Freshman: A First Time Novel Read online

  I’m going to be her first - no matter what.

  She’s the sweet temptation from down the street. My buddy’s little girl. I watched her grow up, but now I’m obsessed with taking her, claiming every part of her, and making her mine.

  I know it’s wrong as hell. She’s off-limits and totally innocent, but I can’t tame my desire for her, not when one blink of those wide eyes gets me hard as a rock.

  She ignites something inside of me, something that won’t be tamed and won’t be f*cking stopped. I’m going to be her first, and claim every single part of her. I’m going to breed her and make her mine, and I don’t care who knows.

  College is for firsts…

  He’s my forbidden fantasy, the unbelievably hot retired rock star next door. He looks at me like I’m already his, and it’s hard to ignore the pure, raw need he brings in out in me.

  I’ve been saving my v-card until college for the right man, but I know it’s a matter of time before I let him take it all, even if he’s more than twice my age.

  Then again, there’s my best friend - my other half, my confidant. We’ve done everything together our whole lives. Can I really lose it without her? And what happens when “friends” turn into so much more?

  What happens when you’ve got urges and feelings like this for two people?

  Author’s Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 Madison Faye

  Cover & Interior Design: White Rabbit Creative

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

  This book is for anyone who’s ever been unable to choose just one…

  Freshman:

  Chapter 1 - Christina

  Chapter 2 - Tyler

  Chapter 3 - Christina

  Chapter 4 - Christina

  Chapter 5 - Tyler

  Chapter 6 - Christina

  Chapter 7 - Christina

  Chapter 8 - Tyler

  Chapter 9 - Christina

  Chapter 10 - Tyler

  Chapter 11 - Christina

  Chapter 12 - Tyler

  Chapter 13 - Tyler

  Chapter 14 - Christina

  Chapter 15 - Christina

  Chapter 16 - Christina

  Chapter 17 - Christina

  Chapter 18 - Tyler

  Chapter 19 - Tyler

  Chapter 20 - Christina

  Chapter 21 - Tyler

  Chapter 22 - Christina

  Chapter 23 - Christina

  Chapter 24 - Christina

  Chapter 25 - Tyler

  Chapter 26 - Christina

  Chapter 27 - Christina

  Chapter 28- Tyler

  Chapter 29 - Christina

  Chapter 30 - Tyler

  Chapter 31 - Christina

  Chapter 32 - Tyler

  Epilogue - Anna

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  About The Author

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  Legal:

  Chapter 1 - Chelsea

  Chapter 2 - Chelsea

  Chapter 3 - Jake

  Chapter 4 - Chelsea

  Chapter 5 - Jake

  Chapter 6 - Chelsea

  Chapter 7 - Chelsea

  Chapter 8 - Jake

  Chapter 9 - Chelsea

  Chapter 10 - Jake

  Chapter 11 - Chelsea

  Chapter 12 - Chelsea

  Chapter 13 - Jake

  Chapter 14 - Chelsea

  Chapter 15 - Chelsea

  Chapter 16 - Jake

  Chapter 17 - Chelsea

  Chapter 18 - Chelsea

  Chapter 19 - Chelsea

  Chapter 20 - Jake

  Chapter 21 - Chelsea

  Chapter 22 - Jake

  Chapter 23 - Chelsea

  Chapter 24 - Jake

  Chapter 25 - Chelsea

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  Excerpt

  Mr. Weaver laughed, his whole body shaking as the sound rumbled through him. He turned and grinned at me in the dim of the dashboard light. “Thanks,” he said quietly before he shook his head. “Well shit, when the hell did you get so grown up, Christina?"

  "Last year, when I turned eighteen."

  I watched his face clench for a second, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter as he swallowed heavily.

  Just then, we pulled up in front of my house, by the big tree next to our driveway. It was late, and the neighborhood was dark, as was my house save for the back-porch light up the driveway. This was it; it was now or never, and if I went back to college without saying a damn thing to this man, I knew I'd never forgive my-

  "I watched you." The words just blurted out before I could stop them, and then hung heavy in the car for a moment.

  "What?" He turned to look at me, his brow furrowed.

  "That day, in your office with my panties, Mr. Weaver."

  The car went pin-drop silent.

  "Christina, I- I don't know what you think you saw, young lady, but-"

  "I loved watching you, actually.” I could feel my pulse racing like an engine in my ears, every inch of my skin alive and feeling electrified.

  Tyler’s face was frozen. “Christina, I think you should get out of the car." He was staring right at me, his face tight and his eyes wild in the darkness.

  "I think I should stay," I said softly, clenching my hand and trying to steady my nerves. “And I think you want me to, too.”

  “Christina-”

  “I want to see it again, Mr. Weaver.”

  I couldn’t believe I was being this forward, but it was just pouring out of me. All this time of bottling it up and holding it, all this time of trying to tell myself how wrong it was to have these thoughts about him. I knew - obviously, from seeing and hearing him that day - that he’d at least thought about this with me. And it’s all I’d been thinking about away at school; all I fantasized about.

  His face paled a little as he nervously licked his lips. “What?"

  Well, here goes nothing...

  "Your cock, Mr. Weaver.” The word sounded so illicit on my tongue, so toe-curlingly dirty to say in front of him. “I want to see it again."

  “Get out of the car, Christina." His eyes were blazing fire at me, his perfect, chiseled jaw tight. “This conversation is over."

  “No it's not.” I was going to go for broke here, come what may. “I know you look at me, Mr. Weaver.”

  I un-clicked my seatbelt, the sound s
harp in the heavy, throbbing silence of the car. I turned to him, letting my skirt ride right up my creamy thighs, until I saw his eyes bug out as my tiny panties came into view, tight across my mound. I bit my lip, seeing the struggle play out across his face between what he knew was wrong and what he desperately wanted.

  “Christina, I-"

  I reached out to touch his forearm, my fingers trailing over his skin. He jumped a little at my touch, and I giggled. “It's not like I’m going to tell anyone.” I let my hand trail down his arm, and then drop down to his thigh. I could feel him tense at my touch, barely breathing as I rested my hand there.

  "As long as you show it to me again."

  I could see the the big, thick bulge in his pants, and I knew then that he was going to cave, knowing just how turned on he was. Slowly, I began to slide my hand higher, hearing his breath catch as I teased over the thickness there in his pants.

  He growled. "Honey, this-"

  "Please?" I whispered, my eyes begging him as my fingers found the metal of his zipper. I could feel my pulse racing as I felt the bulge throbbing beneath my hand as I tugged at the zipper, pulling it down as I heard him groan. I grinned wickedly as I moved my hands up to his belt buckle, feeling my pussy absolutely bloom with heat inside my panties.

  "Christina-"

  I tugged at the buckle, struggling to get it open when he finally caved. "Let me get that,” he growled out, reaching down to quickly undo his belt and the top button of his pants. He looked down at me, and his sharp, piercing eyes met my lust-hooded eager young ones.

  He reached inside, and I felt my heart jump as he suddenly pulled his big, gorgeous cock out of his pants, right in front of me.

  Holy. Shit.

  Chapter 1

  Christina

  I'd known Tyler Weaver for years, ever since he and his wife Rebecca had moved in a couple streets down from us. They'd seemed like nice enough people for the neighborhood, even if they didn't have any kids for the rest of us to play with. Still though, they were younger than most of our parents, and Mr. Weaver had been in a pretty well known touring rock band when he was younger; I mean how fucking cool was that? They’d had some success and a few hits, he’d met Rebecca, and they’d settled down probably around the same time our family had moved in to the neighborhood. He'd always seemed so cool to me, with his shaggy hair and causal jeans and t-shirt look, and his totally hot tattoos.

  They also had a glassed-in indoor pool, which was amazing - especially in a place with weather like New England - and they’d made it clear that any of the neighborhood kids could use it provided they had a chaperone with them. To my and my best friend Anna? That pretty much made them the coolest people we knew back then.

  It was later, after training wheels had long since turned into training bras, and awkward phases had turned into awkwardly giggles about boys on the phone with our friends, when I'd first ended up working for them. Tyler was retired from the road and they had plenty of money, but he ran a cool indie record label out of their guest house, complete with a small recording studio. Rebecca did something with real estate, I guess just to keep busy since they were apparently set with the royalties Tyler’s old hits brought in. But between them, I guess they finally decided they need some assistance around the house, and since I lived right around the corner and they knew my parents, I was hired. I mostly did light chores, and some online social media stuff for Mr. Weaver’s label, and all-in-all, it was a pretty sweet first paying job.

  I mean it was a great job. The Weaver's did well and paid well, and while most of my other friends started their first jobs in soul-sucking retail jobs, or scooping ice-cream, or waiting tables, I pretty much got paid to hang out by the pool all summer. They had to change things up during the school year of course, but I still worked for them on weekends here and there. I did the same thing the next summer, and as I finished my senior year the next summer, it seemed working for the Weavers was going to be the only job I needed before I went off to college. And the perks really were awesome. They always had a stocked fridge, an incredible music collection, and again, they paid great. And between Tyler hanging around the guest house studio or working on his motorcycle in the garage, and Rebecca being off on open houses all the time, I basically had the place to myself.

  It was that last summer though, when things started to change; big time.

  We lived in a fairly small, close-knit neighborhood, so it’s not like it was a secret that Tyler and Rebecca were “having problems”, as my mother put it. There were small things at first, like the fact that he came alone to a neighborhood barbecue, or rumors that she wasn’t even sleeping in their house anymore. But it was that last summer when the news finally broke that they were splitting up.

  “She cheated on him, apparently,” Anna said, take a swig of lemonade and arching her eyebrows at me over the island counter in her kitchen. “Can you even imagine cheating on a guy like Tyler Weaver?” Anna made a fanning motion against her face as she panted dramatically, making me crack up.

  Anna was the sister I never had - my co-conspirator, my confident, my other half, and my best friend for life. We’d done everything together since the day I’d moved into the neighborhood as a kid. We’d grown up together, doing everything from homework to first sleepovers, going to our first concerts to trying our first and only cigarette which we’d stolen out of her dad’s pack. We’d also resigned ourselves to the fate of going off to college as virgins.

  Okay, “resigned” is a dramatic word. It's not like either of us had managed to get all the way through high school without giving it up for lack of offers; we were popular enough, we’d been on the soccer team together, and we were social enough. But the reality was just that neither of us had ever felt like having our first time be a fumbled back-seat awkwardness with some sweaty-handed high-school guy.

  Okay, it might have been fantasy, but we'd been raised on thousands - literally thousands - of romance movies, books and TV shows. And the hero who the girl eventually let herself be swept away by was never inexperienced, or pimply, or most likely so excited that the whole thing would last thirty seconds. No, both Anna and I just wanted a real man for that first time; a guy who'd sweep us off our feet and show us how it was done, not someone who'd apologize afterwords.

  So, we decided college it was. College is where we'd find older, more experienced guys, and so until then, we'd just stay the two virgins with the unfortunate rep of being “cock-teases”.

  Yeah, can you blame us for wanting to wait?

  Anna and I were so ridiculously close, in fact, that not only had we both applied to and gotten accepted to the same school in Boston, but we’d also decided to be roommates. I know, nauseating, right? Yeah, everyone told us we’d hate each other, or that we needed to meet other people, but we respectfully disagreed. After all, college was a big deal, and who wouldn’t want their best friend there with them as their safety net?

  But as I was saying, it was that last summer when it all happened.

  You see, it wasn't that I'd never noticed Mr. Weaver like I did that last summer before college, but I guess it had always just been that I'd been distracted by other things going on. Looking back of course, I have no idea how anything could have ever distracted me from how crazy hot my much older employer and neighbor was. I mean sure, we'd seen him plenty of times before at his pool, or when he jogged around the block shirtless and sweaty - I'm sure causing quite a fluster with some of the housewives in the neighborhood. He kept himself in amazing shape, and I know he also probably drew the jealousy of more than a few husbands of those housewives.

  I suppose I always had a little crush on him, in an awkwardly flirtatious schoolgirl way. But I'd grown up since I'd first starting working for the Weavers, and I'd started to look at men - especially men who looked like Tyler Weaver - in a whole new, wholly adult way. And when I accidentally saw him like that, on THAT fateful day, I knew then how things were going to play out. Seeing him that day set something in motion a
nd put a fire inside of me like nothing else ever had. And it was that day when I knew, despite every rational thought that said otherwise, or how crazy it was, that the much older and entirely inappropriate Tyler Weaver would be my first.

  Of course, that came later, so let me explain.