Break Me

  Contents

  Thank You

  Other Books By MJ and Chelsea

  Break Me

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty - One

  Chapter Twenty - Two

  Chapter Twenty - Three

  Chapter Twenty - Four

  Chapter Twenty - Five

  Chapter Twenty - Six

  Chapter Twenty - Seven

  Chapter Twenty - Eight

  Chapter Twenty - Nine

  Epilogue

  Something Special

  Next on Redemption Road

  Read Chapter One

  Chelsea Camaron

  MJ Fields

  Other works by MJ Fields

  Other Works By Chelsea Camaron

  Break Me is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Chelsea Camaron and MJ Fields

  All rights reserved.

  Thank You

  Thank you for downloading/purchasing this e-book. This e-book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download/purchase their own copy

  * * *

  This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are adults over the age of 18.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content, as it is FICTION.

  * * *

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Other Books By MJ and Chelsea

  The Caldwell Brothers

  Redemption Road

  Break Me

  To break the chains that bind me, I must first acknowledge I am damaged. To change the patterns started long before me, I must first find the power from within to hold back. To be the man I want to be, I must break down the man I am today.

  * * *

  - Jason “Cobra” Stanley

  * * *

  Jason ‘Cobra’ Stanley is an underground fighter. Born to an asshole grown into an asshole, his life has been one hit taken, one hit given. The cycle needs to end now, but he can’t sort it out.

  He trains to contain his power, yet when he’s home with the woman he claims to love there is a rage that builds inside. He doesn’t mean to lose control. He doesn’t mean to harm her, but he does time and time again.

  Sorrow only builds the walls higher and fuels the isolation and rage in his mind.

  The more he pushes, the more he pulls away. Lost once to Jagger Caldwell, Jason feels like he’s losing more than a fight, he’s lost himself.

  Lorraine Bosch is an ER nurse who prides herself in remaining calm in all the chaos of her job. Life hasn’t been roses and sunshine for a little girl who was raised by the firm hand of her father. They say little girls find themselves in love with men like the ones who raised them.

  Cobra takes one hit too many to the head and finds himself under the care of Lorraine. She’s only with him for a short time, but her blonde hair shines like a halo in his fuzzy mind.

  She’s his saving grace. What happens when a visibly broken man finds his chance at getting it right? Can two people with similar pasts truly break the cycle of violence?

  Dedication

  This book is for everyone. Your past does not define your future. Fight to move forward and let nothing and no one stand in your way. Nobody can beat you down. You have the fight inside to overcome all obstacles in your path.

  Foreword

  The book in front of you may be one of the most rage-inducing books you ever encounter. The book you are about to read is unlike any common contemporary romance. It has triggers, many triggers. In writing this story, our intention was not to upset, enrage, or encourage any person. Our thought process in writing this book was one simple theme: redemption.

  Jason “Cobra” Stanley is an anti-hero. He’s not the man you love and swoon over. This is his story of breaking the cycles of his past. We do not condone the behaviors found in this book, but the reality is there are relationships like this. People are struggling with the fight inside to break the cycles of abuse in their history. There are women overcoming traumas and learning to love and trust again.

  Please read with an open mind and heart. Please know we do not accept or agree with violence in relationships of any kind. Please read with the warning this book is trigger filled and we hope by the end of it, we have given you a story of redemption road … a path not paved and unclear, but one that comes to an end with a happily ever after.

  Much love,

  MJ Fields and Chelsea Camaron

  Prologue

  Fifteen years earlier

  “How dare you shame me!” The backhand comes before I can brace for it.

  The burn, the sting, the copper taste of my own blood fills my mouth as the next blow comes crashing down. By now, I should expect this. By now, I should know better. By now, I should give him back what he gives and give it harder. But I don’t.

  There is some warped, twisted part of me that feels like I have earned his punishment even when I can’t explain what I did or even what he thinks I did. Some days, I could be given the blows simply because it rained and his designer suit got wet.

  “How can people believe I’m able to run a city when I don’t have control of my own house?” His voice booms, making each word thunder in my aching head. “Everything we do is under scrutiny.”

  I should say something. I should fight back. I should do anything to get away, to find a reprieve. I don’t. Instead, I numb my mind and let him hit me.

  My face is swelling, and I think I may have a chipped tooth, but I don’t cry. I don’t make one sound. I learned as a young boy that the less I say, the less I move, the quicker it ends.

  I can’t remember a time in my life when everything I did wasn’t under a microscope. I can’t remember a time in my life when I did not make him angry to the point of rage. The more he reacts, the more he loves me. My mom has told me that more times than I can count.

  At first, I told myself it was me. If I were a better boy, smarter, stronger, he wouldn’t have to punish me. Later, I told myself it was him, and I simply needed to get by until I could get out. I dreaded summer vacation from school. It meant more time home and more time to fuck up. The only thing that kept me going was telling myself I would break the cycle.

  At fifteen, I found my outlet in the gym. When the rage inside would build so deep I could feel it pulse through my very veins, I needed somewhere to get it all out. The heavy bag takes every punch and kick I give, and then it waits for more. The octagon of the underground fights has been my escape since I was nineteen. I take the hits I need to and lay out the motherfuckers when the time is right. Finally, I found a place I don’t have to hold back.

  By day, I’m Jason Stanley, son to Mayor Stanley. I grew up behind the gates of an upper-class suburb of Detroit. Politics and presentation are everything. By day, I work in the voter registration office of the city. By day, I am a college-educated, entitled prick. By day, I walk with my head held high and know I’m untouchable . . . except by him.

  The man who made me, the man who molded me, the man who I disappoint at every turn, James Jason Stanley, my father, accepts nothing less than perfection, and I fail every day. He rules the city with laws and police officers at his back. He rules his home with an iron fist.

  I’m out of his reign of terror now. Missy, my girlfriend, and I have our own place. She is a twelve on a scale of one to ten. With tits, ass, and so much sass, she pushes my buttons and keeps my dick hard. She needed a deeper commitment than just fucking, so we moved into this condo together. It’s not large, but it’s far from small. I give her freedom with my bank account to decorate it however she likes. Thank fuck, she doesn’t put up a bunch of dust collectors and frilly stuff. I could give a shit about décor; I just need a place to fuck her when I want, how I want, and without anyone to answer to.

  “I saw you today.” The brunette in my life walks in. That’s Missy: no regular greeting, just balls to the wall, in my face.

  “Well, hello to you, too.” I give back her attitude.

&
nbsp; “I saw you with her,” she adds as she steps out of her sky-high heels and walks into the kitchen.

  I raise an eyebrow in question. “Inform me; who exactly did you see me with?”

  Pulling out a bottle of her favorite red wine, she sets a wineglass in front of her and pops the cork.

  I stalk over to her, waiting for an answer.

  “Renee Felicia—I saw you with her at lunch.” She pours her wine and sips the liquid slowly. As she closes her eyes, I can feel the anger coming off her. It amps me up.

  I feel my heart beat faster, my blood pump harder, and my eyes zero in on my target as the adrenaline fuels me. Just like before I enter a fight, the energy builds up inside me like I may explode.

  “Renee Felicia, as in my father’s secretary?” I ask, knowing damn well I was with her today, but we did not have lunch. She was at the same sandwich bistro I was at. She had to get my father’s sandwich just right, and she was already having a bad day. She asked my thoughts, I gave them and hoped he was in the mood for roast beef on rye; otherwise, Renee would have the afternoon from hell.

  Setting the glass on our counter, she taps her professionally manicured nails against it. “Do not patronize me. Do not act like I’m crazy.” She raises her voice with each word. “I saw you with her!”

  “Baby.” I come around the corner and into the kitchen. I need to diffuse the situation. I feel myself on the edge. She will push me, and it may be too far. “I helped her order my father’s meal. That’s it.” She raises an eyebrow at me in irritation. “She’s old enough to be my mother,” I add, thinking that will explain everything. “My dad’s an ass of epic proportions—you know this. Renee’s had a shit time lately. I was trying to help her.”

  Missy doesn’t speak. Before I can react, her hand is around the neck of the wineglass and it’s in the air. The wineglass hits my face, the red liquid splashing into my eyes, burning and blurring my vision. The glass hits the tile floor and breaks, shards flying everywhere.

  What the fuck is she thinking?

  “Don’t you baby me, Jay.” She doesn’t move, only glares. “I know all about the cougars in city hall. She probably sucked your cock in the bathroom before having your father for an afternoon snack.”

  Rage fills me. I step closer to her, and she steps back. Ignoring the pain in my feet as the glass slices into my skin with each step I make, I move until she’s backed against the counter.

  “Were you not on my dick this morning? Were you not on my dick for hours last night? I’m not fucking Superman. I love pussy, but, Missy, a man has to let his dick have a small break. That’s why we get jobs and go to work.”

  “Yeah, and you probably fucked her wrinkled pussy in the bathroom for your lunch hour.” Reaching down, she rubs her pussy through her pants. “Hope that cobweb-filled, old, stank pussy was worth giving up all this, because you aren’t coming near it again for a long damn time.” She taps her finger on her lip like she’s thinking. “I’m sure I can find someone to take care of my needs.”

  She threw a glass of red wine on me. My feet are sliced and bleeding because of her. To top it off, she taunts me. Does she not realize she’s poking a sleeping bear?

  I step toward her, the glass cutting deeper into the bottoms of my feet. The pain only adds to my anger.

  “Jagger gave it to me good in the past.” She sucks on her finger. “I wonder if he could free up his schedule for another round.”

  I see red, and it’s not from the liquid running down my face. My hand goes around her throat, and I push her into the back wall of our galley kitchen. She has nowhere to go as I pin her there.

  “Bitch, if I wanted her on my cock, she’d be there. She’s a damn cougar, sure, but she didn’t have a piece of me. Before you come in here, spouting some crazy shit, you better have your facts straight.” I release her neck, and she gasps for air as she runs her hands over the reddened skin. “As for someone else wanting your magic pussy, you should know there isn’t another fucker out there who will put up with your crazy outside of a bedroom, so your pussy is all you’re good for.”

  “I’ll show you crazy, Jay.” She scratches at my face, and I feel the burn as she cuts me.

  I raise my right hand in the air and swing down. The only noise is the sound of me connecting with her.

  I can’t think anymore.

  I can’t see.

  I can’t hear beyond the roaring in my ears.

  I feel pain.

  I feel infuriated.

  I feel betrayed.

  I feel hurt.

  I feel completely out of control.

  It’s like my brain leaves my body; I am watching someone else as she paws me, scratching, clawing. She screams as my hand comes down again. She keeps fighting me. She yells, but I can’t understand her words as I reach up with two hands and grip her throat.

  I need her to stop.

  I need her to be quiet.

  I need her to feel me.

  I need her to feel my pain.

  I need her to understand my emotions.

  I love her. I hate her. I can’t be without her.

  My lips crash down on hers as I release her throat. She reaches up and pulls my hair, my ears, trying to get me to stop kissing her. It takes a moment, and then she relaxes against me and kisses me back.

  My mind calms. My body relaxes. The tension between us moves from that of anger to sexual. All the emotions and passion take over, and we can’t get enough of each other. This twisted game only fucks with my head more.

  I told her the first time I put my hands on her that it wouldn’t happen again. That time, I only grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. She winced, and I immediately released her. Somehow, things changed, and she pushes and pushes until I crack now. She knows where it will lead, but she won’t back off. She doesn’t deserve this, but why can’t she stop herself from pushing us there?

  Every time, I’m left with regret. I’m left giving the apologies that are nothing more than words. As much as I don’t want to put my hands on her, I can’t seem to hold back. I can’t break the cycle. I am weak. I am a bastard, born of a bastard, and I am destined to repeat my father’s mistakes.

  I hate myself. I hate what I do to her. I hate what we do to us.

  I don’t mean to hurt her. I don’t mean to hurt us. I thought I could break the cycle. I was wrong. Can’t she see I need her? Doesn’t she see I love her? Can she understand this is all I know?

  Chapter One

  Getting ready for the day, I stand at the bathroom counter in only my green boxer briefs. I pick up the can of shaving cream, then squirt the white foam into my hand. Wiping it across my jaw and neck, I turn when the door opens.

  Missy enters in her black silk lingerie. She moves to me and pushes me back, climbing onto the spare space of the countertop. She picks up my razor, leaning over and wetting it under the running water. Without hesitation, she slides the sharp metal down my face and neck. The only noise between us is the running water.

  I cage her in with a hand on each side of her as she leans over to wash away the shaving foam and my facial fuzz. Eye to eye, I take in the woman who consumes me.

  She’s short, five foot three to my six-foot-two frame. Missy has ample breasts with an hourglass figure that bubbles out into the hips and thighs I love to grip as she rides me. Her tanned skin is flawless, as is her heart-shaped face that is full of pinup style seduction.