The Newspaper Girl

By Mark Edwards

Brad Swampon, the C.E.O. of this bakery in Manchester has stumbled upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, who happens to be on a mission. He finds this woman so hard to resist even though he's about to marry his girlfriend, Vanna in months. Now Brad discovers the strangest things about this woman, the strangest things about his girlfriend–– Vanna, and even the strangest things about himself.

 

To put an end to the catastrophe, now happening in South Swinton, Brad Swampon must tell the authorities what he has seen and what he knows. But what if telling what he knows puts him at risk of losing everything, from his reputation, his business, his relationship and even this woman, who he's now addicted to?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Edwards
• Release date: Jul 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393417026

Mark Edwards

Mark Edwards and Louise Voss met after Louise saw Mark on a TV documentary about aspiring writers, and a writing partnership was born. Their first two thrillers, Killing Cupid and Catch Your Death, were huge hits when the pair self-published them online, becoming the first UK indie authors to reach No. 1 in both the Amazon Kindle and Amazon Fiction charts.

Book preview

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Novel by Mark Edwards 2018© All Rights Reserved.

This fictional novel contains the names of characters, places, events and a storyline that exist only in the author's imagination.  Any resemblance to actual events, persons alive or non-living is a coincidence. 

All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, duplication or copying of any part of this publication in any form or by whatever means is strictly prohibited unless consent is given by the author. The texts and illustrations remain the intellectual property of the author.

Copyright 2018© 

*Individuals pictured are models and are used for illustrative purposes.

.....AND FOURTEEN YEARS AFTER

WHACK!

I think, maybe, we've gone a bit too far with this, don't you think, sweetheart? he coughed up, his Adam's apple protruding. 

He breathed even heavier after receiving, was it lash – number 39 or probably number 40...41?  After looking on the wails she had just inflicted on his reddened skin, he tried to think up the lies, the lies he would tell his wife whenever he got home.  He knew for sure that if he continued enjoying this woman for more than the next half hour then their little session would become a sleep-out because, in a little over twenty minutes time, it would be officially another day.  He had lied to his wife about press meetings at the office three times already that week because of this woman, the same woman who was now sitting on top, but not just sitting on top but also using her steam to make him beg for more. 

She wouldn't even allow him to concentrate on making up the next lie to go home with because she was good, in a bad sort of way.  And their little moment of pleasure had finally crossed the 24th hour boundary; it was 12:30 a.m. 

She glanced at the wall of their hotel suite, seeing shadows of themselves, acting like the people in the romance movies, thanks to the lamp in the corner.  He begged for more but she became bored by now.  It was time. 

You look as beautiful as ever, darling.

She smiled, letting her silky blond hair, which glistened even in the low-lit room, down, making it flow beautifully along her shoulders and chest.  She didn't say a thing.  She got up from off his thighs and moved to her purse, which she had left on the vanity in the room.

So beautiful. 

He sat there, gawping her, with nothing less than pure admiration, moving away, wearing nothing but a pair of purple pants, her own sweat making her body shimmer to an oily wax.

I love her... He couldn't care less if his wife made a fuss whenever he reached home, because he's with the most magnificent woman he had ever known, the most refined woman he had ever felt.  He would be even more than happy to give his wife a divorce, if she asked for one, before he actually did, because he now had this woman in his life–– a woman to die for.  She made him feel like more than half his age, 20 again.

NOW, WE'VE GONE A BIT too far with this, he cried out, his Adam's apple protruding even more after seeing her returning with a razor blade in her right hand.  She didn't even smile this time around, but that didn't make her any less than radiantly beautiful.

She took her seat once more, on his thighs.  He looked at his jacket, striped trousers and necktie, lying on the floor.

Honey?

You're going to love this; promise you will.  Now their lips joined.

Yaass, Love... ARRGG!

You not being a cry-baby now, are you?

That's... ARRRGG...painful, he blew, looking at his own blood, which flowed like a crimson-lake down his chest.

What... are you doing?

By now, the blade of her razor had been washed in red as she gently wiped it from his upper arm, down to his wrist."

Are...you fricking crazy?

He shook the chair he had been sitting on all along, the same chair that supported his back, the same chair that happened to be his shackle at the same time, because he had been chained to it.  Powerless and helpless he was.

Come on, you need to stop this. You're taking this game too far! he pleaded, shaking that chair until he ended up on the cold floor, still bound by his hands and feet.  Hey, are you out of your damn mind?

He had lost so much blood, his head started spinning like that of a patient diagnosed with vertigo.