Twisted Fate (A Twisted Fairy Tale Book 1) Read online

  A Twisted Fairy Tale: Book One

  by Ace Gray

  Copyright © 2017 Ace Gray

  Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song lyrics, and song titles contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. The author concedes to the trademarked status and trademark owners of the products mentioned in this fiction novel and recognizes that they have been used without permission. The use and publication of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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

  Cover Design by Bex Harper Designs

  Editing by Love N. Books

  Formatting by Dee Ellis

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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  For Boner Breath 69. You know what you did.

  For Ashley Vigoren. You remind me I’m a badass.

  For Denae and Dyllan. You guys inspired me to start writing again.

  Thank you.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Where to even start with this little set of acknowledgements? I can tell you, not my husband because he doesn’t read my books. Fucker. But because he’s such a good little fucker, I’ll keep him anyway. Dammit! Here I ended up thanking him anyways…for being good in bed no less…shit. I suppose I should thank him for always being there for me, for being a cheerleader, and being tolerant A.F. You rock lover.

  Before I got so ridiculously sidetracked, I’d decided to thank my readers first. I mean, I’d be nowhere and nothing without ALL of you guys. And the fact that any of you are taking a chance on this book is, well, humbling. That you guys dealt with my stuffy domineering suit, my sexy soccer stud, my bumbling FBI agent and still want to take a chance on my soulful savage means EVERYTHING to me. You’re all my Ladyfaces, and once you read this book (assuming you finish it) you’ll know how much those two sentences mean to me.

  A few very special readers deserve thanks all their own.

  Amanda Owens for being the first person to call me her favorite author. I called her a liar, I still call her a liar, but that someone has said that ever about me, means the world to me.

  Morgan Pomphrey…I still can’t believe there was a time you carried my books around with you. I hope your back/shoulders are okay. I couldn’t hurt someone as special as you.

  Sahara Jones please tell your daughter you can stalk me all the time. It’s more gratifying and special to me then it is to you. Swearsies.

  Cassandra Magnussen for the email blow by blows. I swear that they’re the best emails I get all year. I reread them ya know? Any time I want to give up, you save me.

  I could keep going—I swear. You guys are all incredible and I consider each of you friends. Legit friends.

  Emma. There are no words. I love you. I’m grateful for your patience and cheerleading, your swear words and GIFs, and of course, when you voice message me because it’s sexy as hell. Will you read me the Starbucks menu next time?

  Bex for always having my back. Your artwork elevates my book. Your friendship elevates my life.

  My little Cole club, Mel and Mix, for knowing this book and these characteristics for so long, for being so supportive…I can’t even. Would this series even exist without you? I don’t think so. I don’t even want to think about it. Writing it with you guys there, step by step, made it the best writing experience of my life. You guys kick so much ass it hurts, even across the country.

  AM Johnson for being my penguin. ‘Nough said.

  AllieKat for taking a chance on my book and me time after time.

  Denae for loving the characters as much as I do, if not more. And for helping me find my fingertips again.

  Dyllan for reminding me of the beauty of fresh eyes and a full heart.

  Ellie because I’m afraid not to thank her. And because she’s awesome.

  Dee Ellis for becoming a great friend. Her talent and willingness to help are beyond imagination.

  A Wilding Wells, Stella James, Christine Besze, and M Andrews for being constant inspiration and soul sisters.

  Lisa, Mg Herrera, Taylor, Kate, Cheryl, Brenda, Liz, Sallie, MyMy, Abdulia, Ira, Kellie, Jen, Dita, Ginger, Kcee, Teresa, Sanella, Alice, Yvette, Martha, Mell, Shannon, Rennery, Jenny, Ashley, Kamber, Mackenzie, Lozzie, Simmy, Tiffany and Trashy for being the baddest ass ARC team ever. Thank you for taking a chance.

  My whole family for always loving unconditionally and teaching me to shoot for the stars.

  My “other” friends—aka the ones that don’t read my books—you guys are always amazing and while you may never read a page, you always call me an author. You also don’t unfriend me on social media for constantly posting porn. THANK YOU!

  Last but not least, fucking BB Easton. You’re an inspiration. Your books, your words, your unending help, and shit…just the way you live your life. NEVER have I been able to talk to someone I admire so much and feel such genuine care and love reflected back. The spirit animal may have started out as a joke but it is incredibly real now. It would be an honor to follow in your footsteps in any small way. Thank you for taking the time to befriend crazy humans. Thank you for writing beautiful and touching words. Thank you for being light where there’s a lot of dark. The tattoo was worth every drop of ink. And of course the blood…

  On that note, enjoy…???

  1.

  Elle

  “That’s it!” I shrieked, slamming down my iPad, unconcerned with what it did to the seat in front of me. But it wasn’t just that particular passenger whose head swiveled to stare at me. With a captive audience, I had to commit despite how out of character making a scene was. “As soon as we’re off this godforsaken plane I want a divorce.” I bit the inside of my lip to force tears to well in my eyes.

  “But what about counseling? We talked about counseling?” Cole tried to calm me, reaching out for my shoulder with his big bear-like hand as I flew up from my seat.

  “She’s your mother, Cole. Us going to counseling isn’t going to fix your mother.” I made my voice soar a few octaves as I turned toward the bathroom.

  I caught the momentary furrow of his brow at the mention of his mother but he fell back into character the moment I stomped off.

  “Elle,” he called and I humphed as I beelined for the bathroom. “Ladyface, wait. Stop. She’s a doctor, You know that’s the only reason she feels like she needs to know your ovulation schedule.”

  That bastard.

  The telltale sound of seatbacks creaking as he shoved down the aisle after
me was the only thing interrupting the normal hum of the airplane. Every set of eyes fell away from us at the airing of our intimate dirty laundry. Even the flight attendants were clearing out of our way with a simple ma’am or sir.

  “It’s not because she’s a doctor, it’s because she wishes you were still attached to her teet,” I shouted as I whirled into the bathroom, slamming the door with a flourish. I jumped at the noise I made, surprising myself.

  “That’s low. You know she suffered from postpartum depression.” The barrier did little to muffle his thick honey voice.

  “You’re twenty-nine Cole!” I kicked the rickety door for emphasis.

  The soft tones of flight attendants politely trying to diffuse the situation mingled with Cole’s grunts and groans.

  “Ladyface.” He mellowed a little, cooing as he wrapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Ladyface, please. At least talk to me.”

  “No.” I stomped again.

  “Elle, let me in there now. We are talking this through, and we’re talking this through now. You can’t run from me on a motherfucking plane.” The moment he swore, he apologized to the people nearest the bathroom I’d locked myself in.

  I tried to remember their faces and couldn’t. But I could perfectly map the sharp angles of his along with the way tattoos threatened to envelop each ridge. I hadn’t been able to think of anything else all day.

  “Elle, open this door.” Cole’s voice had changed again, this time it was a rough, snarly, commanding thing.

  My fingers trembled a little as they reached for the lock. I popped it to find Cole waiting with an attendant behind him, peeking in curiously. I thanked my lucky stars anxiety had kept my teeth firmly latched to my cheek.

  “Talk to me,” he pleaded a little too loudly for the sentiment.

  “Fine,” I sighed and pulled open the door. It may have been my imagination but the flight attendant standing over Cole’s shoulder seemed to nod in encouragement.

  And why wouldn’t she? Cole was a breathtaking man complete with tattooed muscular forearms, and darkly golden hair fashioned into a cut David Beckham probably paid serious money for. He was wearing dark, fitted jeans and a short-sleeve button-up that was a classy accent to the dangerous and drool-worthy ink. Any red-blooded woman would scream he’s a keeper, if only to climb like a jungle gym!

  “You can’t leave me,” he snarled as he stepped in, latching the door.

  “Think they bought it?” I murmured before whining, “I can’t stay either. Not like this,” at an unnecessary decibel.

  “Hook, line and fucking sinker.” His whisper was laced with a husky chuckle. “And added benefit, fighting with you has me harder than the stroking before.”

  I purred and reached across the minuscule distance to his erection, which was in fact, straining almost painfully against the trouser trap of denim.

  “Cole, I just can’t be married to both of you anymore. She’s a succubus.”

  His hulking frame was made all the larger by the confines of an airplane bathroom. Big, strong hands wrapped around my thighs and rucked my knee up to his hip. He’d helped me dispose of my thong from under my skirt ages ago—thanks scratchy blue felt blanket—and he unceremoniously slid into me.

  “Fuck, babe.” His words were a very real reaction to being inside me and I had to dig my fingers in where I clutched at his biceps to remind him we’re acting you, asshat. He caught the drift. “How do you want me to respond?” he strangled out as he started thrusting shallow and slow, letting the tip of his delicious dick tease my sex.

  “I want you to pick me.” My voice wavered at the same time everything in my belly clenched at the idea of him actually picking me.

  Cole gasped when he felt it then shoved in fully. I leaned in and bit into his chest to hold in the haggard sounds of pleasure I wanted to let loose.

  “I did. I will.” His voice was almost agonized.

  I prayed his voice read tortured in love rather than holding back cum.

  “You say that, Cole.”

  On second thought, I prayed no one was listening anymore at all. Our acting was getting weaker than my quivering knees as he started hammering into me. My ass hit the counter a few times before he fully gripped and lifted me. The way he curled his fingers had one of his tattooed digits pressing against the pucker of my ass.

  “I mean it.” His barely remembered line reminded me of cheap daytime soap operas.

  His finger pushing into me then against his hammering dick reminded me I didn’t care. Cole plunged and thrust, alternating his digit with the almost belligerent force of his cock.

  “I’m at my wit’s end,” I yell-moaned.

  Fingers crossed more yell than moan.

  Cole arched back and looked directly into my eyes; bright, blazing green meeting lucid, icy blue.

  “Me too,” he strangled out.

  His eyes confirmed what we were both implying. He pushed a second finger the tiniest way into my ass and I exploded. When I clenched down on him, his fingers split into a V and he rubbed himself through me. I bit into his shoulder again rather than moan as wild and wanton as I wanted. I felt his orgasm hit inside me, my body jerked with each little assault. I bit harder into his flesh.

  The moment he could manage he added loudly, “I guess that’s it then.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I gasped a little more wildly than him.

  Cole smirked as he set me back down gently to the floor, a deep and delicious dimple carving into his cheek. “That was fucking unbelievable,” he whispered as he pulled out. The heat of his cum dripped down onto my inner thigh. As best as he could, he folded in the small space, bending down and grabbing a paper towel.

  “Don’t.” I batted at his hand. “It’s a souvenir.”

  “God, I think I may be in love with you.” Desire shot through his beaming eyes and made his shoulders shudder.

  “Good. People need to think as much for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. They think we’re married remember?” I arched an eyebrow as I splashed some water on my face, purposely making tear tracks I could wipe off in the aisle.

  A knock at the door made me jump but Cole was calm and collected as he swept his eyes over me. As soon as my dress dropped down to my ankles, he popped open the door.

  “Sir, Miss, everything okay in here?” The flight attendant’s stern face faltered when she took us in.

  “No. She’s fucking leaving me,” Cole snarled and whipped past her.

  “I…I thought…it sounded like…I’m so sorry,” she stammered.

  Clearly, we’d been as loud as I feared and only recovered at the last minute by miraculously looking like we’d ruined something deep inside each other rather than just wrecking everything between my thighs.

  “It’s been a long time coming.” I bit my lip, pretending a quiver hung on it rather than a Cheshire Cat grin. “I’m just sorry that it came to a head here.” I added volume to the second part, hoping it sufficed as an apology to the cabin.

  “We’re a completely full flight, I can’t reassign your seat, but perhaps I can coordinate a swap,” she added kindly.

  “No. That won’t be necessary. The damage is done. The drama has passed. Thank you though.”

  I pushed past her to my vacant seat next to a huffing Cole. He snuck me a devastating wink before I plopped next to him. As soon as I did, he grazed his knuckle along my thigh. The one that had a cat on it. I remembered the animal vividly from when he drummed his hand on the folding tray—I’d pictured his pussy deep inside mine. The finger along with the newly minted memory made me smile, and once again, I found myself biting too hard on the inside of my cheek.

  Perfectly timed tears welled in the corner of my eyes as the flight attendant took it upon herself to bring me a tiny bottle of Jameson. I nodded, doing my best to look choked up rather than fantasizing about choking on Cole’s cock. She handed him a similar bottle then turned.

  “Ice?” he questioned under his breath.

  I sh
ook my head and tipped my bottle to stealthily cheers his, unscrewing it and putting it back with a simple unhinge of the throat. I swallowed hard and made the sour face that always accompanied a shot but then let out a deep and satisfied sigh. I turned to Cole, hoping to sneak a small smile in his direction. Instead, I found him watching me wide-eyed as if he’d never seen a woman shoot whiskey before.

  “Should see me with cum,” I mouthed the words more than anything but he caught my drift, his whole face changing.

  Heat radiated back at me, his eyes like the blistering ripples that wave up from the pavement, his muscles taut like he might pounce. I crossed my legs trying to suppress the arousal quickly spreading between my thighs and Cole’s eyes darted down to watch. His gaze was the sun filtered through a magnifying glass, and at any moment I might explode into flame. When I pressed harder and both the sticky and scratchy patches of Cole spread across my thighs, my blush bloomed across my cheeks, a fire all its own.

  He cleared his throat, pulling my eyes back to his. When we locked on each other again, he unscrewed his lid, shoved his tongue out and made a clover looking shape. He poured part of the tiny bottle into the well he’d created, pulled his tongue in and swallowed. The rose colored heat spread down my neck and wove like vines along my collarbone. He stuck his tongue back out, making a simple circular tube. Without another flourish, he poured the rest of the bottle down the makeshift straw.

  Cole let a smug smile spread across his lips when he’d gulped the whiskey down. He didn’t need to mouth, no, you should see me with your clit.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our final descent to the Chicago area. Please make sure your tray tables are locked and your seatback is in the full upright position…” The captain continued his automated spiel, breaking the spell that had held Cole and me captive.

  I looked away first and kept my eyes downcast for the rest of the flight.

  When we shuffled out, the flight attendants each gripped my shoulder, undoubtedly hoping to show support. Only a small part of me felt bad for deceiving everyone. The rest of me wanted a pat on the back for having my way with a gorgeous stranger in the bathroom.