Unstoppable
Scott Hildreth
UNSTOPPABLE
Scott Hildreth
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Scott Hildreth lives in Wichita, Kansas.
He is, in all respects, Unstoppable.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the only person that ever kicked my ass and got away with it, Michael Allen Ripton, aka. Ripp.
Dude, you’re a beast. You won.
THE ERIK EAD SERIES
BABY GIRL
BABY GIRL BOOK II
BABY GIRL BOOK III
OTHER BOOKS BY SCOTT HILDRETH
BROKEN PEOPLE
THE ALPHA-BET
UNDEFEATED
UNSTOPPABLE
TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
PROLOGUE
Finding someone that is willing to be everything I want him to be is just impossible. Trying to decide what characteristics are important enough for me to require them of a boyfriend, compared to what I eventually accept is an ever changing list. It seems to me that I am willing to forfeit some pretty important things to get a person who will provide me with a little bit of affection and a few kind words.
Tucker and I had been hanging out for about a month. He was older than me by seven years, which wasn’t that much. Meeting him seemed to produce one person, hanging out slowly produced another, and now that we had been talking for about a month, he had become frustrated; producing what I expected was the real person. According to him, we had reached a point that we needed to have sex.
He said it would show him how much I cared.
How much I loved him.
I am certain my parents raised me differently than any other girl in the entire state of Texas. I was twenty-one years old and still a virgin. Although Tucker didn’t know it, and I didn’t expect I would tell him, I had refrained from having sex with every boy I had ever been with. The lack of sex in the relationships, I suspect, was the main reason for the break-ups with the boys in my past. Each boy had a different reason, but the common denominator was not having sex.
Sometimes I wished I would have had sex earlier in life. Hanging on to your virginity becomes similar to holding a treasure. After you reach adulthood, you’re reluctant to give it to anyone, because you have held onto it for so long. You cherish it. As time passes, it becomes more and more valuable. Eventually, you become the only person you know who has it. When it comes to considering giving up your virginity, you really want that person to be the person.
And so far, Tucker wasn’t the person.
“If you love me you would,” he pleaded.
“I just don’t know. I don’t give it to everyone who comes along. Isn’t that worth something?” I asked.
“That’s why I want it from you. Not because you give it to everyone, but because you don’t. Because you’re so sweet,” he sighed.
“You think I’m sweet?” I asked.
“I know you’re sweet. And I think we shouldn’t even be having this talk. Adults have sex. It’s what they do,” he touched my face as he leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Katie,” he said as our lips parted.
“Really?” I asked as I leaned my face into his open hand
“More than anyone else I have ever seen. I think I could be with you forever,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss me again.
“Forever? Really?” my voice cracked as I spoke.
He nodded his head and closed his eyes as he leaned into me.
We kissed a long passionate kiss. As he pulled his mouth from mine, I felt dizzy. I like the way kissing can make you feel if it is a great kiss. A really fantastic kiss can make me feel like I’m disoriented and a little dizzy for several seconds after it ends. This was one of those kisses.
I looked up, not quite realizing that I had slumped into the couch as we kissed. As Tucker raised his chest from mine, he began massaging my breasts through my shirt and bra. I closed my eyes and began to moan as his hands squeezed more and more aggressively. I didn’t resist when his hand slipped behind me and fumbled with the clasp on my bra.
As soon as my bra was unhooked, his hand slid under my shirt and began to play with my nipples. As with most men, he obviously believed a woman’s nipples were a direct connection to her heart. I didn’t complain, kept my eyes closed, and moaned in pleasure as he pinched and twisted my hardening nipples, alternating from breast to breast.
I opened my eyes as his free hand slid into my shorts.
“You can play with the outside, just don’t put your finger in,” I whispered.
“Okay, baby. I’ll play with your clit,” he breathed.
I closed my eyes and bit my lip as he lifted my shirt and began to lick my nipples. His finger tip massaged my clit into a frenzy; sending a tickling sensation throughout my entire body. I enjoyed the feeling I received from clit stimulation, but wasn’t sure if it was actually having an orgasm or not. Generally, my body tingled all over, but it wasn’t as intense as what I expected based on what my girlfriends described regarding having orgasms.
I heard the jingle of his belt buckle as he fumbled with unbuckling it. He smiled as I opened my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, still in somewhat of a euphoric state.
“I’m just getting it out to play with it,” he paused, “I know, I know…”
“Okay, well…” his hand covered my mouth before I finished my thought.
“Shhhh. I know,” he whispered as he kissed my forehead.
He removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor beside the couch. As he lowered his bare chest to mine, I closed my eyes. Lost in the comfort of his bare body pressed against mine, I reached around his torso and massaged my hands along his muscular back. I twitched as I felt his finger against my pussy again, startled by the touch against my now over-sensitive swollen clit.
I inhaled deeply as I felt myself reaching climax. I opened my eyes and immediately realized the intensity of my moaning as it echoed in the sparsely furnished apartment. This, without a doubt, was going to be one of the orgasms that all of my girlfriends talked about.
Finally.
Oh God yes.
As I felt my breathing become short and choppy, I began to tingle from my clit to my nipples. This was going to be huge. I felt as if my head was going to explode. At that instant, I didn’t care, my head could have exploded and I would have not cared. I was ready.
Oh. My…
Instantaneously, his finger moved from my clit and I felt pressure against my pussy. The pressure increased. I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. His chest pressed against me harder, pinning me to the couch.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
I felt the pressure of his penis against me.
“I just want you to see what it feels like. You’ll love it. You want it. You’re ready,” he whispered.
“No. No, don’t. Please don’t. No Tucker, No,” I pleaded as the pressure increased.
I squirmed and tried to sit up. His hand pressed against
my shoulder and onto my neck. His palm pushed against my neck and forced me deeper into the couch. The pressure against my lady parts increased. I felt him begin to enter…
“Please. Please, Tucker. Don’t!” I cried.
“Nooooo…” I screamed as he forcefully tore into me.
“I’m…” I sobbed.
“I’m a…” the tears ran down my face as he raped me.
And then it was too late, he had taken it from me. From that moment on, and for the rest of my life, I would never be able to claim that I was…
A virgin.
UNSTOPPABLE
EAT YOUR TATERS
MONKEY MAN
CHUCK FUCKIN’
A HEAD ROLLED BY
NICE EYEBROWS
YAMASA LONGTIME
MR. RIPP ON LINE FOUR
UNSTOPPABLE
SUBMISSIVE UNICORN
IN OVER MY HEAD
FLAMIN’ CHICKEN
CIRCUS SUNDAY
THE RANT
ALPHA ANYONE?
FUCK YOU RIPP
RIPPIN’ IT
MY GIRL
READY OR ROT HERE WE COME
CHUCK’S VIRGIN NO MORE
A SNOWSTORM IN AUSTIN
OFFICE CALL
IT’S PIZZ
RIPP. “Michael, eat your potatoes, you’re pickin’,” my mother sighed as she pointed to my plate.
I haven’t taken shit from anyone since my first playground fight when I was twelve years old. From that day until today, no one has ever picked a fight with me. Ever. If someone has fought me it was because they were either getting paid or they were trying to see if they could take a shot at my undefeated record.
Taking shit from my mother is another thing all together.
“Mom, I’m eating them,” I said as I began to take another bite of the grilled chicken she had served.
Mothers in general can be funny creatures - but mothers born and raised in Texas always look at their children as just that, their children. I am my mother’s child, but I am not childlike in my actions. By watching my mother, you’d think I was ten years old.
“Michael, you’re not eatin’ ‘em. Is there something wrong with ‘em?” she set her fork down beside her plate and poked her finger into the pile of potatoes that sat on the edge of my plate.
“Mom, what the fuck are you doing fingerin’ my food?” I widened my eyes, dropped my chicken bone onto the plate and shook my head.
“Talk like that to your mother again, and I’ll slap your ass out of that damned chair, Mike. Eat your taters,” my father growled from across the table.
“I’m gonna eat ‘em. I didn’t know we had fuckin’ time limit or a particular order we had to eat shit in. Damn, Pop,” as I turned to face my father, he raised his hand in a gesture as if he was going to slap me.
Truth be known, my father has never so much as spanked my butt as a kid. Growing up in this house was like something out of a feel-good movie. I was raised to act in a manner that was in accordance with what I believed God’s will to be. God wasn’t shoved down my throat, but I was constantly reminded of his existence. Religion, to my family, was a recommendation. God, however, wasn’t. A perfect house, perfect parents, and growing up with the feeling only a true loving, caring family could provide. Both my parents were like comedic actors. Always being funny, making jokes, and never expressing anything but true love – in their own silly way. Coming here for Sunday dinner was like going to the damned circus.
“You put ‘em on your plate, you better damned well eat ‘em,” my father hissed as he pointed at my plate with his fork.
“Son of a bitch, Pop. I’m gonna eat some of ‘em. I ain’t looking to eat ‘em all. I’m trying to save a little room. I gotta exercise in a bit, and I don’t want to end up fat from eating a bunch of god damned potatoes,” I explained as I forked some of the sliced cucumbers on my plate.
“Shane’s gonna be fightin’ for the championship, and he ain’t worried about a few taters,” my father said as he nodded toward Dekk’s plate.
“God damn it Pop, I ain’t Shane. And I’ll eat my food as I please. Can everyone just quit fingering and poking around on my god damned plate and let me eat some meat?” I looked up from my fork full of cucumbers and turned toward Dekk.
His plate was empty.
Fucking kiss ass.
Dekk shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Ever since he got an opportunity at the Heavyweight Championship, my parents invited him every Sunday for dinner. My father always wanted me to go the distance and fight for a title fight, but I’ve never been that type of fighter. Under no circumstances did my father understand. To me, it has never been about a title, a place in a book, or being on the news.
It’s about beating another man’s ass, and knowing you did so. I never needed a referee to tell me I had won a fight. From just looking toward the other side of the ring – and seeing my opponent - everyone who witnessed my fights knew who won.
Long before it was ever announced.
“Shane and I got shit we gotta do tonight, and I damned sure don’t need to be all bloated from eating potatoes. Mom, the food’s good as always, including the potatoes,” I nodded my head in my mother’s direction.
“The food was wonderful, Mrs. Ripton,” Dekk said as he stood up from the table and carried his plate to the sink.
“Get your nose out of my mom’s ass, Shane,” I laughed as I picked up another chicken breast from my plate.
“Michael!” my mother screeched.
“Damn it son,” my father complained.
“Well, he’s always kissing your asses. Great food, Mrs. Ripton, I like your truck, Mr. Ripton, Your hair looks great, Bug. I like your dress, Manda. It gets a little tough to listen to,” I laughed as I dropped the breast bone onto my plate and licked my fingers.
“Where’s the girl you’re seein’ Shane?” my father asked as Dekk rinsed his plate.
“I left her at home, sir. Ripp. I mean Mike and I have to go…” Dekk looked over his shoulder and paused.
God damn it, Dekkar.
“Have to go where? For what? What were you gonna say?” my father turned away from Shane to face me.
He looked toward Dekk, and turned to face me again. As he scrunched his brow he attempted to gaze into my eyes, I looked toward Dekk in disbelief and rolled my eyes.
“What? Have to what? What are you two heathens doin’? Mike, are you going over to Rundberg again? Or over to the east side? Damnit it Mike, I’ve told you about that,” my father shook his head as he stood from the table.
I stood from my seat.
“Pop…” before I got started talking he interrupted me.
“Don’t Pop me, Mike. You’re going to get your ass handed to you one of these nights from some twenty year old kid wacked out on crack,” my father complained as he walked to the sink.
My mother looked back and forth at each of us as we stood; unaware of what was going on for certain. I suspect most mothers are, but my mother was exceptionally naïve to everything around her. If not, she did a good job of acting the part.
“Pop. You and I both know I don’t make any money to speak of by boxing. I do it because I am good at it. I can paint cars, but I fucking hate painting cars. Or. Well. You know what else I can do,” I explained as I followed him to the sink.
“And people don’t smoke crack anymore, do they Shane?” I laughed.
“You know what I mean, Mike. You’re not twenty years old any longer,” my father dropped his plate into the sink and reached for my shoulder.
Immediately, and in an exaggerated fashion, I leaned back, grabbed my father’s wrist, and twisted his arm behind his back.
“Damn it Mike. Turn me loose,” he demanded as I pressed his stomach into the counter top.
“Still lightning fast, old man,” I growled into his ear as I pushed my chest into his back.
“Let your father go, Mike,” my mother exhaled a half-whisper without looking up from her plate of food.
“Pop, I’m thirty-one. You’re right. I ain’t twenty. But if my twenty year old self was here right now, I’d beat his twenty year old ass. I’m bigger, meaner, and quicker than I ever been. I’ll be fine,” I raised both my clenched fists to my mouth and kissed them independently.
As I held my hands up at eye level, I flexed my biceps.
My father shook his head, trying to change the subject, “And where’s the girl you’re seein’, Mike?”
“Liv? I ain’t seein’ her, Pop. I’m screwing her,” I laughed as I patted Dekk on the shoulder.
“Michael…” my mother said softly as soon as I said screwing.
It has always amazed me my mother can’t hear, as hard as I try to get her to. As soon as I talk about doing something with a girl, she can hear a mouse fart. Supersonic hearing when it comes to my sex life. Both my parents have maintained a level of concern about my lack of commitment regarding a relationship.
I do relationships.
Just not for very long.
“Mom, Pop, we got to get. Come on Shane,” I slapped Dekk’s shoulder again and turned toward the garage.
“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Ripton. And tell the girls I said hi when they get home,” Dekk nodded toward my father and leaned to kiss my mother’s cheek.
“Come on, Shane. God damn,” I exhaled and shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts.
“Mom, Pop. Thanks. We gotta get,” I patted my mother’s shoulder as I walked around the table.
“You ain’t driving that car to Rundberg are you?” my father asked.
“Pop. Just leave it alone. Shane and I and that damned car will all be fine, huh Shane?” I chuckled.
“Mr. Ripton,” Dekk nodded as he walked through the kitchen.
“Don’t fuck the car up,” my father preached.
“It ain’t yours anymore, Pop. It’ll be fine,” I shook my head and walked toward the garage as Dekk following close behind me.
As we stepped into the garage, Dekk walked around me toward the rear of the garage.
