HATE SEX
by Billy Storm
Cover design by Sidda Lee Rain and Janet Edwards
Copyright 2015 Billy Storm/Sidda Lee Rain
Contact Author
Website: siddaleerain.com
Emaiclass="underline" siddaleerain@gmail.com
Emaiclass="underline" AuthorBillyStorm@yahoo.com
FB: www.facebook.com/AuthorBillyStorm
Twitter: @SiddaLeeRain
This book may not be reproduced or used in parts or as a
whole without permission from the author with the
exception of quotes used for reviews.
This book is a complete work of fiction any resemblance
to people or events is purely coincidental. These
characters and story lines are works of the author’s
imagination and should be viewed as the fiction it is.
This book is to be viewed by persons of age 18+
It is an erotic romance and does include strong sexual
scenarios and strong language.
Author has taken artistic license in using products
and brands in this book. They are not associated with the
publication of this book outside of the Authors imagination.
Damn Women Publishing electronic publication September 2015
Damn Women Publishing print publication September 2015
“A girl like me isn’t here
living life.
Rather, life is living me.”
~ Billy Storm
Acknowledgements
To my main “mutha truckaaaah” and brain sharer Dorothy F. Shaw, I can’t even guess the hours we’ve spent sprinting and discussing writing but I’m thankful for them. And, the late night FaceTime conversations that lasted far too long.
Thank you, Jodie Bivins and Shannon Wrenn. The newest additions to my team of beta readers. Shannon, your comments have had me giggling like an idiot when I needed it the most. I adore you both.
Of course, Mizz Tina Rose I thank you as well for the numerous screenshots and endless convos we’ve shared. It’s nice to have a broad who thinks like me. #RideOrDieBitches
As always, thank you Jake Edwards for assisting me on every aspect of this damn journey. Somehow you make my ideas happen every time I say, “Soooo, I was thinking…”
Chapter One
**Skye**
There was a time I prayed for Fridays. Those were the days. Now? Yeah, not so much. My fantasy world is over, my dreams shot to fucking hell and back again. I’m a bonafide adult and that means there’s no more time for the foolish, absolute nonsense that I once lost myself in for hours. Seriously fucking hours. Time I’ll never get back. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? I’ll tell you exactly what I was thinking. I thought if only I was older, if only I had a job and a man. Fuck, that last one ended up being the biggest fucking joke of my life. A man. A fucking man. Well, now I’m older, I have a job—actually I have two and as for a man? I’ve had a helluva bit more than two. Not a one has left me satisfied for more than the time it takes to refill my eCig.
Men. Yes, I shuddered when I said the word. That species is like a fucking plague to me. My skin feels as if it could break out in blisters just from thinking of testosterone. Ain’t one of those motherfuckers that have left me with anything but a bad taste, empty bank account, and disappointment in my panties. Bitter? Fuck to the yeah I am. Disney lied. My whole childhood was a preamble for shit. Lie after lie twirling across the screen singing to birds and shit. Prince Charming? Bullshit. I bet that Prince was a premature ejaculator and had one of those small crooked dicks that made you go on your toes to attempt to avoid the pain from literally fucking you sideways. I’ll never trust a man with better hair than I have. Never. Ever.
As for a job—rather jobs? Yes, as in multiple. Ain’t that a bitch that employment has been my only experience in multiples? My goal of becoming a prima ballerina or a veterinarian—shut up I was young, stupid and loved my dog Poochie and the best dancer in my fifth grade ballet class.
Come on already….I’ve been waiting for this order of chili cheese fries for fifteen minutes already. I’m really getting sick of the dirty looks that the frat shmucks are giving me. I don’t make the food I serve it, big fucking difference here, people. I just know I’m getting a shitty tip already, hell, if I even get a tip. College douche bags come in and out of here all night. Half lit, horny and think that the fat girl would be an eager lay because she’s gotta be desperate right? Fuck them. Fuck every single one of them. Not the fucking they want either. I’m thirty-eight years old, the absolute last thing I need is another young punk who doesn’t know what to do with his dick. Glancing back at the Alpha Beta Dipshits I bet there’s at least three whiskeydicks in the group of five anyway.
Finally….it took twenty minutes to ladle some pre made chili onto some overcooked fries? Really?
“Smile, Skye….just smile and go,” I whisper to myself before heading towards their table. I set the three plates of fries down as fast as I can without dropping anything, grab the empty glasses and flee before the boys can do anything but shove far too hot chili cheese fries into their big mouths. Knowing I’m smirking when I hear one of them cursing after he piled the piping hot crap into his pie hole I quickly walk away without a second glance. I hurry back to the soda machine to refill their drinks before they start whining. “Shit! Was that a Coke or a diet?” I mumble to myself. Mumbling nothing new to me. “He’s getting a Coke.”
I haven’t always been this much of a hot mess….I’m tired, I’m so tired and honestly just….lost. This is nothing like what I had planned for my future. Big goals, ideas, and my future so mapped out that it was like the bitch was on rails.
Naive? Bet your ass I was. Although, I had no idea I was at the time. I blame my parents. After all, I was teenager, then, I was in my early twenties and daddy’s girl. To say I was spoiled was an understatement of epic proportions. I was invincible, forever young and too special to end up where I am. My sister was the same.
Well, dads die and mothers remarry. Mine happened to remarry a slime ball—complete opposite of my father. She sold my childhood home seven months to the day after my fathers heart attack. I was twenty-four and basically homeless and so was Rain. Yes, Donna, my mother hopped into Butch’s Peterbuilt and hit the highway. I haven’t even seen her in the last six years. Rain being three years my senior made the transition far easier than I. She’s only an hour away from me but it feels like so much more. I feel orphaned, I feel lonely and I wish I still had my family. God, I miss my father. There was no one like Michael Blake. No one.