Doing It Wild (Erotic Romance) Book 1

  Doing It Wild

  Clarissa Wild

  Published by Clarissa Wild at Amazon KDP Select

  Copyright 2013 Clarissa Wild

  WARNING: This story contains explicit sex and erotic scenes, M/F. For 18+ adults only.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 1

  I sighed, looking at the next guy in line of the long row with potential candidates for my hand in marriage. I was tired of my father’s persistent whining of me having to marry, in his words ‘a fine, young man’, or as I read it in between the thin lines, a wealthy one. It didn’t matter if he was handsome, sweet, smart or any of that. As long as he had money.

  My father didn’t care for my wishes. Even though I was already twenty-three, he still dictated every part of my life as if I was his puppet. Directing me to give myself away to some rich prick so he could use me as some sort of bridge between two huge companies. Well I wasn’t having any of it.

  “When are we done already?” I asked myself, glancing at the clock on the dark, wooden wall, while the next man stepped into the room. The red spots on his face and crooked teeth made me grunt and I closed my eyes.

  “Not again …” I mumbled. Well, maybe this one was cuter than the rest of the bunch, even though he was appalling to the sight. There hadn’t been any today that were remotely witty, kind or gorgeous. One of them demanded I’d do all his cleaning and cooking and one even told me I had to quit my job and be his wife. As a job.

  I snorted.

  Yeah, right. Like that would happen. Not in a million years.

  With my feet, I turned the chair left and right, still keeping my gaze on the wimp standing in front of me, who looked like a small breeze could flip him over.

  I waved my hand and said, “Sit.”

  With his hands on his lap he sat down uncomfortably on the chair in front of the desk, and then crossed his legs. His fingers grazed his lap in repeated strokes, while he sniffed frequently.

  Oh God … a weirdo. What is he doing here?

  I heaved a sigh, blinked a few times and forced myself to sit up straight to at least give him a chance. I owed that much to my father. I’d do anything to get away from all this hassle of having to pick a man to marry, against my will I must add, granted that I didn’t have much of a choice. I’d been living with my father all my life and I had the luxury of buying anything I wanted when I wanted it. I couldn’t complain.

  Yet, I felt this pang of unfulfilled desire in my stomach. Choosing a man, or rather a mindless, rich stick figure from the countless numbers that came in every week was boring and pathetic. I didn’t want some random douche with money, just so my father could grow his empire even more. I didn’t want to be a pawn in his scheme. I wanted more than this.

  “I … I … You,” the pimpled, bony figure in the chair began.

  I let out a moan and a sigh and rolled my eyes. “Really? No. If you don’t know what to say, just get out.” I stood up.

  The guy flinched and scrunched his lips, while his brows arched.

  “Go,” I said, flicking my eyes toward the door, urging him to move.

  He blinked, his eyes glazing with tears.

  Seriously, is he going to cry? I’m not in the mood for this at all. I’ve been at this for hours.

  “Come on, move,” I said, walking over to him.

  “What?” he stammered.

  “You heard me, out!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He picked up his briefcase and scurried out the door, almost tripping over the doorstep. I slapped my hand against my forehead and shook my head. “Oh brother …” I mumbled.

  Was this going to be it?

  “Shall I let the next one in, Miss Grace?” Louis, our butler, said.

  I barged passed Louis who was standing in the doorway. “No, I need a break.”

  “What do you think you’re doing, Grace?” I heard my father’s voice before I saw him.

  Turning around toward the giant staircase in the middle of the hallway, I saw him stomping down, having to hold himself up by the rails, because of his overweight, blubbering body.

  Jesus, right as I was about to leave, he shows up.

  “Mister Bennett, do you need my assistance?” Louis said, holding out his hand.

  My father shooed him away. “Grace, go back to your desk.”

  “No, I’ve had enough for today. Next week, I promise.”

  “Grace, I’m not saying this again. Get back in there. You’re not finished and I want you to finally pick one out, dammit.”

  “Christ, I have to choose one of those wimps you picked for me? God no, I’d rather marry a poor, petty, dude who’s at least got his mind straight. Or a nice body, either would be good, but you only present me the saddest guys in the world. Why in God’s name would I ever want to marry one like that?”

  I knew it was the money in their pockets that made my father pick them.

  “Because I say so! You will accept one of them as your husband.” He coughed, supporting himself on the rails. He really smoked too much shag lately.

  “But father, I want to have love in my life. I need to like them before I want to be their wife! Why can’t I just find a rich dude on my own? I can do that.” I folded my arms together to show him my dedication. We were throwing around the terms ‘wife’ and ‘marry’ like they were common goods you could buy at the local pawnshop. As if it wasn’t something ‘for the rest of my life’. Like it didn’t matter.

  “You will continue with the ones I tell you to. End of discussion.” Then he turned around, not even granting me one last look, and went back to his office again.

  Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t deserve this. However blessed I was, nobody deserved to be told how to live and who to love.

  “I’m out,” I said to Louis.

  Storming across the white, marbled floor I forced the great, black door open and jolted down the steps.

  The blue, fresh air outside was welcome right now. Salty drops streamed down my cheeks as I took huge steps away from the mansion. The busy gardeners were eyeing me, while I walked through the maze of bushes, flowers and trees. Men looking at me was nothing new. It wasn’t because of my looks; I knew they were always after my money. I wasn’t that pretty, more like a skinny bitch with a kinky nose, because of an accident I had when I was three. Nonetheless, my fit body was my work and I was proud of it. I treated it like a piece of art, always working to shake some pounds off. I was addicted to eating as little calories as possible, controlling my intake, watching the carbs. The way I looked was the only thing I could control in my life.

  My father decided who I dated, what I wore, what I did, where I worked. Five years ago he got me a part-time job in one of his retail stores selling high end fashion clothes to petit customers. I envied them, I could never fit into any of it, but then I decided to lose some weight and ever since I’ve been able to wear those beautiful clothes as well.

  Now, my looks were the only thing I had any say in. My father can’t control what I eat. Guess that’s the only thing that’s really mine.

  I brushed my long, blonde hair aside, striding through the enormous garden until I reached the gate. I forced the tears to subside and clenched my fists. I wouldn’t let my father do this to me. I had to escape. Find some way out of this. I couldn’t really go away though. He owned everything, including me. My father controlled my money and I couldn’t access it without his permission. I don’t know how he did it. I thought, once I turned eighteen, I’d have my own money to spend, but somehow he made it impossible. He had that much pow
er over my life. And anyone else’s, for that matter.

  Once I was outside of the gate, a wave of calmness washed over me. Being outside, alone, was a rare commodity.

  But frightening too.

  Being born a rich girl, meant not knowing anything about the world without butlers, maids and helps, and made it impossible for me to venture into the world. Discovering things, making mistakes, was not one of my routines, unlike normal people. I wished I could.

  With my back against the stone wall that surrounded our land, I sank down to my feet and eventually sat down. The cold, hard stone underneath my butt was a welcome change to the ever soft cushions and pillows placed under me wherever I plopped down on a couch or chair inside the house. I was tired of being treated like a prized, feather-like currency.

  I sighed and stared at the partially built house across the road. Bulky men worked hard, constructing the house, brick by brick. Their veins protruded through their skins, as they moved the heavy machinery, steel beams and hoisted up materials. I was gawking their muscular bodies, one of them standing out in particular. The reason being, he held a manual upside down.

  I sniggered, when one of the men walking passed him took the book from his hand, turned it around and gave it back to him. He frowned, closed it and threw it on a table close to him, before getting a bottle of water. I watched him put the bottle to his muggy lips. As he drank with his chin up, I looked at his buffed torso, the lines of his pectorals peeking through his thin shirt. An intricate pattern was tattooed on his right upper arm. His thick jeans were smeared with mud, grease and concrete. Drops of water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt, exposing bits of skin. Sweat dripped off his forehead, his well tanned skin glimmering in the hot, sweltering sun.

  I gulped. He’s too hot.

  He set it back down on the table again and turned to face me. Piercing, green eyes, hidden under thick, bristled brows, stared back at me. My eyes widened in shame, realizing I’d been gaping at him all this time.

  I flushed, buried my head between my legs and prayed he didn’t notice. I didn’t dare move, afraid I’d look stupid.

  After a few seconds of gathering my courage, I lifted my head again, only to see two rugged yellow boots standing in front of me. My eyes trailed a way, from his scruffy jeans, to his hulking torso, up to his face and the short dark brown hair on top.

  I swallowed away the invisible lump in my throat. What a gorgeous man.

  But I knew what I was looking at was someone I could never have, even if I wanted to.

  “What are you doing here, babe?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Nothing.”

  “Do you usually stare at guys like that?” he said.

  I snorted and flicked my head to the sidewalk, looking at the people walking by. I pushed myself up from the ground and brushed away the dirt from my skinny jeans. Then I started to walk away from him, but he grabbed my arm.

  Frowning, I turned around. “What?”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice sounded like he was seriously concerned about my wellbeing.

  “Yeah …” I choked on my own words. I wasn’t the type to break down in front of strangers, but I wasn’t far from it. This handsome guy was so close and yet so out of my reach. I wanted to have the freedom to decide who I wanted to be with, but looking at this man was only a sad reminder of the situation I was in. Having him touch me made my eyes burn.

  I jerked my arm loose and ran across the street.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted. I heard his footsteps behind me, but I kept running. My feet moved on their own, away from everything. Running was the only thing I could do. The rush of adrenaline made me feel alive and yet so desensitized.

  However, I didn’t watch where I was going. My eyes weren’t focusing on the car coming from a corner, driving straight at me.

  I squealed, but then the guy who ran after me grabbed me tight. He shoved me forward and we both fell down onto the hard concrete, just before the car hit us. It honked and shot past us. The guy was right on top of me.

  I huffed, as our faces were inches away. His heavy, muscular body was right on top of mine, his ragged breath puffing in my open mouth. I gaped at his emerald eyes, the stubbly ridges of his chiseled jaw, his just-as-crooked-as-mine nose. He was beautiful and here for the taking.

  “Excuse me, babe,” he said as he pushed himself off me and held out his hand.

  “Thanks,” I said and let him help me up.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bulldoze you there.”

  “You saved me. No need to apologize,” I said and smiled gently.

  He smirked and held out his hand again. “The name’s Finn Wood.”

  “Grace Bennett,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Grace.”

  We stared at each other, without saying anything. Just awkward smiles, with chuckles in between. Our hands, continuously shaking, were still entwined.

  Chapter 2

  “So, what were you doing? Running into the street and all that?” he asked and let go of my hand.

  “I don’t know … guess I just need a break from the usual shit life.” I laughed, dragging it on. God, I sound pathetic.

  I cleared my throat. “Thanks for saving my life though,” I added, almost wanting to slap myself, because I knew I’d already said that.

  “Yeah, no problem. As long as you don’t go jumping in front of cars again. I might have to save you again.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t doing that on purpose you know,” I said, frowning.

  He laughed. “Just a joke.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks reddened with shame. Why do I always sound like a stupid girl?

  “Well, see ya,” he said and turned around.

  “Hey, wait up!” I walked after him. “Can I buy you a coffee or something?”

  He turned his face toward me when I strode next to him. “Uh … no, don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m still working.”

  “Oh come on, I’m sure you can take a five minute break.”

  “Actually …”

  “Fine, we could have a coffee together at your work place, right?” I clenched my hands on my waist.

  He sighed. “We have a break now, so I guess.”

  I smiled from ear to ear. “Great!”

  “The coffee there tastes like mud though, so I warn you.”

  “I don’t care,” I said and looked him in the eye. His rugged, smeared face was enchanting and made me flush.

  “Suit yourself,” Finn said as we walked through the sand, my heels disappearing beneath. I had trouble walking through the construction site; my stilettos were continuously stuck in the sand. We sauntered toward what appeared to be the lunch room; a bus.

  It was a tiny shack with a dirty table in the middle, some plastic, folding chairs and a pot of coffee in the corner. A few creaking steps up and we were inside, alone, since none of his coworkers were here yet.

  “Where’s the rest?”

  “Oh, I always come here earlier, so I’m usually alone.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can get out as fast as possible.” He didn’t look at me, but I felt like he wasn’t telling me the entire story. Finn’s heavy steps made the bus tremble. He picked up the pot and poured the black liquid into some mugs. I was still standing in the doorway when he turned around, gazed at me with the two mugs in his hands and cocked his head to the side. “You can sit, you know.”

  I smirked and slipped into an uneven chair that wriggled from left to right under my weight. Finn handed me my coffee and sat down across from me. “Thanks.”

  Through the window I could see the other men toiling with heavy machinery. The book Finn was reading upside down still lay there on the table. Finn was quiet and stared at the cloud coming from his coffee, swirling around in the air. Taking a sip, he didn’t even look at me. It was like he was avoiding me.

  I took my cell phone out of my pock
et and checked. Seven missed calls. Oh father, give me a break. I heaved a sigh and put my lips to the mug. Tasting the coffee was like sticking your tongue into a pool of muck.

  I winced and set it back down, while deleting the messages.

  “So, you work here, huh?”

  “Yep.” Things grew silent again.

  Guess he isn’t much of a talker.

  “I work at a retail shop selling clothes, thanks for asking,” I said, sniggering.

  “Cool.”

  I frowned, gawking him as he continued to sip from his coffee. Keeping my mouth shut, I waited for him to finally return me a look. His eyes were on me, as if he was waiting.

  “What was in that book you were reading?” I asked, persistent to find out more about this handsome guy, even though he refused to give in.

  “Nothing important.”

  “Oh, really? Is that why it said ‘Precaution measures’ with some type of machine pictured on it?” I could tell that much from the cover I saw gaping at him from afar.

  His eyes widened, his mouth opened, but he closed it again.

  “You really aren’t the talkative type, are you?”

  “Nope.” Finn sniffed a laugh and his lip curled upward.

  I giggled. “I like a challenge.”

  “I do too, but not if they’re hopeless to begin with.” Finn gave me a smirk and finished his coffee.

  “Hopeless? I don’t think so. You came up to me when I sat there, not the other way around. So it’s definitely not a lost cause.”

  The smile on his face disappeared again. “I was only wondering if you were okay. You seemed unhappy.”

  Now mine vanished too. “I was.”

  “Is that why you ran away?”

  “Sort of. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Finn scooted his chair back and stood up. “Guess I’m not the only one.”

  Then he went to get another coffee. I just sat there, my arms folded up, breezing.

  “Well, then we have something in common. How nice.” I chuckled.

  He poured in some fresh, stinking coffee in his mug and sat back down again. “Everybody has his or her secrets.”