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Craving the Player

Braden doesn’t want to settle down. Sierra plans on staying single. But after one spontaneous night of blissful passion, will it be as easy as they expected to stay that way?

Age Rating: 18+

Note: This story is the author’s original version and does not have sound.

 

Craving the Player by Hannah Cowan is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.

 


 

The app has received recognition from BBC, Forbes and The Guardian for being the hottest app for explosive new Romance novels.
Ali Albazaz, Founder and CEO of Inkitt, on BBC The Five-Month-Old Storytelling App Galatea Is Already A Multimillion-Dollar Business Paulo Coelho tells readers: buy my book after you've read it – if you liked it

Subgenres:

Erotica

 

Similar to:

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Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!

Chapter 1

Summary

Braden doesn’t want to settle down. Sierra plans on staying single. But after one spontaneous night of blissful passion, will it be as easy as they expected to stay that way?

Age Rating: 18+

Original Author: Hanna Cowan

Note: This story is the author’s original version and does not have sound.

Braden

Sharp nails tear their way down my back, drawing blood. The busty blonde beneath me moans in my ear, urging me to pick up my already relentless pace.

We’ve been going at this for what feels like hours. She has gotten off more times than I can count, quite the opposite of myself.

This chick’s moaning has halted every single one of my impending orgasms.

“Just like that!”

My growl is loud, too loud almost as I pull out of her in one swift movement and lean back on my legs. This is ridiculous.

“What are you doing?” she whines, her plump lips jutting out in a pout.

“Sorry, Becky. I just remembered that I have to go pick up my grandpa’s friend’s son’s dog from the vet.” My tone is dry and careless. I move off of her bed and toss the unused condom into the nearby trash can.

“It’s Victoria.” Her breathless voice makes me cringe. I try to block her out and focus on finding my clothes. I could just about plant a thank you kiss on the lamp in the corner of her room when I spot my button-up hanging off of it.

“Sorry, what?” I hum and slide my arms through my shirt. “You expect me to believe that you have to pick up this dog in the middle of the night?” she demands and wraps the blanket around her dangerously hot body.

A smart decision on her part. It was her hot body that tricked me into coming here in the first place and as much fun as it is to stare at her smooth, olive skin, I already have a bad case of blue-balls. The thought makes me reach down and anxiously rub at my aching boner with a deep, aggravated sigh.

“Hello? What is your deal?” she pipes up, snapping me out of my lust-induced state. I run a hand through my dark hair and slide my phone out of my jeans.

As soon as I switch it on, I’m met with several texts about my whereabouts and disappearance–and even a few praising my pick up. If only they really knew.

“You’re unbelievable!” she scoffs, shooting daggers in my direction. She pulls the sheet tight around her and hurries into the ensuite, slamming the door behind her.

Well, that makes things easier: Thank you for skipping the awkward goodbye, Cindy. I pull my keys out of my pocket and the cold metal of my car keys bites into my skin.

A nauseating fruity smell wafts throughout the house. I rush through the hallway and slide my sneakers on. How did I not notice this fucking brutal smell before?

Oh right, I was preoccupied–by her chest.

I’m out the door and in the driver’s seat of my truck before my stomach has a chance to start swirling. I wish I had busted as hard as tonight did, that’s for sure.

Chapter 1.
Braden

“If you keep dropping your arms like that, I’ll gladly bruise up that pretty face, Clay.” Clayton takes a risky swing at my chest.

“C’mon, buddy. You gotta do better than that.” I grab and twist his arm behind his back with a simple click of my tongue. I turn him around to face the boxing bag in front of us. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance in hell with that sloppy throw.

“You need to stop your mouth from twitching every damn time you’re about to swing, buddy. It’s a dead giveaway to anyone who knows what to look for.” I move a few steps back before raising my arms, using them to shield my chest and face and nod for him to try again.

His eyes narrow as he bounces lightly on his feet, observing me. Less than a second later, his mouth twitches, causing mine to lift in a grin.

I’m tucking myself under his right hook instantly and swinging my left arm, making contact with his abdomen.

The air is pushed from his lungs in a raspy wheeze as he grabs onto his stomach, curling over.

“Fuck you,” he coughs, lifting his gaze briefly to me before squeezing his eyes shut.

“Damn, I guess I should have put my gloves on. My bad,” I shrug.

“Remind me again why I can’t have another trainer?” he questions as he pushes himself upright again, the grimace slowly leaving his features.

“Because nobody else wants your whiny ass,” I snicker, walking towards my gym bag and pulling out my gloves.

The gold stripes wrapping around the black material never fail to make my chest swell. I worked day and night to afford these babies, and damn, are they ever worth it.

“We both know that you just don’t want to get rid of me.”

“Yeah,” I snort. “That’s it.” Sliding my hands in my gloves, I clench my fingers and tighten the Velcro strap. Patting both gloves together, I raise my brow and nod again.

The balls of my feet tap against the concrete floor as I bounce, keeping my eyes locked on my best friend.

He’s finally got his arms in the right position, at least, but the tension in his shoulders worries me.

“Drop your shoulders!” I bark. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m trying,” he snaps, dropping his shoulder slightly. Without a second thought, I’m throwing my fist, stopping mid-throw when he drops his arms just enough to expose his face to me. I warned him.

Pushing my arm forward again, a loud smack sounds around us.

“What the fuck!” he shouts, his eyes full of fire as he grabs his now bleeding nose.

Shrugging casually, I bite back my laugh. “It’s not broken, relax,” I snort. “I told you that if you dropped your arms again, I would mess with your pretty face.”

Turning away from him, I reach into my bag and pull out two towels. After I toss him the darker coloured one for his gushing nose, I keep the light one for myself.

The sweat covering my bare torso is wiped away quickly as I crinkle my nose up, throwing the towel back towards my bag once it becomes wet.

“What if you would have broken it?” he groans.

“Then you wouldn’t have dropped your arms next time.”

“You were coming for my stomach!”

“It looked like I was aiming for your stomach. You would have no idea if that were a trick or not. That’s why you don’t drop your arms,” I state. “Anyways, pizza for dinner?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replies, his voice nasally from the pressure he’s applying to his nose. And that’s exactly why he’s my best friend.

“Come on, if you get blood on the floor, dad will kill me.” I roll my eyes and grab my bag, waiting for Clay to do the same before leading the way to the showers.

“Maybe I’ll leave a trail then,” he smirks.

Working for your dad has its benefits but dealing with his rage when you break one of his rules is not one of them. No bloodshed is the most crucial rule in this gym. It always has been.

But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

***

“Grab me a beer, would you?” I shout as I drop back on the couch, my words muffled as a slice of meat covered pizza is clenched between my teeth.

“Do I look like your damn mother?” he calls back. Shoving my hand between the couch cushions, I grab hold of the TV remote and let the familiar sound of my favourite, hot as hell sports announcer fill the room.

“Pretty please, can you bring me a beer?” I try again. The fridge slams shut behind me as I snicker.

“Here.”

I wrap my long fingers around the cold tin can when he tries to whip it past me. Cracking it open with a smug grin, I take a long swig and rest my head back against the couch.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grumbles and sits down beside me. My attention drops to my phone as it vibrates, shaking the glass coffee table it’s lying on. Reaching for it, I notice the several names spread across the screen.

Leaning back in my previous spot, I unlock the phone and smirk as a naked body smiles proudly back at me.

The girl’s athletic, toned body is laying back on her bed, a sheer white robe sagging off of her narrow shoulders while her legs are spread wide open, teasing me beyond belief.

The needy text that the goddess left with the picture is a slight turn off, but I’ll let it slide this time.

“What are you smirking at?” Clay asks, only to get a shrug from me in response. “Holy shit, dude,” he groans when he moves to look for himself. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Locking my phone, I roll my eyes. “What can I say? The ladies love me.” I don’t hesitate to flex my arms and laugh at the scowl that quickly forms on his lips.

“Your testosterone levels make me want to barf, man.”

“Thank you,” I sniffle, placing my hand on my chest.

“Oh yeah, before I forget, I was told to tell you that there’s some sort of concert tomorrow night at SP.”

I turn to him with my brow raised. “There’s a concert? At Sinners? Since when do they do that shit there?”

“Don’t know. Ethan got tickets or something from one of the bouncers last week. There’s one for both of us.”

“Could be fun, I guess,” I shrug, downing the rest of my beer and standing up.

Clayton gives me a nod in response before switching his attention to the hockey game. Stretching my arms behind my head, I throw the empty can into the trash can a few feet behind the couch.

“I’m going to bed. Try not to stay up all night; I need you ready to go to the gym at eight,” I say as I start walking to my room.

Our barely two-bedroom apartment is so damn small that it only takes me a whole two seconds to reach my door.

“Sounds good,” he replies absentmindedly as I open the door and leave him alone in the cramped living room.

 

Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!

Chapter 2

Sierra

“I’m exhausted,” I groan as the three bags in my hands threaten to drop to the dirty mall floor.

“Tell me about it. At least you get to go home and relax now. I, on the other hand, have a daughter just waiting to rip my head off for hiding her tablet before I left,” my sister, Clare, replies while pulling open the heavy glass door and leading us into the packed parking lot.

The sizzling summer sun beams down on my exposed shoulders, no doubt reflecting off my pale skin and blinding some poor, unsuspecting civilians as they simply try and get inside.

Sadly, I seem to be cursed with the sheer inability to tan any single inch of my body.

The only colour I get after spending hours in the sun is a beautiful, painful red glow that doesn’t do anything more than emphasizes my unlucky quality.

“At least Liz is cute,” I shrug.

“Of course, she is. She takes after me,” she replies confidently while fishing out her car keys. The shiny, silver car sits tightly between an old van and an expensive-looking SUV when we finally reach it.

After shoving my bags in the back, I slide into the front seat and cringe when my bare legs stick to the hot leather seats. The cold air blows furiously on my skin as I let out a long sigh. That’s much better.

“I want a picture of you tomorrow morning before you go to work, Sierra. I’m so damn proud of you,” Clare boasts, her grins spread wide. “My sister, a professional book editor. It has a ring to it for sure,” she winks.

My cheeks get warm as I wave her off. “Not yet! Don’t jinx it!”

“Okay, okay. My lips are sealed.” She places a hand over her mouth and pulls out of the yellow lined parking stall. I’ve worked so hard to get this chance, to finally get the head honchos to take notice of my hard work. And for once, the work paid off.

Tomorrow marks the start of my new job as an official book editor. No more chasing after the professionals, taking all their grunt work with a planted smile on my face.

No, now it’s my turn to be handed the good books, the ones that they actually plan on publishing.

“I’m a bit nervous, honestly,” I admit, gnawing on my bottom lip.

“You’ll be great. You’re one of the smartest people that I know.”

“One of?” I ask, raising my brow.

“After me, of course.” She flips a chunk of hair behind her shoulder and flicks on her signal light before turning into my neighbourhood.

The rows of green spruce trees bring a sense of familiarity to the air as we continue down the long winding road.

As we pass the beautifully bricked houses lining the street, I can’t help but feel an inch of jealousy climb up my spine.

After growing up sharing the only extra room in our old house with Clare, I’ve always dreamed about owning a larger than necessarily needed home.

I hoped that I would end up scoring large with one as soon as I finished school, but reality hit like a bitch when I realized that I was aiming a bit high.

Being fresh out of four years of university left me with nothing but a heaping pile of student debt, which kept my housing options pretty small once it was time to move out of dorms.

I was lucky enough to find a decent-sized apartment within a few weeks of graduating, but my low budget pushed my living quarters way farther away than I had wanted from work.

The car comes to a stop outside of my small two-story apartment as Clare turns down the radio. “I’m serious about the picture, Sierra. I need to see how beautiful you look.” Clare grins as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“I will, promise,” I laugh, climbing out of the car. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. Love you!”

“Love you too,” I blow her a kiss before closing the door and moving to grab my bags from the trunk. With the trunk shut and the bags in my hand, I start walking up the uneven sidewalk and head inside.

***

As I’m placing the last plate into the dishrack, an uncomfortably loud buzzing rings through the apartment.

Wiping my wet hands on my cookie monster pyjama shorts, I blow a stray piece of hair out of my face and head for the intercom.

“Open up. I got ice cream!” Sophie’s voice pierces my eardrums as I shake my head and buzz her in. When it comes to my best friend, I know that ice cream means that she has something to talk about—more than likely, some sort of drama.

A minute later, there’s an overwhelming number of knocks on my front door.

“What kind of ice cream do you have? And remember, there’s only one right kind!” I shout through the door, a grin on my lips.

“Cookie dough! Now let me in before someone snatches me and leaves you without a best friend.”

I unlock the door and step back as she plows her way inside, heading straight for the kitchen.

The grocery bag is planted on the countertop as she pulls open the cupboard above the sink and turns around with two huge bowls in her hands.

“Three or four scoops?” she asks, her face hard with concentration as she digs through my utensil drawer for a scoop.

“Just two.”

Her head turns to me so quickly that I fear for her poor neck as she narrows her eyes. “Three it is,” she nods.

I move towards the counter and lean beside her. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she groans, shoving the scoop in the open tub of ice cream with a surprisingly terrifying amount of force.

“Right,” I chuckle and move around her to grab two spoons. “Then do you wanna tell me what the poor ice cream did to you before you got here?”

“You know Ethan Langton, right?” she asks with a sigh.

“The guy that used to host all of the frat parties?” That guy was a total dead beat. The only thing he had going for him was his washboard abs. But even then, the appeal faded fast as soon as he opened his sexist mouth.

“Unfortunately,” she growls, grabbing her nearly overflowing bowl of ice cream and stomping across the apartment to the navy couch.

“What about him has you so pissed off? We haven’t even seen him in months.” I grab my bowl, following her. When I flop down beside her and notice the regretful look on her face, I swallow heavily. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” she groans. Scooping a hefty amount of ice cream onto my spoon, I shove it in my mouth and sit quietly. This is so out of character for Sophie; I don’t even know what to say.

“When?” I manage to ask a few silent seconds later.

“Two nights ago,” she mumbles. “It was a rare moment of weakness, there was a pool, and you’ve seen Ethan without his shirt!”

“I have,” I laugh. “He’s hot for sure.”

“And boy, is he ever packing a rocket,” she groans, licking her lips.

Crinkling my nose, I brush off her comment. “If it was so good, then why are you upset? Was he too quick on the trigger or something?”

“No! God no,” she rushes, dropping her spoon in the melting ice cream. “He wants to, like, go out. On a date.”

My brows jump up as I wait for her to tell me what’s so wrong with that, only to get radio silence. “You’ve confused me, Soph. I know that he used to be a douche, but it doesn’t hurt to get a free dinner out of him if anything. Especially if the sex was good.”

“Oh, trust me, if it were dinner, I would go. But he invited me to watch some band play at SP tomorrow night, and you know how much I hate it there.” He invited her to a club? As a date? Yikes.

“I didn’t even know they let bands play there,” I say, stretching out my legs and setting my bowl down on my thrifted side table.

“That’s beside the point, Sierra!” She slides another scoop of ice cream into her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. “I want to go, but I don’t want to go alone. Who knows what would happen to me if I went into the bathroom without a partner.”

“I think you’re being a little paranoid, babe,” I laugh lightly.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Her back straightens as she turns to me with wide eyes. “Please?”

“I’m so not third-wheeling for you at Sinners. Plus, I’ll be way too tired after work.” I shake my head furiously and grab my bowl before practically running away into the kitchen. I curse under my breath when she chases after me, her blonde hair slapping against her back.

“Please do this for me. I’ll literally get down on my knees if I have to.”

Leaning back against the counter, I drop my bowl in the sink and sigh. She won’t stop until I agree. I know that for a fact.

“You owe me for this. I’m serious,” I groan out, watching as her lips turn up and spread into a wide grin.

“Yes, I do. You’re the freaking best.” She’s flinging her arms around me before I can reply. Yeah, I better be.

 

Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!

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