Maneater Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  MANEATER

  Aleya Michelle

  Copyright © 2016 Aleya Michelle

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover - Cover Me Darling - Marisa Rose Shor.

  Formatting – Angel’s Indie Formatting.

  Editor – Hot Tree Editing.

  Proofread – Jenny Sims- Editing 4 Indies.

  Cover image Copyright 2016

  First and foremost, to my loyal and beautiful readers! I really love you all so much and feel like you are part of my little book world family xo

  Thank you for sticking by me as I grow and learn as a writer and hanging around for the last three years! Each and every little review you write means the world to me xx

  Thank you to the awesome ladies at Hot tree editing for understanding my warped sense of humour and Aussie slang in ManEater!

  To Jenny Sims from Editing 4 Indies, you are always an absolute gem and pleasure to work with, thank you for your efficiency!

  To my amazing formatter and friend Angel Steel, you are always so patient, helpful and I would seriously be lost without you. Thank you.

  Thank you to Marisa Shor from Cover me Darling for ManEater’s SEXY cover! I knew when I saw it, that it was absolutely perfect for Jemma’s story!

  To my gorgeous beta readers Cheryl, Elaine, Amy, Philena, Chantelle & Lani xx

  I appreciate you ladies so much, your honesty, advice and feedback is what makes my characters come to life and my stories become so much stronger. Love you!

  Thank you to my sensational street team Aleya’s Alluring Angels.

  You ladies go above and beyond, your support and friendship is amazing X.

  Join Today☺ https://www.facebook.com/groups/712925062086945/

  Once again I need to single out and give a HUGE shout out to two GORGEOUS ladies Amy Adrian Kehl and Robyn Corcoran for being the best pimpers and promo ladies ever, I can’t wait to meet you Amy and see you again Robyn! Love you both!

  To my awesome P.A. Nathalie Raven, thank you for always being there to help me, pimp me out, support me, and do your best. I’d be lost without you.

  To all of the bloggers who have supported me and helped a little indie author spread the word about my books, I appreciate you all.

  Special mention to two sensational friends and inspirational ladies Angela Travers and Kristine Englefield, always supportive and helpful as friends and fellow authors xo

  To the most important men in my life, my hubby and three boys, a huge thank you for being understanding, supportive and loving me unconditionally as I love you!

  A special mention to my nana and Aunty and all my family, I appreciate you all so much, thank you for supporting me and believing in me, every book I write is for you xx

  Last but never least, to my beautiful mother in heaven…

  Cheers to you up in heaven.

  Thank you for encouraging me and supporting me in life! I do apologise for the hell I put you through when I was a teenager, but in hindsight it was all fuel and ideas for my writing. Lol.

  Miss your Love, voice, quirkiness and daily chats.

  Happy Mother’s Day xo

  Prologue

  What a girl wants

  "Yes, ohhhhh, yes."

  "Harder, harder!" I scream full force in my best fake orgasm voice.

  This guy is fucking terrible. Like seriously, he's lucky I'm even wet enough for him to slide inside, but I don’t have much trouble in the wetness department.

  Usually if a romp was this bad, I'd just end it and say see you later, but he is such a sweetheart, and he ticks most of the other boxes, so ...

  I feel like I have an obligation to fake this.

  I'm biting my tongue. I'd love to say, “Um, hello, is it in yet?”

  It's not really his fault he has a minuscule package. Maybe it’s hereditary, or maybe he didn’t eat enough chicken with the hormones and all.

  But that ain't all that’s lacking ...

  He has no fucking idea how to thrust properly. Come on; it’s not rocket science. You find a rhythm and stick to it.

  I bet he’s got no beat on the dance floor, either. Or hand-eye coordination with sports.

  From his moans, he’s enjoying it; it's obviously all about the climax for himself. Glad, it feels good for someone … I do aim to please. God, I sound like a hooker.

  "I'm so close, sweet buns," he shouts in a breathless voice, and I stifle a giggle.

  Holy mother in hell, he just called me sweet buns—fucking sweet buns.

  Jesus, man, a girl does not find that complimentary—or sexy, for that matter. Sweet buns are croissants or a doughnut, not something you say during sex.

  "Yes, yes, yes,” I moan, accentuating each word for his benefit, and I can't help but half chuckle at the same time.

  He half-heartedly thrusts a few more times. At least, I assume that's what he's doing; his hips are moving, but I’m sure not feeling it.

  Just when I thought I’d seen and heard it all …

  The dark-haired male on top of me screeches like a wild fucking animal. His ferocious moan is loud and intense. His now sweaty chest convulses and shakes, followed by a mewling grunt that I'm sure I've heard in the animal kingdom.

  I can’t help but feel relieved.

  All over, red rover. Thank fuck for that.

  Congratulations, you are officially my worst lay ever!

  The now spent man-child with the anatomy of a boy collapses on top of me. Sweat drips into my cleavage. His energy levels are shot from his release as he deflates further on top of me.

  I totally freak as the claustrophobia kicks in.

  Get. Off. Me.

  I shove him hard, and he lands on the other side of his bed. I quickly sit up, moving backwards. Gah, I’m really over this.

  I'm definitely not the cuddling type, and he is overstepping too many boundaries right now. I gotta get outta here.

  No more tact needed. I've played my part.

  I stand and find my bra, thong, and little black dress and slip them all on as quick as humanly possible, avoiding eye contact.

  I can feel his eyes on me.

  What is his name?

  Samuel, Seth, Scott …

  "Can I use your bathroom?" I ask, not needing his name after all.

  "Sure. It's down the hallway, second door on the right,"
he replies, and from the tone in his voice, I can tell he is smiling. Still reeling from his orgasm, no doubt.

  I make a beeline to the bathroom, where I use the toilet and freshen up. Now, it’s time to go.

  “Hey, I gotta get back to my roommate. She left her key at home, so see you later,” I call as I rush to the front door, grabbing my shoes on the way.

  “Wait, Jemma,” I hear him call, but that freaking-out feeling kicks in again and I’m out the door. I hightail it down his garden path and around the corner.

  Fuck, I don’t even know where I am …

  I hastily grab my phone and click on Google Maps. What would we do without Google?

  Shit, I’m on the other side of town.

  Just great.

  I quickly dial my local taxi service that I have on speed dial.

  “One person to North Sydney, please,” I tell the operator.

  I keep walking to avoid having “bad lay” find me. The next street is called Phillip Street. I take a seat at the bus stop and give her details of my location.

  “Yes, ready now,” I tell her.

  Texting Roxy, the BFF, I shake my head at myself and another stupid situation I’m in.

  Live and learn … right?

  Me:

  Oh God, this guy was officially my worst lay ever.

  Roxy:

  You woke me up, bitch.

  Sucked in, you can’t get all the good sex.

  Me:

  Ha-ha, I’m waiting for a cab. See you soon.

  I'll definitely be calling the Rock later. I was naked, sweaty, and moaning, and still no orgasm.

  He will fix that; he always does.

  He is exactly what a girl wants …

  Well, only if you are a bad girl like me.

  Chapter 1

  Fun and flirtatious

  Five days since the worst lay experience, and Ryan, “the Rock,” which is his boxing name, is out of town. I’m not desperate enough to call any other guys yet. Thankfully, my purple BOB has been quite successful this week.

  Sometimes, I wonder if I actually need a guy for pleasure. Then my mind wanders to the firm, steel-hard abs of the Rock, and I remember how it feels for his strong arms to pin me down while he thrusts deeper and harder with that hot cock of his …

  No battery-operated device can replace that man!

  Roxy and I are chilling on the lounge, enjoying a few drinks. It’s amazing that even six years out of school we are still the best of friends and share a fabulous apartment. Thanks to both of us working, our place is well furnished. We have gorgeous modern furniture, and have painted two feature walls—one in teal and one purple. Roxy loves graphic design, hence her career choice, so we found some funky mirrors, clocks, and artwork that show our personalities and humour.

  It’s only Thursday night, but after a couple of hours at home, we decide on a few more drinks at the pub. A guy from high school is on the live mic, and rumour has it he can actually play the guitar and sing well. Unlike some of the other amateurs this joint has had …

  That reminds me, I’ll have to ask Rox when her brother Jeremy and his band Electric Beat are going on their tour.

  I catch a glimpse of Tia walking in the door, always a smile on her face.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Tia states as we embrace. She is looking professional in her work ensemble of pinstriped blouse, tight black skirt, and strappy heels.

  “Like you can talk. You look like you are about to go all lawyer on my arse in the courtroom,” I respond.

  Tia and Roxy hug then we find a free table. I’m wearing dark blue skinny jeans, wedges, and a black singlet top—nothing too dressy but still nice—and I decided on less make-up than usual, not expecting a big one.

  Roxy is dressed in her denim skirt and a black tank top. Dressy flip-flops were as extravagant as she would go as I had to beg her arse to come out tonight.

  ***

  After five glasses of wine and a lot of great song choices—mainly Ed Sheeran—I’ve got a nice buzz going on. I sway and sing along. What is it about Ed’s song lyrics that just draw me in?

  He must have had some amazing life experiences.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a good-looking guy sitting with a few mates. I have good radar when it comes to men and weeding out the ones worthy of my attention, except worst lay ever. God only knows how he got under my radar.

  He is definitely cute, I confirm with a longer glance. Haven’t seen him around here before, must be a newbie.

  His light brown hair is very short, not quite a buzz cut but still short. It shows off his chiselled jaw and scruffy two-day growth. I am in tune with the male body and notice his chest is a little ripped, biceps bulging through his tee, but not too much or over the top.

  He’s watching me with bright blue eyes, having obviously noticed my attention.

  Busted.

  He catches me checking him out and gives me a wink.

  I like the brazen wink, but I’m playing the cool card tonight, so I look away and giggle.

  “You couldn’t be any more obvious, ho bag,” Roxy announces, and it seems I’m busted in all areas.

  Roxy has come a long way, considering last year Kade broke her heart. I’m still not sure what happened there. He struggled when his parents split up, and then he took off to Byron Bay.

  “A girl can look,” I reply, winking at my BFF. She rolls her eyes and smiles, knowing all too well that the saying “look, but don’t touch” does not apply to me. I’m all about the touching, lots and lots of touching …

  I’m hot for guys, what can I say.

  Nothing to be ashamed of; I’m a hot-blooded man-eater …

  ***

  “Who wants another round?” I shout enthusiastically and probably a little too loudly to the girls.

  “One more then I’m off. One more day in the working week,” Tia announces, frowning.

  “God, I wish it was a Friday night. I’m in the mood to party.”

  “When are you not, Jem?” Roxy questions with a laugh, playfully jabbing me in the ribs.

  “Come to the bar and be my wingwoman, Miss Thorne,” I beg her. We have worked this play a hundred times.

  Roxy smiles and nods. We link arms and head towards the bar; it’s pretty packed for a Thursday.

  I can’t help but glance at Mr Blue Eyes and find his eyes already on me.

  Interesting …

  Looks like BOB won’t be needed tonight after all.

  Before I actually jump in the sack with just anyone, I follow a few strict rules. I have four boxes that need ticking before we fuck.

  1) He needs to be fit. I’m not talking bulging muscles, but he needs to take care of himself. I like them firm and fierce in the body department.

  2) He needs to be good looking. I’ll be the first to admit I definitely judge a book by its cover. If I’m not attracted to him when I look at him, it’s not going to work. I’m not saying he must be model material, just nice and easy on the eye.

  3) He needs to be able to kiss! I’m all about try before you buy. If he kisses badly, it’s just too hard to take it further. Too much tongue is like you are choking and then there’s the drowning in saliva; that is just gross.

  Playing tonsil hockey is frustrating. Kissing isn’t a race; too fast makes my head spin.

  Oh, and fresh is best. Bad breath is a pet peeve; I can’t deal with it. Deal breaker.

  4) He needs to buy me a drink first.

  If you are too tight to buy me a drink, I won’t leave with you.

  It says a lot about a guy’s personality if he won’t even offer to buy you a drink. He is a cheapskate, for one, but also selfish. If he can’t buy me a drink, I just know sex is going to be one-sided and all about him.

  If he doesn’t think you are worth eight dollars, then he is a use-and-abuse type. I’ve learnt a lot about the male species. Trust me …

  If those boxes are all ticked, we can leave together. Of course, there are exceptions, always things tha
t pop up, but then I pretty much get the hell out of there.

  Like bad breath, excess body odour makes me gag; being jobless and bragging about it; living at home with Mummy and Daddy with no intention of ever leaving; extremely crushed clothing; having way too much body hair (it’s like being with a gorilla), and of course, having no cash and asking constantly for money.

  I can't do those things.

  So, I guess it's more like ten rules.

  ***

  “Well, well, looks like Miss Donavan is getting lucky again this evening,” Roxy states, winking as we wait in line to order our drinks.

  I bite my bottom lip. From the look on Roxy’s face, the cute guy is on his way over to us.

  I’ve done this a zillion times …

  The guy in front finishes his order, and I’m next in line. “Three moscatos please, Eddie,” I order, doing my best to refrain from turning around. Keeping cool is the key.

  “I’ll pay for these drinks,” I hear a deep, rugged voice say from behind me. His rough, manly hand passes the bartender a fifty-dollar note. Impressive.

  I slowly turn to show my gratitude, and I’m face to face with those baby blues. Roxy squeezes my hand. Obviously, the mystery man has impressed her, too.

  “Well, aren’t you a gentleman, paying for our drinks,” I say, trying to remain unaffected by his closeness and pretty eyes. “Maybe we should take advantage and order a few shots,” I joke to Roxy, showing him my humorous side.

  “Easy there, gorgeous, we have plenty of time for more drinks,” he states, grinning. Well, if he isn’t a cocky one.

  The thing about the cocky guys is that you need to figure out if he is a cocky arsehole or just confident; they quite often get confused.

  One way to weed out the difference is to try to show him up a little. The arseholes get defensive and rude, whereas the decent confident guys appreciate a confident woman who can give as good as she gets.

  “Well, actually, this was our last drink. I’m feeling a little tired,” I say as I yawn into my hand sarcastically.

  He laughs. “I’m sure I can do something to keep you awake,” he replies, capturing my attention and making me smile in return.