Read The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) for Free Online Page A

around me again, I pull off the rest of my clothes and drop onto the bed.
    A scream splits the silence and I scuttle sideways away from it. My bare arse smacks the floor and I scoot backwards, smashing the back of my head on the nightstand. The lamp sways and then wallops me in the face before it crashes to the floor.
    “What the fuck?”
    “What the hell?” An ear-splitting shriek yells out from the darkness. “Help! HELP ME!”
    My brain won’t work. The pie was rigged!
    “RAPE!” Another scream pierces the air and I splutter, my eyes shooting around the dark bedroom, looking for the assailant.
    Snatching up the broken lamp, I get to my feet and swing the small light around in front of me like a blind man trying to hit a piñata and claim first prize.
    A light shatters the blackness and I squint against the brightness.
    Another scream brings my eyes into focus a lot quicker.
    Everything stops as I stare at her in confusion and she gawps at me in puzzlement.
    “Who the hell are you?”
    She has the wildest blond curls ever, the nest of yellow vipers wriggling away from her pretty pale face. Her huge blue eyes are framed by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen, their length still visible despite our distance across the room. Her cute button nose is small and turns up slightly at the tip, and her lips, her full, plump lips, are the palest pink ever.
    The pie and the beer were rigged.
    Suddenly realising I’m buck-assed naked, I cover my semi hard-on with the tiny lamp. I’m proud of my big dick, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to scare the tiny woman stood glaring at me like it’s gonna dance across the room and smack her across her flushed pink cheeks. Even if that sounds like fun right now. Damn, where has this kinkiness come from?
    “Who the hell are you?” I repeat her words, wincing at the high pitch of my voice. Damn bloody beer!
    “I asked you first!” she says with an accusing scowl. It’s then that I spot the pillow she’s holding out in front of her.
    “I’m up for a pillow fight. If that’s your thing.” What the hell? Where the bloody hell had that come from?
    Her eyes widen further, making her stunning blue orbs appear slightly too large for her tiny face. She’s wearing a strappy white top and I have to press the cold clay of the lamp into my groin to stop my dick from waving with excitement at the sight of her tiny nipples pressing against the thin cotton.
    Beer! Makes my voice rise - and my dick, apparently. I need to stop bloody drinking!
    “Look.” I cough, cursing the squeak, and swallow to wet my throat. Lowering the lamp to hold out my hands in surrender, I quickly pull it back up when her eyes drop and she gasps. “Look,” I try again. “I’m sure there’s some explanation for this.”
    Her eyes narrow on me but she waits me out.
    “The cottage belongs to my mother…”
    “Mrs Haversham?”
    “You know my mother?”
    She nods. “Yes. She rented me the cottage for a few weeks. So she has another son? The gossip was true.”
    “Yes, she does. Though she often forgets,” I snarl. Then I recall it’s not this woman’s fault. I smile. “I’m sorry. She must have forgotten to tell you I’m staying here. But I’m sure the pub in town can fix you up with a room.”
    She looks confused for a moment but then her confusion morphs into defiance. “Oh? I’m not leaving.”
    Her stubbornness catches me out for a minute. She’s tiny, and I expected her attitude to reflect that. But this little stunner is quite feisty underneath, the tone of her refusal stern and bolshie as she quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me.
    We both eye the bed. Then each other, and then the bed again. In sync, we both leap for it. Like if we can claim the bed then we can make claim to the cottage.
    Her skull ricochets off mine and she curses quite unladylike as our bodies bang together. But the little minx spreads her arms and legs out, star-fishing across the whole of the bed. How the