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Screwed (Screwed #1)
Author: Kendall Ryan

Chapter One

Hayden

Goddamn. This is going to be harder than I thought.

My eyes swing over to admire the most perfect pear-shaped ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on while my business partner, Hudson, continues lecturing me. I think it’s about something important, but there’s nothing more urgent than my body’s reaction to this shapely brunette. Jesus . Those tits are definitely real.

“I mean it. Your cock is cut off this time,” Hudson says, his tone biting.

Tearing my gaze away from the succulent new brunette moving into unit 4B, I face him. “Not literally cut off. I’m sort of attached to him. You realize that, right?”

“Well, it’s on lockdown then. No more of this bullshit. I had three calls this week alone from hysterical women—our tenants who you, how do I put this delicately? You fucked and then left before their pussies were even dry.”

I smirk at him, but I can’t deny the accusation. The condo building that Hudson and I own—and I live in—is like a real-life Melrose Place. With sexy young twenty-somethings all living in close proximity, there’s bound to be a little drama now and again. Together, Hudson and I own thirty buildings in the greater Los Angeles area. And some of our buildings have very fuckable tenants. Up until this point, I’ve considered that a nice bonus, a bonus that I accepted numerous times; it was certainly the best perk of the job. Hudson has apparently viewed it differently.

“Who’s that?” I ask, tipping my head toward the bombshell who’s responsible for all the blood rushing to my groin. Fuck . I should have a word with her about that; that’s not cool. But the thought of going up to her and having a word about my current predicament and seeing her blush causes my groin to ache even harder. Fuck .

Hudson’s eyes swing to the left to see what, or rather, who has captured my attention. And who’s given me this semi-chub, which I hope he hasn’t noticed. We’re close, but we’re not that close.

“Get control of your cock,” Hudson says, narrowing his eyes at me.

Damn it. He noticed.

“The only one I want in control of my cock is that beautiful creature right there.” I’m blatantly staring at her, and I don’t even care.

“No, no, no. Don’t get any ideas. You’re not tagging that.”

She’s not close enough to overhear us, but I shoot him a scowl anyway. “Show some class, man. Tagging is such a juvenile word. I’d take my time, get her hot and ready first, until she was begging for me to fill her tight little cunt.”

“I’m fucking serious. You’re not to even think about her tight cunt.” He puffs his chest out, clearly ready for battle.

“So you acknowledge she’s got a tight cunt?” I smile, proud of myself.

He wipes sweat from his brow, looking worried. “Hayden, I’m serious this time.” His voice has taken on a somber tone, and for once, I try to be serious and focus.

When I see the way the vein throbs in his neck, my smile fades. We’re standing outside one of our nicest buildings just outside of downtown, and the mid-afternoon sun is beating down on us. Suddenly I want to get away from him, away from this entire conversation and into the cool air-conditioning inside. Shit has gotten a little too real for me.

“You know me.” I grin at him, trying to lighten the mood. “I just wanted to have some casual fun.” And if that means sleeping my way through the LA singles scene, so be it.

I’m not looking for something deeper. I have a luxury condo in the heart of the Hollywood Hills, drive a new BMW, and possess a nine-inch cock. Translation: Life is good. Or it was, until Hudson decided to get a bug up his ass and lay down the law today.

“Did you hear a word I just said? One of your latest conquests threatened to report our company to the Better Business Bureau for unethical business practices. This isn’t just about you. This affects me too. And I’ll be damned if I watch everything we’ve built go down in flames because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

“Point taken.”

Hudson is pretty much the best friend and best business partner you could ask for. He’s smart as hell and dedicated, works like a dog day and night. And not to mention when we began our real-estate investment company five years ago, he singlehandedly fronted all the startup capital from his own savings and trust fund. It took me years to pay him back as the profits rolled in, and he never once made me feel lesser, or like I was in debt to him. Not to mention, he’s funny, well-off, and good-looking. He’s an excellent wingman. Plus he knows how to find the best tacos. And I’m not talking about the kind served with salsa. The dude is a magnet for pussy.

Unable to help myself, I allow my eyes to drift over to her again. The woman moving into 4B fills out a pair of yoga pants in ways that I doubt are even legal in some countries. I need to know what’s underneath those curve-hugging black athletic pants. Simple cotton panties, or a naughty G-string? Either way, I want to bury my fingers inside the waistband of those pants, peel them down her hips, and find out. Perhaps it’s because Hudson just made her forbidden fruit, but I want a taste. My damn mouth is practically watering.

She looks smart and put together, despite her casual attire that includes a tank top and tennis shoes. With a clipboard in one hand and her trusty number-two pencil in the other, she ticks items off her list, and instructs the movers who are unloading and carrying boxes up to her new place—which just so happens to be directly underneath mine.

   
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