by Olivia Myers
Elle looked away, unable to respond.
“Please,” Lisa said, “just think about it. Please… forgive me.”
Elle didn’t look up until she heard the door shut. Lisa was gone.
*****
Elle closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn’t believe that she was here. She was both excited and scared. The decision had been easy, once she’d imagined her life without Lisa and Drake. She knew that whatever they had between them, it was special, artificial intelligence or no.
Elle knocked on the door, and was surprised when it swung open under her fist. “Drake?” she called out tentatively, stepping inside. “Lisa?” Something large and furry bounded up to her, making her jump back and then laugh as she recognized Rex. “Oh,” she said. “Does Lisa - or Drake - whatever I should call them, own you?” The dog jumped up, placing his paws on her shoulder, and licked her face. Then he dropped to the ground and ran into another room. “Get your owner, whichever body he’s wearing now!” Elle called after him.
Drake appeared a second later, grinning. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elle stepped up and kissed him before he could get a word out.
Without saying anything, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he returned the hug, nuzzling her hair. Then he bore her down onto the bed, nibbling her neck and making Elle gasp and moan with desire.
She reached down and undid his belt buckle, pulling his belt through each loop, never removing her mouth from his. She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Before pulling his pants off, she ran her hands through his hair and kissed him hard, sucking on his bottom lip before gently pushing him to the side. He sensed what she wanted and rolled off her, lying on his back next to her. She pulled his jeans and boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection.
Elle quickly removed her own pants and her blouse, leaving just her bra on. She straddled him, letting his cock slowly enter her. Drake made a small noise and pulled her down so he could kiss her. They kissed hard, passionately. He lifted her hips and slid her back down onto him. They both gasped as he entered her a second time. She slowly began sliding up and down him, feeling every throbbing inch of him stretching her. With every stroke her juices flowed. She began to move faster as he wrapped his arms around her, then slid his hands down to her hips.
Suddenly he flipped them over, pressing her against the bed. Her legs stayed wrapped around him. His fingers knotted in her hair, and she moaned, feeling an intense climax approaching. He continued thrusting into her as her toes curled and she bit her lip, and then he lay still on top of her, both of their breathing coming in ragged gasps.
They lay like that until their breathing began to slow, and then Drake rolled off her. Elle grinned over at him, and he returned her smile with one of his own. She could tell that he knew she had chosen, and he liked her choice.
Elle yawned and stretched, enjoying the cool feel of the clean sheets against her sin. Suddenly her hand touched something soft and furry, and her eyes snapped open. She relaxed when she saw that it was just Rex. “Hey buddy,” she said. “Where’s Drake?” The dog sniffed her, his cold, wet nose making her giggle. He moved his muzzle along her jaw and down, to her neck. His warm tongue lapped at her, evoking a familiar feeling in Elle. Sudden realization stabbed through her.
She pushed the dog back and held onto the thick fur of his neck so that she could look into his eyes. “Drake?”
THE END
>>FREE BONUS BOOK #1<<
As a way of saying thank you, here’s a free contemporary romance book…that will steam up your Kindle. – Soft Kiss Books
Trouble
Duke knew she was trouble the second she walked through the door. Not that Shotguns was any stranger to trouble. Most of the men that came in to belly-up to the scarred walnut bar or play a borderline unfriendly game of pool were rough and tumble types, bikers and bad asses, and Duke had to put his military training to use busting heads and rousting surly drunks pretty often.
But she was a whole different kind of trouble.
The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the dusty windows gleamed off her long, wavy blonde hair as she tossed it over her shoulder. She scanned the bar, slender, long-fingered hands propped on her hips and her haughty little snub nose in the air.
She’d made an attempt to dress down, but if her faded denim mini-skirt with its frayed hem wasn’t ‘designer distressed’ or whatever they called that shit, Duke would eat his own jeans — which were ragged and worn nearly white in places because he’d had them for over a decade, not because some he’d bought them that way.
He didn’t smile as he took in the pink, glittery words on her tight black t-shirt — YOU SAY ‘BITCH’ LIKE IT’S A BAD THING — but his lips did twitch. He continued slicing limes, but kept half an eye on the new arrival as she sized up the few patrons scattered at the mismatched tables.
What business Shotguns did get didn’t pick up until much later in the evening.
Once she’d taken the lay of the land, her gaze zeroed in on him. Her eyes narrowed a little and her pointed chin went up another notch. Duke dumped the limes into a plastic bucket and stuck it in the chiller, wiped his hands, and tossed the bar rag over his shoulder. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to come to him.
Not many women came into Shotguns, and the ones who did were nothing like her. They were either as rough and hard as the men they were drinking with, or the kind of easy girls that hadn’t been pretty enough in high school and were used to getting attention on their back. Or their knees.
Blondie looked like she’d probably been head cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. Duke doubted she’d ever spent a minute on her knees in her whole life. Which was a shame, because the thought of her looking up at him with those pouty pink lips of hers made Duke’s blood hot. Hot enough that he had to reach down and make a bit of an adjustment as she sashayed across the bare wooden floor, the heels of her cowboy boots (Jesus, they were pink) clocking loudly over the faint strains of Waylon Jennings drifting from the ancient jukebox in the corner.
When she reached the bar, she placed her hands on the edge and leaned in, one corner of her mouth curled up in a little smirk. The move drew his eyes immediately to the ample cleavage visible above the scooped neckline of her little black tee, which was no doubt exactly the response she was looking for. His suspicion was confirmed when he glanced back up and saw the triumphant glint in her cornflower blue eyes.
She knew the effect she had on men and she enjoyed toying with them. Duke put on his best ‘Don’t fuck with me’ look, furrowing his heavy brows, mouth in a straight line, hard eyes and flexing biceps. It was an expression he’d seen on more than one CO’s face, and even used a time or two himself on some grunt fresh off the plane.
Unlike them, Blondie didn’t even flinch. She cocked her head a little, sending all that blonde hair sliding down her arm, and her gaze crawled all over him. Sizing him up. When she got back to his face her little smile grew wider. Duke felt the skin on his forehead tighten as his scowl deepened.
Christ, trouble was right! They hadn’t even spoken a word to each other and yet he could feel the heat crackle between them. The warm, leather and alcohol scented air of the bar seemed heavy and oppressive, like the atmosphere just before a hell of a storm.
When his fierce expression didn’t relax, she rocked back on her heels, her smile fading a little. The challenge in her eyes didn’t, though.
“Sign out front says you’re hiring.”
She hooked a manicured thumb toward the door she’d come through, as if Duke was too stupid to remember where it was he’d put the sign. It had only been three days since he’d had to fire Barb. He’d hated to do it, because she’d been a hell of a server. None of the customers gave her shit because she was just as hard as they were. But he’d caught her with her hand in the till, and there wasn’t much Duke hated more than a thief. Except mayb
e a coward.
When he didn’t respond, Blondie gave an exasperated little huff. She crossed her arms in a mockery of his posture, but it didn’t quite work since she had to do it under the full swell of her breasts, pushing them up as if offering them on a platter.
“Are you or aren’t you?”
Duke had to give her points for the hard edge to her voice. It sounded all business, even if she looked all pleasure. He shrugged one shoulder.
“What’s it to you, Blondie?”
He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling as her nostrils flared and a muscle in her jaw jumped. He could practically hear her grinding her teeth.
“I want the job.”
Duke couldn’t help it, he snorted laughter. Her spine snapped straight and a faint pink flush stained her cheeks. He turned away to grab a longneck from the cooler, ignoring her as he popped the cap and slid from behind the long bar.
He felt her watching him, her gaze a hot press between his shoulder blades as he strode across the room to Buz’s table and set down the fresh beer. The bearded old biker gave him a brief nod and pushed his empty out of the way.
Blondie was still staring at him when he turned back, hands on her hips like they’d been when she first walked in. Her eyes were glittering with anger… and maybe a hint of hurt. She covered it well, but he could see it in the set of her slender shoulders. Duke sighed as he reached her, setting Buz’s empty on the bar beside her and leaning one elbow on the scratched surface.
“Look, no offence Blondie, but the kind of clientele we get in here… well, they’d eat you alive.”
She flashed him perfect, straight, white teeth in something halfway between a grin and a snarl. Her eyes snapped with blue electricity.
“Perfect,” she purred. “I love getting eaten.”
Lust hit Duke like a flash grenade, every drop of blood heading straight to his groin at her low, suggestive response. He swallowed, shifting as his previously comfortable jeans suddenly constricted his half hard cock.
Her gaze dropped to his waist, took in the outline of his erection. The flush on her cheeks grew deeper and the glistening tip of her tongue poked out to slide along her lips. Duke stepped into her personal space, resting his right hand on the back of the bar stool behind her, caging her in with his arms.
She had to look up at him. She was tall for a woman, nearly 5’11 with the heels on her boots, but he had her beat by a good six inches still. He stared down into her wide eyes, taking in the dilated pupils. Her breath was a warm, mint scented puff against his chin.
“If you’re looking for a little rough trade, you don’t have to work here for that. Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink. If you hang out, I’m sure you can find someone who’ll punch your ticket.” Duke gave her cleavage a lingering look and then shrugged. “Hell, if you’re still here at closing maybe I’ll give you a go.”
He’d meant to piss her off, because in his experience princesses like her liked to play bad girl but they stormed off in a snit when things didn’t go their way. Once she did that, he could get back to doing inventory.
But he’d underestimated Blondie badly. For one thing, she moved quicker than he would have thought. Her left hand came up between them to shove at his chest with surprising force. It didn’t shift him, but it rocked him back a bit and gave her a moment of advantage while he gaped in shock.
The sound of breaking glass coincided almost exactly with the movement of her right arm. If he’d been another man, she might have managed to get the broken beer bottle to his throat before he could take action… But Duke wasn’t other men. His left hand shot out without him even having to think about it, the response smooth and automatic. He caught her slender wrist in his thick fingers.
She panted lightly, but her arm didn’t tremble. Duke was impressed. And hard as a railroad spike. His heart hammered in his chest and he tasted bright metallic adrenaline on the back of his tongue.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!”
He squeezed her wrist hard enough to make her flinch but she didn’t let go of the bottle. Instead, she pushed against him, her breasts brushing against his own plain black tee.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? I thought you wanted to ‘give me a go’!” She fluttered her long lashes at him, her voice sickly sweet.
He narrowed his eyes, relaxing his hold on her wrist just enough to let the edge of the jagged glass touch his jaw. He felt the sharp sting and watched her eyes widen slightly. Her arm stopped straining. Duke was careful, he didn’t want to really hurt her, but he needed to prove a point. Because if she pulled that shit on some of the bikers who frequented Shotguns, they wouldn’t care about hurting her.
The bones of her wrist felt fine and light beneath his fingers as he twisted her arm, making her gasp and drop the bottle. It shattered on the floor, but neither of them looked away from each other.
She tried to pull away, but he stepped in even closer, pressing them chest to chest as he drew the arm up behind her. He put just enough pressure on the joints to make his case. She sucked a breath in through her teeth.
“Get the fuck off me, you neanderthal!”
Somewhere behind him, Buz snickered. Duke ignored him, concentrating on her. Each uneven breath she took pressed her breasts against the hard wall of his chest. He thought he felt the stiff peaks of her nipples but he couldn’t be sure without looking, and he didn’t take his eyes off her flushed face and glittering eyes. He wasn’t going to underestimate her again.
Duke leaned down until they were nose to nose. He resisted the urge to crush her against the bar and ravage that pouty mouth with his tongue. Just barely. Only years of intense training in controlling his body allowed him to keep the reins on his raging lust.
“Make me.” He growled it, unable to suppress a feral grin when he saw her shudder. She licked her lips again, parting them on a shivering breath.
“I would,” she whispered, a sudden sideways smile baring a dimple in her cheek just as Duke felt her knee press up into his balls. Gently, thank Christ. “But I’d hate to ruin what feels like a rather impressive package by crushing it up into your diaphragm.”
They both remained still for a long moment, gazes locked. He tried to read the expression in her pale blue eyes, but couldn’t. His blood pounded in his temples and groin. Want was a roaring beast in his belly. It had been a long time since he’d been that turned on by a woman. And he could tell she wanted him too. If her blown out pupils and flushed throat weren’t a dead giveaway, he could practically smell the warm stickiness of her arousal.
An empty beer bottle clinked on a table, reminding Duke where he was. He released her arm and stepped back, gratified to see her sway a little when he let her go. He took a deep, steadying breath and then kicked at a piece of broken glass near his toe.
“Broom’s in the closet. Second door on the left.” He tipped his head toward the darkened back hallway that led to the restrooms, supply closet, and his office. “Get this cleaned up and then I’ll run you through your duties before things get busy later.”
She blinked, rubbing her wrist. “I’ve got the job? I mean…” She shook her head. “I have waitressing experience.”
Duke skirted the bar and bent to grab refills for the customers he’d been neglecting during their little confrontation. “Great. You’ll get a chance to prove it tonight. Now go get the broom, Blondie.”
She snorted and tossed her hair again, but headed for the hallway with her hips swinging like a pendulum and drawing every eye in the place.
“My name is Lexi.”
***
Lexi slipped easily out of the curl of the burly biker’s arm with a light chuckle and a wink.
“I hardly think that’s the kind of question you’d ask your sister, Tex.”
Tex shook his shaved head and ran a scarred, tattooed hand over his long, red blonde beard.
“If she looked like you, I might.” He winked.
The rest of the guys at
the table guffawed. Lexi joined in their amusement, shaking her head as she gathered up the empties littering the sticky surface with nimble fingers.
It was nearing midnight. The jukebox was blaring Skynard and the clack of pool balls was nearly constant. She’d been officially on the clock at Shotguns since six, and her feet were starting to ache. Not that she’d give Duke the satisfaction of letting him know it.
She hadn’t lied when she’d told the taciturn bar owner that she had experience, but a single semester waiting tables at the small café on campus hadn’t exactly prepared her for Shotguns. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been thinking when she saw the small ‘Now Hiring’ post on the board out front and strode through the door. She’d never set foot in a bar like Shotguns before.
While her fellow classmates preferred dance clubs and the few childhood friends she still maintained all frequented high class wine bars and gastro pubs, Lexi’s hunting ground of choice was the low key, blue collar bars where she was guaranteed to meet the kind of men she liked… the ones with calloused hands who smelled of clean sweat and hard work. The ones nothing like her stepfather Curtis; the posh bastard thought women came in only two categories — mistress and trophy wife — both of which existed on his sufferance.
Lexi liked her men manly, used to strong women but not browbeaten by them. She liked them confidently good in bed and secure enough not to throw a tantrum when she kicked them out in the morning. That was important, because Lexi didn’t do repeats. Ever. Have sex with a guy more than once and you might as well be dating. People said women were the more emotional gender, but in her experience it was always the guys who got ideas if she let them stick around. Ideas about exclusivity and availability.
Lexi didn’t plan on ever belonging to anyone. She’d seen how well that turned out for her mother. Marian Whittington wasted all of her considerable brilliance desperately trying to keep Curtis happy and made herself miserable in the process. The only thing that could get a genuine smile out of her these days was a perfect martini and the sight of the pool guy, Miguel, in his tight shorts.
