In My Bed

  In My Bed

  Copyright © 2015 Jennifer LaCross.

  Editing by Jennifer Roberts-Hall

  Front cover photo rights purchased from Shutterstock.com.

  Back cover photo rights purchased from Shutterstock.com.

  Font background photo rights purchased from Shutterstock.com.

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without permission in writing from the copyright owner and publisher listed above. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in one of their reviews.

  This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not condone or endorse any of the behavior within. Please note that this novel contains profanity, sexual situations, alcohol or drug consumption, and is not appropriate for minors. 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 completely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, businesses, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it yourself, or it wasn't purchases for you, then please purchase a copy from an ebook retailer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Playlist for On the Floor

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Present day

  My hands slide down his sweaty back as he pumps his cock hard and fast into me. My nails dig in as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I bite his shoulder, muffling my screams as I come apart.

  Hector knows how to fuck. It’s raw, sweaty, rough, hard.

  Nothing is better than that. Nothing is better than sex.

  And when you’re a woman who enjoys sex, people tend to make assumptions.

  I’ve been called every a name in the book, but they are all wrong.

  Easy: Wrong. I don't sleep with just anyone. I have standards.

  Whore and ho: Wrong. I don't get paid for sex. Unless you count orgasms as currency.

  Sex addict: Wrong. I don't need sex and I don't obsess over it if I don't get it.

  Loose: Wrong. My cunt is like a vise grip.

  I’m simply a woman who enjoys sex.

  Sex doesn't lie. Sex doesn't cheat.

  When I have sex, it’s all about my body and how it feels. All of my senses coming together.

  Touching, tasting, hearing, smelling, seeing, coming—I consider that my sixth sense.

  Don’t judge me.

  I may seem overly confident and sure of who I am on the outside, but I have inner battles.

  I’m a good person and a great friend.

  I don't take shit from anyone, and I never back down.

  I curse like a fucking sailor.

  I dance like a goddess.

  I fuck like an animal.

  And there are two truths that I believe with everything I am: Men lie. Men cheat.

  I will let a man touch my body. That is my choice.

  It is also my choice to never let a man touch my heart again. No matter how loud my heart may scream for the attention.

  Shut up, stupid heart.

  Chapter 1

  Almost four years ago

  New York City Premier School of Ballet

  “Thank you for your hard work today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  I take a towel and dab the sweat off of my forehead before bending down to pick up my bag. I search around for my water, taking a drink when I find it. I can hear the murmured conversations going on around me, but no one talks to me and no one looks my way because no one likes me. And no one likes me because they’re jealous.

  I’m the best ballet student at the school— hell, I’m the best ballet student in the city—and everyone knows it. I’ve gotten the lead in every showcase and performance we’ve done, and I have my pick of which Ballet Company I want to be a part of when I complete the program here.

  I’m on top of the world and I love it.

  But I also wish I was on top of Simon right now.

  “Miss Fitzgerald…”

  Speak of the devil.

  I turn around to face him, trying to school my features so no one else sees the excitement on my face. “Yes, Instructor Auteberry?” I reply.

  “If you could see me before you leave. I have to speak with you about something.” God, his English accent is heavenly. I don’t think there is anything sexier than a hot guy with an accent.

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you. Come to my office when you’re ready.” He gives me this smile that makes me melt.

  I take a few more sips of water and change my shoes before taking my hair down out of the tight bun and shaking it out. I take my time in order to make sure the room has cleared before I make my way to Simon’s office. When I get to the door, I knock lightly before entering.

  He looks up from his laptop and smiles. “Have a seat, Jenna,” he says, motioning to a chair in front of his desk.

  I walk in, setting my purse and dance bag next to the door. I sit down gracefully before asking him, “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that you will be our solo performer in the Spring Showcase this year,” he informs me, his smile growing bigger.

  “Really?” Getting the solo spot in the Spring Showcase is an incredible opportunity for me to show off my talent to all the prominent ballet companies in the city and I’m beyond excited. I’m ecstatic. Jubilant. Thrilled. Euphoric.

  He stands and moves around to my side of the desk. “Congratulations, Miss Fitzgerald.”

  I jump out of my chair and into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me easily, his hands on my ass. Taking his face in my hands, I pull him down until his lips meet mine, my long black hair framing our faces, and then I kiss him. My tongue slides into his mouth and he moans, squeezing my backside as he grinds his erection into me.

  Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m screwing my instructor. I’m eighteen. He’s twenty-six. So what? It’s legal.

  I pull away from the kiss, grinning at him. “And enough with the Miss Fitzgerald shit, Simon. We’re alone right now. You can call me Jenna.”

  He chuckles. “Such a mouth on such a beautiful girl.”

  “Better fucking believe it,” I tell him as I let my feet drop back to the floor. I sit on the edge of his desk as he sit
s in the chair and takes my feet, placing them in his lap and rubbing up and down my calves, massaging the muscles. “Mmm, that feels good.”

  “I know,” he says, watching his hands as they slide up over my knees and to my thighs, his hands still kneading.

  “Thank you for giving me the solo.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Jenna. You earned it. You’re the best dancer by far, and everyone knows it. I’ve performed with many of the best in the world, and you are among them, love.”

  “You’re sweet to say that.”

  “I’m just telling the truth.” He kisses each of my knees as he continues to caress my legs.

  “What about Kelly? Or Gretchen? They’re really good. And Jeanette. Some of the other instructors prefer her performances over mine. I think even Madame Jolie does. She says I’m too tall to ever become a ballerina.”

  “They have nothing on you. And Jeanette is technically flawless, just like you, but when she dances, there is no emotion there. You dance with you heart, with your soul. Watching you dance is moving, Jenna. It’s an experience. You know, that’s what made me fall in love with you.”

  Sigh.

  Simon Auteberry loves me. He’s said it before, but every time I hear it, I feel like it’s the first time all over again. A principle dancer, renowned throughout the world as one of the best, is in love with me.

  “When can I see you again?” I ask, looking in his eyes. “Later today? After my last class?”

  “I wish I could, love, but I have a meeting about the Spring Showcase. Tomorrow? My place?”

  “How about tonight? It’s been almost a week since you fucked me. Right here, on this desk, late at night,” I say seductively, leaning closer to him with each pause. “Are you sure you can wait until tomorrow?” I tease, opening my knees and spreading my legs.

  “You’re killing me, love,” he groans, closing my legs, “but tonight I have plans with the other instructors. Tomorrow. My place for dinner.”

  “Fine,” I pout. “I have to get to lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow morning in your class.”

  We both stand, and he gives me a sweet kiss before I grab my dance bag and head out of his office and to the cafeteria.

  After eating a salad and an apple for lunch, I head to my next class, still riding on the triumphant wave that comes with being picked as the solo performer for the Spring Showcase. Nothing can bring me down all the way through the rest of my day.

  Until …

  I get to the subway and realize I’ve left my purse in Simon’s office by the door. I must have forgotten to grab it when I left. I walk the stairs back up out of the subway and head back to school.

  When I get to Simon’s classroom, the lights are off and the door is unlocked. I open it and walk in heading toward his office. As I’m walking across the open floor, I hear a rhythmic tapping. I pause briefly before I hear a woman moan, “Oh, god. Simon …”

  Followed by a faster, louder tapping.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I walk quietly across the room toward the corner where his office is located. When I get to the door, I peek through the window. A girl is sitting on the desk, her back to me, and a guy is ramming his cock into her, his head buried in her neck. A moment later, he plunges into her and throws his head back, his face tilted to the ceiling as he comes. The girl starts screaming like a banshee before collapsing on the desk. Simon lowers his head and makes eye contact with me. His face look surprised for a moment … but only a moment. Then he looks away and acts like he didn’t even see me.

  I don’t know who the girl is because I can’t see her, but it doesn’t really matter who she is. The truth of the matter is that the man who says he loves me, who I love, was just fucking someone else.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I move away from the door and leave his room. I can’t go very far without my purse, so I wait in an alcove for no more than five minutes before I see the girl leave his class. Jeanette. Fucking seriously? That bitch. I don’t think she knows that we’re together, but she would do anything to get at me. And I mean anything. She tried to trip me on the stairs once and she even fed me expired yogurt to make me sick before a show.

  She may be a great dancer, but she is a terrible human being.

  A few minutes after she leaves Simon’s room, I get up and head back in to get my purse.

  When I walk into his office, he still has his shirt open and his belt undone. He’s sitting in his chair, a bored look on his face. “Jenna.”

  “Simon,” I say back to him, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

  “You forgot your purse?” He sounds so cold and so unlike the man who claims to be in love with me. I nod, going to grab it. “If you report our relationship, I’ll deny it. It will be your word against mine. They are lucky to have me as an instructor here and the politics will be on my side. Which of us do you think the board will support, Jenna? An up and coming dancer who hasn’t made a name for herself yet or me?”

  “I don’t take kindly to threats, Simon,” I say harshly.

  “It’s the truth.” He shrugs.

  “You seem to be telling a lot of truths to me. Fucking liar.” I may sound callous and as unaffected as he is by all of this, but inside, my heart is breaking. I imagined a life with him. First love can be so big, so monumental. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from a blow like this.

  “Do what you want, Jenna,” he says before opening his laptop and starting work.

  “I certainly won’t be doing you,” I respond, hoping to get some sort of reaction at the realization of what he just did to our relationship.

  “That’s fine. As you can see, I have no problem fucking whoever I want, whenever I want. And I have been the entire time we’ve been together.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “You can go now.”

  And I do.

  ***

  I decide not to report Simon to the school. The fact is, our relationship was consensual. We didn’t start seeing each other until I was eighteen and I never earned a part because of our relationship. I can’t see any good coming from reporting it, but I’m able to see that there could be a lot of bad. My reputation is untarnished and if I want any ballet company to consider making me one of their dancers, I need to keep it that way.

  I get to school the next morning and head to my first class. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so when the instructor calls me to her office, she has to say my name three times before I hear her. She tells me to take my things and head to the headmistress’ office.

  I walk through the halls, wondering what the headmistress might want to discuss with me.

  The headmistress, Madame Jolie, moved from France to study ballet in New York City when she was sixteen. She’s now middle-aged with sharp features and a hard personality. She wears her hair in a tight bun, her glasses on the edge of her nose and she never smiles. I swear she sleeps in a coffin. It’s almost comical how much she looks like the definition of a “severe woman.”

  Madame Jolie has told me time and time again that I’m too tall to ever become a ballerina and that I will need to try harder to make it. She continually tells me that I can do better and that I can do more.

  As I walk into her office, the receptionist greets me. “Miss Fitzgerald, Madame Jolie will be with you in a moment. Have a seat.”

  I’m just about to sit down when her office door opens and Jeanette exits, smiling smugly in my direction.

  What is that about? Why would she look so pleased …

  Oh no.

  Oh, fuck no.

  Shit.

  Damn.

  Fuck.

  What is that bitch up to now?

  I keep my face neutral, not moving a muscle as she walks past me and out of reception.

  “Miss Fitzgerald, please come in,” Madame Jolie says to me before going back into her office.

  I follow her into her office. She gestures toward an empty chair in front of her desk, and I take a seat next to a man
I’ve never seen before. “Hello, Madame Jolie. You wanted to see me?” I ask her, keeping my eyes on her and trying hard not to wonder who this man could be or why he might be here.

  “I did,” she says, her French accent very mild after years of living in New York. “First, let me introduce you to Mr. Harold Banks, Director of the Board.”

  “Hello, Mr. Banks.”

  He nods.

  “He is here as a witness, but I will be conducting this meeting, so you may keep your eyes on me.” There is silence for a few moments before she speaks again. “It has come to my attention that there has been some inappropriate conduct involving you and one of our instructors.”

  “Excuse me?” I say, trying to feign ignorance.

  “Do not play dumb, Miss Fitzgerald. It does not suit you. You are a smart and beautiful girl who thought she could use her feminine ways to her advantage. You certainly are not as foolish as you are acting now.”

  “Huh?” Now I am confused.

  “Offering to sleep with one of our instructors in exchange for being chosen as the solo performer in the Spring Showcase. That is definitely not how we do things here.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Simon Auteberry called me last evening to tell me that you offered him sexual favors in exchange for the solo when he informed you that he selected Jeanette Belrose for the solo performance instead of you.”

  “What!”

  “Lower your voice,” Madame Jolie says sternly.

  “But I didn’t do that! He offered me the part yesterday!”

  “Instructor Auteberry reported that when you went to his room after school, you offered yourself to him. Jeanette had left her purse in his office and she walked into his classroom while you were propositioning him. I talked with her this morning and she confirmed his story.” She places her hands on her desk and looks directly at me.

  My eyes are open wide and my mouth refuses to close as I sit in complete shock. That was me. I saw him with Jeanette. She slept with him to get the part. Yes, I was sleeping with him but …

  “Madame Jolie, I was the one who walked in on Jeanette and Instructor Auteberry while they were … uh, being intimate. I forgot my purse. Simon and I were sleeping together, but it’s been going on for a while. I didn’t get any part I didn’t deserve.”