Cousins (Cousins #1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  Copyright

  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

  Sneak Peek

  Note From Lisa...

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  COUSINS

  An Alpha Bad Boy Romance

  By Lisa Lang Blakeney

  Book 1

  WriterGirl Press

  To Aunt Ruby

  Introducing COUSINS, book one of the forbidden and passionate new romance series by Lisa Lang Blakeney.

  Our passion is incredibly intense. The connection between us borders on the possessive. Our feelings are absolutely forbidden. We're cousins…The question now is…what the f*ck are we going to do about it?

  After Elizabeth Hill is brutally attacked in her apartment by an intruder and then unceremoniously dumped by her ex-boyfriend, she moves in with her wealthy aunt and uncle who assign her older cousin the task of keeping an eye out for her. All she remembers about her cousin Roman is that he was the moody mean boy who played a cruel trick on her when she was just six years old; but soon learns that he is now a complex and multi-layered man who has the ability to protect her, ignite her, and challenge her like no one ever has before.

  Wealthy Roman Masterson makes his fortune by fixing celebrity problems for big money and by any means necessary. He is a foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, manwhore who doesn't have the time or inclination to babysit a gullible little brat from the suburbs…until he unknowingly spots her in the middle of a crowded dance floor and decides right then and there to claim every one of her orgasms from that moment on. Little does he know that the woman he's laid claim to is his…cousin.

  Genre: New Adult Romance

  Book 1 - Series

  Content Warning: Contains adult themes, explicit love scenes, and harsh language. It is only appropriate for adult readers age 18+.

  Disclaimer: All characters in the book are 18+ years of age, non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.

  LISA LANG BLAKENEY

  Thank you for purchasing Cousins. Please join

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  To be notified of the release of Book 2 in the Cousins Series as well as upcoming new books, teasers, giveaways and ARCs!

  Copyright © 2015 Lisa Lang Blakeney. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  NOTE: All characters in the book are 18+ years of age, non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth

  I NOTICE THAT ETHAN HAS an unusually glazed look in his eyes when he pops his head up from under my tangerine strapless sundress, which he has leisurely pushed up right above my hips. He has been licking and lapping between my legs for several minutes in a grand effort to get me primed for what is to come next, and he looks like he is definitely ready to give it to me as soon as I give him the go ahead.

  "You like that Bitsy?" His mouth turns into a goofy grin. One that I've always been unable to resist. Although I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I hadn't waited all this time to have sex with Ethan just to give it up casually, unplanned, or on a whim. Yet somehow I find myself spread eagle, on top of my brand new tufted pink comforter, panties God knows where, and nervous as all hell. I know full well that having sex will change everything between us, which is why I've been especially careful about the when and the where ... up until now. We weren't even suppose to be here tonight, but Ethan's car was acting funny; so it was either chill at my place or end the night early.

  "Don't pull your top off yet," he whispers in my ear as an attempt to sound seductive. Unfortunately Ethan's attempt at being sexy comes off somewhat awkward, and his request for me to keep my top on seems just wrong.

  "Why?" I ask while lowering my arms from above my head. "You haven't even touched my boobs yet."

  "Don't need to touch 'em right now. Relax and just trust me."

  Don't need to touch them? What the heck was he talking about? Ethan had been rubbing, kneading and sucking on my breasts since we started going out, getting me ready for what I guess was this very moment. Usually when we played around in his dad's old Audi after one of our dates, he couldn't keep his hands off of the girls, and I loved it. I thought he did too. I know he chugged down a beer or two when we were watching television earlier but something seems off with him. I'm just not sure what it is. Yet when he says those last three words, "just trust me" and flashes me a smile with his lips still moist from earnestly eating me out, my decision is already made.

  As far as boyfriends go, I know that I've hit the jackpot, at least among my small inner circle of friends. I've known Ethan since my freshman year of UPenn, and girls have always fallen all over themselves when they're around him. Not much has changed since graduation; they still do.

  When our friendship started to evolve into more during our senior year, I made the decision to take things super slow, because I am quite aware of Ethan's sexual history. Not wanting to be just another one of his conquests, I've been making him wait for over a year to have sex with me, and he's been quite patient, but I'm not sure how much longer he's going to wait for me. Truth be told, I'm not sure how much longer I can even wait. I mean I'm not a virgin. I'm just very selective about who I give it to, especially since I seemed to have picked so badly in the past. My high school boyfriend was a Grade A jerk.

  "Okay," I murmur softly. Wait over.

  I lower my lids in an effort to do as he asks and simply relax and enjoy the moment, but Ethan's cell phone starts ringing for what is the third time in the last 15 minutes. He stops touching me and reaches over the side of the bed to check the screen. Immediately I imagine the worst, and I think he notices the distrust written all over my face. While Ethan has been a pretty good boyfriend to me, being with him has made me the target of dirty looks from girls we went to school with and beyond. He's definitely good looking, but he's also a very promising swimmer who is training for the next Summer Olympics. Many girls see fame and endorsement dollars when they look at him, and I know that many have the capability of being downright ruthless in order to get who and what they want. So I keep my eyes and ears open. Constantly. It's exhausting sometimes, but my mother once told me that every man has their Achilles heel, and my fear is that the vagina is Ethan's.

  "It's just Thomas. I'm going to turn it off," he tries to assure me in an effort to keep me present in the moment.

  "That was Th
omas who called you all three times?" I ask knowing good and well it was probably that slutty girl Penny from my old Econ class calling him. A total sorority slut, she was notorious for throwing what was between her legs at every halfway decent looking boy on campus, and I'd heard that she was just as busy with the graduates. Especially jocks like Ethan.

  "Yeah but he doesn't want anything. I'll call him later. We're busy, right babe?"

  I assume that question is Ethan's not so subtle way of checking to make sure I'm still on board, so I nod my head in agreement. He smiles and continues his seduction by slowly gliding the palms of his smooth hands up my thighs while pushing my dress up even further under my breasts to deliver a few feathery kisses around my navel.

  Just when I think he is going to actually take my dress completely off and continue with his leisurely stroll around my body, he skips ahead and makes his way to my lips, shoving his tongue inside, rapidly moving it back in forth in my mouth. Kissing Ethan is typically a nice experience, but like I said, something is off. His kisses seem sloppy and amateurish, and as he is getting more excited, I am starting to feel smothered under the weight of his large body and the faint smell and taste of beer on his breath.

  "You ready for me Bitsy?" He asks using my nickname in his deepest baritone voice.

  Reluctantly I shake my head yes, although all the flashing signs in my head are telling me to STOP! I don't want this to be my first time with him. Not here, not like this, but then I consider what would happen if I attempted to stop him. Would he be angry with me? Would he want to end things? Would he tell his friends that I'm frigid? Would he start taking Penny's calls? Wouldn't it just be better to get it over with? Rip the band-aid off so to speak.

  Trust me, I am seriously considering slapping my own self for having these sorts of insecure thoughts, but I have little control over what pathetic things pop into my head at any given time. I know that these are totally the wrong reasons to have sex with someone, but is there ever truly a perfect moment? There hasn't been one yet. Maybe I'm over thinking this whole thing.

  Ethan stops and looks wildly in my eyes for a moment. I've never seen this look before. It's as if he needs me in a way that he never has. I've been pretty quiet this whole time, and God knows he's waited a long time for this to happen. So I decide to go ahead and give him the assurance he needs.

  I touch the right side of his face gently with my palm. "Go ahead Ethan."

  His face relaxes since that seems to be just what he needs to hear. He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a condom, opens the foil packet, and rolls it onto his long but rather slender penis. I do my best not to ruin the mood by asking him why he even has a condom so conveniently on his person. I can't imagine that he thought that this was going to definitely happen, but I don't want to sound like the insecure girlfriend.

  I worry for a split second about pregnancy because the condom seems really thin, like it could easily snap like an old rubber band pulled too tautly. But maybe that's how all condoms look. I never really watched the only other guy I've had sex with put his condoms on. I was in high school and too embarrassed to really look. Obviously I had no business having sex with him either.

  Ethan lowers himself back down and gently starts kissing the side of my neck. It feels relaxing, but as he starts to slowly poke and prod his way into my opening, the muscles in my neck and shoulders begin to tense up. I'm not sure why this hurts so much, like I said I've done this before, but I am seriously thinking about pushing him off and running the hell out of my own bedroom. I feel like a virgin all over again. Yet as soon as I go to open my mouth to say the word wait, he kisses me deeply and mutters in my mouth, "Hold on tight Bitsy."

  So I do.

  As he pushes further inside me with several hard thrusts, I flinch from the unfamiliar fullness, but he doesn't notice my discomfort because his head is burrowed so far into the side of my neck now. He groans while methodically pumping and pushing inside me for a few more minutes, then he speeds up for a few seconds, right before he completely collapses on top of me. He's so frackin' heavy.

  "Oh shit!" He cries out. "Bitsy you're amaz–"

  Before I can even process whatever that anticlimactic moment was that just passed between us, we both jump at an unexpected loud crash. It sounds like someone has just rammed their head completely through one of my front windows. Ethan jerks his head up, leans his torso over the side of the bed, and reaches underneath for his phone.

  "Fuck!" He starts furiously texting someone.

  I'm frozen in place as quick, thunderous footsteps are moving towards our direction while Ethan quickly pulls up his sweatpants and fixes my dress. They're moving so quickly down the hall, I know it's just a matter of seconds before they reach us.

  "Hide in the closet!" Ethan frantically orders.

  My heart pounds with brute force from fear.

  They're inside the room, before I have a chance to move.

  A man in an all black sweatsuit and wearing a Shrek Halloween face mask (of all cliché things) bellows the words, "Don't fucking move."

  I freeze in place and so does Ethan. There are two other men, also dressed in all black with black knit ski masks standing next to the one doing all the talking. They are silent, but the two of them are holding sleek metal gray handguns aimed at Ethan's head.

  "Sit," Shrek orders.

  I'm not sure who he's talking to, but I immediately sit straight down on the edge of my bed with my mouth closed and my legs shut. I smell like latex and sex, and my body trembles with fear when I take a brief glance up at the intruder's face. Even behind his mask, I can tell that Shrek is dead in the eyes. His cold glare makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and shiver.

  "Where is my shit?" Shrek asks Ethan.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he replies without enough fear in his voice in my opinion. Does he know who they are?

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Shrek parrots back in a sing-song voice. "Oh yes the fuck you do know what I'm talking about. You're high on my shit right fucking now, and if you don't give me ALL my product and I do mean all of it in the next five minutes, I'm going to have to hurt your very pretty girlfriend over here. And I promise you that she won't be pretty no more after I'm done. Then you're next."

  I'm silently crying at this point and paralyzed with fright. I strangely consider all of the crime and cop shows that I have mindlessly watched all my life and wonder what the victims would do in this situation. I've always thought that if I were to ever find myself in a compromised situation, that I would be smart enough to save myself. Yet now that the time is upon me, I'm not sure what the hell to do. Should I make a run for it? Should I beg for our lives? Where's my cell phone? Hell, I'm really frightened, and I have no idea how to get us out of this. I'm just seriously praying that Ethan will give these guys whatever the hell it is they want so they'll leave. I'm very much invested in living another day with my face intact.

  Ethan puffs his chest out. "Like I said man, I don't know what you're talking about."

  Shrek grins sinisterly.

  "That was the wrong answer Aqua Man."

  And that's when a black leather covered fist cracks me square in the jaw.

  Then everything fades to black.

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth

  Three Weeks Later

  VIBRATIONS OF BASS HEAVY TECHNO music pulse throughout my sweat covered body as I twirl and gyrate my body in the middle of the dance floor. I'm a pro at this, so I'm careful not to spill a drop of the merlot that swishes around in my wine glass as I get my groove on. I just hold the glass high and close to my ear while my hips and feet do all the work of keeping to the monotonous but primal beat that is driving all the demons right out of my soul. It's been three weeks, give or take a day, since I woke up with the worst headache of my life and my life in shambles. For just one night though, I don't want to think about any of that. For just one night, I want to dance.

  I'm starting
to think the deejay is my soul mate or a simply brilliant human being, because when my favorite part of the song comes on he performs a variety of scratches on his computerized turntables to extend that portion of the song, and I frackin' love him for it. I throw back my wine glass and take a long final sip, placing the empty glass on the nearest littered high-top table; and then I begin to truly offer myself like a Santeria sacrifice over to the music. All I need is a long white flowing dress and a live chicken.

  Unlike some of my body thrashing counterparts who basically lose their minds when the computerized beat comes on, I close my eyes, raise my arms high above my head, and slowly sway my very pear shaped hips to the bottom of the song. The bass. As I do, I can feel the vino traveling intravenously through my veins relieving me of all my anxiety and insecurities. It feels good. No it feels great.

  Unfortunately my euphoria comes to a screeching halt, when I start to feel the large body of an intoxicated stranger slowly dancing up behind me. Initially my body tightens in fear, but because I don't want to overreact in public, I decide not to respond immediately to his presence. Not every stranger is out to hurt me. I need to remember that if I'm going to live in the world.

  I consider the fact that in a club where most dancers are moving at the speed of a Zumba class, my dancing can appear more slow and sexual than the average person's, and that’s why I make the decision to cut the drunk guy some slack. Plus this is the best part of the song. I want to finish enjoying it. Unfortunately the dickwad takes this as some sort of approval to move things a step further, and that's when I feel the drunken stranger up on my ass.