Chance Encounters: The Collection
by Hedonist Six
Chance Encounters #1-3
Publication Date: January 7, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Realistic, Box Set
About The Book:
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 Lucy has always had everything under control: her business, as well as her (non-existent) love life. And then George came along and changed everything.
Book 1 - Excerpt:
Time seems to move in slow motion when his hand finds my wrist, and pulls me closer towards him. Our faces move closer together until he finally looks up at me again.
His eyes look almost black in the subdued light and we're now so near that I can feel his breath tickling my face. His scent is pleasant, like a rather masculine sort of cologne with a hint of beer mixed in. The effects of the few drinks I've had already are making it hard for me to focus but I know what I want, and I desperately hope he does too.
"You're making it very difficult for me to resist..." he says.
I see the same nerves I feel mirrored in his eyes momentarily. But instead of acting on them, he continues to stare deep into my soul.
"That was the idea..." I breathe.
Both of us are ready to go where our instincts might take us, still my mind plays tricks on me by announcing his idiot friends' return. I can hear the creepy one even if I don't know or care what he's saying. It's making me want to run and hide again, away from all interruptions.
He releases my wrist so I can I run both hands up his shoulders and around his neck. I hardly need to make any effort to get him to come closer, he already stood up right in front of me.
George is quite a bit taller than he looked sitting down. With me still perched on my bar stool and him standing, I can reach him perfectly. I run my fingers through his ponytail while our lips meet.
His arms find their way naturally around my back. The world around us disappears, taking any unwelcome other people away with it. My legs part as far as they'll go in this skirt to allow him closer. If his lips are anything to go by, he is the gentler type definitely. Or perhaps he just likes to start off that way.
Book 2 – Beautiful Stranger Claudia and Peter meet by chance at the side of the road. She's a down-to-earth 24 year old with a dead-end job, he's married and rich. What can possibly go wrong?
Book 2 - Excerpt:
"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
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 Mandi is set to move back in with her conservative Punjabi parents. The last thing she needs is complications, but they turn up anyway, in the form of handsome stranger, Callum.
Book 3 - Excerpt:
Mandi
I lie awake, staring at the chandelier which glistens in the faintest beginnings of daylight filtering through the French windows. Beside me, Callum's deep, even breaths suggest he's still sleeping, so I take care not to move much so I don't disturb him.
There's a horrible, heavy feeling in my chest, like a weight holding me down under water. I'm drowning, desperate for air, but relief seems so impossibly out of reach, I don't know what to do.
This has been the best night of my life, and with it, it's the worst. What if I didn't go home today? What if I just ran away, wouldn't that solve everything?
I know it would not. The guilt of leaving behind my family would eat me up.
But don't I deserve to be happy too? Do I have to do without so Mum and Dad can be proud of who I am? Why does it have to be one or the other?
I turn onto my side, facing Callum's sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, like an angel - as stupid as that sounds. At dinner, he insisted I keep an open mind tonight, suggesting he's after something more than just a one-nighter. Could this beautiful man actually be that interested in me? He's successful, famous even, whereas I'm a failure professionally and not even a nice person most of the time. Sarcastic: definitely. Nice: not so much.
And then there's the baggage: not just one or two issues, but a whole collection the size and shape of a super conservative extended family.
Whatever this is between Callum and me, it can't work out. There's no happy end to be found here.
Tears sting in my eyes, and I'm annoyed at myself for letting it get so far. Alice was right: this was supposed to be my farewell party. A last celebration before I'd have to forget myself and fit in with what is expected of me. It was never meant to be a beginning of anything, just an end.
I didn't think it could happen, that I'd go to bed with someone and get tangled up in complicated emotions afterwards. It certainly never happened to be me before. But for some reason now that I'm here, looking at him, I'm not thinking of whether he'll wake up if I try to escape now, or whether I need to worry about him calling me when it's all over.
It's the opposite. I wonder how long I can stay here with him, before real life catches up with me. I'm terrified that he won't want to call. All the while, I have nothing to offer him at all.
The more I think about it, the more I know what to do. I need to be really clear with him, tell him that as nice as our time together has been, this is it. This night will become a nice memory for us to keep, perhaps to think back to as that crazy day in Brighton. Nothing more.
It hurts to look at him now, knowing I'll probably never see him again after this. I lie back down on my pillow and cover my eyes with the back of my hand, doing everything possible to swallow my tears.
What the hell? I've never been the emotional type, why start now?
He's just a guy. We just had sex. No big deal. So why is my heart trying to make it into something more meaningful?
"Morning, beautiful." Callum's voice pierces through the silence. "You're up early."
"How did you know I was?" I ask, hoping my voice doesn't betray my innermost feelings.
"Your breathing. You sounded different when you were asleep."
It's time. The moment of truth. I have to tell him now, before he manages to distract me with his boyishly handsome looks and ruffled bed hair.
I lean up on my elbows and look over at him. Shit. Just seeing his half-naked form as he sits up, ready to get out of bed, is making my heart beat faster again. I don't know if I can do this! If only I had a choice...
"I had a lovely time last night..." I start.
He turns, his blue eyes piercing me and peeling back my defences layer by layer. "Me too."
"But..." Even my voice sounds breathless now, that's how uncharacteristically nervous I am. I've never had this problem before, why start now?
"But things are very complicated right now and you're not looking for anything," he repeats my words from last night almost verbatim.
I press my lips together, again fighting the sting of tears and nod.
His expression is no longer carefree, but has hardened as he continues to look at me. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if I really want to know.
"Look, it's not you, OK," I try to justify myself. "Things at home... My parents are very traditional."
"I see."
"They'll never let me date, especially not outside our community."
"How old are you again?"
I remain quiet. He'll never understand. I'm not even sure I understand. It's so unfair that I have to choose between their happiness and my own. But crying about it isn't going to change a thing.
"I really like you, Callum. I wish things were different."
"So do I." He turns around again, leaning forward to pick up his clothes off the floor.
There's nothing more to say, so I just watch him as he gathers his things and heads to the bathroom. The door shuts behind him with a painfully loud click. I fall back into my pillow, and focus on deep, even breaths. Stay calm. Soon, this awful moment will pass.
I stay like that for about five minutes, until the bathroom door opens again, revealing a fully dressed Callum. If it wasn't for the slight stubble on his chin - which could be justified as fashion - nobody could tell this overnight stay was unplanned.
"I have to get back into London for a meeting this morning," he says, while picking up his wallet, phone, and other items still on the antique-looking chest of drawers opposite the bed. Then he turns to face me, his expression is firm, almost neutral, although his eyes still betray the fiery passion that had made last night so special.
One, two steps forward, and he's at my bedside. He leans down, his face just an inch from mine, sending my self-control into a tailspin.
"I've heard what you said, and I understand," he says, while running his forefinger over my chin.
The tickle of his breath against my lips is almost too much, forcing my eyes to flutter shut a few times while he speaks.
"But don't think I'll give up that easily. This isn't goodbye." He emphasises his statement with a kiss that knocks the wind out of me, then lets go and leaves me panting in bed as he makes his exit.
"Just leave the key in the room, it's all paid for. See you later, Mandi." The door clicks into place behind him, and the silence that remains overwhelms me.
After what feels like forever, I finally lean up and retrieve my phone from the bedside table and dial.
"Hey," Alice's groggy voice answers. "What time is it?"
"Dunno. Hey, can you come and get me whenever you're ready? I'll text you the address," I say, doing my utmost to disguise the disillusionment in my tone.
There's a pause, and something sounding like a yawn on the other end. "Dude, you have to tell me all about last night, how was it? I'm assuming it went well since I didn't hear from you..."
"Get ready, come pick me up, I'll tell you all about it on the drive home." I hang up before she has the chance to say anything else. Hopefully by the time we get together, I won't feel so raw, so vulnerable. I'll tell Alice what she wants to know, minus his identity and the part where I wished he wouldn't leave me behind, even after I told him to.
This is all an impossible dream, isn't it? He can't be serious, that after everything I tried to say he'll continue to pursue me? He can't possibly.
And yet, against my better judgement, I desperately hope to see Callum Byrne again.
About The Author:
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.
Giveaway:
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