Boomtown
Authors: Lani Lynn Vale
Boomtown
Lani Lynn Vale
(2013)
Rating: ***
Her
I wanted to have a pity party of one when I went for that beer. I never imagined I would meet a dark and dangerous man. That man took me on the wildest ride of my life. Literally and Figuratively. He quickly became my entire world.
Him
I didn't know I was looking for her. I saw her warming that bar stool and knew she would be mine. A man like me doesn't deserve the likes of her. But damned if I didn't take it.
Her
When we met for the first time we didn't know that we already had a connection. A cruel game was being played, and we didn't know the rules. Sam would save us, but at what cost? Sam was one of my main reasons for living. If he wasn't in this world anymore, would I still want to be a part of it?
Boom Town
Lani Lynn Vale
Text copyright ©2013 Lani Lynn Vale
All Rights Reserved
To my babies. I love y’all!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
God. Could my week get any worse? I just turned twenty fucking five and still a virgin. No outing just for my birthday. No one here to celebrate with. No freaking career. Just a shit job for shit pay. I was really getting into my pity party; I even almost turned on the water works. I turned 25 today, and everyone I loved was away. My brother was in Iraq, my mom was in Kentucky doing the last day of her three month long travel nursing contract, and my best friend in the whole wide world was visiting her family in Colorado and I missed her flight. Deciding enough was enough; I made a split second decision and decided to celebrate by myself.
Time to go to Deacon's.
I put my best jeans on that make my ass look a lot smaller than it really is.
I put on a push up bra that make me look I have a solid B cup when in reality I’m barely an A. Throwing on a black ribbed tank with a skull and cross bones I dug into the closet for my better pair of cowboy boots and put them on. I gooed up my hair and dried it with the diffuser, adding a few stray bobby pins to keep it out of my face, I started on the minimal make up. I swiped on some mascara, a layer of lip gloss and headed out.
I jumped in my 1987 single cab long bed Chevy Silverado and drove to Deacon's.
Deacon's is not my usual hangout. Really I don't go out at all, so anything is actually not my usual hangout.
I parked my truck and headed into the building. I walked straight to the bar and ordered a Corona. Taking a seat, I contemplated my life. I ignored everyone and everything and just sat on my stool nursing my beer.
SAM
I needed a break from reality today. I needed to get away from the shop. I needed away from the reminder that I was a failure. We lost one today. She was on her way to Free, possibly only minutes away, but her father caught her and killed her before she could get to us. The team was as disappointed as I was, and we all dealt with it in a different way. Tonight was a whiskey kind of night.
I was on my second glass when she walked in. She had on jeans that hugged her ass, thighs and legs perfectly. They were the kind that looked like they had been worn a million times before. She wore a tank top that had skulls and crossbones across her breasts that just drew eyes to them. They were on the smaller side for my usual tastes, but they would fit into my hands perfectly. She had long curly blonde hair that just brushed the top of her ass. It would be perfect to sink my hands into and hold on while I pounded her from behind. I had only seen her for all of thirty seconds, but I knew she would be mine. She walked into the bar like she owned the place, sat down on one of the stools toward the end, and nursed the beer without acknowledging anyone.
I didn’t pick women up in bars, but she seemed different. Possibly because she didn’t seem like the type of woman to even be in a bar, or it also could be that she ignored every man in the whole place except for the bartender. She seemed to put off a vibe that said “Hands off” and it kept all the men at a distance.
The bartender placed her beer in front of her, and she chugged it better than any man could. She placed the bottle down on the bar top and stared at the label, picking at it with blunt fingernails.
The women I’m normally attracted to have perfect nails, perfect hair, and dresses. Their bodies are tight, with little fat to be seen on them. This woman had on nice clothes, but it didn’t look like she dressed to impress. It looked like she dressed for comfort, and I liked that. She also didn’t look like she got expensive manicures every day. Her body looked soft, like she ate what she wanted and didn’t give a shit what other people thought.
I got up and walked across the bar and took a seat next to her. She never even looked up. It made my lips twitch as I glanced at the bartender and gave him a nod in her direction and raised my finger for one more. He gave me a nod and placed the beer in front of her.
CHEYENNE
I saw someone take a seat next to me in my peripheral vision, but made no move to acknowledge whoever it was.
Another beer was slid to me from the bartender, and I looked up questioningly.
I hadn't ordered a second beer. He tilted his head to the side, and I looked in the direction he motioned. I looked to my left and saw a massive shoulder. It was covered in a skin tight black cotton t-shirt that looked like it had been washed quite a bit, but still held its black color without being faded. I followed the shoulder down to his forearms which were very tanned and studied a Rangers tattoo that dominated most of the inside of his forearm. It was very good work, and looked a lot like one that my brother had. I glanced at his hands and wondered if the saying was true, big hands big feet. Eyes trailing to his thigh that his hand rested on, I had a stray thought that his thigh could probably be described as tree trunk like. They were massive. I wondered how much he could squat, by the looks of it, probably a small car.
Looking up I spied a very well defined tummy and chest, which probably sported a six pack, if not an eight. He had a massive chest, and his shoulders were very broad. His neck was corded and thick, which made me want to lick from his collar bone to his jaw. Finally allowing my eyes to connect to his face, I noticed he could be described as beautiful, except for a jagged scar that ran under his right eye, right about where the football players wear that black stripe of paint under their eyes. That had to hurt like a mother. His nose was straight; lips were full, and his eyes. His eyes were beautiful, the color of a new shiny penny. Those copper colored eyes were pinning mine to his, refusing to release them.
My breath hitched and I quietly said, "Thank you."
He nodded and smiled, then turned back towards the bar and didn't say a thing.
Deciding not to be a total boob, I turned also and started sipping on my second beer. Thank You, Mr. Humongo.
A while later, I heard an empty hit the counter in his direction, I looked up at him in time to see him say with a rough voice, "Let's go."
Damned if my ass didn't slip off the barstool and follow him out of the bar. What the hell was I doing? I couldn't do this. I didn't do this. I was not a whore.
Okay, I'm not lying to myself. I’d be a whore for him. He was taller than I imagined, probably six foot three or four.
He led me to a Harley, pure midnight black. And it was massive. I couldn’t really tell you anymore about it. My expertise was limited to Harley and black. This was because Harley was written on the side, and black because I’ve known my colors since I was two. Now, if he had taken me out to a truck, I could tell you the year, make, model and tire size. If you started it up I could tell you what kind of motor was in it, as well as if there were any adjustments that were made to it. I could be sitting outside, and a car would pass by and I could tell you exactly what type of engine that was in it without even seeing the type of car it was. It drove Ember crazy listening to me talk about cars. James taught me everything he knew from working at Bob’s Auto. He worked there for four years before he went to basic training, and each day he would come home and he would show me everything he learned, or had done that day. We worked on his Charger, then later when I turned sixteen we started on my Chevy.
The guy straddled the bike and held his hand out for me. I held my breath and grabbed his hand. His grip was strong and steady as I lifted my leg and slid into place behind him. My breath whooshed out of me as our bodies came into contact.
Oh my god.
He handed me a helmet and I put it on. He started the bike with a quick flick of his leg and revved it up. The noise startled me at first; I wasn’t ready for the deafening noise. It was so loud that my body seemed to vibrate. I felt the vibrations deep in my lower abdomen, all the way up to my hair. He reached around my back and grabbed my ass and scooted me closer, so that I was plastered to his body. My groin was smack up against his ass. The vibration unintentionally rubbing my lady bits against the rough denim covering his lickable behind. My chest and belly were as close as I could get to his back.
He grabbed my arms and wrapped them around his lower stomach so that I had my left hand grabbing on to my right wrist right above his belt, and if I thought about it, all I had to do was move my hand slightly and I would be palming him through his jeans.
He throttled up and we were off, out of the parking lot shortly after. I happened to look to my left and noticed a man smoking, leaning against his car tracking us with his head. I locked eyes with him when we passed and a shiver ran through me when I saw the coldness in his eyes. I didn’t worry about this for long though, because the bike took a corner and my mind reminded me at that moment that I had to hang on and pay attention or my body would be visiting the pavement, and it wouldn’t feel too nice.
The ride itself was pure torture. All I could think about was him pulling over and whipping me around to straddle his thighs, ripping a hole in my jeans and thrusting into me until we both came. After I had this thought I let my hands unlock and lay flat on his rock hard stomach. His abs tensed underneath my hands and relaxed just as suddenly.
As he drove downtown and pulled onto Second St., he turned into a driveway that led me up to something that looked almost like a compound, with a fence surrounding it. This looked somewhat familiar but my brain was stuck in overdrive, I had been paying more attention to how his body felt against mine rather than where we had driven. He punched in a code on the gate, and the gate slid open. He accelerated around the garage, and parked outside another part of the building you couldn't see from the road.
Grabbing my hand to help me off, he led me inside of what looked like a small duplex. He dropped the keys in a glass on the entry way table, and had me pinned against the door before I could take another breath.
His mouth was on mine the next instant. It was like sticking my tongue to a live wire. He dominated my mouth, devoured it like I was like the last piece of cake left in a room full of starving hormonal pregnant women.
I’ve kissed a few guys, but nothing I have ever experienced could even compare to this. Pushing on his chest a little, he separated from me for long enough for me to grab a hold of the bottom of my tank and yank it up and over my head, tossing it to the floor at our feet, resuming what we were doing as soon as it cleared my head. He also separated from my mouth long enough to take his own shirt off, whipping it over his head and throwing it in the direction of the couch. I heard a clink clink, and noticed that he had dog tags that were under his shirt. Was he in the Ranger’s still? I didn’t have this thought long though because he picked me up by my ass and wrapped my legs around his waist. His left arm went around my lower back as his right slid down the back of my jeans to brush against my core. His indrawn breath stole the oxygen from my lungs when his fingers found my wetness.