Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (18 page)

“It’s my turn now, Liv,” Dean groaned huskily, reaching
beneath her arms to guide her off of Christian.

He pulled her on top of him in one swift movement, lowering
her down onto his enormous cock slowly. Olivia experienced a brief moment of
panic, worried that he was simply too big for her, but she was so wet that he
slid inside her easily. He filled every inch of her; it was the most incredible
sensation she'd ever experienced. He stilled, giving her a chance to adjust to
his girth before thrusting in and out of her slowly. His eyes met hers as his
tempo increased.

“I've imagined you like this countless times...” his husky
whisper sent tremors of pleasure coursing through her veins.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, knowing
they would part for her as her tongue darted out to find his. He groaned and
thrust faster and already Olivia could feel yet another orgasm building within
her. She wrapped her legs around him, giving her the leverage she needed to
meet his thrusts. Her moans turned to muffled screams against Dean's lips as he
fucked her fiercely. She felt fingers against her clit, and didn't know who
they belonged to—and she didn't care, because just seconds later, her back
arched and she started to come yet again, her orgasm resonating throughout
every inch of her body. Before the ripples of her climax had subsided, Dean
thrusted into her pussy one last time, shooting his hot release deep inside
her.

Olivia collapsed against his broad, bare chest, breathing
heavily as her body sought to recover from the most intense sex in her life.
Dean didn't seem in any hurry to move either, his fingers moving lightly along
her back.

In the quiet aftermath, Olivia heard the muffled sounds of
voices moving slowly toward the barn. She recognized the voices of the men from
earlier, along with a few others. No doubt they were reassembling for another
late night round of poker. She stood quickly, instantly feeling empty, but
looking around for her clothing frantically, nonetheless. Dean moved to stand,
but Christian waved him off, already sliding into his jeans and heading for the
door with his T-shirt in hand.

“Take it easy. I'll go,” he reassured them. “I'm sure the
two of you have some catching up to do.” He grinned at Olivia. “I told you he
wanted you, Liv.”

“Don't call me that,” she said instinctively, as Dean pulled
her back down on his lap. A light blush spread across her cheeks, remembering
the last time she'd said that to Christian and he'd so easily figured out her
secret—which was obviously no longer a secret.

She turned her head, looking up to thank Christian for
handling the group outside, but her movement left her neck exposed to Dean. Her
thanks came out as a breathless moan as he leaned forward to kiss along the
length of her neck. Christian's eyes swept along her naked body one last time
before he opened the barn door, closing it quickly behind him to block out the
on-comers' view.

Olivia heard his voice outside, making some excuse to deter
the poker group, but she tuned out of the conversation quickly as Dean leaned
her back on the table gently, continuing his trail of kisses down over her
collarbone and across the upper swells of her breasts. By the time his tongue
darted out to tease her nipple, she'd completely forgotten about the scene
taking place outside. And when she felt his cock—hard again already—pressing
against her, she forgot that anything else existed but the man she'd fantasized
about for so many years.

THE END

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Drop dead."

Patrick reached forward carefully and withdrew the glass
from in front of Nixie, pulling out the picks she had thrown into it with each
exclamation.

"Honey, it's lovely that you have reached the point of
aggravation and, apparently, intoxication at which you feel free to express
your emotions, but you are using up all of my little plastic swords and I need
those for my sissy mixed drinks."

Nixie sighed and slumped down onto the bar, resting her head
on her folded arms and squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that had been
threatening them since she sat down. She actually wasn't drunk. She wished she
was because it would probably help her get through the night more easily, but
the drink that she filled with picks had only been her second and Patrick had
confiscated it before she was able to take more than a sip.

"What's wrong with me, Patrick?" Nixie asked,
lifting her head from her arms and digging her fingers back through her hair.

"Nothing's wrong with you. You have completely legit
reasons to be upset right now. Your boyfriend broke up with you because he said
he needed to work on himself and wasn't ready to make any major commitments and
then got engaged three weeks later to your former college roommate who,
incidentally, introduced the two of you in the first place, and they are having
their joint bachelor-slash-bachelorette party tonight."

"Thank you for that rambling run-on sentence of a
recap."

Patrick tilted his head and looked into the distance like he
was going back over what he had just said.

"No, that was actually completely grammatically
correct. Wordy as hell, perhaps, but grammatically correct."

There was a loud cheer from the small private room at the
back of the bar and Nixie rolled her eyes, sagging back down onto the bar.

"I guess he could have been more tactful than to hold
the party at the bar he knows you have gone to every single Friday night for
the last five years," Patrick said, glancing over at the room and then
back at Nixie, "Speaking of which, why are you still here?"

"I am showing how positive and strong I am, and that he
can't get me down," she replied, not bothering to lift her head from her
arms.

"Yeah," he said, sounding unconvinced, "You
show them, girl." Nixie felt him pet the back of her head awkwardly,
"Not that this whole situation you've got going on here isn't effective,
but do you know what would really make an impact on Bryan?"

"What?"

"Dancing with someone like that delicious piece of man
candy that has been eyeing you for the last hour."

Nixie raised her head to look at Patrick.

"How many times have I asked you not to use that
phrase? It makes me uncomfortable." She turned around to look in the same
direction as Patrick, "Damn."

"I told you. Man candy."

Nixie turned back to Patrick.

"Where the hell did he come from?" she asked,
glancing back over her shoulder at the gorgeous man across the bar.

"I don't know, but he's looking at you. Maybe he's
looking at me." Patrick struck what Nixie could only assume was meant to
be a subtly sexy pose, held it for a few seconds, and then relaxed again,
"No, definitely you."

"Great. I've had an audience for my emotional
breakdown."

Patrick suddenly picked up a rag and started randomly wiping
down any surface he could reach without moving from his spot.

"I don't think that's why he's been looking at you.
Perk up, Fancy, he's on his way over here."

"What?" Nixie half-shrieked, half-whispered, but
before Patrick could respond, she felt someone step up beside her.

She glanced up and saw the man from across the bar standing
close to her, gazing down at her with eyes the color of chocolate and lips that
looked like they were just as sweet.

"Hi," he said and the smooth, silky rumble of his
voice rolled through her like thunder.

"Hi."

"Is there anyone sitting here?"

He rested his hand on the back of the barstool beside her
and Nixie shook her head.

"No."

"Can I join you?"

There was a strange
yip
sound from Patrick and Nixie
looked over to see him suddenly extremely invested in cleaning and arranging
the glasses in the ceiling racks that likely hadn't been touched in several
years.

"Absolutely," she said, turning back to the man.

He settled his denim-clad body onto the barstool beside her
and looked at Patrick.

"Is he ok?"

Nixie let out a long breath.

"He's fine. He's just not very good at his job."

Patrick shot her a disgusted glance over his shoulder and
the man beside her laughed.

"I'm Damian," he said, extending his hand to
Nixie.

"Nixie," she said, tucking her hand into his.

He didn't so much shake her hand as give it a gentle squeeze
and Nixie felt a flutter in her belly.

"So what are you doing sitting here all alone
tonight?"

There was another cheer from the private room and Nixie
cringed.

"They're pretty loud, huh?"

"That is an engagement party for my former college
roommate," she started.

"Shouldn't you be in there, then?"

"And my ex-boyfriend."

"Ah. Well, that's uncomfortable."

"It most certainly is."

Damian slid off of his stool and held out a hand to Nixie.

"Let me take your mind off of it."

There was another
yip
from Patrick, but Nixie had
such focus on Damian she didn't even look his way. She took Damian's hand again
and let him guide her off of her stool and toward the small dancefloor in the
center of the room. Only a few other people were dancing, but Nixie didn't
care. Damian pulled her into his arms and rested his hands on the full swell of
her hips. She could feel the heat coming off of his body as he moved against
her, encouraging her to roll with him to the rhythm of the music throbbing
around them.

****

"I can't believe that I'm actually going to ask
this," Nixie said, her eyes flickering to the DJ booth a few feet away.
"Do you come here often?"

Damian laughed and pulled her a little closer.

"This is my first time."

"That would explain why neither Patrick or I recognized
you."

"I guess you do come here often?"

Nixie sighed, unsure if whether her answer was going to
sound impressive because of her devotion and consistency, or really pathetic
because she has had nothing better to do for five years of Friday nights.

"Every Friday night."

There was yet another cheer from the back room, this time
even louder and more rambunctious, and Nixie cringed.

"So that would be why you are subjecting yourself to
being here while that's going on. You don't want to break the streak you have
going."

"Something like that."

No matter how hard she tried to hold them back, Nixie felt
the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
Dammit all to
hell. Back foul beasts!
That didn't work either. She had lost all control
of her emotions and was officially reduced to a pool of uselessness and
sniffling.

The worst part about this whole situation is that she had
felt like she was over Bryan. She had even been considering breaking up with
him in the weeks leading up to him crushing her soul with his little whirlwind
romance with her former best friend. Things had felt a little distant between
them for a while. Of course, that was probably because the further he was
getting from her, the cozier he was getting with Angela, but that was not
something that Nixie really wanted to dwell on at that moment.

Damian tucked a finger under her soft chin and lifted her
face to look at him. Eyes like hot chocolate stared back at her.
Dear lord
she loved a good cup of cocoa on a chilly autumn night.

"Do you want to get out of here? You've officially been
here. Your streak is intact. Let's go somewhere where you can actually have
fun."

A rousing and decidedly drunken rendition of "For He's
a Jolly Good Fellow" rose up out of the banquet room with a few people
throwing in a couple of "she"s for good measure. That pushed Nixie
right over the edge.

"Absolutely," she said, "Where are we
going?"

Damian's face broke into a wide smile.

"It's a little bar called Caddy's. It's just up the
road a bit. You can follow me there."

Nixie nodded and glanced back at Patrick who was leaning so
far over the bar she thought he was in distinct danger of toppling over. He
noticed she was looking and started frantically polishing the bar again.

"Just one second."

She crossed back to the bar and smacked a hand down on it.
Patrick jumped, the bar towel falling from his hand.

"I'll have you know that you are interrupting my sacred
bartender-ly duties."

"Uh-huh. Look, Damian invited me to go to a different
bar with him. It's called Caddy's and he says it's right up the road. Can you
meet me up there?"

"Well, it's pretty dead in here tonight and Sasha is
supposed to be coming in in about an hour, so I could probably get off then and
come up there. Why do you need me?"

"Because I am going to a strange bar with a man that I
just met. Don't you ever watch TV? If he plans on murdering me, I'd at least
like to have someone that knows where I'm supposed to be so it doesn't take
weeks to find my body."

"That was unnecessarily graphic."

"I'll see you in an hour."

Nixie walked back to Damian and flashed him a smile.

"Alright. Let's go. Patrick is going to meet us up
there in a bit. Is that ok?"

She watched Damian look back over at the bar like he was
evaluating Patrick, and then back at her, scanning her body up and down. He
shrugged.

"He should fit in just about as well as you do."

He turned to walk away and Nixie scurried after him, the
words striking her as strange.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, but he just
laughed and kept going out into the parking lot.

Nixie climbed into her car and watched as Damian got into a
sleek black truck a few spots away. For the first time she really noticed how
his fitted jeans molded to his ass under the tail of his pale grey and white
plaid shirt, and the worn-looking boots tucked beneath the legs.

"Mmmm, cowboy take me away," she muttered to
herself and turned the key so that she could follow him out of the parking lot
and down the darkened road.

His interpretation of a "little bit down the road"
was a little shady and by the time they had driven for fifteen minutes down the
progressively emptier road, Nixie was truly starting to think that the
potential for impending murder might be higher than she was comfortable with. A
moment later, though, she saw the vibrant orange glow of a neon sign in the
distance and let out a sigh of relief. There really was a little bar and it
seemed to have a nearly full parking lot, reducing the chances in her mind that
he was bringing her out into the middle of nowhere to keep her as a pet or turn
her into a scarecrow for his fields.

She shuddered. She really needed to stop watching late-night
true crime documentaries.

Damian pulled into the parking lot and slid into a spot in a
row of remarkably similar trucks that seemed to be in varying degrees of
newness and cleanliness. It was like looking at a timeline of the progression
of the modern farm use automobile. He hopped out and glanced at her, but she
shrugged, not seeing anywhere to park. She rolled down her window and he
approached her car, gripping the window so that he could lean in.

"Go around back. There's more parking back there. It's
not as well-lit, though, so be careful."

Considering the front parking lot was lit exclusively by the
glow from the neon sign and whatever light was trickling from the bar itself,
that warning did not bode well for the condition or safety of the lot in the
back. Nixie drove cautiously around the building, narrowly missing a group of
men dressed very much like Damian, and found a spot in the nearly pitch-black
lot.

Peeking in her review mirror, she was relieved to see Damian
walking around the building to meet her so that she didn't have to walk through
the darkness herself. She took a few seconds to brush through her hair and try
to reconstruct her makeup as well as she could before he got to the back of her
car and peered in through the back window at her. Climbing out, she gave a
smile that she hoped would come across as confident and strode toward him. The
gravel of the lot felt loose and unsteady under her spiked heels and she fought
to maintain her balance. Her tight black dress and fishnet hose were not
designed for tumbles in a dark parking lot.