Brawler

Brawler

Copyright ©
2014 K.S. ADKINS

Published by K.S. Adkins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published: K.S. Adkins 2014

Publishing assisted by Black Firefly:
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Few forces in this fucked-up world are more powerful than sisterhood. Against all odds, four girls would meet and form a friendship so strong, no law or man could break it. As women, they didn’t set out to change the world, but they are changing the streets of Detroit and doing it the only way they know how. Violently.

Each of them possesses a specific skill set. One can kill without fear or remorse, one can create medicine so strong that it can sustain life or bring death, one can tip the law into her favor, and one can sense lies. Together these four childhood friends rose against the odds, against the streets, and will band together to bring Detroit to its knees. Only then can it be rebuilt.

Without their knowledge, events have been unfolding that will bring the four women together once more but not just yet.  Each of them has a battle to fight individually before they can fight as a whole.

But that time is coming.

And when that time comes, the city won’t know what hit it, and the fallout will be fucking legendary.

“A city where pity runs low

If you ever shoot through my city, now you know

Cause we are strictly business and we also got our pride

And if you don't like it, I suggest you break wide”

~Mc Breed

T
his story is
not
for everyone. If it were, people may actually buy it. No, this story (like everything I write) is over the top, violent, suggestive and intended for adults with low morals and a fucking sense of humor.

It’s a STORY, nothing more.

If you hold no love for foul language, first person writing, unprotected sex or Detroit don’t read me. I don’t live in Kansas, Toto, so don’t expect some over the rainbow shit.

If you can get down with my writing, I thank you and love you hard.

Now turn the damn page!

K.S.

W
rists bound, legs spread, and back arched. I’d fucking beg for it if I thought he would listen. If I thought he’d spank me, gag me, or wrap my hair around his fingers, I would promise him anything. But he doesn’t hear me. Instead, he just stares. Night after night it’s the same punishment with no relief in sight. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I let him do this to me? Thrashing with frustration and desperate to come, I growl and threaten to do these things to him. To make him suffer. He blinks once, twice, and leans down to tower over me, showing me who’s in charge. My belly quivers, my legs shake, and my mouth waters at what I’m seeing, at what I’m about to feel. Finally, I’ll have what I want, what I’ve been dying for, then just before he gives me the relief I need more than my next breath, he just … walks away.

Moaning in agony, I curl up into the fetal position, putting another pillow between my empty thighs. Another wet dream, seriously? I was so fucking close, and the second I opened my eyes it was gone. I consider grabbing another pillow and dry humping it just to get some of that feeling back, but I don’t because I know it won’t work. I know it won’t work because I’ve
tried
before. Nothing works. Not anymore. Ain’t that just a bitch?

My vagina and I are no longer on speaking terms. This by far the longest dry spell I’ve ever had the displeasure of having. You’d think it would be easy for an independent, non-clinging, disease free, employed single woman to get nailed these days but … no.

Seems that my vagina is holding strong for a certain someone who deserves a swift kick in the nads, not my hidden treasures, but alas, the vagina wants what it wants. No other nads will do now. My, how times have changed.

These days my best friend is getting it on the regular and I’m in a drought. I don’t like droughts, okay? I have needs, and dammit, it’s making me cranky. Especially when I have to see the object of my lust daily. Because of him, “Trick Trick,” my bedside boyfriend, now bores me. Knowing what’s hiding under those jeans is fuck-ing torture! He flaunts it too, the cockblocker. Enough about my dry vagina, it’s not like that well is going to get tapped anytime soon, so I’ve decided to ignore it and pray the dreams go away. I’m used to not getting what I want. But girls like
me
don’t get guys like
him,
and doesn’t that just fucking blow?

Not too long ago my best friend, Venessa, was a beautiful train wreck, and I loved her the best way I could, which was usually from a distance. Now she's a beautiful train wreck madly in violent love with Detective Rogan “Rogue” Black.  After I was taken and Venessa saved me (again), their relationship went on fast forward. They live together now, they train together, and I'd bet he still listens to her phone calls, too. She found “the one” just by looking at him. I didn’t think Brigg’s was the one, but I thought he was a decent  right now.” But I changed my mind when he tried to kill me. Even Venessa doesn’t know the whole story, and part of me wonders if I’ll ever be able tell it. Life’s been too busy since all that shit went down to even stress about it, so I don’t.

These last few weeks have been crammed with research, fighting bad guys we can’t see, and avoiding Jonas Rafe. I can't seem to totally get rid of him, either. It's like there's a tracker in
my
ass. Knowing these guys, that's plausible. Having so much happening at once that my sole focus should be in one place when it's really in another.

Which is why on a Friday night, I can’t stop throwing pillows. Pillows! I mean really, who throws pillows? Seriously, I own a gun. I know how to fight fairly well, too. I stop and think and realize I must be losing it. Normal people do not do this. People who orgasm regularly wouldn’t
have
to do this.

I just can’t stop thinking about Jonas either, the dick.

My new partner in Shadow Squad, and all-around bane of my existence. I’ve never met anyone who can give you a compliment and an insult in the same sentence. Nor have I ever met someone who can be the headliner in my dreams, and the one time I actually want the prick to talk, he doesn’t.

Since Venessa and Rogan have officially moved in together, their house is a welcome distraction from this one. It’s just so … quiet here now. Venessa offered me her loft but I said no, so she subleased it out to Jason instead. I know I’m being stubborn, but this is my home. I don’t want to leave it even if I don’t feel safe in it anymore.

Then there’s Jonas, again.

The cocksucker.

He offered me a room in his place which was
almost
endearing until … he continued to speak. Notice I said,
“almost,”
because his proposal went something like this:

“You should be honored I asked,” he says, going on like I even want to hear the rest. “The chicks I usually bring by here? I don’t even let use my bathroom. For you, I’d let you use it
and
clean it.”

The thing about Jonas Rafe is he comes off as this totally shallow idiot that thinks with his dick, but I don’t think he is. He’s been my silent protector for weeks now, and I won’t lie and say I don’t like it, even if he is a cop. The way he looks at me makes me feel one way …

But then when he speaks to me? It makes me feel another. It makes me want to hit him. Hard. With a goddamned pillow. Even despite this, my vagina twitches just thinking about him in there. To want someone so much is new for me, especially when he thinks I’m a total girly girl.