F*ck Perfect (MindF*ck Book 2) Read online

  F*ck Perfect

  MindF*ck series: book two

  Danyell A Wallace

  F*ck Perfect

  MindF*ck Series, Book Two

  Copyright 2020 Danyell A. Wallace

  Edited By: Little Pear Editing Services

  www.littlepearediting.com

  Photography Credit:PKpix

  www.shutterstock.com

  This book contains scenes involving addiction (drugs, alcohol, sex) domestic violence, sexual abuse, strong sexual themes and content not suitable for persons under the age of 18. 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 and/or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and resemblance to any person, living or dead, and place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  F*CK PERFECT

  Ava is the sweetest, f*ckin’, most forbidden fruit that I should’ve never tasted yet the only one who seems to hear my silent cry for help. I warned her that she should turn away and run in the other f*ckin’ direction, but she stayed and decided to love me instead. Flaws and all.

  I have secrets. Who doesn’t? But the ones I have are caged for a reason and if released could send me straight to hell, along with the love of my life—because I refuse to let her go.

  Playlist

  “Circles”—Post Malone

  “Simply Beautiful”—Al Green

  “Super Bass”—Nicki Minaj

  “Dive Deep”—Andrew Belle

  “I Want to Love You”—Lenachka

  “Good as Hell”—Lizzo, Ariana Grande

  “Blinding Lights”—The Weeknd

  “Wonderwall”—Oasis

  “Honeymoon Avenue”—Ariana Grande

  “WAKE UP”—Travis Scott

  “Breakeven”—The Script

  Full Playlist On Spotify

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Ava

  2. Bryce

  3. Bryce

  4. Ava

  5. Ava

  6. Bryce

  7. Ava

  8. Bryce

  9. Ava

  10. Ava

  11. Ava

  12. Ava

  13. Bryce

  14. Bryce

  15. Ava

  16. Bryce

  17. Ava

  18. Bryce

  19. Bryce

  20. Bryce

  21. Bryce

  22. Bryce

  23. Ava

  24. Bryce

  25. Bryce

  26. Bryce

  27. Bryce

  28. Ava

  29. Bryce

  30. Ava

  31. Ava

  32. Bryce

  33. Ava

  34. Ava

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Danyell A. Wallace

  About the Author

  TO ALL THE BOOK LOVERS OUT THERE!

  HAPPY READING!

  Prologue

  Bryce

  Manwhore...womanizer...walking STD…These are only a few of the many insulting words that I’ve been labeled —all because of my love for pussy, more pussy, all the pussy. I love the way it smells, tastes, and looks, but most importantly, the way it wraps around my dick, all snuggly and shit, when I’m buried deep inside of it. My therapist believes I’m a sex addict. Shrug. Maybe I am, but if you ask me, I’m just misunderstood. Now, I agree that I have a fucked-up past when it comes to my sex life. Trust me, I’ve learned from it, though. That’s what life is all about, right? Making mistakes and hopefully, just maybe, you’ll learn from them. My past fuck-ups have steered me into a lifestyle of celibacy. Don’t believe me? You should meet my two new best friends, a jar of coconut oil and my right hand.

  I shove my hands into the pockets of my slacks and look around the tent at the many guests that showed up for Kennedy’s graduation party. My eyes glide over-familiar, and a few unfamiliar, faces, in search of my date. Yes, you heard right. Date. If it weren’t for my lovely twin sister Morgan, I would’ve come solo. Especially since the girl she set me up with is Helena, a cute, petite blonde with a nice set of tits that I’ve titty-fucked a couple of times in my unsavory past. I guess my sister didn’t get the memo that you don’t hook your brother up with someone who gives blowjobs like it’s a fuckin’ hobby. It’s bad for a supposed sex addict like me. But my sister insisted I get out, have fun, and stop moping after a woman that I’ll probably never have again.

  Never say never.

  I look down at my watch, wondering where the hell my appointed date is. She told me that she needed to use the bathroom, but that was almost—thirty minutes ago? Damn, maybe she got lost. She isn’t the brightest bulb in the box. My eyes continue searching. Morgan and her new fiancé Tyler, Kennedy, my mom, Aunt Betty, Ava, Hunter…Ava?!? My eyes rewind to the sight of Ava standing there in a tight, black, strapless dress with a neckline that draws all of your attention to her tits. Her long, black, naturally curly hair, blended with reddish-brown highlights, is pulled up in a bun with some curly strands feathering around her face and neck. Damn, she’s a fuckin’ goddess.

  Me Bryce, you Ava. I become all Tarzan, inwardly beating my chest. Like a mad man on a mission, I make several long strides across the makeshift dance floor. Ava doesn’t see me stalking toward her because her backside is facing me. My eyes journey from the top of her head down to her delectable ass. Fuck! My dick roars to life.

  “Hey, Bryce,” a very out-of-breath Hunter greets me as soon as I breeze past him and his date Michael dancing the Lambada. I don’t acknowledge him or anyone else around me and let my mind and body gravitate toward Ava.

  I can feel her flinch as soon as my body presses against hers from behind. I wrap my right arm around her waist then place my hand flat against her stomach, bringing her back to mold against my body. I can feel her heart beating through her back and the rapid movement of her stomach against my palm. When I bring my lips to her ear, a shiver courses through her body. Her back curves, drawing my growing erection to nestle against luscious ass. “You’re here. I thought you had to work late,” I softly moan and brush my lips alongside her earlobe.

  Ava slowly pivots around to face me, and damn, she’s even more beautiful up close and personal. My eyes drop down to her plump lips painted in a deep shade of red then they glide back up to a set of hooded, hazel eyes surrounded by dark, elongated lashes.

  I lick my lips then clear my throat of the dryness building in my mouth. Shit, why do I feel like an inexperienced, hormonal teenage boy all of a sudden?

  Ava steps forward, closing the mere inches she created between us when she turned around to face me. “Yes, I’m here.” Her lips creep into a slow, sexy smile. “I would’ve been here earlier,” her hands reach up to fix the collar of my button-down, “but I needed to stay and make sure I had all the files needed for court tomorrow. I still can’t believe my dad is letting me sit in on this case.” She smiles and it brightens up my whole fuckin’ world. “After I left work, I went home, got dressed, and came here to be your date.” Her hands slide down to rest on my pecs.

  I gently palm her face, instantly loving the way her lips part slightly. I lower my head, inhaling the hitch of breath that escapes her mouth. I want to kiss her so fuckin’ bad that I couldn’t care less that there are watchful eyes around us or that my date could return any second now and fuck this entire moment up. My dick throws a tantrum behind the seams of my zipper, and I can’t blame him because all it wants to do is come out to play with Ava’s mouth and sweet,
tight pussy. By the grace of God and pure fuckin’ patience, I tap down the feral beast inside of me that wants to devour Ava, inch by inch, and declare her mine forever and ever.

  “Oh, Bryce, there you are. I must’ve gotten lost.” I hear Helena giggling behind me then she comes into view on my left, looking high as a kite and weaving side-to-side that she has to brace my arm for support. Fuck! “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too—“

  Several gasps fill the tent at the sight of my date (Thanks, Morgan) who spews chunks of God-knows-what all over the front of Ava’s dress.

  “Oops,” she has the fuckin’ nerve to laugh. “I’m so sorry.” Her pale skin turns a shade of green. “Bryce, I don’t feel so good.” Helena weaves my way then projects more vomit. I hop back in time for it not to get me.

  I look up to see the only woman who’s ever held the key to my heart, my saving grace, flail her arms out to shake Helena's vomit from her skin in disgust.

  Fuck, can my night get any worse?

  Chapter 1

  Ava

  One Month Before

  This has to be one of the worst fuckin' days of my life.

  On the way home, I get a flat tire, but, thank God, I was able to drive on it the rest of the way safely into my parking garage. As I'm walking from my car to the elevator, my fuckin' heel gives out on me and breaks off. These shoes cost me a fortune.

  I step off the elevator and limp down the hall. Fuck it! I remove my other shoe and toss them both into the hallway trash compactor.

  I continue to walk to my apartment but pause when I see it cracked open.

  I've been living alone for about a month now, ever since I caught my girlfriend Raychel using a strap-on on who I thought was her first cousin but turned out to be someone she’d been seeing on the side for a while. So, I left. Since the lease wasn’t in my name, I was clear to find my own place. I packed up my stuff and moved back to Tennessee. I could’ve stayed with my parents for a couple of days, but I didn’t want to face their barrage of ‘‘told-you-sos’’. Especially my mom. I can hear her Spanish tongue lashing out at me right now.

  I seriously considered getting another roommate but decided against it because I didn't want just anybody living with me. All of my friends either were engaged, married, or claimed they were allergic to roommates. The latter came from Hunter, my sister from another mister (his words), and my best friend for practically my whole life. He can be such a drama queen.

  When I found this apartment, I knew the building wasn’t located in the best neighborhood, but it was a steal, and I needed a place to live ASAP. I should have listened to my gut to check out other apartments besides this one instead of jumping on the first thing I saw.

  I creep closer to my door that’s located at the far end of the hall near a large window. If my neighbors found my door open, I would hope they would close it— or at least be suspicious enough to call the police. But unfortunately, for them to do that, they literally would have to walk down the hall to my apartment to see it open, and everyone basically kept to themselves, which makes this whole theory pointless.

  As I get closer, I can see evidence that my door was forced open.

  I pull out my phone and dial 9-1-1. After explaining my situation to the operator, I'm told that the police would be here shortly. I hang up and wait by the front door of the building. Shit, the robbers could still be in there for all I know.

  I bet I look like a damn madwoman with mascara-stained tears on my cheeks. Ever since I got into my Uber, I've done nothing but cry to myself. After several failed attempts from my driver asking if I'm okay and not receiving a response from me, he decided to keep a close eye on me through his rearview mirror. If only he knew what kind of night I've had so far.

  After the cops filed a report, they suggested that I not stay there for the next couple of days. So, I left my apartment building, shoeless, with only my purse and the clothes on my back. Now, here I am, riding in the back of some stranger’s car since my car was towed to the mechanic to have my tire replaced, going to the only place I know I will feel safe.

  The car slows down and turns into Bluesky Trailer Park. He drives past two double-wide trailers on the right before pulling up in front of a dingy, gray trailer. I thank my driver, which catches him off-guard for a moment. He wishes me goodnight, and as soon as I exit and close the back door, he pulls over onto the yard of a trailer that has a confederate flag used as a curtain in the window, reverses, and then pulls off, leaving tire marks in the grass.

  I clutch the key that Bryce asked me to hold on to.

  I look around and everything screams redneck city. My half-black, half-Hispanic ass probably doesn’t need to be here right now, but I have nowhere else to go. A hotel is out of the question, and I’m not moving back into my parents’ home. I’d never hear the end of it. I need every cent to my name to put down for the first and last months’ rent on another apartment.

  I walk carefully up the cinder block stairs and insert the key. I step inside and quietly close the door behind me and lock it.

  “Bryce?” I quietly call out. Nothing.

  I step in the small kitchen that has beer bottles, open chip bags, and dirty dishes on the counter, and I cringe. I walk out of the kitchen and into the dark living room. The window unit hums, blowing cool air throughout the cramped quarters. I freeze, not from the air conditioning, but at the sight of Bryce tonguing down his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Bridget.

  I should say something, but I’m having a hard time grasping what’s unfolding in front of me. I thought they broke up for good this time. Hastily their mouths pull away then Bridget slides off his lap and drops to the floor. I should turn away. Why do I always find myself in this predicament? My first voyeuristic experience was with Kennedy and Clay; now it’s Bryce and Bridget.

  Over the sound of the air unit, I can hear Bryce hiss. He grips the strawberry-blonde strands of her hair while her head bobs slowly up and down his dick.

  “Suck a little harder,” Bryce chokes out and the muscles in his jaw clench tight. “Deeper.”

  I hear her gag, but she doesn’t let up.

  “Try relaxing your gag reflex,” he instructs. “Fuck! Oh yeah just like—Ava?”

  My eyes shoot up to his face.

  “Ava?” Bridget practically spits his dick out of her mouth and scrambles away from Bryce. She stands and smoothes her dress down. “She has a key?!?” She glares in Bryce’s direction.

  He stands and I try not to stare at his impressive cock. He strokes it, and I bite down on my lower lip. Bryce clears his throat, and I glance up to find him looking my way.

  “Bryce! Why does she have a key?” Bridget demands.

  Bryce tucks himself back inside his boxers but doesn’t bother with zipping or buttoning his jeans.

  “Because I trust her with my life,” he finally responds as his eyes roam over me. Bridget’s face reddens, not liking his answer. “Ava, what’s wrong?” His brows furrow with concern.

  “I'm sorry. I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. My apartment was broken into, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Have you ever heard of a hotel? Your parents’?” Bridget throws her hands up in despair.

  I glance over at her and give the best don’t fuck with me look I can muster up.

  "Let me walk Bridget out then we can talk."

  "Bryce!” Bridget has the nerve to stomp her foot.

  Bryce walks over to her, and in a hushed tone, I can hear him tell her that he’ll stop by her place once he finds out what’s going on with me.

  “You promise?” she croons up at him.

  “Bridget, please,” he grits out in a hushed tone.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll let it go. But call me when you get close to my apartment, and I’ll buzz you up.” Her lips press against his.

  I lean against the wall while he walks Bridget to the door.

  When he returns, he stops in the doorway that separates the kitchen from the living roo
m and rests his hands on the doorframe above his head, making the lean muscles in his upper body bulge and tighten. He stares at me silently from across the room.

  “I’m—”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Ava.” His hands fall away from the doorframe then he slowly makes his way over to me, plants his left palm against the wall above my head, and hovers over me. My eyes follow the veins in his forearms then move up to his tight biceps and triceps before they lock with his sage-colored eyes. I hold my breath for a split second when his fingertips trail over my right cheek down to my chin. “You’re always taking care of me. Don’t you think it’s time that I be here for you?” His soft lips press against my forehead, and that simple kiss awakens every nerve cell in my body. I exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. “We’ve been through too much together, Ava.”

  “You’re right.” My eyes linger over him once more. Not an ounce of fat on him. Six. No, an eight pack that slims down to a sharp V-cut. His jeans are hanging on for dear life on his hips, and his light-colored boxers peak out through his unzipped pants. I lick my lips because I know what lies beneath those boxers.

  “Ava?”