The Eviction

By Clea Kinderton

Mary's always been a hard-working girl willing to pay her dues but when her boyfriend runs off with her life savings she finds herself between a rock and a hard place. What begins as a desperate attempt to keep a roof over her head turns into a complicated affair when Mary finds herself falling in love with the landlord. Struggling with an unhappy marriage, bills, and a conscience that keeps him from throwing Mary out into the street, John can't help but want something more from Mary than a reason not to evict her. Can a relationship built out of desperation, lust and longing find its way to a satisfying conclusion or will it be torn apart by fear and guilt?

This 16,000 word erotic romance contains non-stop explicit, steamy sex scenes including oral sex, cunnilingus, breast play, vaginal and anal intercourse, and public sex and puts a new spin on an old plot with an unlikely relationship that is both surprisingly dirty and unusually sweet.

"Mary...I don't know what you're saying," he said, refusing to look me in the eye. I knew he was lying. He knew exactly what I was saying; he was just trying to give me a chance to change my mind. Only I didn't have a choice; it was either John or the street.

I smiled. "I know you're not stupid, John. You know what I'm saying."

He had nothing to say to that so I pulled myself close to him, close enough to lean my head on his chest and smell sawdust mixed with his cologne. I ran my hand down his chest to his belt buckle, my hand shaking so bad I was afraid he would notice; and the more I tried to stop it, the worse it got.

"I swear I won't tell," I said. "I have a reputation to protect, too, just like you do. If anyone found out about us, it could go as bad for me as it would for you. You know the way small towns are."

"Mary--"

I kissed him to shut him up, determined not to let him off the hook now that we'd come this far. He kissed me back, and when I undid his belt he didn't try to stop me.

I sank down to my knees on the carpet and looked up at him, staring into his hazel eyes. He looked nervous and guilty, but I could tell by the way his pants were stretched that he wanted this as badly as I did. I'd get to keep a roof over my head and a chance to enjoy the man who'd been playing peekaboo in my dreams and he'd get what every man wanted: a girl on her knees, ready to please him, whenever he wanted. I didn't see it going any farther than that, and I didn't think it would be safe for us to do so, but I was willing to make the sacrifice. It was better than the alternatives.

I undid the button on his jeans and slowly pulled down his zipper...
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Lamp Press
• Release date: Oct 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781519955777

Clea Kinderton

I've always had a wild imagination. I love fat fantasy novels, B movies, comic books, and scifi. But I also love romance and sex and you'll find plenty of both along with heaps of humor, mystery, and suspense jampacked into some of the hottest, hardest, kinkiest stories you may ever read. Strap yourself in, it's going to be a wild ride. I'm always interested in hearing what you have to say and welcome suggestions. You can contact me at [e-mail] and follow me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CleaKinderton/ and Twitter: https://twitter.com/CleaKinderton.

Book preview

The Eviction

Clea Kinderton

Published by Red Lamp Press, 2012.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE EVICTION

First edition. October 19, 2012.

Copyright © 2012 Clea Kinderton.

ISBN: 978-1519955777

Written by Clea Kinderton.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

The Eviction (Paying the Rent Erotic Romance)

Further Reading: Big Business, Beautiful Curves

About the Author

I'd just gotten back from the restaurant and was still standing in front of the door to my apartment in my yellow waitress uniform when John the landlord caught up with me.

John MacKenzie was a handsome man of forty-two with a solid, muscular body that came from a lifetime of hard work and clean living. Aside from the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the gray that had started to pepper his hair, he looked like a man who made his money doing photo shoots for magazines. I'd more than once fantasized about opening up a Vanity Fair and seeing John laid out in a pair of jeans and nothing else, but right now his beautiful hazel eyes were serious and I knew I was in a heap of trouble.

Listen, Mary, I know you're a good kid, but your rent's two months late. If I don't see money soon, I'm going to have to evict you. John was a good man and I knew he knew the predicament I was in just as I understood the predicament he was in; the problem was, neither one of us had a solution so our conversations just kept going around in circles and they seemed to get worse every time.

I told you, Mr. MacKenzie, I'm doing the best I can, I said, smiling as apologetically as I could. I was as frustrated as he was. I can't make the Lakeheads give me more hours, I said as I fumbled with the key in the lock. I breathed a sigh of relief when it turned; at least he hadn't had time to change the locks.

I understand that, he said. But I've got bills, too. I can't feed my family on charity.

I knew he was trying to be reasonable with me, because he liked me and he knew I was trying—and I respected that—but I also knew that I couldn't live in the street.

Just give me a few more weeks, I said. I'll figure something out.

People who didn't know John sometimes mistook him for a slumlord. The buildings he owned were old and a little run-down and in all the wrong parts of town, and the ads he ran in the paper for vacancies never asked very much for rent. People assumed his buildings were roach-infested hovels with holes in the walls, faulty wiring, and dripping faucets, and it was true they had their problems; but John was about as far from being a slumlord as a man could get and still feed a family of four.

He was one of those rare landlords who took his job seriously. He considered being a landlord a sort of calling, like being a doctor or a priest, but instead of providing physical or spiritual healing, he provided a sort of domestic healing. John considered it his duty to make sure that poor people had decent apartments to come home to after a shift at the laundromat or Donut King, homes with running water and electricity, homes that kept out the cold of winter, but that weren't so expensive that you couldn't afford to put food on the table at the end of the week. Unfortunately for him, his more than reasonable rates meant that he had to do all of the repairs himself and he often ran himself ragged. He was good with his hands and he liked to do the work—he'd been a construction worker and then a private contractor before settling on the idea of becoming a landlord—but he didn't have a lot of time for arguments or patience for people who weren't willing to help themselves.

The thought of living in the street scared me, but, the truth was, I was almost more afraid of losing John. I had a bit of a thing for John that went beyond wondering what he looked like with his shirt off. I'd known him for two years, and even though the only time I'd ever spent with him was when he came in to fix a tap or put a new seal on a window—or times like now, when he had to come around looking for rent—I knew John was a good man from the way he spoke to people, and the way he always showed up right away to fix things that needed fixing. I knew more than one woman in our building had taken a shining to him—girls didn't mind sharing that sort of thing—but I always kept my mouth shut out of fear that word would get around to Ryan, my boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, I should say.

Ryan was the reason I was in mess I was in. I'd