Nodding at random intervals, I’m not listening in the slightest. Not because I don’t care. I do, I care very much about other people. It’s just this last twenty-four hours has done a number on my nerves and I feel a bit shaky. Like I might need to hide behind a box of dark chocolate and whipped cream for two weeks. Or at least an hour.
But my parents always said this motivational slogan: When I got busy I got better. Sitting on a couch won’t do anything but meld me to it. I need to get some work done. Talk to other human beings. Be a functioning part of society.
“And then he went and flipped them off! Can you believe that?” Carla asks with a look that begs for empathy.
“I’m sorry. You lost me,” I blink.
“My son gave his boss the bird!”
“Oh! No, I heard you. I just couldn’t believe Austin would do something like that! That’s why I said you lost me.”
She relaxes, gratified I didn’t find her story boring. “I couldn’t believe it either! He’s always been my brightest achievement among my children. And now? He got fired, and he’s coming back to live at home.”
Frowning, I pick up the log list of guests. “Carla, what’s this?”
She leans over to look at it. “Oh, that’s our new guest for tomorrow. It was a phone reservation.”
In my shrinking corset I cough, “When?”
“Some guy named Jett Cocker called while you were gallivanting about. Deep voice, too. He sounded sexy. Paid for the whole thing.” She eyes me with unmasked curiosity. “Why do you look so nervous?”
My breath is coming shorter as I push a ringlet back from my cheek. The name staring back at me is Honey Badger Martinez. And what room did his friend book? The Bridal Suite.
“Do I look nervous? I’m fine. Just fine. Not nervous at all,” I stammer before heading toward the bar and calling behind me, “Watch the desk for one more minute?”
Carla trails off with a confused, “Okay…”
Flo is cackling with a couple of regulars who could have been born on those barstools. The restaurant’s chatter behind me is a dull hum of noise as I make a beeline for where the servers pick up cocktails; a small section of the bar with a rubber mat and fresh drink-condiments in a tray – bright limes, soggy cherries, and slender lemon twists.
Flo sees my face and heads over. “What is it, sweetie?”
“Can I have a shot of bourbon?”
Dyed-brown eyebrows launch up before she asks, “You drink bourbon?”
“No, but I can start.”
Cocking her head, she wags a sharp fingertip at me. “I’ve got what you need.”
The content of various bottles get dumped upside down into a shaker, some ice shoved on top. She jams the lid on. With both hands Flo rattles her concoction up and down with a proud, knowing smirk on her too-red lips. As she pours its contents into a small glass, ice crystals gather on top. It’s snowing out so an ice-cold beverage is a strange choice except for one thing – with the heat pumping through my legs, this is perfect! How did she know what I needed?
“What is it?”
“A little go-after-him juice,” she smiles, leans in, and whispers, “Honey, I can read people as if their faces were an audio book. It’s why I still have a job. Drink up.”
I lift the glass, but she stops me, motioning for it all to go down. No sipping allowed.
Here goes nothing.
Tipping my head back I drink the chilly, fruity liquid without even wincing. It’s absolutely delicious, but there is definitely a ton of booze in it because my tummy is surprised at the foreign substance, and is thanking me.
“Well?”
“Flo, it’s wonderful.”
She grins and takes the glass, “Now don’t come asking me for more. I won’t be the one to set you on a dangerous path!”
Honey Badger
I woke up late, had lunch in Grass Valley and then took a long bike ride down Highway 49 and then up 80, then 174. A little town called Colfax was my favorite. It’s even smaller than Nevada City.
On 174 there were orchards as far as the eye could see, and a tucked away, lone restaurant called The Happy Apple Kitchen where they made their own pies. Turned out they owned the orchards and had for over a hundred years, each ancestor passing it down. It was the family business even in modern times. This restaurant is a place to stay social and also sell homemade baked goods made from their own peaches and apples.
I had a slice of peach pie that made me wish I still ate like I used to. I would have wolfed that whole thing down.
But I like my abs too much, so fuck it.
I climbed back on my Harley and headed up the two-lane highway through miles of snow-covered pine trees in ice-cold air that made me feel more alive.
The sun was setting by the time I got back to hear from the owner of the Bed & Breakfast that my ongoing reservation had been cancelled. When I got pissed, he explained that a man named Jett Cocker had called, and that he’d moved me to the National Hotel. The owner had looked a little irritated by the insult of it, but he was nowhere near as pissed as me.
“Jett, you fucker, why’d you go and do that?” I growl into the phone.
He chuckles, “Why’d you go and tell me about the hotel?”
“You didn’t have to take action on it!”
I can hear Jett’s smug smirk through the phone as he says, “Yeah, I fuckin’ did. You have the finesse of a drunk bull. If I don’t put you in close proximity to her then she won’t have a chance to grow to like you.”
Shoving the clothes I brought with me into my saddlebags I tell him with a rare surge of uncertainty, “She’s out of my league, man.”
Jett’s voice gets serious. “What is your gut telling you?”
“That it’s her.”
“Was my gut wrong with Luna?”
“No.”
“How long did it take? What did I have to go through?”
“A fuckin’ shitload.”
“Exactly. If you’re givin’ up already then you don’t deserve her.”
Buckling up my saddlebags I toss them over my shoulder and head out of the room, twenty bucks on the nightstand to help the maid get over the mess I left her. “You pay for the broken lamp?”
“You broke a lamp? How?”
“Don’t ask,” I mutter through gritted teeth as I make my way outside. This Bed & Breakfast is so tiny there’s no desk to shout, Hey, I broke a lamp. Put it on my friend’s card, so I tell Jett, “Since you paid for this place, you get to call them and add that to it.”
Jett laughs, “You’re not going to tell me how you broke a lamp on your own, when there was no one there and no crazy sex involved? What…you toss it at a wall out of sexual frustration?”
“Nope.” I hang up on him with an irritated glint in my eyes. I hate that he knows me that well.
I decide to leave my bike where it is and walk the three blocks downhill on Broad Street. There’s covered parking here and my baby likes to stay warm when it snows.
The holiday sounds grow louder as I near the festival and with the way the twinkle lights are glowing in the grey light of dusk, it looks – I hate to say it – fuckin’ magical. This is my favorite time of night. Always has been. There’s this fistful of seconds where the sky matches cement and it’s like there’s no difference between the two.
I love that shit.
Peaceful.
No separation.
Everything’s the same.
We’re all the same, for that short chunk of time.
The hotel’s door creaks from the cold as I stroll in and head for the empty front desk, glancing left and right for Margaret.
Is she off work?
The restaurant over to the left is busy as hell. Bet this is their biggest season. When I was here the last couple nights the only thing I checked out was her. Now that I’m alone in the foyer, there’s antique furniture everywhere. Old stuff in cases like photographs, dishes, one old ski with metal clamps to hold your feet in, and an ancient gun. Now that
’s interesting. Wonder if it shoots.
Her soft voice comes up from behind me. “Honey Badger?”
Damn if my heart didn’t stop for a second. Turning around I act cool and throw her a nod. “Hey.”
“See anything you like?” She blushes. “I meant the antiques, not me.”
Admiring her awkward cuteness I walk over to her and trail my gaze over every curve of her face, lingering on her lips. “I do see something I like.”
Her blush deepens. How’s that for finesse, Jett? Suck on that one time, buddy.
“I got a room here.”
“I know.”
Neither of us moves. After a moment I smirk at her. “Can I get a key or somethin’?”
She laughs and shakes the weirdness of the moment out of her head as she walks to her desk. “Of course. I’m sorry. I was just…I don’t know.”
“I make you nervous?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
She blinks up from behind the old wood desk, a key floating toward my outstretched hand. “You want me nervous?”
“I want you interested. And that red in your cheeks, I don’t mind at all.” I cover her hand with my own, holding a beat before I take the iron key and check it out. “Nice. Classy.” Adjusting the saddlebags weight on my shoulder I ask, “Where do I go?”
“The Bridal Suite is on…”
“Whoa, wait. What?”
“The Bridal Suite is on…”
“Hang on. The first part. He didn’t.” I shake my head, mentally cussing the fuck out of Jett. I’m going to get him back somethin’ good one of the these days.
“You didn’t want that room?” Her blue eyes are big and I’m not sure if she hoped I wanted it, or if it freaked her out after what I said to her.
“I didn’t even know the room existed. That’s my buddy playing a joke on me because I told him about you.” Glancing to the ground I mutter, “Shit. I really have to start thinking before I speak. Didn’t mean to tell you that.”
She’s smiling though, like I’m charming. I’ve seen Tonk get that look from Carmen so I’m familiar with it. But it’s never been directed at me by anybody. I stand a little straighter, my chest broadened with testosterone.
“Why don’t you show me?”
Her smile flickers. “To your room?”
“Sure. I’ll follow you.”
Her graceful hands fly around in search of something to do while she mentally loses her marbles for a second.
But she doesn’t turn me down.
Nope.
From the way her lips just parted and the explosion of pheromones, she’s into it.
Suddenly I’m hard and having a hard time hiding that fact, drinking her in as she glides to the staircase, that long Victorian gown hypnotically swaying from side to side.
There’s something powerfully erotic about how hidden she is under all that fluff.
I’m an ass-man.
My imagination is running wild.
At the end of the long hallway on the top floor she stops at a door and whispers, “Here it is.”
“Give me a tour?”
She meets my eyes and by her reaction I know she sees my desire for her. But I know what happened to her last night, so I tell her, “I won’t try anything.”
She opens her hand and I place the key in it.
Was that disappointment I saw?
Does she want me to try something?
The door opens to a warm room. There’s a working fireplace and only antique furniture, including a white bed that looks really girly and delicate. I glance to it and give it a look.
“Is there a problem?” Margaret asks.
“That’s not going to make it.”
“Excuse me?”
“If I get my way, you and me are on that thing, and when that happens, it’s going to break. No doubt about it.”
Honey Badger
Her eyes go wide and she beelines for the door. “You’re too much!”
Throwing the saddlebags onto the carpet I call after her, “Tell me you weren’t thinking about it.”
She whips around, the long gown flowing in an effort to keep up with her. “This is not how you woo a woman!”
“Woo?” I smirk. “I don’t woo.”
With a prim look, her hands clasp over her middle. “How has that worked out for you?”
Huh. Don’t have a comeback for that one. So I decide to be honest. “Not so good.”
She blinks at my candor, then sighs, relaxing her shoulders. “You have to go slow.”
“Oh, I can go slow,” I smirk.
She shakes her head. “See, that was a sexual innuendo which is not going slow.”
I offer, “I can go fast, too.” Her lips part, and I can tell she just started picturing it, so I walk closer and spell it out. “And I can slow it right back down again as you near the edge, bring you up against it, moving then with just enough pressure to trick your…body…into staying on that cliff until you’re beggin’ me to be rough again.”
Her chest is rising quickly, her beautiful eyes searching my face now that I’m standing right in front of her. They fall to my lips and stay there as she whispers, “You said, body.”
“So?”
My erection reaches for her as she locks eyes with me. “You were going to say something else but you stopped.”
I lean in with our lips close enough that I can feel the heat from her insides. “I was gonna say pussy.”
From out of nowhere she grabs my head and plants a hard kiss on me. It’s unchained, like she’s been holding it in since hitting puberty, and my one sexy cuss word set it loose.
I grab her head, too, and while we grip each other our tongues dance. We careen over toward the door where I kick it shut and lock it, planting her against it and groaning into her mouth as her hands claw inside my jacket like she’s trying to rip my shirt right off of me. She moans in response and I nearly lose my shit with how much I want to see her naked.
I start to grab her dress, but she stops me.
Panting I sway back from her.
I’m expecting her to put a freeze on all of this but the way her eyes are locked on mine, all sultry and hooded as she pants, I think I was wrong. She goes for the tiny buttons and moans like she wants the dress off yesterday, “It’s an expensive piece. I mustn’t break it.”
“Whatever you want, Meg.”
She blinks at me, her fingers feverishly working. “No one’s ever called me that.”
“Good. Fuck this. Let me help.” She recoils so I reassure her, “I can be gentle when I try real hard.”
Together we get her out of this thing, keeping her in a bra and panties that are modern and lacy and fuckin’ gorgeous. Her tits are the size of oranges and I start rubbin’ ‘em as she literally tears my shirt in a violent effort to remove it. I laugh and help her, and my eyebrows shoot up as she gasps at my pierced nipples.
“Your chest is amazing,” she moans-whispers, in complete awe. “These tattoos going down your arms. These piercings. Oh my God!” She rakes her nails over my abs that I worked really hard for, and bends to kiss them. My head throws back as I take in the pleasure. It’s double because now there’s pride involved.
Meg launches herself onto me, legs and arms wrapping around my body so fast I almost get thrown back.
“Whoa!” I laugh, locking lips with her a second later to walk us over to the bed. Her tongue is halfway down my throat. My fingers are digging into her soft hips and I’m getting a feel for that ass I want to see buck-naked.
Grabbing her waist I try to wrestle her off of me but she fights, wanting to stay glued to my torso.
I’m into it, so I snatch her wrists up and drop both of us on the bed with me crushing her with muscle.
Her legs are locked around my hips and she’s grinding against my jeans zipper with so much need in her eyes that mine roll into the back of my head.
Nails dig into my biceps and her ass has risen off the bed. She’
s pressing her damp crotch into my jeans and rubbing herself to relieve the ache. Unhooking her ankles takes some effort but I don’t mind.
“Make me work for it, baby,” I smirk as she practically snarls at me.
And here I was worried she was too nice.
Would always be shocked by me.
Never quite get it.
Turns out I had nothing to worry about.
I dip down and make a meal out of her soft thighs, massaging them with my teeth while she moans and writhes, her fingers clawing at the bun in my hair.
I tug her panties down her legs and since she’s got a good hold on my hair, it comes undone and falls loose and dark over my shoulders. Meg rises up on her elbows, her lips parted with lust.
“You’re so sexy,” she whispers, like she can’t believe it.
Staring into her eyes for a shocked beat, I toss her wet panties onto the floor. I’m not going to tell her, but no one’s ever called me that.
She crooks a finger at me and that’s all the encouragement I need. I literally dive in between her legs, grab her hips and ass and shove my tongue into her pussy. She bends backwards and cries out like she’s forgotten she works at this hotel.
I go to town.
I lick her.
I suck her.
I slip a thick middle finger in her while I’m sucking her clit.
I invite my index finger to the party, too.
She cums with a shocked look, like she didn’t expect to. Ever. And I follow the sweet sounds she makes so that I can draw those contractions out far longer than she knew possible.
“Yeah, baby, give it all to me. Give me all of that.”
I feel something damp on my shoulders and glance to see that her nails drew blood. Laughing I rise up and go for my zipper.
“Meg?”
Panting, she opens her eyes. “Yes Honey Badger?”
“You want more? We can stop.”
She frowns. “What? NO! Keep going!”
Chuckling low, I unzip so she can see what I’m offering. My cock’s a slightly darker shade than my skin. Nine inches of need. I want her to see, so I kick off my jeans and hold it in my hand. She’s staring at it with exactly the look I hoped for.
A Honey Badger X-mas (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta #7) Page 3
