Walking Away Read online

  Walking Away

  A Novel

  By Xavier Neal

  © Xavier Neal 2017

  Cover by Dana Leah (Designs By Dana)

  All rights reserved

  License Note

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without authorization of the Author. Any distribution without express consent is illegal and punishable in a court of law.

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

  Note from the Author:

  This novel contains a polyamorous relationship and adult content, including but not limited to, extremely foul language.

  Please proceed with the previous warnings in mind.

  Dedicated to The Universe...Thank you for always making sure I have a reason to stay right where I need to be.

  Playlist Selects

  Here are songs from the “Walking Away” playlist!

  Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the novel.

  1.…Ready For It? – Taylor Swift (Pop)

  2. Shelter- John Legend (R&B)

  3. Walk- Foo Fighters (Rock)

  4. Of All The Gin Joints In All The World- Fall Out Boy (Punk/Pop/Pock)

  5. You’re All I need To Get by- Method Man ft Mary J. Blige (Rap)

  6. We Weren’t born To Follow- Bon Jovi (Rock)

  7. Like You Say You Do- Luke Bryan (Country)

  8. Tesselate- Alt J (Folk Inflected Dub-Pop)

  9. Dancing On My Own- Calum Scott (Pop)

  10. Make Me Better- Fabolous ft Ne-yo (Rap)

  More songs: http://spoti.fi/2qhq7sD

  Worst. First. Date. Ever.

  “So…you’re married, but get to date?” I give the back of my neck a nervous scratch. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

  The beautiful caramel colored creation across from me sends a glare my direction. The kind of glare that makes me regret not doing more than just jerking off to her online profile photo. “It’s more complex than that.”

  “Doesn’t sound that way.”

  She presses her full lips together as if trying to maintain her composure.

  Her professionalism.

  Like she does this sort of shit every day.

  Fuck, I hope not. Dating a hooker isn’t exactly the way I was looking to mix up my sex life.

  Finally, she questions, “Did you even read my profile?”

  “Yeah. Where it said relationship status, it was marked ‘It’s Complicated’. Just figured that meant your boyfriend or husband or whatever was an asshole, and you were looking to get good dick on the low.”

  “So, commitment means fucking nothing to you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Though it doesn’t.

  “Then what does it mean to you? Because if you were willing to just be used for sex by a woman in a relationship, who is cheating on her significant other with you then that means you don’t respect the boundaries of a relationship. Am I incorrect?”

  Uncomfortable, even more than I was before, I adjust myself on the gray chaise lounge positioned directly across from the dark purple loveseat she is sitting on.

  “Or are there certain exceptions to this logic? Such as it’s okay to be ‘the other man’ if her husband is abusing her? Or if her boyfriend is a dirt bag? Or if her significant other is already cheating on her so she’s cheating to even the playing field?”

  My reluctance to answer isn’t acceptable.

  “And are you so trusting and naïve that you would just take a woman’s claims at immediate face value? She says her husband hits her yet you never see a mark on her body, do you continue to believe what could very well be bullshit and continue to give her the benefit of the doubt because you really need a piece of ass that bad?”

  She doesn’t pause long enough for a response.

  “Or do you take the time to invest more into the situation? Actually, listen to see if the shit she is saying is real or just a bunch of fabricated bullshit? Can you even spot the difference between the truth and a well-executed lie?”

  Of course I can. I work for lawyers for God’s sake.

  “Where do your values fall when it comes to people who lie? Is lying ever acceptable, or is every situation just plain black and white? How open minded are you?”

  I fold my hands tightly together in my lap. “I’m sorry, is this a first date or a job interview?”

  “There’s a difference?” The male in the wheelchair beside her speaks for the first time since I arrived.

  His mirthful tone causes my grin to grow.

  At least he has a sense of humor, which is impressive considering the fact he is sitting in the room with a guy who may end up fucking his wife.

  Fuck. What the hell am I trying to get myself into?

  The man offers me the faintest smile and something digs sharply in the pit of my stomach.

  I wanna see that smile get wider. Brighter. I want to see him laughing. His green eyes glowing. Life thrumming through his expression instead of obvious dejection.

  Troubled by the unusual draw, I clear my throat, reach for my beer, and confess, “Look, I’m not really sure what it is you two are looking for, but if you can explain it without bitching at me from Holier Than Thou’ Mountain, I’m more than willing to listen, Gwenny.”

  She gags. “Do not call me that.”

  After having a swig of my beer, I smirk. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna call you that.”

  Gwenny’s bright brown eyes narrow, and her full chest heaves. Her large tits, being poorly contained by her red button down shirt, call for my mouth to abandon the notion of trying to please her with my words to prove how I can do it with my tongue.

  She’s painfully sexy. Like my dick has been at permanent attention from the minute she opened the door to this God forsaken situation. I’ve always loved a woman with a phenomenal rack. Doesn’t matter if they’re natural or paid for, I love shoving my face in between a good pair of tits. Always have. But it can’t be all she’s got going for her. She should have a nice ass too, and the rest of her body should curve. Fucking. Curve. If I wanted to bone something flat, I’d fuck an ironing board. When my hands land on her body they need to have something to grab onto that doesn’t feel like it should be used to pick food out of my teeth. I wanna fuck a woman rough and not be afraid she’s gonna break. I wanna fuck a woman and not worry my dick’s gonna poke her in the ribs from the inside. And Gwen is that woman. She’s got hips, ass, thighs, and tits. Not to mention everything on her body is toned and tight. We’re talking, she told Father Time to eat a dick. At thirty her figure is better than some barely legal pussy I’ve had the pleasure of encountering.

  “We’re looking for someone to share our relationship with,” Gwenny states formally.

  My eyes steal a glance of the male in the wheelchair parked between the gray couch and loveseat. His emotionless expression to her words reveals more than he’s most likely aware.

  “You two want a boyfriend?” I tease with a smile hoping to get a reaction from the man.

  To my surprise it appears as if it pains Gwenny to continue, “I would like someone to spend time with Jason and help him when I’m working late.”

  Jason’s neck noticeably tenses.

  “Like a babysitter?”

  “I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he viciously bites.

  I smirk again at successfully getting a response.

  What can I say? Pushing people for the fuck of it makes me happy. It’s the simple shit in life that matters.


  He instantly tries to banish the emotion that appeared on his face.

  Gwenny releases a deep sigh. “I didn’t mean like a babysitter. I meant like a friend.”

  Unable to bypass another easy opportunity, I poke, “So, you’re trying to arrange playdates for your husband? Do you pre-arrange his nap times too?”

  This time she snaps, “He is not a child.”

  “Then why the hell do you insist on treating me like one?” Jason mumbles.

  “I do not treat you like one!”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” my comment is accompanied with a playful smirk.

  She tosses me another glare. “Now would be a good time to shut the fuck up.”

  The fire in her tone shoots straight to my cock.

  Damn, I love a woman who has a bit of fight in her. I know a shit ton of men love the submissive shit, which occasionally, I’ll admit, yeah I want that too, but getting someone who is willing to push back, who doesn’t just crumple when you apply a bit of pressure is a million times sexier to me.

  “Why?” Jason huffs. “Because you don’t like hearing the truth?”

  “You wanna talk about truth?” Gwenny squeaks in an offended voice.

  “I wanna talk about why I’m here,” I invade in an attempt to prevent things from going too far off the insanity tracks.

  This whole thing is bizarre as fuck, but I’m still a bit too curious to just get up and walk away. At least at this moment.

  “You told me what you want for your husband.” My eyes swing to Jason as I reach for my drink. “What is it you want for her?”

  He doesn’t bother humoring me with a response. His stare drops to his sweat pants covered lap.

  “Jason feels because he is…unable to perform his ‘husband duties’ in the bedroom, that he would like me to find ‘satisfaction’ elsewhere,” she snips, ending the sentence obviously before she’s added her viewpoint on the situation.

  From behind my beer, I simply let my eyes swivel back and forth between the unhappy couple.

  The tension I’m sitting in the middle of isn’t my fault.

  No.

  This is some fucked up stalemate I moronically stumbled into trying to get my dick sucked. There’s so much not being said it makes me wonder if I can believe anything that is.

  I have another sip and let my curiosity chase The White Rabbit even further. “So, what you’re trying to convey is that I’d be dating both of you.”

  “Yes,” Gwenny quickly answers and cuts Jason a look as if daring him to object. Secretly praying that he will.

  He doesn’t.

  I casually direct my question his direction. “Ever dated a guy before?”

  His green eyes lift yet his light eyebrows lower. “No.”

  “Me either.” When a small look of relief hits his eyes, I add, “Unless you count jerking off next to my friend at a party. Did that once back in college when I was a freshman at Clover Rose. There was this chick doing this thing with a camel and-”

  “Oh God, please end that story now,” Gwenny groans, reaching for her glass of white wine.

  Jason chuckles under his breath, but gives me a slow nod of praise.

  Fuck, that sounded good. Never thought I’d say that about another guy, but it did. It was deep and hearty. Covered in a bit of gruffness. Had just the right amount of lightness to land gently on your chest rather than put unnecessary weight on it. I wanna hear him do it again. And again. And again, until his fucking abs hurt.

  Huh. Not used to paying that much attention to another person’s laugh in general, damn sure not another guy’s. And I’m not even going to get started on how good his fucking biceps and triceps look covered in tattoos. What the fuck kind of physical therapy makes it look like you’re smothering a load of bricks under your t-shirt?

  Putting my beer back down, I question, “How long you been in the chair?”

  Jason gives his light scruff covered jaw a rub. “Long enough.”

  His short answer feels rehearsed. Overplayed.

  “Is that like days or weeks just before ‘too long’?”

  The sarcastic retort tugs the corner of Gwenny’s lip towards her ear igniting the same emotions about her I was just having about her husband moments ago.

  What the fuck did they put in this beer?

  When he doesn’t reply, I follow up with, “What happened?”

  “Construction accident. Hit to the head. Lost sensory and motor skills in my legs and feet. Physical therapy keeps the muscles from going to complete shit, but not a lot else.” He leaves no opening for questions. “Change the subject.”

  My dick presses firmly against the zipper of my suit pants without my approval.

  Alright. I’ll fucking admit it. His voice is really sexy when he’s being commanding versus just sitting there like a pussy whipped bitch. Did I just call another guy sexy? Is there something wrong with that? Is there something wrong with this? Jumping into someone else’s marriage to be…what? A buffer? The middleman? A therapist they can fuck. Well, that she can fuck. From her choice of words and his grim attitude, it’s safe to assume his dick is broke and he has no plans on fixing it.

  “What exactly do you do for a living?” Gwenny’s voice grabs my attention. “Your profile vaguely mentioned you work in the legal field.”

  Unlike her husband’s it’s soft, yet sexy in a dangerous way. Like being catphished by a siren. Though if she leads me to my death it’ll probably be the most amazing fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  “I’m a Process Server for Dornan Law Firm. I serve subpoenas or divorce papers, depending on the day.”

  The two of them scrunch their faces in disgust.

  “You get paid to harass people for a living,” Gwenny teases. “That explains so much.”

  Her playful nature sparks my smile, and I catch a glimpse of Jason fighting the urge to grow one as well.

  “Hey, I get paid much better than you would think. Much better than many others in my field.”

  “Knowing the little I do about you, I’m going to guess it’s because you’re shot at more than they are.”

  Gwenny’s jab is proceeded with a snicker. The sound melds to my heart just like Jason’s did.

  How is it two people I barely know can so unapologetically rule my soul? It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. Hm…. Not sure I want it to.

  I don’t bother concealing my grin as I place my beer bottle back down. “And what about you, Gwenny? What do you do for a living? Your profile simply stated you were an entrepreneur, which I assumed meant you were broke and jobless, but trying to be clever about hiding it.”

  “As you can see I’m neither.”

  Leaning back, I shrug. “Not necessarily. All this shit could be from Blondie over there.”

  Jason’s face twitches at the nickname.

  “Maybe you married into money. Maybe he’s the secret affair child to a wealthy billionaire and you used all the hush money to pay for this shit.”

  “Not even close. Everything we have was earned. I run my own private contracting company. I locate missing or stolen high value objects, more often than not pieces of art that somehow managed to get lifted from my clients by the above average criminals. I also help clients extend their prestigious art collections with the priceless pieces they have trouble finding.”

  “You’re like a bounty hunter for art?”

  The reference receives a purse of her lips.

  “You’re like sexy Boba Fett.”

  “Star Wars,” Jason quickly comments.

  Impressed, I give him a curious look. “Gold bikini?”

  “That and Britney Spears in the school girl outfit.”

  His response has us sharing a dirty laugh.

  “Masturbation comparisons? Is that what you two are really doing right now?”

  “I guess we should save something for the next date.” Grabbing the bottle, I add, “Assuming there is one.”

  Gwen and Jason briefly lock eyes.


  While this was not at all what I thought I was getting myself into, there’s a strong part of me that is refusing to walk away from it. A part that doesn’t regret we didn’t waste time exchanging a million pathetic messages and flirting with a bunch of bullshit emojis. The point of Connect is to skip all the stereotypical shit that comes with online dating. No tedious messages. No scrolling past pic after pic after pic. No waiting to find out if someone is going to string you along and scam you. It’s instant. It’s about making a connection. You fill out your profile, they get compared by some random third party, and when they find you a match with a compatibility rating of at least three out of five bars, they let you see the other person’s profile. Afterwards, you have forty eight hours to agree to “connect” which simply consists of clicking the green button. At that point, phone numbers are offered, and the rest is up to you. Gwenny was as blunt as her profile. She gave me a time and an address. I guess that’s what drew me in. I joined Connect to shake up the circus show my sex life had turned into, yet ended up with a new main attraction….Seriously? Am I actually considering being the third wheel to their marriage? I mean, easy escape when I’m ready to bail, but banging a married chick and dating a….dude? Am I really gonna give this shit a try?