Chance Encounters: The Collection
by Hedonist Six
Chance Encounters #1-3
Publication Date: January 7, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Realistic, #boxedset
Chance Encounters #1-3
Publication Date: January 7, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Realistic, #boxedset
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Chance Encounters is a series of stand-alone novellas set in jolly old England, following a set of loosely connected people as they find love in unexpected places. Can love conquer all, from class differences to age gaps? Read on and find out.
Book 1 – One Night Stand
He takes a big last sip from his glass and I panic. What if he's going to call it a night? If he leaves now I'll forever wonder what could've been!
Before I know it my feet carry me towards the bar, while I half-mindedly smooth down my businesslike grey skirt and vest combo. Despite the buzz of the drunken conversations that fills the space, the clicking of my heels on the wooden floorboards is almost as deafening as my heart pounding in my chest.
He turns towards me as soon as I reach and I'm frozen in place. Concentrating on continuing to breathe, I tuck my black wavy hair behind my ear and glance in his direction.
I take in his strong Nordic features, his full lips and steely blue eyes that stand in stark contrast against the dark brown of his hair and short beard. All I can manage is a shy smile before hurriedly looking away.
My instincts served me well, if I had stayed in my seat, I would've regretted it. I feel tiny standing next to him, which causes me to feel an even stronger attraction. And his eyes on me, I can almost feel them stabbing and probing.
His hands are huge as well, manly. I wonder how he'd touch me, if those hands could be gentle or if they only know how to be rough. There's no sign of a wedding ring: what a relief.
It has been decided, I want him at any cost.
"What can I get you, darling?" The bartender interrupts my thoughts.
"Oh I'll have a Bailey's, thanks." Taking a deep breath I turn towards my mark. "Would you like anything, while I'm buying already?"
Surprised, it takes him a few seconds to respond. Or perhaps he's as distracted by our eye contact as I am.
Book 2 – Beautiful Stranger
“Well then, let’s see where this goes…” I lean in and brush my lips past his, teasing him with a soft near-kiss. His reaction is instant.
He grabs hold of my sides, just below my underarms and raises me off him. Within the blink of an eye, I’m on my back on the sofa and he’s hovering above me, leaning on his hands placed either side of my head. After a moment spent just looking at me, he gets down on his elbows with his face only inches off my chest.
“You're special, Claudia. Let me show you how special...” He peels my top off slowly, kissing any skin as soon as it’s exposed.
I smile at him, a little more reassured about our situation than before and completely ready for a good, hard reconciliation. When he makes me feel the way I do right now, how can I worry about what may or may not happen in future? Here and now, everything feels right.
With one hand in his hair, I try to guide him towards my nipple which so far he is carefully avoiding; kissing and teasing only the surrounding skin. I impatiently start unbuttoning his shirt before lifting myself and quickly taking my own top off completely.
“In a hurry?” He grins, I just give him a look that says it all.
He leans on one arm and takes my wrist with his other hand. Before I know it, he pins first one arm back against the armrest of the sofa, and then the other. I’m helplessly spread and his appreciative gaze tells me he likes it this way.
“I want to touch you...” I beg.
He shakes his head and kisses me firmly, gathering both my hands together before I have the chance to regain my composure. His lips make me weak. I can’t take my eyes off his face but quickly get distracted when his free hand finds its way down between us, massaging my thighs from the outside in. Getting ever closer to where I really want to be touched.
I let out a moan and he leans in for a further taste. His tongue slips into my mouth the very moment his hand moves past the waistband of my pants.
“How wet you are,” he groans against my lips.
Bucking my hips upwards, I feel a rush of pleasure come over me as his finger enters me. He’s good, gentle yet firm. He’s also rock solid and straining against my thigh. I try to move around, rubbing my leg against his erection in an attempt to break down his control. It’s working because he pauses mid-kiss and his eyes close.
“I want you,” I whisper.
He presses his cock against me hard but then retreats. My hands are free again when he leans back and sits on his knees between my legs, opening his belt and fly. I quickly rid myself of any remaining clothes and watch him do the same. We’re both naked, except for his red tie. He stares at me, eyes dark and unfocused as he grips his length and strokes himself a few times.
My own hand has travelled down as well, circling my clit and coating it in my own juices. This image appears too much for him and he is on me again, biting and sucking on the soft skin of my neck and guiding his cock inside.
I let out a sharp cry once he’s in. He fills me completely and utterly and I think I’m sold on the idea of us. I want to tell him but can’t speak through the deep, rhythmic strokes. He is focused on me, like a predator on his prey, or perhaps in this case we're both predators in competition with each other, taking turns to please.
My stomach feels taut on the inside, so much tension, anger transformed into passion. I could cry and laugh at the same time, but most of all I just want to keep moving. I run my fingers down his back and he responds by speeding up.
Once again he takes my wrists and holds them firmly above my head. His movements are determined and mostly regular, except the odd twitch and microscopic pause. He wants to be in control but he's failing. I feel pressure building inside me; waves of pleasure increasing in intensity until I’m ready to be ripped open. Moans and gasps fill the room, which I know are mostly mine.
He continues to fuck me faster, harder. The sofa shudders back and forth and I’m done for. My whole body tenses, and I cry—no, I scream.
“Come with me, I need you!” My fingers cringe but have nothing to hold on to. His hands grip me tighter, not letting me move my arms even a little. I look down and see his beautiful body, muscles contracting and relaxing in quick succession; it’s hypnotic and altogether too much. How did I get to be with this man? How come he seems to want plain old me and not someone equally perfect?
Book 3 – Only a Taste
"Mr. Byrne, I can assure you that you won't find a better location for your new restaurant in all of Brighton." The estate agent flashes his extra-white teeth. He looks almost like a shark, readying himself to shred his prey to pieces - me in this case.
"The rent is too high, it won't be viable," I argue, while looking around the empty establishment again. A lot of decorating would be needed as well. It's too much.
"Think of the footfall!" He points out the window which is currently partially obscured by white paint. Still, masses of day-trippers can be seen from where we stand.
"How about you speak to the owners again and let me know if the lease is negotiable? It will take a lot of investment to bring this property up to scratch." I offer him my hand, signalling the end of the viewing, as well as the discussion. If he comes down enough, I may consider this property, otherwise, it's back to the drawing board.
"Very well. Thank you very much for your time." The estate agent shakes my hand slightly less enthusiastically than at the beginning of the meeting.
After leaving the empty shop, we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.
It's a beautiful day, deep blue skies with not a cloud in sight. Warm too, the surging temperatures of our current summer heatwave evident in the amount of exposed skin outside. Apparently I'm overdressed. Swimming trunks and bikinis, that's Brighton's dress code in the summer. I stand out like a sore thumb in my jeans and button-up shirt.
The footfall would be good here, though I'd expect my new restaurant to quickly become bookings-only once the new show airs. Perhaps I should consider a location that's a little further away from the madding crowds, and hopefully more affordable. I don't want to have to shutter up the place as soon as I'm no longer on TV.
Enough work for one day though. Today is too lovely to waste.
The beach is crowded, so much so I'm not at all tempted to go near it. Perhaps if I walk further out towards the western side of town I'll find some peace and quiet. But not without sampling some of the local refreshments. The only establishment not selling fish and chips around here seems to be the ice cream truck parked up on the pavement. There's a queue of people already waiting, but I can't help myself. Gelato will do that to a person.
I join one of the two queues and wait my turn. It takes a while, but it'll be worth it.
"One scoop of rum and raisin, please," I say, shocked to find that the girl to my left has word-for-word ordered the exact same thing. The two guys behind the counter look at each other and pause.
"OK, you're going to have to sort this out between yourselves," my guy says. He seems to be in charge of the truck. "We've got one scoop left."
Looking over at the girl I'm competing with, I'm struck by her exotic beauty. Big brown eyes gaze up at me, a mixture of disappointment and hope. Her full lips half-parted as if she's about to say something, but something interrupted her. I find myself uncharacteristically reluctant to speak up first, but it looks like I have no choice.
"Let's flip a coin for it," I attempt a joke.
Her stare tells me I failed. My eyes are quickly drawn to her hand, clutching a purple leather wallet. No ring, no tan line where one might have been. She looks young, but not inappropriately so.
"I can just get something else," she whispers at last. Her eyes are still glued to me. Did she recognise me and that's why she's staring? Or is it something else? Have I got something stuck in my teeth?
"I hope you won't take this the wrong way." I pause, while she raises an eyebrow. My guy, who decided to serve the customer behind me instead of waiting for us to resolve our gelato stand-off, pauses a bit too long, clearly listening in to our conversation.
The black-haired girl patiently waits for me to finish, but something in her body language has changed. I'm sure she gets this all the time. Fuck it, I feel like a sleaze for even trying.
"You have it." I turn to face the chalkboard again, ready to pick another flavour. "I'll have tiramisu," I tell the guy behind the counter, who just shrugs. I guess he was looking forward to watching me get shot down by this girl, had I actually made a move.
Meanwhile, the younger guy hands the girl her scoop of rum and raisin in a cone, which she accepts with a smile. God, what a radiant smile. She takes her change and turns, walking off towards the beach. I quickly take my cup and impossibly tiny spoon and rush after her.
"Excuse me, miss," I say, when I catch up with her a few steps ahead.
She turns and stares at me again. How the hell do I do this without coming across like a total douche bag? Funnily enough, coming across like a douche has never been much of a concern. You win some you lose some, and ever since the first season of my show aired, I haven't really had to work hard to get female attention. But there's something different about this one. I wonder if much of my interest in her is caused by how hard she's making things?
"Yes?" she asks, sounding stand-offish. Her rich amber-coloured eyes are too distracting, I almost forget what I was about to say.
"I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner?" I ask at last.
She scrutinises me from head to toe, as she considers the question. Perhaps she's wondering if it's worth the sacrifice to stick the ice cream in my face.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" she says finally.
Normally, I may have been more than happy to explain, but not this time. Oh yeah, I'm on TV, seems way too tacky. So I shrug. "Maybe I just have one of those faces?"
My answer makes her pause as she cocks her head and looks me right in the eye. Shit, she can tell I'm bullshitting her.
"Where would we go?" She has a lick of ice cream, rescuing some droplets that were about to dribble off the side of the cone.
I hadn't thought ahead so far. What is it about this girl that she throws me off so much?
"That entirely depends on what type of food you like."
A hint of a smile plays on her lips.
"I'm here with a friend, is she invited too?"
Finally a full grin does appear on her face. "No need to look so shocked, I'm only joking."
I smile back at her, relieved to have not made a complete arse of myself. Yet.
"But I'd better let her know anyway." The girl turns to scan the beach stretching out ahead of us, before facing me again. "So. What time and where?"
"Nine? Here? Unless you have a better idea."
"Bear in mind I'm only here for the day, so I don't have a change of clothes with me. What you see is what you get, I'm afraid." She glances down at herself, smoothing down the multi-coloured cotton summer dress that covers what appears to be a bikini.
"No matter, same here." I suddenly realise I don't even know her name. "I'm Callum, by the way." In the absence of a better idea of what to do, I stretch out my hand towards her.
She accepts the handshake, though the slight curl of the corners of her mouth suggests I did indeed just make an arse of myself at last. "Mandi. Lovely to meet you." Yep, her tone confirms it. Ouch.
I try to think of something else to say to break the tension, or at least to distract me from the instant reaction I feel upon touching her hand. What is it about her? You'd think I'd never interacted with a beautiful girl before. Why does she make me feel more like an awkward teenager than a successful and established thirty-year-old man?
"Perhaps we should exchange phone numbers, so we don't miss each other in the crowds here," I mumble, while quickly pulling my hand back and fishing my mobile out of my pocket.
"Sure," she says, before giving me her number. When we say our goodbyes immediately after, I can't help wondering if I'll ever see her again, or she'll decide she'd much rather vanish with her supposed friend. Only time will tell.
ABOUT HEDONIST SIX:Call me “H.” or Hedonist if you prefer. I’m a Romance writer based in London and I’ve always been a dreamer, though it didn’t occur to me to write down the stories I kept dreaming up until 2012. You’ll not find flowery language and poetry in my work. What you will find though is believable characters, none of whom perfect, going through life and trying to find happiness. Just like the rest of us.
I first started writing because I craved to see more of “my kind of books” on the shelves. In any scenario, you’ll find me rooting for the underdog. The (emotionally) scarred hero who hasn’t really had much (or any) luck in love. The shy office worker who wants to pursue the man of her dreams, but hasn’t quite mustered the courage yet. All my characters are beautifully flawed and messed up, in a way that makes them perfect for one another.
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