“Only in your dreams, Prince Charming.” She half-heartedly pouts out.
“You know it, sweet cheeks.” She can’t think of a quick enough come back and pinches her lips tight. Returning to her place behind the bar, I watch as she saunters away and those sweet cheeks sway side to side.
Yup, definitely need to get laid tonight—and I have a feeling this won’t be the first time quarreling with Clover will end with me sinking balls deep in some other girl.
Chapter 7
Clover
H oly fucking shit. I can’t believe I just did that. Did I really just do that? And did Nix really just invite me to sneak into his bed and fuck him? What is going on tonight because I really have no fucking idea anymore. First, the night is going great, then Nix shows up. Then, all these people bombard the bar, and all hell breaks loose. I know Nix had something to do with this. He was not happy when he found out I was working at Colt’s. Sitting at the end of the bar, staring at me, and watching my every move. With that wicked grin of his, it had to be him.
Then he practically purred in my ear, offering me a night in his bed. How I would love to enjoy the carnal pleasure that is Nix’s body, but he is so goddamn infuriating. He literally tried to get me fired tonight. What the hell is his issue? He can proposition me as much as he wants, but I am not giving in to his arrogance. Or his masculine scent and alluring muscles. Nope. He can get his pussy somewhere else.
When I round the bar, I smash boobs first into Rose, whom everyone calls Rosie, the bar manager and part-time waitress/bartender. We were introduced on my first night and clicked instantly. I’ve never really had that kind of relationship with another girl. One where you just knew they would be a really good friend who would understand you. One that you could trust with just about anything. That is, until I met Rosie. The girl is more of a hardass than me, and no one intimidates her. She is tough as nails and just as sassy. And I am extremely thankful to have found her. Because now I have two friends here, Beau and Rosie.
She is another of Beau’s cousins, so she, of course, is beautiful but nowhere near their tall height. Probably only hitting five foot six.
“Girl, that was epic. You are the craziest bitch I know. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Her Southern accent is deep, rounding out her words tonight. It’s not always as prominent, but I guess Saturday calls for it. She laughs and holds the round bar tray against her very curvy hip. The girl has a figure like an hourglass. Tight waist, perfectly round large natural breasts, hips, and an ass that most women would kill for. The black corset she wears over her black Colt’s tank top only amplifies said curves to mind-blowing proportions. Making getting tips as easy as swiping right on Tinder.
She pokes and pinches me with her free hand while grinning like a madwoman.
“Okay, okay. Easy girl.” I laugh.
“That has to be the coolest thing I have ever seen happen in this bar. No one is going to mess with you from now on. They’ll be too afraid you’ll shoot off their dicks.” Her laugh is hearty and eases my pounding heart.
“You don’t think Mr. Colton is going to fire me. Do you?”
“Uncle Faust? No way. He might even give you a raise. Not many people can handle a crowd like that.” She states matter-of-factly as she tucks her short dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Shifting to place the tray on the bar top.
Just over her shoulder, I can see Faust speaking closely with Nix. He sees me watching and inclines his head approvingly. Wow, it was a fifty-fifty chance he would fire me or not. Thank fuck, I guessed right.
“Apparently, you’re right.” Nodding my head toward him so she can see his approval, as well.
“Told ya. Now, get that sexy ass of yours back behind the bar and get these people served. So we can collect on those generous tips you spoke of.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I mock salute her and return behind the bar where Beau is cleaning up my mess from standing on the bar.
Thankfully, the rest of the night is only busy because of the large number of people. Some compliment me on my handling of the dickheads who almost ruined their night, and others are still a little well frightened of me, thinking I was going to freak out and pull the gun out again. Which was securely back in its place under the bar, waiting patiently for the next time I’ll need it. Which I hope won’t be any time soon. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest the entire time I held it and yelled at the people in the bar. I’ve shot guns before, but I never had to threaten anyone with one.
I keep my eye on Nix as well to make sure he hasn’t planned anything else to ruin my night. About thirty minutes before the last call, I notice Nix leaving with the tall brunette that’s been hanging on him most of the evening. Great, he’s leaving with a woman. A tall, gorgeous woman that smiles and bats her long fake eyelashes at him as they walk out the front door. I wonder if he’s taking her back to our house. Whatever, it doesn’t matter—I don’t care. Really, I don’t. He can take home a dozen women for all I care. It’s nothing to me.
Then why do I feel like I’m going to vomit? Probably because that means when I get home, I’ll be met with their moans and sounds of him getting off.—of him getting her off. I can feel the cold hands of jealousy strangling my insides. I’m not jealous. I am not jealous. What do I have to be jealous of? He’s an arrogant ass, and she’ll get one night of blissful pleasure, then he’ll send her on her way. Probably won’t even remember her name in the morning. I don’t need that. I mean, I could use the blissful night of pleasure for sure. There’s only so much you can do for yourself, and thinking of Nix’s naked body pressed up against mine makes me ache in all the wrong places. I have to stop thinking about him like this. He’s arrogant, he’s an ass, he’s self-centered. He’s not worth it, Clover, move on.
Shaking off the building ache between my legs, I begin to clean up and force myself to stop thinking about Nix and the brunette he’ll soon have bent over in his bed.
On the way home, in Beau’s car, I can’t help but start to worry about what we’re going to find when we get home. Should I ask Beau about it? He would know better what Nix does with the women he brought home. How do I bring it up without sounding like I’m interested in him? Maybe I should play it off as a joke. Yeah, that’s it. Make it a joke, and he won’t realize I’m about to blow chunks all over his leather upholstery at the thought of walking in on them.
“So, should I expect to walk in on a porno when we get home?” The words spill from my mouth. I add a little chuckle to sell it and cover up my nervousness.
“What?”
“Nix left with a woman from the bar. I assume he brought her home, so I just want to know what I’m walking into. Prepare myself, ya know?”
“Oh…no. He keeps his sexual activities contained in his room when I’m home. However, that doesn’t mean you won’t hear anything. Some girls he brings home scream like they’re auditioning for a horror movie.” He shivers with obvious memories of such event-filled nights.
“Ugh. Sounds horrible.” He Mmhms in agreement. For the rest of the short drive, I chew on my bottom lip, hoping the girl isn’t a screamer. What if he’s a talker? Am I going to hear him telling her how good she feels and hard she makes him? I don’t know if that’s worse or better.
“Well, it looks like it’s going to be a quiet night after all.” Beau points to a car parked at the front door. Nix shutting the back door to the Uber. She’s leaving already? Thank God. I internally let out a sigh of relief as most of the tension in my body lessens.
“That’s a short night for Nix. Must not be in the mood for games. Which is good because I’m beat and just wanna crash.”
“Yeah, same.” An uneasy laugh laces my words.
After we park in the garage and head inside, we run into Nix in the kitchen. He’s biting down on an apple sitting at the kitchen island. What do you know, he’s half-naked—again. Shirtless, damp, and sexy as hell. Dammit. His hair is wet and tussled from his shower. The sight of him stops me in my tracks.
I just stare. I wasn’t expecting to see him in here—not looking like that. It’s almost laid back and casual. His muscles are relaxed, and his posture is almost soft. Compared to the Nix I’ve met and seen since I moved in, this is unusual.
As soon as he sees me, though, that all changes. Muscles flex, jaw ticks, and his posture turns rigid. Glad to know I irritate him so much. Feelings mutual, buddy.
“Post-sex snack.” He says flatly.
“I didn’t ask. Thanks for the ride Beau, I’m heading to bed. Night.” I call as I walk right past Nix and his scowl, heading for the stairs.
“No problem, sweetie. Night.”
With that, I head up to my room, shut the door, and everything else out for the night.
Chapter 8
Clover
T he alarm on my prepaid cheap ass cellphone chimes, and I smack at it half-asleep. I feel like I just closed my eyes. Why is it morning already? I’m just going to stay in bed today. There’s no reason for me to get up yet. Work doesn’t start till six, and it’s only eleven in the morning. Yup, all day in the comfy cloud bed sounds like a good idea to me. Then my stomach speaks up. Apparently, it’s not a good idea to her because she’s hungry. Dammit.
“Stupid stomach needing nourishment. How dare you interrupt my laziness with your need to survive,” I tell my still-complaining stomach. Ugh, fine…I guess I should go downstairs and find something to appease the monster.
Literally rolling to the edge of my bed, I put as little effort into moving as possible. It takes me a minute or two to wake up enough to get moving, but eventually, I do. Making my way down and into the kitchen, bumping into a few things on the way since I’m too lazy to open my eyes completely to watch where I’m going.
Like a blind zombie, I find my way to the fridge and open it to a gust of cool refrigerated air. My nipples harden at the lack of a bra under the oversized t-shirt I wore to bed. It doesn’t bother me though, kind of feels nice—prickling my skin with goosebumps.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“Aaagh! Jesus fucking Christ. Where the hell did you come from?” My heart is a jackhammer trying to escape my chest as I grasp at it fervently. Nix’s voice almost sent me into cardiac arrest.
“Been here the whole time. You would have seen me had you not been feeling your way around like Stevie Wonder.”
He’s sitting on one of the couches, glaring at me as I force my heart back into a normal rhythm. The heated look in his eyes bores into me as I catch my breath.
“What did you say?”
“I said: what the hell are you wearing?”
What am I wearing? Why does it matter what I’m wearing? Then I look down to realize the why. I’m wearing an oversized pink t-shirt, white panties, and absolutely nothing else. Oh, my god. I can feel the whole-body-blush wash over me as I realize I’m braless and practically naked in front of Nix. Erect nipples and all, saluting him and saying good morning through my shirt. Thank goodness I’m short because the shirt manages to cover my ass, but the majority of my legs are exposed. Not to mention my hair is probably a rat’s nest on top of my head. I didn’t even look in the mirror before coming down here.
Tentatively, I fiddle with the hem of my shirt to make sure it stays down, covering all my important bits. I try not to let him realize how embarrassed I am. Putting as much confidence in my response as possible.
“Pajamas.”
“Those are not pajamas. That’s a shirt and panties.”
“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious, I know that. But these are my pajamas,” I clarify, not backing down.
“Well, your pajamas are distracting.”
“Maybe if your friend from last night had stayed for breakfast, she could have distracted you instead.”
“I doubt that,” He mutters under his breath.
I ignore him and grab everything I need for my cereal and place it on the dining room table. I choose a seat where I can still keep an eye on him, but hopefully won’t give him a free show between my legs.
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Again, my lack of filter makes me spit out the snarky question.
“Breakfast,” Lifting something off the coffee table, he bites into it. It’s crunchy and looks toasted. A bagel, perhaps? He then does the one thing I don’t want him to do. He picks up his plate and joins me at the table. Great. As if my morning wasn’t already bad enough. His walk over does allow me a quick glance at his low-slung grey lounge pants. Even though they are loose, they somehow manage to hug every curve of his thighs, ass, and yes, his impressive package.
“So, what’s up with that?”
“With what?”
“That.” He gestures with his half-eaten bagel to my tattooed arm.
“It’s a tattoo.” Isn’t he a tattoo artist? Shouldn’t he know what a tattoo looks like?
“But why does it look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Half-finished.”
“How do you know it’s half-finished?”
“I’m a tattoo artist. Didn’t Beau tell you?”
Yes, he did, but that snarky tone in his voice elicits a snarky remark in response.
“I forgot.” I shrug nonchalantly, like it doesn’t really matter to me.
“Well, sweet cheeks, I am, and that is offensive.” He emphasizes that referring to my tattoo. How dare he call my work offensive? It’s beautiful. Just because I didn’t have the money to finish doesn’t mean he can say things like that to me.
“Well, I’m so sorry that my mom dying of cancer took precedence over me completing my tattoo. I’m sorry that her medical bills and medications took all the extra money we had, and finishing my tattoo was the least of my concerns.” I didn’t really mean to tell him so much about my mom and expose that about me, but he just pushes my buttons. It just spewed out—but it does the job. For a moment, he’s dumbfounded and blinks at me.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t.” I have to cut him off before he starts giving me pity. If Nix is pitying me, he won’t ever treat me as an equal, and I’m already fighting at every turn to just get a little respect from the asshat.
He doesn’t say anything more, and for a while, we just sit there. Eating our breakfast in silence. As if this is normal and we do it every day. Once or twice he sneaks a peek at me and I him, but we still don’t speak. This is getting way too weird.
“So, will you be at the bar again tonight?” I finally ask, trying to break this odd domesticity. It’s better when we’re arguing.
“No, I’ll be at my shop tonight.”
“Great.” I finish my cereal. Since I have nothing else to say, I stand and put my bowl in the sink.
“I’m just gonna go take a shower.”
“Is that an invitation?”
And he’s back.
“No.”
“Shame. I can come in very handy in the shower.”
“I’m sure you can, but I don’t need your hands. I have my own.” Wiggling my fingers at him, my double entendre is not lost. As one corner of his lip pulls up into a half-grin.
What I don’t tell him is that his hands on me would be ten times more satisfying than my own. Along with the fantasy running through my mind right now of those hands sliding down my slick wet body.
Nix rises to follow me, eyes lingering on my naked lower half. His gaze heated as he glares. “Shame, sweet cheeks. Maybe next time?”
“Not likely.”
“Never say never,” He yells to me as I stomp up the stairs, leaving him behind. I need to get away from him now before he sees how much his words have turned me on.
“Never!” I yell back for good measure. All I hear is a chuckle as I make it to the second-floor landing and make a beeline for my room—and a very cold shower.
Chapter 9
Phoenix
I am certain Clover is torturing me on purpose with her fuckable ass. Ever since that one morning, she came downstairs wearing nothing but a t-shirt. She has do
ne the same thing every day for almost two fucking weeks. She gets up, comes downstairs in an oversized t-shirt and panties, then proceeds with the torturing. Bending over to get something from the fridge—reaching up onto her tippy toes to get a bowl out of the cupboard. Every time, showing me flashes of skin and the round swell of her tasty cheeks. One morning she came down with the V-neck of her shirt, so stretched out, it slid off one shoulder. It gave me the most tantalizing view of the top of her tits and the light dusting of freckles on her shoulder. I swore the damn thing was going to slip off and expose her nipple. I waited for it to happen. Begged for it to fucking happen. It didn’t.
Every goddamn time my cock stiffens and my fingers itch to slide up those alabaster thighs right under that t-shirt. It is torture, but also the best part of my day. I’ve started guessing what color panties she would be wearing every morning. It’s a little game I play with myself. If I win, I allow myself to take in the sites of her a little longer. If I lose well—I still take in the sites—she is, after all, offering them to me, but I try to be gentlemanly and look away. Try.
She wears simple classic no-frills cotton panties most days. Once she wore a pair of boy shorts. Man, oh man, how I wished to be the boy in those shorts. Today I’m guessing light purple panties with some sort of tiny flower on them. Sadly, I can’t get close enough for a good look to know for sure.
This morning, I’m waiting on the couch, as has become my usual, to see what she will be wearing. Eating my third banana, I hear her stumbling down the stairs. Her hair is not as messy as it was that first day. I think she started brushing it before coming down in the morning. She’s rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she descends the stairs, and I take a moment to admire her before she sees me. Her white V-neck t-shirt slides low off one shoulder, revealing those delicate freckles I want to kiss and lick so much. The Pink Floyd logo across her chest just barely covers her nipples. The pièce de résistance of the morning comes into view—baby pink panties almost blend with her skin, making her appear naked under that shirt. Damn, if my cock doesn’t spring to attention at the thought of seeing her honey pot. Guess I lose, but it is a great loss I am willing to suffer.
Phoenix (The Colton Cousins Book 1) Page 6
