Authors: Aria Cole
“You’ve got this, Eve.” Mason tugged at my hair and then popped a kiss on the apple of my cheek before he fell onto the couch and picked a game controller in his palms, his eyes immediately focused on the screen. He was the youngest and helplessly addicted to the escape he’d found in online gaming. Just like every other teenage boy, but when other boys were sleeping, Jake was working, head down and hood up, trying to sell his stash before the dawn. None of us had been blessed with a silver spoon, we all had our burdens.
I shook my head. I loved these boys and the worst part about tonight would be leaving them. Saying goodbye when all I really wanted to do was cuddle up in pajamas and watch another overdone action movie like we’d done on so many other occasions.
But instead, tonight I would be sold to the highest bidder by my foster mother. The woman that had been collecting on a measly income the majority of my childhood years to take care of me, which went to fueling her drinking habit, and paying for the occasional young man to warm her bed. I knew she hated me, she hated how these men would look at me with lust in their eyes. The social workers never popped over as they threatened, and from the outside we were the picture perfect, home schooled foster family.
From the moment I was placed in this house Momma Judy, as she preferred to be called despite the fact that she was certainly no relation of mine, had always been into shady business, drug dealers and petty criminals with rotten teeth and the stench of cigarettes on their breath always stopping by. We’d never been sheltered from the darker side of their business, the boys sent out to make money under the table doing whatever was required to meet their weekly quota. Yes, a quota. Instead of being given an allowance like most kids, the boys were given a weekly quota—an amount of money they had to contribute, by any means necessary, to keep the family accounts balanced. Essentially, Momma Judy required them to pay their way, while she blew the stipend given to us as fostered dependents. We wore scraps while she wore designer labels, we ate rations while she dined on steak and champagne.
The boys mostly sold weed on the street, sometimes shrooms or pills on a good day. I’d fought and cried and begged Judy to not send them out that first night a few years ago. Collapsed on the floor and begged for some shred of innocence or dignity on their behalf, but she had only smiled at my desperate display before kicking them out of the house for the night. When they each returned the next morning, the light had gone out in all their eyes, and Julian had returned with a crimson and purple bruise across the side of one cheekbone and socket. He’d encroached on gang territory. Judy hadn’t cared, only said lessons on the street don’t come easy. My heart cracked wide open for my boys, but we’d each had to slowly mend it in order to survive. We’d each become hardened in our own way, the boys losing hope quickly, but not me. I’d hardened my heart to the callous disregard for our innocence, but I still held my breath and squeezed my eyes tightly at night in fervent pray for a miracle. I wholeheartedly believed that we were each put on this earth for something, and my thing was my boys. Us. Fighting for our lives and freedom was my sole purpose in life, the thing that drove me, even when reality seemed like a much darker side of Hell than it did a childhood.
So how did I become exempt from the harsh treatment and financial quotas the boys were expected to maintain? I…the innocent young daughter, was the cash cow. Soon after my fifteenth birthday, when my god-given curves and full lips began to develop, I was expected to sell my body to men. At first only kinky pictures, then pre-recorded cam shows, and by my seventeenth birthday I was doing one-on-one Skype appointments to this highest bidder. The only thing that saved my dignity in those moments was that I was clothed. Completely clothed. Fitted tank tops and short shorts, yes, all suggestive to the men that paid top dollar for an hour of my uninterrupted time, but the funny thing was, I didn’t even have to talk to them.
They just watched me. A shiver of vile ran through me at the memory, and while the short dress and high heels made me uncomfortable and used, it also made me feel like a woman. Every cam show and photo session I felt the steel strengthening my backbone, my heart filling with more confidence and hope, I would beat them all at their own game. Just wait and see, I told myself.
To Judy I may still be a pawn to be sold to the highest bidder, but not to me. This was my coming out party, the moment, as finally an almost-eighteen year old, I could do something to help us. We would soon finally be free.
I had three boys to take care of, the price would be high, but inflating myself with the inner strength I’d been saving for this day, I would save us all. Each of our young lives depended on it.
In the eleven years since I’d been with Judy she’d consistently tried to break my spirit, with the cash flowing in and regular appointments at the wax bar to keep me sweet and virginal looking, life was great for everyone in the house, except the four kids that had been forced to survive in that prison of criminal proportions. But without those boys, I doubt I’d be alive to tell the tale.
The four of us split two bedrooms. I came into the house after Grant, Mason, and Julian. Julian had his own room then, but being the gentleman he is, he forfeited his room instantly for me. From that day forward I became their sister, mother, companion for all intents and purposes, while they bunked in one small bedroom, arguing and laughing like boys do. I had special relationships with each of them, we were a crew of kids that relied on each other. Like kids at an orphanage mistreated, we supported, connived, cried, and cheered.
They would do anything for me, and I would for them.
But lately…
Lately I’d been sadder than usual. My impending eighteenth birthday should have been a cause for occasion but instead I was to be sold an exact week before. This did two things…prevented me from finally escaping the terror I’d been fostered into, and turned me into someone’s property. I would be owned by someone. A man. A man I’d never met before, whom I would be at the every whim of. Would he be mean? Abusive? Old? Married? I knew none of those things, but it didn’t matter. This would be temporary, even if I had to slip money out of his wallet a twenty dollar bill at a time, I would save every cent until I could afford a place for all of us to live somewhere far, far away from the gritty underground of Miami.
I could only hope this man would have some small shred of compassion. And if he didn’t I would find the nearest crowbar and batter his skull in with it before running for my life. It wasn’t a good plan, but still a plan. It made me feel better, hoping.
I’ve had over a decade to come to terms with the reality of my life. But I knew I could get us out. I knew more than anything my resistance was strong, whether I was free on the day of my eighteenth birthday, my captor taking sympathy for me and releasing me of my duty, or I would fight for every ounce of my freedom. Either way, I saw it coming.
It had to be coming.
“I wish you could come with me.” I finally composed myself and muttered to Julian, strumming on his guitar across the room. An old beat up instrument that Julian clung to as if it was his last breath. We often did this, conjured together in the room the boys shared. Julian ran a hand through his long threads, some falling into this thick lashes eyes before he glanced up. “I’ll get you out of there, Evie. I promise. If it’s the last thing I do.” His hand clutched the arm of the guitar.
“No, don’t do that.” I dropped to my knees at his feet. My hands gripped the frayed denim at his stonewashed knees when I saw the pain in his eyes.
Julian and I had always been close. He was the oldest, been the first to be placed in this house. I would miss him the most, and I think this would be the hardest on him. He wasn’t ready for this separation anymore than I was ready to be traded and sold like a whore.
“I don’t want you to do anything we’ll regret. I’ll get out. I’ve been waiting years for this moment.” I faked a smile, but the watery eyelids betrayed me.
Julian only shook his head, hair falling in his eyes and shielding his watery gaze from me. I squeezed his knee then stood, a painful ball rolling in my stomach at the thought of what the next twenty-four hours might hold.
“I love you, boys.” I walked around to each of them, placing a kiss on their forehead and giving them one last hug. All the tears had been shed in the days and weeks leading up to this. We were each empty, the pain in our hearts a permanent cross to bear.
I flashed back to the night Judy had told me what she had planned. She’d blurted it out one night when I hadn’t brought enough money home from the high-end gentlemen's club I’d been contracted at. Three nights a week dancing, a thousand dollars each night. That was my expected contribution. The boys had raised a giant fuss on my first night of work, but after Judy took a belt to the side of Julian’s face, the boys had finally given up and took to posting a single brother at the club as my personal bodyguard while I worked my whole shift.
My brothers, my saviors. What I would have done without them in this ugly world I am so thankful I’ll never have to know.
But they couldn’t protect me from the horrors at home. The first night I came back with less than a grand, Judy smacked me across the face and hollered she couldn’t wait ’til I turned legal age so she could dump me on some asshole.
I’d shuddered then. It’d been her simple prophecy.
Think you’re done when you’re eighteen, sweet Eve?
Not likely.
So I hugged my brothers, knowing this wouldn't be the last time I saw them, but unsure of when the next time would be, and I walked out of the doors to my fate. No knowing that the next twenty-four hours would change everything.
To be continued…
Look for
White
to release at the end of May!
You can add it on
GOODREADS
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In Thanks…..
There are so many people I have to thank for making this book happen.
First, the incredible bloggers that supported Black: Rock Stars of Romance, Angie’s Dreamy Reads, The SubClub Books, Schmexy Book Reviews and so many more! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the support you give to the indie community and NEW authors!
Black wouldn’t be the book it is now without the incredible love and dedication of a handful or brilliant beta readers and early reviewers: Carla,
Janice, Chastity, Polly, Karoline, Heather, Kat, Mellony, Sarah, Rachel
, plus the entire supportive crew of authors, bloggers, and readers at Ardent Prose! Without each and every one of you the story of Maxwell and Elle wouldn’t be the sweet, sexy, shamefully smutty story it is! Love you guys, BIG!
I also have to thank my family. Without their undying love and support, the late night pow-wows and all-night editing sessions wouldn’t have been possible!
And finally…my favorite people on earth, book people. Readers. The ladies that love their romance with a side of smutty goodness! THANK YOU so much for taking a chance on me, and spending some time with my broody, irresistible beast, Maxwell. I hope you enjoyed the ride, I hope you’ll consider leaving even a short review, and I hope I get the chance to entertain you with another shamefully sexy and syrupy sweet story soon!
♥
About Aria…
Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.
Aria's new release BLACK is the first in her modern fairy tale series. For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her
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daring book boyfriend she's writing next!