FLAME (Spark Series)

  FLAME

  From Bestselling Author

  Brooke Cumberland

  Blurb

  Carissa Wright doesn’t do relationships. Raised with a junkie mother and an alcoholic father, building relationships were far off her list. Rather, one night-stands were her usual.

  Carissa has one constant in her life—her best friend Velaney. Completely opposite of each other, yet they balance each other out.

  Although Carissa admits to only wanting sex and nothing more, will she allow in the one guy who wants to break down her walls or will she run out of fear of finally letting her guard down?

  She is unfamiliar with these feelings and wants nothing more than to walk away without a shattered heart. Will she be able to find the courage in order to turn a flame into a long lasting relationship?

  With walls built up and emotions locked away, can she learn to put her heart on the line?

  Or will each guy just be another flame?

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014 Brooke Cumberland

  FLAME

  The Spark Series

  Cover design by Cover It! Designs

  Literary Editor @ Rogena Mitchell-Jones

  Proofreader @ Tiffany Tillman

  All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to another person except when loaned out per Amazon’s lending program. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then it was pirated illegally. Please purchase a copy of your own and respect the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Brooke Cumberland

  Signing Schedule

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  I was six years old when I had my first taste of alcohol. It wasn’t on purpose really, but after seeing my father drink a twelve pack night after night, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. It was gross. I remember spitting it out immediately and wondering what the hell my father was thinking. How can he drink this shit?

  Not like my father was Dad of the Year or anything, but he was pretty decent when he was sober…which wasn’t very often.

  Sadly, I can’t say much more about my mother. When she wasn’t sticking a needle into her arm, she was stripping to pay for it. Not that my father cared, as long as he got what he wanted—sex and booze—he was happy. But when he wasn’t…I knew to run.

  Swearing was the norm in my household. Get me my fucking coffee or what the hell is wrong with you… It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t good, either. My childhood taught me everything I needed to know—be unemotional, unattached and guarded—the keys to surviving on your own.

  * * *

  1

  -20 years old-

  Three years earlier

  Thump, thump.

  “Yes!”

  “Come for me, baby,” he orders in between thrusts.

  Is this guy for real?

  “Come on, let me hear you,” he growls.

  Does he ever shut up?

  “Look at me. I want to see you when you come,” he purrs against my lips as our bodies smack together. I never look a guy in the eyes as my body’s about to rip in two. That’s way too intimate for me. And I don’t do intimate.

  He continues to breathe heavily over me. It’s so not attractive.

  “Oh, god. I’m so close. Come with me,” he growls again. “C’mon, beautiful.”

  I roll my eyes. Okay, that’s it.

  I slam my hand against his mouth to get him to zip it. It’s bad enough that the squeaking of his bed is distracting, I don’t need his dialogue.

  I palm his mouth harder and clench my thighs around his firmness. “Oh god!” My body arches up as I scream out in ecstasy, releasing two orgasms in a row. It doesn’t take much to get me off, and I’m usually bored by the time the guy rips the condom off.

  I’m not a total slut. I’m picky with my conquests. Plus, guys know from the get go I don’t do relationships. Or spoon. I never spoon. That’s way too intimate. If they can get me into bed on the first night, then that’s enough confirmation for me that they know what they’re signing up for.

  The moment you let yourself slip into a relationship status of any kind, whether it be fuck buddies or casual sex, the feelings begin. The moment feelings become a part of sex is the moment hearts begin breaking. And that is exactly the reason I keep my distance. I get off, I make sure he gets off—sometimes—and I bail. It’s not a secret.

  Most of the guys I hook up with don’t even remember any of it by the next morning because they’re too drunk, which is perfect for me. No cuddling. No awkward silences when grabbing my clothes and getting dressed. No awkward goodbyes. Get in. Get off. Get out. That’s my motto.

  My best friend, Velaney, on the other hand, doesn’t do sex at all—even though she’s frickin’ gorgeous, works at a bar with hot guys hitting on her all night—she doesn’t do hookups. So when guys do the walk of shame in the morning, I can always count on her to shoo them out.

  “Well, look who’s walking in at 8AM in the same clothes?” She scowls, holding two coffee mugs in her hand.

  “Don’t even,” I huff, grabbing one of the mugs from her. I take a sip and inhale the bold scent.

  “So what’s his name?” she asks with amusement. She knows my history, yet she taunts me whenever she can.

  “I don’t know. Aaron, I think? Brad maybe?” I shrug, taking another sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, those names sound nothing alike,” she quips, raising her eyebrows at me.

  “Whatever. He was annoying. Wasn’t worth remembering his name.”

  “How romantic. Remind me to put that on your wedding invitation.” She smirks.

  “I can get his number for you if you want. He was pretty cute,” I say, placing my mug in the sink.

  “Oh would you? I’m just dying for sloppy seconds!” she gushes, batting her eyes.

  “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” I fire back, pointing a finger at her.

  “I’m not begging, thank you very much,” she retorts in a distasteful tone.

  I’ve known Velaney—I call her Laney—since we were babies. Our mothers gave birth in the same hospital only two days apart. We’ve practically been inseparable since. We both grew up in shitty homes, so as soon as we turned eighteen, we left and haven’t been home since.<
br />
  That was two years ago.

  And we have no plans of ever going back.

  I’m sure there’s some psychology crap about why I sleep around and don’t get close to the guys I sleep with. Hell, I know I’m messed up, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying it. If guys can sleep around and get high-fived for it, why can’t girls?

  Well, I suppose there are boundaries, which I’ve been known to cross a few times, but I never give the impression that I want anything more than just sex. And nine times out of ten, the guy doesn’t mind.

  “Well, I’m heading to school,” Laney announces. “See you tonight?”

  “Yup. I’ll be there.” I smile back. Laney and I work at the bar together, which I love. Even though our personalities totally clash, we seem to balance each other out. Just before she leaves, I remember the guy’s name. “Anthony! His name is Anthony!” I smile as I watch her roll her eyes.

  I take a shower and get the smell of drunken sex off me. Anthony wasn’t half bad, actually. Too bad he was a talker. Total lady-boner killer.

  Well, whatever. It’s not like he was the first…or last for that matter. I won’t even go into numbers right now. Mainly because I have no idea. But it’s not important.

  I slip into bed for a quick nap before my bar shift at four. Moving out of my parents’ house right after high school graduation meant I had to bust my ass to make money.

  Velaney has a college scholarship to help with some expenses, but she works at the bar with me at night for extra cash. It’s fun to work with her and watch her blush as she gets nervous. Guys—usually drunk guys—are relentless when it comes to hitting on the bartenders. Laney and I work with two other girls, Julia and Kenna, who also enjoy watching her squirm.

  I search through my closet for a low-cut shirt and a tight skirt. Add in some high heels and I’m all set to go. I brush my long dark hair and spray some gel into it, giving it a wavy look. I put my make-up on and once I’m done, check out the finished product.

  Yup…this will do.

  Yes, I use my body and looks to get what I want. I get extra tips by making sure my boobs look big and perky and showing as much cleavage as I can to turn on drunk guys. Hell, even the sober ones drool over them. Whatever works. I do what I have to do—survival tip #1.

  I walk in for my shift and immediately get behind the bar. The crowd is already forming, early for a Thursday night, but I’m not complaining. I’m sure some game is on tonight or something, drawing in a bunch of college guys.

  “What’s your poison?” I ask the first guy who approaches the bar.

  He licks his lips, and I watch as his eyes graze over my body before meeting my eyes. “Are you an option, sweetheart?”

  “You couldn’t afford me, sweetie.”

  “A few shots of tequila and you’ll be the one begging for it.” He grins. Poor sucker. He has no idea what’s coming his way.

  I lean on the bar, crossing my arms so my boobs hike up even higher. “A few shots of tequila and you’ll be tied to my bedpost.”

  “Oh, kinky.” He smirks.

  “Keep dreaming.” I roll my eyes. He isn’t bad looking, but man do I hate cocky sons-of-bitches.

  “Trust me, I am.”

  Alright, fine. Let’s play this game.

  “Come with me,” I order. “Now.” I walk backward and motion for him to follow me with my finger.

  I leave Kenna and Julia to tend the bar. I’ll be gone ten minutes tops, they can handle it for now.

  He immediately gets up from the barstool and follows me into the backroom.

  “Strip,” I demand. He complies, unbuttoning his jeans and ripping his shirt off over his head. I turn my head and admire his body for a second. Not half bad. “I hope you have a condom.”

  He nods, grabbing for his wallet in his back pocket. I hold my hand out, making sure he knows who’s in control here.

  I hike my skirt up and jump on top of an old desk. I slide my panties down and let them fall off my ankles. He stands in between my legs, and I can see he’s ready—very ready.

  He leans in to kiss me, grasping my hips as he inches closer. I let him massage his tongue with mine, feeling his throbbing cock against my torso.

  “You taste fucking incredible,” he moans into my mouth.

  I don’t have time for sweet talk, so I let my fingers roam inside his jeans and pull him out, showing him exactly what I want.

  “Fuck me. Hard and fast,” I demand.

  He cock grows even harder in my hands as I roll the condom on. I lean back on my hands and arch my back as he lines us up—matching us perfectly together.

  “Fuck! So fuckin’ tight,” he growls against my ear. That’s right. This girl does her kegel exercises.

  I push harder against him, making every solid motion ripple through my body. I close my eyes as I enjoy the pressure of him pressing hard against me. He grips my hips as he thrusts harder and faster per my request.

  “Good god,” he moans as he pumps harder into me. I clench my thighs as I scream out in ecstasy, not even caring if he’s getting off or not.

  “Holy shit,” I growl out as I come down from my orgasm.

  “Wait…just one…second…” he mumbles.

  I don’t have time for this.

  I push him back and hop off the desk. I adjust my skirt, grab my panties off the floor, and smack his ass without even looking at him.

  “Hey, what the—”

  “Points for effort, big guy.” I grin as I walk away and walk back to the bar as if nothing ever happened.

  * * *

  “There you are.” Velaney raises an eyebrow at me, knowing damn well where I’ve been.

  “Here I am.” I smirk. I grab a clean apron and wrap it around my waist.

  Her head turns as she watches—oh shit, what is his name—I’ll call him “fucked me on the desk in the back room” guy—walk out looking pissed.

  “What did you do to that guy?” she asks, eyeing me curiously.

  “Let’s just say I left very satisfied.” I wink at her.

  She laughs, knowing my mantra all too well. We work the rest of the night side by side, serving drunks and having a good time.

  “So, baby girl, what’s your story?” A middle-aged man on the other side of the bar asks me.

  “My story, huh? How much time you have?”

  “Well, what time you close?”

  “In an hour,” I reply blankly. It isn’t unusual for older men to hit on me. And I don’t mind telling them my story, either. I figure, hell, they pretend enough to care, I’ll pretend enough to spill.

  “Well, give me your best.” He grins. I watch as he brings the neck of his beer bottle to his lips.

  “Oh, I don’t know if you could handle my best.”

  “I’m willing to test that theory.” He cocks his head to the side as his eyes roam over my body.

  “Alright, well let’s see how much you can handle before I scare you right out of here.” I continue loading glasses in the dishwasher as I speak. “I don’t do relationships. I don’t do boyfriends. Hell, I hardly do acquaintances. Some say it’s because my father was an alcoholic or that it’s because my mother was a junkie, but either way, every shrink I’ve been to wants to point it back to that. I, on the other hand, just like to fuck.”

  He chokes on his beer that he was just about to drink.

  “I knew you couldn’t handle it.” I laugh.

  “I didn’t know you were so deep.” He smirks, wiping the beer off his chin.

  “Don’t even get me started on how deep I can truly get,” I tease.

  “You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

  “There’s only one way for you to find that out.”

  “What’s it gonna cost?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m not a hooker, but you’ll definitely be working for it.” And by that, I mean, he’ll be doing every single thing I tell him to.

  “Where do I sign up?”

  “Please tell m
e you’re talking about a volunteer program,” Velaney interrupts. She has a look of disgust on her face. I can’t help but laugh at her heated cheeks.

  “It’s kind of like a volunteer program, just minus the credit for the hours you put into it.” I smile. “But everyone leaves happy and satisfied.”

  “I bet,” she grumbles. I watch as she rolls her eyes and punches out. “Well, I’m leaving for the night. I suspect I won’t be seeing you ‘til morning.”

  “I can guarantee you won’t see me. But I can’t guarantee you won’t hear me.” I smile and wink at her.

  “Oh god, please no,” she groans.

  I lean up against the bar, facing away from the middle-aged hottie. “Fine, I’ll go to his place. Just make sure my coffee’s ready by the time I get home.”

  “If I swore, I’d be swearing all kinds of words at you right about now,” she threatens. She’s so damn funny when she’s trying to be pissed. Oh yeah, Velaney and I are complete opposites if you haven’t noticed. She won’t swear—except maybe hell or damn—but all the other words are off limits. I would give her shit for it, but knowing how fucked up her childhood was, I don’t.

  “Well, I’m sure I’ll be screaming them all night for you anyway.”

  “You girls know I’m right here, don’t you?” middle-aged hottie asks, interrupting as if he’s offended.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get to you,” I snap. I turn around and lean down on the bar so his eyes are staring directly at my chest. “Now, where were we?”

  He takes me back to his place, which isn’t half bad considering I pictured him in something like a one-bedroom studio with patio furniture. I don’t waste any time getting to know him or asking where the bedroom is. The moment we walk in, I slam my body into his and push his lips against mine.

  He doesn’t stop me, so I continue by pulling his shirt over his head. I let him rip mine off as well and unclasp my bra.

  His mouth immediately moves down my neck. He shoves a nipple in between his teeth, shooting a shiver down my spine.

  I don’t let him take control for too long and bring my hands to his zipper, releasing him from his briefs and gripping him hard with my fingers.