Beautiful Enigma (Ethics of the Heart series), page 1
Beautiful Enigma
SK Mason
Published by SK Mason, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BEAUTIFUL ENIGMA
First edition. November 17, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 SK Mason.
ISBN: 978-0645282405
Written by SK Mason.
Beautiful Enigma
SK Mason
ISBN (ebook) 978-0-6452824-0-5
ISBN (paperback) ISBN: 978-0-6452824-5-0
Cover art by Kate Farlow from Y’all that graphics designs yallthatgraphic@gmail.com
Editing services by Kat Pagan from Pagan Proof Reading paganproofreading@gmail.com
Contents
Acknowledgements
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
Epilogue
Bonus Scene; The wedding
Forbidden Promise
Chapter 1 – Jarryd
Chapter 2 – April
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Acknowledgements
Mamie, this summer, you and I will be reading again. In my mind, we’re in Normandie, sitting on the couch, going through these books and swapping them with each other, ignoring the eye rolls of everyone else. Because we’re right. There’s nothing better than a happily even after xoxo
Mémé, this might not be as good as ‘Angelique, Marquise des Anges’, but hopefully we can still take turns at reciting the best lines anyway. I can see us in the dim lights, with Mum and Caroline, crooning over Jeffrey’s love gestures. Hopefully, Jarryd comes close. xoxo
Thank you to my support crew who haven’t stopped encouraging me. My PA Natasha, who I won’t lie, is a God sent. Kylie Kent (another Aussie author you really should check out!), Naomi (can’t wait till your book comes out), Chris (for agreeing to read some of my work), Melissa Ridell (my first online author buddy, and an amazing writer to check out as well), my personal coaches Keona and Ivica, and my business coach Sam. Of course, a massive thank you to my beta readers from the Romance Critique Club on Scribophile;
Peyton James, Iris Black, Mina Jane, Janet Reid, and FC Chazer. You guys rock and are all amazing writers (Again... Check them out!!!! You won’t be disappointed).
Jamie Kendrick is mysterious. Charismatic. Experienced. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. But no matter what, he’s only mine for three days...
IF SEX AND INTIMACY is anything based on the men around me, there’s not much to look forward to. But at nineteen, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend I’m normal when it comes to the bedroom.
After finding myself dating one too many douche-bags with a dislike for inexperienced girls, it’s time to take matter into my own hands and what better than to seek the help of a high-class escort to remedy my little “problem”.
The plan is simple enough. Get the V-card out of the way and get on with the rest of my life. What I don’t expect though, is the Aussie Hunk to completely shatter my perspective on sex, men, and pleasure in the process.
*** Beautiful Enigma is not your typical virgin trope. Instead, it’s a tale of healing, romance, and sexual enlightenment between two souls who discover that intimacy starts with the heart.***
TRIGGER WARNING: IN her everyday life, SK Mason is a real life therapist and therefore take mental health seriously. Some topics in this book include trauma that may be triggering for some. However, this is not the main plot and should not distract from the sexy and exciting read ;)
Chapter 1
OBLIVIOUS TO THE THOUSAND bodies crawling the Brisbane night club like drunken fire ants, Dylan trails his hand up my skirt, my excitement igniting like wet matches. I moan when his lips engulf mine, just as my best friend Jess does with her beaux of the night.
Fake it until you make it, sister.
Jess’s voice grows louder in my head with every new move from my boyfriend. She’d be proud of me. Virgin or not, by the time I learn all the tricks of the trade, Dylan will be none the wiser.
Heavy, warm breaths blow inside my mouth, and I force my eyes shut, wondering how on earth people get turned on by this. It’s fucking pathetic. Draining. It’s the equivalent of walking on hot cinders.
Making out next to us on the couch, two girls giggle as they fondle each other’s boobs, bumping into Dylan’s tongue-sucking marathon in the process. As grossed out as I am by the PDA around us, I thank God for the interruption.
“Want a drink?” Dylan asks, his eyes following the trail of hot bodies bopping on the dance floor of The Prohibition.
“Yes, thanks.” As soon as he disappears into the crowd, I glance at the time on my phone, and sigh when only a measly hour has gone by since Dylan, Jess, and I stepped into the club. It feels more like a week.
Across from me, Jess waves, then kisses some guy on the cheek before she dashes to my side. The couch creaks as she leans back. “Raven, sweetie, tell me this isn’t awesome?” she asks, as her hands pump in the air with every beat screaming in the background.
I roll my eyes and blow a hard breath. “Nope. I’d rather be in bed.”
An alcohol-fuelled finger taps me on the nose. “Now, now. Remember,” she slurs, “Dylan is not any random guy. He’s a local god.” She taps my nose with every next word, like she’s typing morse code. “Fame, popularity, money.”
Qualities which could erase the image of the poor girl, tainted by her family’s domestic violence and questionable choices once and for all.
She continues, “He has everything, and you’ll want to claim him before any of these bitches try to steal him off you.”
I slap her hand down, mouthing ‘sorry’ to the girls narrowing their eyes at Jess’s digit twirling in their faces. “Stop it. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, girlfriend.”
“Are you going to consider my vibrator plan A, or are you sticking with your outrageous plan B?”
My head falls on the cushion behind me, shame rolling through my stomach. “Ugh.” This isn’t a conversation I thought I’d ever need to have. Not that nineteen is old, or that being a virgin at nineteen is a crime, but in this day and age, admitting that I’d never even been kissed until a few months ago generally leads to some really curious looks.
“Fine. I’m guessing the dildo is still a no-go. Why don’t you just tell him you’re a virgin, then?” Jess asks, her head leaning against my shoulder. “I think you’re hot. I’d have you.”
Because as hot as he is, he doesn’t strike me as the talk-therapy type.
“How much have you had to drink?” I deadpan, while patting the top of her thigh.
“You’re not Stella. He wouldn’t make fun of you like that.”
I squeeze my phone a little tighter, my palm hoping to erase all the screenshots that have leaked through campus in the last couple of weeks between Dylan and his friends.
Laughing. Dissing. Pitying some poor girl who lost her virginity in a lust-induced oblivion. I’m not sure what shocks me the most: the amount of blood staining the sheets, or the fact that for these guys, taking someone’s virginity was a chore.
Apparently, experienced women are not only less messy, but they also do all the work.
“I’m not risking it.”
She shrugs. “Okay, but pretty sure Casanova expects some ass very soon.”
“Don’t make it sound so vulgar.” I shake my head, cringe-worthy frustration hitting me. “He’s hot. He’s smart, and he’s funny. I could have scored worse.”
“He does everything for you.” She wraps her arms around me until her voice is but a murmur in my ear. “Except turn you on.”
Oh, Jesus.
My best friend might be right, but it isn’t on him. Dylan has a hot body, and all in all, he truly is every girl’s dream.
It’s not his fault.
I’ve tried to get myself off. In the dark, in the morning, with fingers or with the showerhead. The most I’ve felt were slight tingles, but never the earth-shattering explosion everyone talks about. And yet, that is an upgrade to what I feel when Dylan kneads my flesh like yesterday’s bread.
No. The issue is me. I am frigid. Untouchable. Unlovable. Like my father yelled at my mother a hundred times: some women are just as cold as ice, and fucking an ice cube is bound to freeze your dick off after a while.
I sigh. “Nothing turns me on. It’s not him, so might as well get the V-card out of the way, learn a few tricks, and dazzle him once I’ve learnt to fake orgasms like a porn star.”
Jess rotates towards me, her eyes narrowed like a grandma without glasses. “Are you telling me that you’ve never had an orgasm? Even by yourself?”
A couple of bodies turn towards us, and I rush a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Shhh, don’t advertise my brokenness to the world for Christ’s sake.”
“Like anyone can hear above the music.
Her eyes roll at the obvious.
Based on the vibrations rocking us on the couch, she has a point. I concede and move closer until my mouth touches her cheek. “Never had one. In all honesty, I’m starting to think that the big-O is just a big ol’ myth.”
Her eyes grow wide, her mouth contorting as she stares at me from head to toe. “A hot babe like you?” She picks up a strand of my hair, the long red lock dancing through her fingers. “With these bright blue jewels we call eyes, no way. You just haven’t tamed your sex appeal, sister.”
My cheeks burn, and I shake my head. My best friend’s clearly buzzed. “Everyone is hot when you’re drunk.” I chuckle.
“Nuh-uh.” She lowers her eyes to my boobs. “Look at the size of these puppies.” Her hand palms my tits. “Perfect shape.”
A smile curls my lips, my brain giving up on having a grown-up conversation with my friend. I’ll have to confirm plan B by myself. How bad of a plan could it be when it came professionally recommended by my therapist, right? “Okay, sweetie. I’m a super-hot catch. Everyone knows that.”
Behind me, a familiar voice interrupts our girly heart-to-heart. “You are definitely a hot little number, sweet pea.”
I snap myself back and force an awkward smile as Dylan runs his tongue behind my ear.
It’s enjoyable. It’s enjoyable. It’s enjoyable.
“A hot, sweaty bod I can’t wait to have naked under me.” My boyfriend drops a few shots in front of us and points to the guy Jess was smooching. “Left Romeo by himself?”
My best friend salutes him. “Sure did. I’ll get back to him later.” She rolls her shoulders slowly until her neck pops under the pressure. “Or his friend. I’m not fussy.”
Dylan raises his hand to fist pump her, but she narrows her eyes and shakes her head with a sour look on her face. “Nah, I’ll pass. Not too impressed with these screenshots going around town. I’d be a piss-poor feminist if I pretended to approve.”
A slight blush creeps up his neck, but he ignores it and instead, completely leans back against his seat, some weird pride taking over the confrontation. “Hey, you got to look at it from our side, sister. If a girl’s gonna mess up a dude’s bed like that, the least she can do is warn him.”
“Warn him?” I ask, my voice a little pitchy.
My boyfriend grabs my hand, then drops his lips to my knuckles. “I get all girls have to go through it, and I’m happy to help the next gal out, but at least let me run a sheet of plastic over my bed and jerk off beforehand so the lack of action doesn’t give me blue balls.”
My jaw drops, my heart rate spiking in my chest.
Is that what I have to look forward to? Quick deflowering over a builder’s sheet as a favour to mankind?
Jess straightens, her sobering pretty instantaneous. “Tell me, stud, have you ever considered, let me think...” She pauses in an exaggerated huff. “...that making love was about... love?”
Dylan tilts his head like she’s grown a third eye. “Love? Come on, Jess.” He points towards the back of the club where a bunch of hotties are gathered. “Would you rather fuck some green newbie, who won’t know the difference between your clit and your ass, or get fucked good by one of them?”
She rolls her eyes, her lips tight. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
He laughs, then launches his mouth in the crook of my neck and drops a bunch of wet pecks. “I’m a jerk who loves real women. The ones I don’t have to initiate by having them suck my dick.” He downs one of the shots, eyes closed, and adds, “And before you think I’m the only guy who thinks like this, praise the good Lord you ain’t virgins anymore, cause I’m just one of many who’d rather spare the carnage.”
My throat tightens at the vision in my brain, and I fight really hard to keep the tears at bay. I inhale, counting to five before releasing my breath, a fake smile on my face. By the sound of things, faking will be my middle name for years to come, so I might as well embrace the role.
Dylan hands us a shot each. The blue and yellow colours float in front of me before I scull it as fast as I can. And when he slides a hand between my knees, I smirk and open them up for him a little.
I might be condemned to a life of unsatisfying sex for the rest of my existence, but I sure as hell won’t be anyone’s pity party as they do me the favour of bleeding me like a butcher’s wet dream.
Resigned to save what’s left of my dignity, I search for the small business card in my purse like it’s a second-chance joker. I don’t need to see it to visualise the black and gold cursive letters. I already know what it says, and I relax as my thumb runs over the edges of the small carboard.
Aussie Paradise - Male escort service.
Your safe, friendly, and respectful neighbourhood hunks.
Plan B it is.
Chapter 2
I STARE AT THE WHITE building in front of me while my palm lingers on the door handle. I flinch when the frosted glass swings open, but armed with my big-girl panties, I plaster a smile on my face and step towards the reception desk.
What kind of escort service has a freaking marble counter?
It’s not just the reception desk that throws me off my game. No. It’s the twelve-foot ceiling, the soft music playing in the background, and the café, bar, and tub chairs entertaining a bunch of equally gorgeous people.
Staff or clients?
I scan the room, eyes wide, nodding at the security guard who grins my way as he prompts me forward. I smile politely and let my feet glide over the pristine tiles through the massive foyer.
Nothing looks as I’d pictured. Not that I was particularly jumping at the idea of getting my V-card stripped by a middle-aged sugar daddy, but this place is Hollywood worthy. Not quite the 'good enough' service I had in mind.
“Welcome to Aussie Paradise,” a woman in her midthirties says. She rearranges a Chanel scarf around her neck before she grabs a clipboard from the desk. “I’m Natalie. You must be Raven.”
“That would be me.” The attempt at deflecting my nerves must be very underwhelming, based on the pursing of her lips that follows.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” she says, then twirls an index finger in the air. “Don’t be taken aback by all of this. I promise you this is the best place to have a good time.”
I fight the blush creeping in, the heat spreading from my neck to my cheeks. By the time Natalie has stepped around the counter and is standing next to me, I’m drowning in my own sweat. “That’s, uh, reassuring, I guess.”
Oh god, shoot me dead.
Frigid and stupid. Jackpot.
The woman grabs me by the elbow until we’re both settled in a small room (more of a nook, really) in front of a bunch of catalogues displayed on a glass table. A topless hunk smirks at me from a laminated page, and I force my eyes back on my hostess as she straightens paperwork in front of us.
“Aussie Paradise prides itself on offering a professional service to men and women who want something a little more special than a quick hookup, minus Chlamydia, as part of the package.”
She snorts at her own joke, and I sit there, mouth gaped, wondering why the fuck I’ve never contemplated that before now. A part of me considers bolting, but my feet are anchored to the floor, my butt stuck in the tub chair like yesterday’s spaghetti Bolognese.
Oblivious, she continues, “Here’s how things work. You take your time perusing our Aussie hunks. And when you’ve picked your crème de la crème, you let me know, and I’ll set you up for a fifteen-minute complimentary introduction.” She taps the catalogue in front of me. “We pride ourselves in matching our customers with the right escorts, and both have to consent to the match before we go any further.”
So far so good.
I nod, my shoulders dropping. I wipe my palms on my jeans and relax when my stomach finally settles. John stares at me from the first page of the booklet, pearly whites inviting me to read on. This twenty-three-year-old stud is a romantic at heart and would like nothing more than the opportunity to sell me a full-night package to galivant across town before making love to me.
