**BLITZ**
Being Kalli by Rebecca Berto
Publication date: December 2013
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
Kalli Perkins makes it a habit of shutting her mouth, except to please a guy. She would say she goes off like a starved animal in bed, but Kalli doesn’t have sex in beds. She does it in hallways, in parks, in parties. She comes as a package deal.
Great sex. No strings attached. Never alone together; always in public.
One night at a party, Kalli makes a bet with her friend, Nate, that could change everything. But she didn’t count on him. Nate’s very capable of satisfying her, not only under her clothes, but in her heart, too.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
Great sex. No strings attached. Never alone together; always in public.
One night at a party, Kalli makes a bet with her friend, Nate, that could change everything. But she didn’t count on him. Nate’s very capable of satisfying her, not only under her clothes, but in her heart, too.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
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Excerpt
prologue
There are two things you should know about me:
One,
I’m afraid of being alone with a guy.
Two,
I’m certain I love my little brothers more than our mum does.
There are sweeping coloured lights patrolling
the party, and a disco ball glittering over people swaying to the music, the
pumping speakers, and the bar workers. It’s eleven on a Saturday and people are
either drunk on alcohol or drunk from the wickedly mixed tracks, courtesy of
the DJ. It’s a decent party, but it never matters. I’m with my pick for the
night.
Donovan
Xander.
He’s
hot, and I can appreciate a hot guy. Army buzz cut, almond coloured eyes, and
arms that can sweep a girl clean off her feet and into his. Lucky for both of
us, I don’t get swept off my feet by the likes of him—the type I hooked up with
last weekend, or the one I made out with in the dorm hallway mid-week when all
the normal people were sleeping. There’s something about my disinterest at
impressing a guy that interests them.
But
Donovan, he’s just like the rest. This one pulled my thighs onto his and I bent
my knees back, settling onto his crotch, which grew a groan from him. When he
starts talking too much I tell him I get called Kalli and not Kallisto. He
starts layering me with kisses along my mouth and down my neck instead.
“That’s
real good,” he mumbles, nibbling on me.
I
don’t know if he means my name or the sweet spot at my neck because he’s been
sucking my skin between his lips for these last five minutes on and off. And,
yes, it’s been five minutes, because I’ve counted.
“But
why ‘Kalli’?” Donovan asks when he parts with my skin for air.
“Because
she was high at the time,” I answer.
Leaning
in, I taste him back and suck on a spot. Unfortunately for me, Donovan has
chosen to drown this part, just under the protrusion of his jaw, with a full
bottle of aftershave, but I have too much pride and even more secrets to continue
with the conversation. So I suck his skin in and around my tongue and fight the
urge to pull away.
“Your
mother?”
I’m
not stupid; I hear the incredulous tone to his voice. Everyone has it. You
expect trash when my usual dress code is, a) skirt or shorts at least three
inches above my knee, and b) at least my cleavage, arms or the bony bits of my
hips exposed. But even slummers have standards and people expect a mother to
stay away from a glass of wine, let alone illicit drugs, when pregnant.
Mine
thought naming me after astrology was awesome.
“Am
I fine to continue sucking on your body, or do you want a history lesson?”
To
explain what I mean, I lick a trail from a spot under his ear to the V of the
neckline of his T-shirt. He understands, clearly. Or at least his dick does. It
springs up against his jeans, which pushes at my inner thigh. I shift, so if
his jeans and my G-string weren’t there, he’d be cradled between me.
Donovan
doesn’t reply this time. He wraps his arms around me, dropping his hands to the
small of my back. There, he reaches the tip of my long hair, and he tugs
slightly. Soon, his hands dip inside the strap of my G and he groans when he
realises how very small the material is.
We
make out for another few minutes and this time I do lose count. I usually count
when I kiss guys. Scout’s the only girl I’ve ever kissed, but it’s always for
fun when we are holding hands and stumbling around parties drunk, looking out
for each other the whole night. I don’t count with her. It never usually
goes long enough.
My
G is sliding between Donovan and I, and I have to wonder if my wetness is on
his pants. Probably. I couldn’t care less. I’ve seen Donovan around campus and parties;
we frequent the same circles, no doubt, but I’ve never spoken more than a handful of words with him before
tonight. Probably won’t again.
It’s
now, as I begin to get into this make-out session on our couch, that Donovan
shatters everything and replaces my excitement with a pounding sense of dread,
one I’ve always felt since I was a kid and a guy asked to be alone with me: sex
or no sex involved.
He
breathes into my lips between kisses, “Come back to my room.”
“I
can’t.” I say it firmly, forcing us apart with my hands against his chest. I
catch my breath before I bite my lip and lick it, ready to pounce on him again.
“Kalli,
don’t worry.” He places a hand on my shoulder, which instead of the calming
gesture he intended, sends me jerking back to my feet and fixing my mini skirt
straight. “Kalli, really. I can sneak you in, no worries about anyone finding
out, if you’re uptight about that.”
I
sigh. He’s worried about me getting caught, worsening my reputation, possibly
even jeopardising my university life.
Thank
God he didn’t sense my real fear.
AUTHOR BIO
Rebecca Berto is the author or the dark contemporary/literary novella, PRECISE and the new adult contemporary romance novel, DROWNING IN YOU. She is also a freelance editor.She writes stories that are a bit sexy, and straddle the line between Literary and Tear Your Heart Out. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her stories, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She's strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.
Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.
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