Beg Me (Power Play Series)

BEG ME

Book One in the Powerplay Series

By

Misha Elliott

Beg Me

Book One in the Powerplay Series.

Copyright © 2013 by Misha Elliott

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. 

Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.  

The following story contains mature themes, profanity, and explicit sexual situations.  It is intended for adult readers.

Cover Design ©Melissa Alvarez at BookCovers.Us/BookCoversGalore.com

Cover Art: Depositphotos ©Yuri Arcurs, ©Konrad Bąk

Dedication

First and foremost I want to thank my soul mate, best friend and husband for
his continued support in and belief in my dreams.  Thank you to my “amazing friends” who indulge my crazy. SC,KB,CB,TB,SM,ND,KR I love you guys.

I also wanted to thank my group of Authors who have written the books that inspire me.
To an amazing friend, cheerleader, and blogger. “Hail to the P!”

Foreword

“I don’t regret the things I’ve done; I regret the things I didn’t do when I had the chance.” –
Unknown

Chapter One

I look at my watch impatiently, it seems like I have been here forever waiting for my connecting flight.  I get up from my seat to go check the board.  I look for my flight number to Philadelphia and in the space where it should say the time it says DELAYED. 

I have no desire to spend another night away from home.  I have been living out of my suitcase for the past week securing new customers for my IT business.   I get up to stretch my legs and my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten lunch yet.  “Excuse me, can you tell me where I could get something to eat?”  The attendant looks frazzled, “Go out until you find Gate B that’s where the food court is located.” Her snippy tone tells me she has had her fill of disgruntled customers. “Thank you, and have a nice day.” I give her a huge fake smile as I turn on my heel wheeling my green bag beside me. Speed walking out the gate I look at the sea of blue signs everywhere so I can get my bearings. I follow the arrows that lead to the rotunda. As I walk, I notice several pictures of for a new vendor named Zorbas.  My mouth immediately waters as imagine my favorite Greek dishes. 

When I stand and look at the photos
and read the descriptions, my mouth waters when I see cheese and spinach.  I order three pieces of Spanakopita, deciding to eat one now and save two for later.  I also order a black tea with lemon to go I place the bag with the other two pieces of pastry in my purse that is crossed over my body.  Despite the heat, I put the triangular pastry up to my mouth and take the first bite.  “Hmm” I moan as the flavors of the light dough, mixed with spinach and feta cheese hit my taste buds. I take a sip of the tea, and feel the comfort of a warm blanket flush over me as I am in the utter delight of food.  I finish the pastry quickly and soon regret taking these items to go as I decide I want another.  I stop right there in the middle of the walkway paying no attention as I fiddle in my purse to pull a second one out of the bag.  I feel victorious as I reach it, and immediately pop it into my mouth.  I maneuver to grab my wheeled bag and bump into something solid stopping my movement.  I look up and see I have spilled my tea all over the suit of the man in front of me and dropped the cup with the remaining contents to the floor.  He says something to me in a language I don’t understand. “I’m sorry, here let me get that.” I gesture for him to wait and I dig napkins out of my bag and start dabbing all over his suit.   I crazily wipe everywhere that seems damp from my tea; before I realize exactly what part of him I have been patting dry he grabs my wrists.  “Its fine, you may stop” My stare goes from his lips to his beautiful grey eyes. He lets go of my wrists and says something else to me in that amazing accent and walks away.   I attempt to reclaim what little dignity I have left and head back. 

I get back to Gate E and wait for updates about my flight.  As I sit there I can’t help but look for him.
Just then my cell rings. “Hey Cheri” I love that she called to check on me.

“Hey Viv what time do I need to pick you up?”  I can tell she must have missed me while I was gone.

“Unsure, my connecting flight is delayed.” I am just ready to get back home.  “That sucks” Cheri shares my hatred for flight delays and hospital food.  I proceed to tell her about my accident with handsome stranger.  “Was he a DF?” Her use of terms perplexes me.  “And what is a DF?” I’m afraid to ask.  “You know Definitely Fuckable.”  I feel myself getting wet as I think about him. “He was a beautiful man; he looked like he stepped out of movie.”  Just the memory of him gives me goose bumps. 

“Maybe you will run into him again before you leave.” She chuckles at her play on words. “Ha Ha very funny.” I tell her and I barely hear an announcement regarding my flight. “Hey they have an announcement I missed.  Don’t worry about meeting me.  I’ll hail a taxi when I get back.” 
I say and make my way to the line in front of Miss Friendly attendant.  I shut the phone off sliding into my pocket.  I take another glance around secretly wishing I could see him one more time.

I’m so not ready to get out of bed this morning, as I didn’t get into it until 2 AM.   The voicemail from the moving company is my reason for my early departure from bed.  I have just enough time to get dressed and straighten up before they arrive with my things.   I get up to make the bed and decide to do a little writing. 

Journal Entry 5/02/2012

             
Thank God it is Friday!  That means two things:

1.  Friday night party at club Xcape. 

2. The movers will be here with the rest of my belongings.   It’s so good to be back home in familiar territory.  In the interim of selling my condo in Maryland I have moved in with my best friends since childhood Lauren and Cheri.  We’ve been through so much together...

Part of me knows that I should finish my journal entry for today, but I’m not ready to put all of my feelings down on paper.   I put the cap back on my pen and put the journal on the top of my headboard.  I grab the framed photo of the three of us and smile.  We’re all standing under the big willow tree at the playground. I lie back down on the bed and hold the picture close to my heart.  My mind drifts back to the memory of our first meeting.   

“Here
, over here, throw it to me” were the first words Cheri spoke to me; we were on the playground playing dodge ball.   I remember that Lauren was a very odd girl; she was very shy and didn’t talk much. She spent every recess sitting under the willow tree.   She sure did start talking a lot that day.  I threw the ball as hard as I could and as Cheri reached for it and missed, it hit Lauren in the head and she went down, crying.  We scrambled over to her, worried that we were going to get in trouble if she was hurt.

“Are you okay?
”  Cheri asked. “We didn’t try to hit you on purpose, butterfingers missed the ball” I said and glared at Cheri.

“It’s alright, it just stings a little”   Lauren
replied meekly.  Cheri and I each grabbed an arm and pulled her up.   The bell rang to let us know recess was over and the three of us walked back into the classroom arm in arm.   After that we spent every recess under the big willow tree by the edge of the fence laughing and talking.  It was under that tree that we planned our first birthday sleepover party. 

Cheri was turning 8, and her mom told her she could have two friends spend the night after school.  It was
the first time I was ever invited over anywhere and Lauren, aka Mouse, didn’t get invited to other people’s houses either.   We had pizza, popcorn, soda, and VCR movies to watch.   Cheri’s mom and dad stopped in to say goodnight and to see if we needed anything and they both hugged and kissed Cheri good night.  When it was time for bed we were still giggling and being silly.  I guess we were pretty loud because Cheri’s mom came to the door.  She said, “You girls settle down, or I’m going to send your dad in here.”  

“I don’t want your dad to come in here.” Mouse
whispered quietly and laid her head back down on the pillows.  

“
Wow, you are lucky Cheri. You have a house and your own room” I said to her.

“You don’t have your own room?
” Cheri asked, raising her brow.

“No
, we live in an apartment and I have to share a room with Judy.”

“Where are your mom and dad?”
Cheri popped another piece of popcorn in her mouth looking at me expectantly.

  I shrug my shoulders
in reply.

“I don’t have any”
I’m suddenly embarrassed by that truth.

“You have to have a mom and dad or you can’t be born silly”
Lauren adds.

“W
ell, I don’t have any, I just have a Judy” I tell them.    “How about you Mouse?” I ask hoping to move the attention to her. 

“My daddy died last year
, it’s just me and my mom.” She said.  

“
If your dad died who is that man that picks you up from school sometimes?” Cheri asked curiously.

“That’s my uncle Robert, he’s not a nice man I don’t like him.”
Lauren said.

That was the day that Mouse told us her secret. 

We promised that day that we would always be there for each other and be best friends.  I’m happy to say that is still the case.    I roll to my side, get out of the bed.  I put the picture back on the headboard.  I hear the sound of a truck pulling up and I run downstairs to let the movers in, but am surprised when I see just one mover. 

“Can you believe this s
hit?  Two weeks later, the rest of my stuff finally arrives, and they can only spare one mover?” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.

I watch out the door as the mover takes boxes from the truck and stacks them on the front porch. 
“We’re going to be stuck moving the majority of these boxes ourselves.” I complain to Cheri.

“What am I even paying for?”  I turn back to look at Cheri, because she isn’t answering me. 

“Hello? Earth to Cheri.”  I stand in front of her to block her view, but she just looks past me.

“That
is one hot moving guy Viv! I may make that the new background on my phone.”  She says pointing down to the picture of the mover on her phone.  It’s a very clear picture of him carrying a box up on his shoulder.  The hem of his tight uniform shirt has risen up and his pants are sliding down ever so slightly revealing his V. 

“How the hell did you get a pic that good without him noticing?”  
I bite my lip as Cheri enlarges the picture on her screen. 

“I’m just as surprised a
s you that I got away with it” she says with a mischievous grin “and let me say that picture cannot do his body justice.” 

We continue to stare as the mover comes in and out of the house unloading boxes from the truck.  Next box to come into the house is marked books. 

“You must be one of those smart girls that always have their nose in a book, this box is heavy” he mentions walking in with the large box and setting it down.  The box does have a few books in it, I went through a period of subscribing to blogs, magazines and self help apps.  Titles such as “Make Him Earn It, Don’t Just Give Your Vagina Away.” or “How to Make Your Boyfriend Beg for more” and “It’s Not You, it’s Him.” Nothing I read seemed to help me with my problem.  The rest of the box is my collection of toys.  The stock pile of toys range from plain and simple dildos to the battery operated multi-taker. They provide a means to an end, and also allow me freedom from intimacy. 

Sex was no longer about love -– it had metamorphosed into a power struggle that I was intent upon winning. Sex filled all the emptiness I had left inside me, and I loved it.

“Hey. Where should I put this box?” the mover asked, pilling me from my thoughts. 

As I turn my body in his direction my eyes take a slow survey of his body.  I’m entranced by the way his biceps flex and move beneath his
fitted shirt.  I see the formation of his beautiful V peeking out under his shirt.  It makes me want to drop to my knees and rip his button fly jeans open with my teeth.

“I know where I’d like you to put something else.” I say under my breath.

“Upstairs down the hall, last door on the right” I point in the direction I want him to head.   He pivots to head down the hallway; the movement of his firm ass in those jeans invites me to follow him.  Part of me knows I should leave this young man alone, but it’s too late.  I’ve begun to have that itch, and I need to scratch it.

I walk in the room
and lean on the door jam.  “So, you probably go through this a lot at home, your wife asking you to move things from one room to the next?”  I wait patiently for his response, hoping that the fact that I didn’t see a ring on his finger meant that he was available. 

“Yeah
, I’m used to it.  Women can’t seem to make up their minds where they want things go in a move.  I don’t have that problem at home though, I live alone.”

“Well then” I say with
a cheeky grin, “In that case, would you mind staying to help me unpack a few things?”

“Not at all”
he says with a smile.

“Good”, I smile back at him.  “Uh, Hey, I’m going to grab a beer, you want one?”

“Sure, I never turn down free beer.”  He says half laughing. 

I run back downstairs and jump the last c
ouple steps, making my way to the kitchen.  There is Cheri, standing with her arms folded in disgust.  “Finished already?   That’s a record for even you.” She sneers.

  I turn and stick my tongue out at her.  “Jealous much?”

“VD much?”  She shoots back at me and makes two imaginary marks showing that she won that round of insults.  

“For the record, I’ve NEVER had VD.”

“Just go upstairs and have your hot, wild, crazy sex.  Those of us who aren’t getting laid any time soon are going to watch some TV.”  She takes a beer from the 6-pack I took out of the fridge and heads in the direction of the living room.   I make the walk from the kitchen back to the bedroom hopeful that I may not have an empty bed tonight.  Especially if he is as good as he looks.  I get back inside the room and sit on the edge of the bed and motion for him to join me.  I hand him a cool bottle from the box.  He takes the beer from my hands and runs the cool bottle across his forehead and down his neck.  When he twists the top off, foam starts to bubble out the top, spills down his hand and drips on the bed.