answered with the slightest smile emerging. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my whole life.”
His heart stilled merely by the look in her eyes. Every puff of air emptied from his lungs with her eyes. She wanted him—needed him even. Her pupils screamed it. Her body screamed it as she tightened around him, and he could feel her pounding heart through the apex of her thighs.
“I’ve never wanted anything more.” The words just came out.
But instead of pulling away from his revelation, she grabbed the back of his head and crashed her mouth to his, tongue leading the way. He took that tongue with his teeth, taking her in as deep as her opened mouth would allow. Hungry for her, he shifted in the room just to slam her back against the wall. A picture frame hanging haphazardly for years fell to the hardwood, breaking in pieces. Like him. She was breaking him of the hurt, of the rejection, from many years.
Finding the bottom of her scrunched up skirt, he pushed over the panties—he’d tear them in half before he was done with her. Her moisture spilled over to the crease of her thighs. Moaning, he strummed her pussy. She was wet, and he didn’t want anything more than to slide his bare cock inside her. Fuck, I can’t put it in without a condom again. But he did. Somehow, he’d managed to release himself from sweatpants and jammed himself inside her so deep their hip bones touched.
“Ivan!” she screamed. How she could take him in like that was impressive. He knew he was a lot to take in one shot. And when he plunged inside her again, she said, “I think you’re touching my spleen.” Her eyes rolled back in time to miss the smile he gifted her.
“Can you take it, baby?” Baby? He stilled for the briefest moment but didn’t stop.
Immediately, her eyes opened and grabbed his. Her mouth parted as he continued to slide inside of her, pushing through her tightening womb. She moaned, and he thought he’d come right then and there. The way she looked at him as he was inside her, challenged his ability to last. Kept challenging it until she spoke with a breathy whisper. “I can take you, baby. I can take you all the way.”
He wanted to go wherever that was.
Siren Bookstrand- http://www.bookstrand.com/little-death
Barnes and Noble- http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/little-death-roe-valentine/1119898533?ean=9781627418508
Roe Valentine was born into the right family. Not only does the name Valentine suit her, but her grandmother, unknowingly, introduced the young Ms. Valentine to her first romance novel. She hasn’t read anything else since. She calls herself a romantic at heart and believes that love conquerors all.
The San Antonio native, who now lives in Houston, attempted to write her first contemporary romance novel when she was nineteen years old. That attempt didn’t take, but her story has a happy ending. She kept pursuing the dream until she landed her first publishing contract in 2013.
When not busy writing or reading love stories, Roe can often be found in a yoga class or chatting with friends at her favorite coffee shop. Enjoying margaritas with some girl-talk isn’t unusual for her either. For a night in, she watches reruns of her favorite TV shows and, of course, romantic comedies on her Roku, usually with a glass of wine.
Roe Valentine also LOVES talking to readers. You can contact her in the following ways: