Feral a taboo romance, p.1
Feral: A Taboo Romance, page 1
Feral
A Taboo Romance
Selena Moore
Copyright © 2023 Selena Moore
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 9798386065584
Cover by IStock **KFR
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Warning
Playlist
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Lessons In Sin
Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Book 2
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Books By This Author
Warning
Please do yourself a favor and check the content and trigger warnings for this book before attempting to read. Find them on my pinned post on my Instagram profile @selenamooreromance or on my Goodreads author page. Feral is written by a smut lover for a specific kind of reader. One who enjoys the dirtiness and depravity that comes in the written form. The escapism of it.
The fantasy. If you have not read any of my books before, Feral may be the one to make or break you.
Consider yourself warned and please, enjoy this story for what it is; a raunchy ride into fantasy land.
Playlist
“Slow Dance” by Ana Popovic
“Drive” by The Cars
“La Luna” by Belinda Carlisle
“Hungry Heart” by Bruce Springsteen
“All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You” by Heart
“Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman
“Keep On Loving You” by REO Speedwagon
“Eye Of The Tiger” by Survivor
“Give In To Me” by Michael Jackson
“Make Me Lose Control” by Eric Carmen
“Is This Love” by Whitesnake
“Waiting For A Girl Like You” by Foreigner
“I Was Made For Loving You” by KISS
“Self Control” by Laura Branigan
“Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister
“High On Emotion” by Chris de Burgh
“(I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew
“I Come Undone” by Jennifer Rush
“Because The Night” by Patti Smith
“Driver’s Seat” by Sniff ‘n’ The Tears
“Like The Way I Do” by Melissa Etheridge
“Born In The U.S.A.” by Bruce Springsteen
“Sounds Like A Melody” by Alphaville
“I Surrender” by Rainbow
Chapter 1
Gemma
“You've got to be fucking kidding me, Gemma,” my best friend, Tammy, says as she downs yet another shot of vodka. It's my twenty-fourth birthday and I am celebrating it alone at the local bar, thanks to my sleazy, rotten son of a bitch ex-boyfriend, Jack, who decided to dump me on the day of our second anniversary.
Thanks a lot, fucker.
“I’m not kidding and you know it,” I say flatly as I delete random pictures of Jack and me from my phone. “Imagine the buzz after I get his interview up in the newspaper. He has never spoken about the accident, not since his conviction, did you know that?” I sigh as I delete my favorite picture of Jack taken at last year’s Fourth of July. Now I only have to scroll down and do the same with a couple hundred others.
‘Slow Dance’ by Ana Popovic plays on the speakers and I feel like this is just my luck since it's the first song he and I ever danced to. Tammy shakes her head, her eyes lingering on the heavily tattooed man behind the bar.
“Jacob Broussard is responsible for driving his best friend off the road and into smithereens, Gemma. News reports say he’s been cooped up inside his mansion for months on end. I doubt you’ll be able to even find out where he lives. And why do you need to go there and interview him yourself? Darren is drooling over this and you know it. It’s practically all I’ve heard him talk about these past few weeks.”
I flip open my purse and count what money I have left. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. It’s not every day I get to celebrate my shitty choice in men. Well, boys actually, if I’m being totally honest.
“Darren wants to meet him because he somehow thinks he’s entitled to tell his story just because he’s a sports reporter and he’s obsessed with race car drivers. I’m sure that even if he managed to talk to him, he’d end up twisting the whole thing and making him out to be something completely different.”
I watch her make a noncommittal grin and chug down the rest of her drink, gesturing to the bartender for another round.
“Take it easy on those, okay? Last time we went out, you bailed on me without so much as a heads-up.”
With complete disregard for what I just told her, she rolls her eyes and scratches her nose, looking around the crowded bar before she speaks again.
“What makes you so sure he's going to tell you anything more than what he's already said to the Press before, Gem?”
“Nothing,” I simply say. “I just know that I want to give him a fair chance. I want to meet this man in person, Tammy. See if he’s the cold-blooded killer everyone portrays him to be.”
“Honey, flying out to New Orleans to talk to a convicted felon just for the sake of an interview, sounds way too risky. Even for you. What if the rumors hold true? I don’t want to see you get into any trouble.”
“Please, spare me the lecture, okay? I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. I’ve read the dossier that the research department compiled on him. I know all his background information, where he’s from, his age, his political leanings. I’ve gone through all the court documents. I’m not going there blind. I know he’s angry, bitter, and stubborn as a mule. Did you know that he’s refused every doctor or physician's advice to get a prosthetic leg and make his life easier?”
“No, I didn’t know that. Damn, he sure sounds like one headstrong, unbending son of a bitch, huh?”
I pull out my phone and show her the files I have saved. “And who said anything about flying? I thought you knew I’m terrified of planes. I’m going by bus, or train, whichever is cheaper.”
“You’re going to take the bus to Louisiana? From Manhattan? Girl, you’ve lost it, you know? That’s sheer madness!”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Tammy. If I need anything, that’s a little fun. Now, how about I buy us another round, huh? I’ve got some more money to throw around to celebrate my unceremonious break-up.”
Tammy and I met my first week at Manhattan Express, and since then we have been inseparable. Her warnings do nothing to deter me from going to Louisiana, not one iota. I still want to interview him. Come hell or high water, I’m going to do just that. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. With Jack out of the picture and my self-esteem hitting rock bottom, this project sounds exactly like what I need to get my mind off my miserable little life. I need some fucking excitement, something to get me out of my slump.
“Suit yourself, hon,” she finally says, taking another look around the now bustling bar. “Damn,” she mumbles a moment later. “That stud at your left has totally been checking you out, Gem.”
I turn slowly, pretending to look innocuously around and catch his eye. Mid-thirties, lean, and impeccably dressed, he looks like Liam Hemsworth, only better. His wind-swept hair shimmers like autumn leaves under the bar’s ambient lights, and when he smiles, revealing perfect white teeth, the gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.
I smile back and he instantly disentangles himself from his buddies and walks over to where we are in slow, confident strides, all the while keeping his eyes on me. When he’s finally in front of me, it’s his intoxicating, musky cologne that seals the deal, even before his rich, smooth voice hits my ears.
He’s exactly the thing I need and if he’s game, I am too.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks and that Southern accent alone is seductive enough.
Damn, he’s cocky.
I’m surprised that he doesn’t cast a single glance
Rude but what the heck?
I turn to look at Tammy and I know she’s thinking exactly the same thing I am.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I sass, already following him out of the crowded bar and anxious to get this underway. A shiny black Lexus LC 500 lights up at the touch of his fingers and I know one thing for sure; if he fucks even half as good as he looks, I am in for a long, sweat-filled night.
***
Two hours later I’m picking my bra and panties off the black marble floor of his vast apartment on Lexington Avenue when I feel his muscled arm wrap around my middle, attempting to pull me back under his black satin sheets.
“Leaving already?” he asks as I slip into my heels. I turn, just to save the image of his beautiful face for safekeeping. His body too.
“Yes. I need to get back home. It’s been nice.”
“Nice?” he asks, wrapping the luxuriously soft fabric around his hips and standing up next to me. “It’s been nice?” he repeats as if I didn’t hear him right the first time. “We just fucked like animals and it was nice?”
I make a face, he’s got a point. Nice is too little a word to describe what happened between us two. “I mean, it was spectacular,” I correct, a smile slowly forming on his face.
“That’s more like it. It may well have been the best fuck of my entire life, Miss…”
“No names. Please. Makes it easier for both of us.”
“No names. Ok.” He escorts me to the door, opens it hesitantly, and leans over to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home?”
“That would beat the whole purpose, don’t you think? You’d know where I live and I’m not sure you aren’t a serial killer or any other kind of psycho.”
“See you around, then, Miss No Name,” his voice echoes in the empty hallway, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Goodbye,” I whisper back just as the elevator door closes behind me.
God, I fucking needed this tonight!
Chapter 2
Jacob
The pain in my right leg has escalated from the usual dull throb into a burning,
glaring sensation.
The hot, humid air and the strain from makin’ groceries and trucking between
the pirogue are taking their toll. Squinting under the blazing mid-summer sun,
I try to focus on unlocking the massive metal gate of my late mother’s estate but
my fingers are slippery and the key falls to the ground, prolonging my agony.
Muttering a silent curse, I move my hybrid walker cane a little further to the left
and bend forward slowly to pick the damn thing up. A soft breeze riffles through
the cypress trees, warning of an imminent storm.
On my third attempt, the gate finally gives way and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The courtyard is riddled with wild bushes and the few trees that once blossomed, bearing succulent fruits are now wilted and dry, their frail branches reminiscent of a glorious past. Spanish moss droops from the sprawling limbs of the few remaining live oaks, the unrelenting humid heat of rural Louisiana drying everything out. A sudden movement amongst the shrubbery catches my eye and I glimpse a fiery orange tabby cat running away at the sight of me.
Slowly, I make my way through the narrow gravel path and up the ramp I had installed to avoid the several steps leading to the century-old Creole estate’s front door. It’s funny; sometimes I think this place, however neglected, is in better shape than I am. I push the wooden door open, a squeaking sound welcoming me into the blessed darkness of the interior. Once inside, the eerie silence blankets me within its comforting embrace.
Certain no soul will dare venture to my hiding place, I push the door shut and pick up the four-legged cane I use at home. A booming sound echoes through the empty rooms and I turn my gaze upward at the skylight.
A dark front is moving swiftly to the north.
A storm is coming.
I hope it pours. I can’t bear this heat.
I walk into the kitchen slowly and disentangle myself from my backpack stuffed with groceries. A ray of sunlight peeks through the clouds creating a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the room when it hits the chandelier hanging above the oak table. Maman liked for things to be just the way she wanted them. Fireplaces in every room. Chandelier in the kitchen. You name it; this place had once been the epitome of glamor. Now, it's a shell of the elegant luxury it once was.
Maman would be horrified to know her beloved home has turned into a shell of a house. My mind races back to my childhood days, running around the grounds for hours on end, only settling down when it was time to eat. I can almost hear her gentle voice as she summoned my brother and me to lunch, her quiet, steady footsteps as she walked briskly towards the wrap-around balcony to shout out our names. Letting out a sigh, I think this place could definitely use a woman's touch.
But then again so could I.
I can’t even remember the last time I’d been with a woman.
Was it a year ago? Two?
My mother’s gone.
My brother is gone, too, lost to his addictions.
The only family I have left is my son and the last time I saw him…
A vaguely familiar sound jolts me out of my reverie as I put the cans of food and the loaf of bread away and I strain my ears to listen better.
There it is again; that unmistakable rap on my front door.
Someone is out there.
Someone unwelcome.
Someone uninvited.
Slowly, I make my way back to the front of the house, and when I fling the door open, what I see knocks the wind out of me.
She is young.
And beautiful beyond belief.
Thick, dark hair, a wide, expressive mouth, and a luscious, willowy body that could turn a saint into a sinner.
I swallow hard before I speak, holding her hypnotic cat-like green eyes as she stares into mine.
“I don’t want it,” I growl, and if my looks are not menacing enough, I make damn sure my tone of voice is. She’s too young and too beautiful and I’m too fucking depraved not to pull her inside and keep her here with me until all my wicked desires are sated.
“Hmm…hey,” she stammers. “How do you—”
Annoyed, I glance past this intruder and see Tom, one of the local pirogue drivers, talking on his phone over by my dock.
I slam the door in the girl’s face and pray she’ll be gone when I open it again.
She knocks on it a second later.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
An eternity passes and we both wait on either side.
She knocks again and I wait still, wishing her away.
Away from me.
But then my name is on her lips, her soft voice sneaking up on me and I find myself unable to move away.
“You are Mr. Jacob Broussard, right?” she says loudly before dropping down to a whisper. “With my luck, I could be knocking on some old creep’s door.”
That last part is so quiet, I nearly miss her words, it’s as if she’s talking to herself. I hear her sigh and my hand goes to the handle instinctively, slowly turning it, already regretting my decision.
She seems startled and disheartened, her eyes searching mine.
“Save it, little girl,” I warn. “Get back into the pirogue and go back to wherever the fuck you came from.”
“Please, you haven’t even let me tell you what it is I’m here for.”
Our eyes lock for a brief moment then I scan her from head to toe, committing the details to memory. Shifting my stance to accommodate my growing bulge I clear my throat and hold her gaze.
