Illicit Affairs

Illicit Affairs by Savannah Sloan Copyright © 2022 | All rights reserved | No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission the publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Cover design by Y’all That Graphic Photography by Regina Wamba Editing by Librum Artis Formatting by Cruel Ink Editing For me. Not now me, but for the fourteen-year-old me who was taken by strangers and abandoned in the mountains of Montana to be “modified.” You did nothing to deserve that. It was not right. It is still not right. This is me #BreakingCodeSilence That’s a what—Category three consequence? No, I won’t self-correct. You’re going to have to staff the motherfucker. To others who were sent away under the guise of “tough love,” I see you, survivor. SPOTIFY PLAYLIST Playlist Can be Found Here Bring Me To Life- Evanescence Gasoline- Halsey The Nearness Of You- Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong Older Than I Am- Lennon Stella Control- Halsey Guys My Age- Hey Violet Wildest Dreams- Taylor Swift ‘tis the damn season- Taylor Swift You All Over Me- Taylor Swift (feat. Maren Morris) Kissing Other People- Acoustic- Lennon Stella Always Been You- Jessie Murph Smile- Maisie Peters Joke’s On You- Charlotte Lawrence Honest- Kyndal Inskeep the 1- Taylor Swift hoax- Taylor Swift AUTHOR’S NOTE Reading is often used as a form of escapism for readers. For authors, sometimes writing is a way to work through things in our pasts that still haunt us daily. The stories of Avery’s past are memories I have spent years running from. I internalized every bit of it, thinking I was to blame for these things happening to me. No more. I won’t stay quiet any longer. I won’t blame myself for how the actions of adults affected me when I was a child. The “troubled teen” industry made so many rich, touted by TV “doctors” as the quick fix for parents who either lacked the ability to help their children or lacked the fucking desire. There are a few chapters that may be hard for some to read. I caution you that I didn’t hold back. A full list of triggers is available on my website, to include depression, anxiety, substance abuse, institutional child abuse [off page], nightmares, and cheating. Illicit Affairs is intended for 18+ as it contains sexually explicit material. The age gap between the main characters is substantial; however, she only calls him “Daddy” once, and he doesn’t spank her. There is a lot of biting though… Yes, I definitely buried the lead there. *wink* xoxo -Savvy CONTENTS 1. Avery 2. Avery 3. Avery 4. Finn 5. Avery 6. Finn 7. Finn 8. Avery 9. Finn 10. Finn 11. Finn 12. Avery 13. Avery 14. Finn 15. Avery 16. Finn 17. Avery 18. Finn 19. Avery 20. Finn 21. Avery 22. Avery 23. Avery 24. Avery 25. Avery 26. Avery 27. Finn 28. Finn 29. Finn 30. Avery 31. Avery 32. Avery 33. Finn 34. Avery 35. Avery 36. Avery 37. Avery 38. Avery 39. Avery 40. Finn 41. Finn 42. Avery 43. Finn 44. Avery 45. Avery 46. Finn 47. Avery 48. Finn 49. Finn Epilogue About Savannah Sloan Avery I light a joint, waving it around above me like a wizard’s wand, a smoke trail circling the slice of night sky I can see beyond the tree line. Abracadabra can’t change the shitstorm my life has become, but the weed will hopefully calm the chaos for tonight. The stars above wink at me as I take another pull on the joint, the burn laced in the drag warming my throat. Feeling my eyelids fall, I slowly exhale, waiting for the calm to hit. “Take off your clothes and set them there.” “Everything?” I question. “I said everything. Don’t play dumb.” Hands shaking, I follow the woman’s instructions, placing my jeans and shirt on the chair she pointed to. Next, I slip off my underwear, embarrassed that my maxi pad is visible to this stranger. Last, I toss my bra on the pile and try to cover my naked body as much as possible with my arms. “Spread your arms out and turn around, then spread your legs, jump and cough.” A tear slips down my cheek as I follow her instructions. “Again. Jump and then cough twice.” A sob escapes as I do what she says. I can feel blood trickling down my thigh, but this cold woman seems unfazed. “Fuck,” I whisper as I glance at the joint between my fingers. My weed guy said this was called “Sweet Dreams,” but my demons seem to be stirring, leaving me feeling anything but sweet. I readjust on the steel bench where I’m resting. The seat is made of thick bars spaced out just enough to be uncomfortable on my back. I must have masochistic tendencies, to lie here for hours when it’s so painful. But it makes sense. Those tendencies are what bring me here in the first place. It’s always starts the same: tightness in my throat, pressure in my chest. It feels as though if I don’t remove myself to a place where I can be alone, that I might die—even though sometimes I wonder if that would really be the worst thing. So I run. At least this time, I had the wherewithal to put on tennis shoes and not run out in