King of the Causeway, a King Series Novella Read online

  King of the Causeway

  A King Series Story

  T.M. Frazier

  Frazier Publishing

  Copyright @ 2020 by T.M. Frazier

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, except brief quotes used for reviews and certain other non-commercial uses, as per copyright laws.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by: Karla Nellenbach, Last Word Editing

  Cover design: Hang Le

  Contents

  About King of The Causeway

  A Note From The Author

  Quote

  Intro-fucking-duction

  1. Ray

  2. Ray

  3. King

  4. Ray

  5. Ray

  6. Ray

  7. Ray

  8. Ray

  9. Ray

  10. Ray

  11. King

  A quick note

  A Preview Of Pike

  ALSO BY T.M. FRAZIER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  About King of The Causeway

  As massive hurricane looms off the coast of Florida, a different kind of storm is brewing in Logan’s Beach.

  A mysterious newcomer is vying for the title of King of the Causeway. He’ll do anything to steal the crown, including bringing back someone from King’s past who will threaten a lot more than the title King has spent his lifetime building.

  A hurricane is coming.

  And it could destroy everything.

  A Note From The Author

  King of the Causeway is a King Series novella featuring King & Doe a.k.a. Ray. Please do not read unless you’ve read at least King and Tyrant first. Thank you for loving these characters so much that you wanted more, and thank you for being patient with me while I wrote this continuation of their story. I really hope you’ll enjoy this novella and are excited for Pike’s book because it’s coming soon!

  For Kebby

  * * *

  And always for L&C

  If you fuck it, let it go. If it comes back to you…

  you can fuck it again.

  -Samuel Clearwater a.k.a Preppy

  Intro-fucking-duction

  Preppy

  Guess who? I’ll give you a hinty-hint. I’m as handsome as a supermodel, and as devilish as, well, the devil. I get a hard-on for both pussy and pancakes. I like my blow with a side of blow, and my man meat is enormous.

  That’s right! It’s me, Samuel Motherfucking Clearwater.

  If you’re wondering how I’m able to do this introduction, then you need to read Bear’s story ‘cause the end will blow your mind! Then, read my story, you know, because it’s about me. I tell you what. If you read it, I’ll make you pancakes. Dirty, dirty, delicious pancakes. I’ll stand over you and pour that syrup right into your sweaty hot…you get the point.

  But, I motherfucking digress.

  Basically, I’m here because I’m fucking alive. Like Stefano from Days of Our Lives, (Don’t pretend like you’ve never seen it). I just keep coming back for more.

  There, you’re all caught up on me. Onward and upward, motherfuckers.

  I’m going to need you to sit back, hold onto your nipples, and get ready for the continuation of Boss-Man and Doe’s story. Or King and Pup. Or Brantley and Ramie. Shit, between the two of them, they’ve got like a million names, but it doesn’t matter which one you call them, the story is still about the same two people, who just happen to be my family as well as my two best friends.

  Important note: Don’t tell Bear I said that. That motherfucker will get his titties in a jealous twist if he knew he wasn’t my number one man. I mean, sure he plays hard to get, but the shirtless wonder has a soft spot for ole Preppy, and we don’t want to go hurting all his big burly man feelings before we even get into the story, right?

  RIGHT?

  So, relax. Take a bubble bath. Put on some nice calming music like some Offspring or old school Limp Bizkit. Maybe, pour yourself a glass of wine or a light fat joint. A bucket of blow is always a fun option.

  Now, for a little recappy cap. *Clears throat*

  Once upon a time in a land far, far away, but centrally located in Southwest Florida, was a little awesome, yet shitty town called Logan’s Beach. There, long, long ago, two people fell madly in love very much the way most couples do.

  It’s a tale as old as time. You know, girl with no memory offers herself to boy as a hooker hoping for safety. Boy rejects girl, then kidnaps girl. Then, girl runs away; then boy decides to keep girl. Boy and girl fall in love and have dirty sex and get tattoos. Somewhere in there is a carnival and an incorrect statement about penguins being the only flightless bird. Coolest person in the fucking world dies. Boy offers girl back to her father in exchange for boy’s daughter. Girl thinks boy is dead. Girl marries a fucking prick in order to adopt boy’s daughter. Boy is actually alive. Girl regains memory and realizes the prick is a super prick. Prick dies violently and much deservedly. Boy and girl get two kids for the price of one in an epic family BOGO.

  And they lived happily ever after. The end.

  Until now.

  Dum dum duuuummmmmmm!

  Imma go make me a delicious sammich. Catch you on the flip side.

  Enjoy, kids.

  Chapter 1

  Ray

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Three huge speakers, stacked one atop the other, vibrate and pulse as the music forces itself through them. Deep, bass notes beat against my chest, penetrating my rib cage. My already pounding heart sputters. I cough and wheeze, pulling in a shaky breath. I place my palm over my breast as if it could somehow calm my heart through the layers of clothes, skin, blood, muscle, and bone.

  A sheen of sweat breaks out on my heated skin, but inside, I’m ice. Maybe, it’s a foreboding. A warning not to take another step.

  But I’ve been through this already.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I choke down my unease with a dry swallow. Each step I take down the narrow hall through the sea of closed-eyed dancers gyrating against one another moves me closer toward the hell I’ve created for myself.

  For her.

  I’m so sorry, but I don’t see any other way, I silently apologize to the girl I don’t know. The one I was before I lost my memory. The one who took up residence in my body before I woke up on a bench with nothing and became friends with a hooker I don’t even like.

  I don’t dislike Nikki because she’s a hooker, but because she’s a bitch.

  Through the eerie drug-induced movements of the bodies surrounding me and between the flashes of pulsating light, I manage to keep my eyes trained on the goal.

  The door at the end of the hall.

  The door to my salvation.

  The door to my— a sense of deja-vu breaks my focus.

  Wait, I’ve been here before. I remember all of this.

  I know what’s on the other side of the door. And it isn’t salvation or hell.

  It’s something way more.

  It’s love.

  It’s him.

  It’s King.

  I push my way through the crowd at a breakneck pace, not caring who I knock over or into, and I reach for the handle, throwing the door open and stepping into the dark without the bone-rattling fear I carried with me over the threshold when I entered the first time all those years ago.
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  “King?” I ask into the dark room.

  There’s no answer, but movement catches my attention. On the bed, a shadow shifts, swinging long legs over the side of the mattress.

  I leave the door open and rush to the bed to stand between his legs. I place my hands on his knees. “King?” I ask again, growing worried when my only answer is lingering silence.

  After what seems like an eternity, the shadow sits up, his face illuminated from the light of the open door.

  I gasp.

  King’s face is hard and angry and…different. The scar over his right eyebrow that is usually barely noticeable is now raised, cutting a jagged red path diagonally across his nose and lip, ending at his jaw.

  “What happened?” I ask. Moving my hands from his knees, I close my fingers over the belts wrapped around each of his forearms.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asks in a deep, gravelly voice. He shakes his arms, freeing himself of my hold.

  I search his eyes for recognition but come up as blank as his faded green stare.

  “You really don’t know who I am?” I ask, hating the trembling words that fall from my lips.

  He leans closer, and just when I think he’s going to snap out of whatever fugue state he’s in that’s caused him not to remember me, the corner of his mouth ticks up in an amused smile. “Oh yeah,” he says before his smile turns flat. “I remember now.”

  He stands, and the surprise of the movement knocks me to my ass. He leans over me and grabs my throat, squeezing my airway shut. My sight grows fuzzy around the edges as I struggle against him but it’s no use. There’s no getting out of his hold.

  “You’re the one who did this to me. And now, you’re going to fucking pay.”

  As his angry face fades and my vision goes black, I hear myself croak out my final words. “But I love you.”

  The last thing I hear is the echo of his laughter.

  * * *

  “Pup, wake up. Wake the fuck up!” I hear a scream, and my entire body is shaking. It’s not until sleep releases me completely when I realize I’m not shaking so much as being shaken.

  My eyes shoot open to find King standing over me much like in my dream. He’s got a worried look in his bright green eyes.

  He helps me sit up. My breathing is still labored. My body covered in sweat.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” King asks, smoothing back my hair.

  I blink several times to clear the sleep from my head. King raises an eyebrow. The one with the scar. It’s barely noticeable for the exception of the hair to the left of it because it has no pigment in comparison to the black on the other side.

  “Pup?” he prods.

  I tear my eyes from his scar. “It was a dream.”

  King scoffs. “More like a nightmare. You leapt off the fucking bed and fell to the floor like you were having a seizure. Scared the living shit out of me.”

  “The floor?” I look around, and sure enough, I see clear under our bed to the bottom drawer of the nightstand on the other side.

  “Yeah, the floor. You were making a choking sound, and for a second, I thought you stopped fucking breathing.” He runs a hand through his short dark hair and blows out a breath.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him, pushing to my feet the best I can. Before I can take a step, King gathers me in his arms and carries me back over to our bed, laying me down gently as if I were made of glass. “I said I’m fine.”

  He shakes his head. “I know, and I said you scared me,” he says, leaning over me.

  “It was just a bad dream. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Do you remember what it was about?” King cups my cheek in his rough palm, then rests it on my chest, feeling the pounding of my rapid heartbeat. “Come on. It’s not just the nightmare. You haven’t been yourself lately. Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

  “I’m just…” I wave my arms over my belly. “This.” It’s not entirely the truth. Being pregnant has something to do with how I’ve been feeling, but there’s been something else as well. Something lingering over me like a shadow I can’t lose. “Nothing to worry about. Just ate too much pizza before I went to bed. Crazy, pregnant dreams ensued.”

  King chuckles. “I told you that sour patch kids aren’t a great idea for a pizza topping.”

  “Hey,” I reply with my bottom lip stuck out like the child I very much feel like in this moment. “The baby wants what the baby wants.”

  He nods. “I agree. But maybe, keep the candy and the pizza separate before you turn in for the night?”

  Remembering the dream I just woke up from, on the floor no less, I have to agree. “Duly noted.”

  King leans in over my massive belly and kisses me. The feeling of his full lips on mine sends a full-body shiver down my spine. We’ve been together for years. Three kids and one on the way, and I still tremble at his touch. They say lust fades with time.

  Well, they don’t know shit.

  King sits up with a groan and runs his hand over his face.

  Again, I pout, this time at the loss of contact.

  King stands from the bed and holds out his hand to me. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  “But, can’t you show me later?” I ask, wagging my eyebrows suggestively. “You know, after?”

  King’s gaze rakes over me, starting at my tangled hair, down to my engorged boobs straining against my tank top stained with pizza sauce from last night, stopping at my rounded belly, covered with fresh red stretch marks, which is only half-covered by my all too small top.

  No wonder he’s turning me down. I’m a fucking mess.

  I move my hands to cover my body and look away. I feel my face redden.

  He sits back down and takes my hands in his, removing them from my body. “Baby, look at me.”

  I shake my head like the hormonal, pregnant, petulant child I’ve become.

  “Pup.”

  I know better than to ignore the warning in his voice.

  Reluctantly, I meet his dark green gaze. His forehead is lined, and his lips form a frown. “You don’t cover up in front of me. Haven’t I said that to you before?”

  “Yeah, but that’s before I…” I wave my hands at the mess my body has become even though my mind isn’t any cleaner. “Before I became this.” I hate the lack of confidence in my voice. It’s not me. None of this is. It’s not my body. My voice. My thoughts. But I can’t help the worry, the insecurity, or any one of the negative thoughts I’ve been having, no matter how hard I’ve tried to ignore them.

  “You don’t cover up in front of me. I meant it. You think I don’t want these perfect tits in my mouth right now?” King circles my nipple with his thumb, and my entire body jerks as a bolt of pleasure courses through me. His hand moves down my body, over my belly, and cups me over my underwear. He gives me a light squeeze, and for a second, I see nothing but white light behind my eyes. “Fuck, Pup. The way you respond to me.” He bites his bottom lip. “You make me so fucking hard. Always have.” He leans in, and his lips graze my ear. My skin comes alive with need and anticipation. “With my baby in your belly and everything so sensitive on that fucking body of yours, I’m finding it real hard not to lift you off this bed.” He points to the corner of the room. “And make you watch in that mirror as I bend you over, pull on that hair of yours, and fuck you while you scream my name.”

  * * *

  My mouth goes completely dry. I swallow hard. “Then why don’t you?” Eyes dark with lust, King stands up again, shaking his head. “Because we can’t.” Another wave of rejection is about to crash into me when King adds, “Because of what the doctor said. I can’t fuck you. Not until after the baby comes.”

  “I don’t think he used those exact words,” I grumble, finally remembering our thirty-six-week doctor’s appointment yesterday. I’d had some spotting and mild cramping over the last few days. Everything checked out with the baby, but because orgasms can stimulate contractions and preterm labo
r, I was given a prescription of no sex or sexual stimulation of any kind.

  “So, you do remember,” King says.

  “I remember now. Although, in my defense, my thoughts were on the pizza waiting for me at home. I might not have considered the severity of the whole no sex thing.”

  King smiles. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, Pup.” He kisses me on the cheek and whispers suggestively in my ear, “Besides, I promise I’ll spend a lot of time making it worth the wait.”

  With hard nipples and a throbbing between my thighs that won’t be satisfied anytime soon, I grab a pillow from the bed groan into it.

  King laughs, and I reward him by lifting the pillow from my face and swatting him with it.

  Of course, he catches the pillow before it lands against his chest and tosses it back onto the bed. “Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.”

  He helps me up but doesn’t release me until I’m steady on my feet. “Wait, what is it you wanted to show me?”

  “Meet me in the kitchen, and after I feed you, you’ll find out.” He heads out the door and shuts it behind him.

  “Tease!” I call out.

  His response is an echoing chuckle.

  The same sense of foreboding I felt in my dream snakes its way up my spine. I shudder as a shiver wracks my body.

  I tell myself that the feeling is probably just a result of the nightmare or the sometimes overwhelming anxiety I’ve been experiencing lately or the pregnancy hormones or the lack of a morning orgasm or any of the other thousand things that could explain the sense of doom I feel deep in the marrow of my bones.