Wreck Me Forever Copyright © 2020 by Lila Rose
Cover Design: Covers by Jaun
Editor: Hot Tree Editing
Interior Design: RMJ Editing and Manuscript Service
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Wreck Me Forever is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found in this book are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons live or dead is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
First Edition
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Releasing in August
Acknowledgments
Also by Lila Rose
Connect with Lila Rose
Chapter One
Lucas
Groaning, I brushed my free hand through my shoulder-length blond curls and then tapped my phone against my forehead. Why did my brother have to have his biker friends over tonight?
Yes, it was his house.
Yes, he could do what he wanted in it.
To some extent.
I could have gone without seeing him drilling one of his flings over the kitchen table. A table where I would always make sure to sit at the opposite end after witnessing that scene.
It was just that I’d had a shit day. One of the worst.
I’d woken late because I’d forgotten to set the alarm. It had rained, which caused me to get drenched, and then I’d slipped as I walked into class, landing on my ass. I was sure it would be bruised by tomorrow. Of course, everyone had a good chuckle over it. Lastly, I nearly got run over on the way home. The stupid dick didn’t want to give way to a pedestrian and decided my life was fair game.
It was lucky I moved out of the way fast enough. Though, as I did, I got a good look at the driver. Mitch dickface Henry. He and I had gone to the same high school, and I’d hoped to be rid of him through college, but I wasn’t. He had it out for me, always had, ever since it was proven that I excelled in class. He wanted to be the best, but there I was tarnishing his perfect grades with my better ones. It wasn’t like I meant it. I just loved learning.
I could still hear his taunting laugh.
When would the dweeb grow up?
With a shake of my head, I finished my walk down the street to my brother’s place. It was two months ago when our parents moved from Nevada to Australia, and sold their place, to see if it suited them in retirement. So, Zion, my brother, offered up his spare room so I could stay and finish the fourth year of my pre-med degree, then med school before I found a placement and started my residency training at a hospital.
I’d been surprised he’d offered it to me. Zion was five years older than me, and we were so different from each other, it was funny. I was the nerd, the quiet guy who was clumsy, spoke before he thought—or stumbled over his words—and was uncomfortable in crowded rooms. Zion was the life of the party. Popular and fun-loving, he didn’t care what anyone thought. Unfortunately, I did, but I was slowly learning not to.
What helped when Zion offered his place was that we both knew we would be busy and hardly be in each other’s space since I liked a place where I could study in peace. Which I did a lot. When I wasn’t in class, I had my head buried in a book. I had a job at the local café, which also contained an electronics store where I helped out with repairs on gaming systems. Zion was busy with the business he’d gone into with some of his friends.
Our parents were proud of him, especially since Polished Pussy was doing so well. Even if it was a brothel, our parents didn’t care as long as Zion was happy in what he was doing. Mom had wanted a tour of the place, but when Zion said it was open day and night and that he wouldn’t feel comfortable taking her through a place where people had sex, she’d glared and asked, “How do you think you and your brother were made?”
I quickly ran from the room before I heard any more, but Mom got her tour and had come home gloating about how she knew it would expand because of how clean it was and how sweet the ladies were. No doubt she would have sat down and found out about the working girls’ lives while sipping tea and probably commenting on their skills.
I shuddered at the thought. However, Mom was right. Zion and his friends were opening another two Polished Pussies in the neighboring cities in the next month.
Heck, I was even proud of my brother. I never thought a brothel with the name Polished Pussy would take off.
I’d been wrong.
When I’d asked him about the name, he’d snorted and said, “We’d been throwing names around all night, but then, after a few joints, someone said they’d like to polish their woman’s pussy with their tongue. We all looked at each other and yelled, ‘Polished Pussy.’ It stuck, and thank fuck it worked.”
I wish I hadn’t asked. I didn’t need to know about his friend wanting to… do that to a woman.
You see, my brother didn’t know I wouldn’t want to talk about women and their body parts. He didn’t know that it didn’t interest me, because he didn’t know I
