The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  Ugh!

  I came to this town looking for rest. A vacation. This landlord gig is turning out to be far less relaxing than I expected. But I'm loving it. I'm enjoying every single moment with Sadie.

  She reaches in, taunting me about being a scaredy cat as she takes the coffee pot from my hands. So now, of course I have to climb the frigging ladder just to save face. I hope my life insurance policies are up to date. I grab hold of the first rung on the ladder. I don’t like the way the thing creaks under my weight so I quickly hike one foot up, then lift myself out of the opening. And when my head pokes through, I catch sight of those gorgeous legs again. My cock jolts at the heated rush of blood that invades it.

  I don't want to be her friend.

  I want to do things to her that friends would never dream of doing to each other. I want those smooth thighs locked in a chokehold around my neck. I want to taste the sweet nectar at the apex of her thighs.

  This girl is killing me.

  She's at the very edge of the roof, leaning against the railing. At this angle, the heft of her ass is even more pronounced and I'm imagining how it would look spread out in front me if she got on her knees and buried her face in the pillows to muffle her screams as I claim her from behind. I manage to adjust my erection before she glances at me over her shoulder.

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asks on a wispy breath.

  Only then does my gaze move out over the horizon to where the sun is slowly ascending from behind the coppery hills. "Yes, it is. It's breathtaking."

  She smiles and a thrill fires through me. Her lustrous brown hair slips over her narrow shoulders as she turns away. “Yeah...”

  My eyes revel in the opportunity to feast on her body again. Yes, the sunrise is amazing but not half as beautiful as she is.

  She's wearing cut-off denim shorts that have obviously seen too many washes—faded and ripped in all the right places—and an unbuttoned Chicago Cubs baseball shirt over the threadbare white tank top she was wearing when she answered the door earlier.

  I’d love to trace that mile of toned thigh with a trail of wet kisses. I'd love to dip my tongue into the indent of her belly button. And those tits, round and bouncy under the thin white fabric, I want to taste them so bad.

  She grabs the box of donuts from the ledge and moves to the pair of lounge chairs surrounding the weathered wooden table in the middle of the roof.

  Sighing contentedly, she pops open the lid on the box and collapses into a chair as she bites into a glazed treat. Sugary crumbs flutter into the valley between her breasts. My eyes transfix to that space. A groan gets stuck in the back of my throat.

  When my eyes snap up, she’s watching me. I've been caught staring. But her expression isn't angry or annoyed. She licks her bottom lip, looking just a bit nervous. Those dilated pupils surrounded by a ring of glittering caramel. Those lips, soft and parted. And bullocks, I think she wants me, too.

  "D'you...d'you like donuts?" Stretching the box out to me, she reels me in with an invisible string.

  I pad across the gravel toward her. Another rush of inappropriate visuals zips across my mind as I stand over her, my body casting a long shadow across hers. This idea of me on her in anyway sends a wayward thrill through my blood.

  Shunning all sense of decorum, my gaze flicks back to the sugar melting on her chest. "I love 'em." My voice is so raspy and thick there's no way she doesn't know exactly what I'm thinking. She swallows roughly as I take a jelly-filled donut and bite into it.

  Mmm...I bet she tastes just as sweet.

  “So this is your secret place, huh?”

  “Yup. It’s a pretty cool set up.” She sneaks a peek at me from over the rim of her coffee cup. In the shimmering light of the rising sun, it's a shy, kittenish glance that goes straight to my cock. “And it’s all mine. None of the neighbors ever bother come up here.”

  Smiling, she reaches for a tube of sunscreen in the wicker basket under the table.

  My mouth goes dry as I watch her squirt a small dollop into her hands and start massaging it up and down her thighs. I can’t look away.

  When she catches me staring, her eyes go hazy and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. She gives me a barely-there smile. She knows I’m suffering, wanting to touch her, too. Her eyes are full of spite as she squirts another dab into her palm.

  I stand at the foot of her chair, looking down at her. I can’t move. I’m rooted there. “Need any help with that?” I make the offer in a gravelly tone.

  She keeps her words neutral although she knows exactly what she's doing to me. “No thank you,” she says simply. “I’ve got it.”

  I swallow around the knot in my throat as her hands slick gradually up the insides of her thighs. She’s doing this deliberately. Wicked, wicked girl. “Just thought I’d ask. It’s the friendly thing to do.”

  “It is a very friendly thing to do…” she says, “What a selfless offer. You weren't kidding about how great of a friend you are." She’s still grinning when she leans over and drops the lotion back into the basket. Her cleavage rolls forward, straining against the neckline of her tank top.

  I’m painfully hard right now. Her eyes flick up at the erection clearly outlined against the fabric of my gray shorts. I’m not even ashamed. I should be trying to hide it, to adjust myself discreetly. But there’s something sort of illicit about being here with her, about knowing that she knows exactly how much I want her.

  She pulls a pair of massive sunglasses from the basket and slips them over her eyes, hiding that playful, lusty look she’s been giving me all morning.

  She wants me.

  But I can’t…

  The girl is wild and carefree and addictive. All the things I crave. But I’m volatile. Barely holding myself together in one piece. She and I can’t possibly end well.

  Even idiots know not to toss a lit match at gasoline.

  With that warning fresh in my mind, I lower myself into the empty chair beside her.

  We sit in silence for a while. It’s sparkling with tension. I feel it moving across my skin.

  Then she throws her head back and groans. "By the way, I added 'install Jacuzzi on the roof' to your to-do list, right?"

  I tilt my face up to the sky. I’m grinning. "Yeah…sure..."

  Even without her dream Jacuzzi, she looks absolutely blissful lying here in the rising sun. It’s something so simple yet it makes her beam with contentment.

  I'm not used to women who are happy with the simple things. Women who don’t need to be handed the entire world on a platter just to crack a smile. That stokes the primal urge in me to give Sadie more, to give her everything.

  Her chest rises and falls, steady and peaceful. Little sounds fall from her parted lips. I think she’s sleeping. Damn, she's pretty when she sleeps. That's definitely a face I could wake up to in the morning…after a long night of our bodies grinding and pulsing together.

  Staring at her like this is kind of creepy, though. I should look for something else to do.

  My eyes drift to the wicker basket under the table. Out of curiosity, I pull it out and start digging around. A small battery-operated radio, sunscreen, more sunglasses, a beach towel, paper cups and dental floss.

  A big, veiny rod of silicone.

  My mouth goes dry.

  Jesus—is this what she sits around doing when she’s alone up here? Spreading her luscious thighs, pleasuring herself with pure abandon under the rising sun?

  I think my cock is about to explode. I flick the little, black switch at the base of the toy and it starts to vibrate in my hand. A subtle buzzing sound fills the air. Slowly, Sadie’s head rotates in my direction. She lifts the sunglasses from her face and our eyes hook on each other.

  “Hey…That’s mine…” she says softly. She doesn’t even look embarrassed. Actually, her breathing quickens and her nipples go taut. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she watches me. She’s waiting for my next move.

  I know what I want to do.

/>   I want to pull her little shorts down to her ankles and pull her panties down, too. Then spread her thighs wide. Open her wet folds with my fingers. Watch the look on her face as I penetrate her with that throbbing wand. And just as she’s about to climax, just as she’s ready to soar over the edge, I want to put my mouth on her. Suck at the sensitive flesh, swirl my tongue around her clit, pierce her cunt with my tongue.

  She waits.

  I can’t follow through.

  With a wrinkle of frustration on her brow, she reaches out and takes the vibrator from my hands.

  "That looks like a pretty naughty toy..." I manage to say past the tightness in my throat.

  "A naughty toy for a naughty girl." Her words come out slow and thick. Molasses. Her eyes shine with temptation when she looks at me.

  My self-restraint fails me. I find myself leaning closer. My voice goes deep. "Do naughty girls share their toys with their friends?" I shouldn't go there with her. I know I shouldn't.

  She laughs huskily, her body practically pulsing with lust. "No, they don't." Disappointment rages in the air. She’s rejecting my advances and although I know it’s for the best, I resent the fuck out of it.

  But then, she leans back and brings both feet to the seat of her chair. "Naughty girls play with their toys while their friends watch..." Her tongue drags across her bottom lip. “…Knowing they can’t touch.”

  My lungs squeeze so hard it hurts. "What?"

  The girl sets the vibrating cock between her thighs, pressing her legs together to keep it from falling to the floor. A shiver moves through her but with steely determination, she keeps from moaning.

  She swallows, looking the slightest bit nervous as her fingers unlatch the button on the waistband of her shorts. When she spreads the fabric apart, I catch sight of that tiger-print thong. Heat unfurls in my belly and dives south as my cock turns to steel. With slow fingers, she grips the denim, the lace, the elastic and pushes it all down to her feet.

  And now, she's exposed. Pretty and pink and so damn wet, her fingers flutter across her silky nether lips.

  My whole body is paralyzed. I grip tight to the arms of the chair because all I want to do is drop to my knees at the foot of her chair, lock my hands around her ankles and eat her like a starving man.

  But Sadie's got plans of her own. She brings the buzzing wand to her folds and gently glides it the length of her slit. And more wetness streams out.

  She throws her head back, face up to the sky as she prods the vibrator into her opening. A groan echoes in my chest at the sight of the sex toy trembling between her perfect thighs.

  I'm barely holding back when she begins working the thing in and out of her. Her hand is drenched. So is her chair. Her pelvis begins to rock, speed increasing with each thrust as her beautiful features contort with pleasure.

  My cock jerks. It leaks. It begs me to dive into this girl. But I'm scared that if I touch her right now, I won't ever be able to stop.

  Sadie howls at the peek of her climax, her body going rigid, shaking with pleasure. Spread out in the chair, she's holding onto the beautiful moment for as long as possible.

  She's waiting. Her body says that she's waiting for me.

  I should be touching her right now. I should be kissing her. Fucking her.

  But I can't move. Not one limb. I know that the slightest movement and I'm going to spontaneously combust.

  And she's stretched out on her chair, head lolled to the side, chest heaving. One hand is clasped on the inside of her quivering thigh. The other hand is gripped around the vibrator. Still boneless, she flicks it off. A slow breath passes her lips and she swallows.

  The air shifts. Heavy emotions pulse.

  I wish I could tell what's going through her head but I know it's not happy thoughts. I can see that from the way her eyes flick downward instead of sweeping across to me and the way her shoulders string tight.

  She reaches into the wicker basket and grabs the towel which she wraps around her waist. She rises to her feet. "I’m sorry. I got carried away,” she whispers. “I should go, uh, clean up..."

  Letting her walk away feels wrong. It feels stupid. Because what I want to do is...I already told you what I want to do. But I won't. I have to keep my hands off of her.

  Gasoline and match.

  There's a dumbbell weighing down my stomach as I go back to my apartment and jerk myself off to relieve the edge.

  It does nothing to change how much I want her. But I can’t have her.

  Chapter Ten

  Sadie

  “Oooh! Sexy Mama and Daddy Dom in the building!”

  I stride into the office and the door slams into the wall before swinging back in the opposite direction.

  Vivian jolts at the sudden entry, nearly falling out of her fiance’s lap. “Dammit, Sadie. Ever heard of knocking?” Horny, little closet-freak that she is, her cheeks go insta-pink with embarrassment.

  I shoot her a look as she stumbles to her feet and hustles to straighten the hem of her maternity dress. “This isn’t your bedroom, Vivian. It’s my office. Where I do all the very important, very professional things.” I smirk.

  Clinton chuckles, sprawled off in the swivelling chair with a contented half-smile on his face. “Babe, I think Sadie’s figured out that you and I have hooked up a few times at least. I think it’s pretty obvious.” He flashes me a scandalous wink as he tilts his head suggestively in the direction of her swollen belly. He cups his hands around his mouth. “I knocked her up,” he stage whispers and then fist-pumps the air.

  I laugh. The two of them are disgustingly happy. It would be nauseating to watch if they weren’t so freaking cute together. They’re the most unlikely couple. Vivian is a strait-laced good girl and Clinton is an unrepentant rebel, covered in tattoos. They hated each other just a few months ago when Clint moved to town and opened his barbershop next door to the Broken Cupcake. But Viv’s a hot babe so Clinton couldn’t resist for long.

  And rumour has it he pounded her into submission. On every surface of this coffee shop.

  In any case, now, they can’t keep their hands off each other but Vivian’s still a bit self-conscious about getting caught in flagrante.

  Once she’s done getting herself back in order, she leans down and lovingly finger-combs her man’s mussed up hair into place. “You shush! Or else no more hooking up until after the wedding. I should be abstaining anyway.” She stomps a foot. “I’m Catholic, dammit.”

  Clinton rolls his eyes and shamelessly kneads her butt with his fingers, giving her a sexed-up look that would make Chuck Tingle blush like a schoolgirl.

  Damn, Viv—you’ve got it like that?

  “You wouldn’t last a week,” I tell her, laughing.

  Her man scoffs confidently. “She wouldn’t make it past lunchtime.”

  I don’t doubt it. Their chemistry is off the charts.

  Vivian is already melting. Putty in his hands. She purrs, eyes fluttering like a kitten. “Oh jeez, you’re right.”

  With gun-fingers pointed in her direction, I whoop. “You, slutty dame, are my spirit animal.”

  A grin eats up my face to mask the jealousy cinching into my heart like sharp talons as I watch them loving on each other.

  I don’t sit around actively wishing for Mr. Right to come pounding down my front door but seeing these two crazy kids, basking in their Diana Ross/Lionel Richie, Endless Love kind of love, I can’t help the tightening ache in my heart. For a split second, I wonder what it would be like to have a relationship like that in my life.

  Xavier’s face flutters into my thoughts and I’m quick to grab the fire extinguisher of my mind and extinguish that crazy thought A-fucking-SAP. Because that’s just insanity.

  It's true. I want to bang the guy. Big time. And I thought he wanted me, too. That’s what his body language was screaming at me. But I was clearly deluded. He totally blew me off when I touched myself in front of him. He just sat there and stared at me like I was freak show on exhibit at
a museum.

  And beyond that, there's nothing compatible about us. He more than mere 'high society'. He's royalty. He's going to be a king. And me? No one has ever mistaken Sadie Nicols for a 'lady'. I'm not princess material. Not with these wide hips and these tattoos and this thick skin.

  And even if I were delusional enough to think I could be a prince's girlfriend, he lives on the other side of the globe, in some fairytale country I can't even begin to imagine.

  There's no chance for Xavier and me.

  Anyway, while I’ve been standing here in fantasyland, foreplay between the sex fiends in front of me has been revving up at an alarming pace. Clinton is nibbling at Viv’s collarbone and another mewl slips past her lips. It’s obvious the two lovebirds have forgotten I’m even standing here. Things are about to get not-so-G-rated. Fast.

  “Sooo…I think that’s my cue to leave.” I hustle over to the couch against the wall and grab my backpack from the floor where I left it when I came in. I make a hasty dash for the door before I end up with an eyeful of my boss’s O face.

  My paycheck isn’t fat enough to pay for the therapy I’d need to recover from that.

  “Are you on your break?” Vivian calls after me just as I’m about to skitter down the hall.

  “Yup,” I say as I hoist the strap of my backpack onto my shoulder. “Natalie’s got the shop covered while I’m on lunch and I’ll be sitting out back in case she needs me.”

  “That’s fine.” Viv’s eyes narrow only slightly but it’s enough to get me worried. “By the way, Reese and I have a few things we need to talk to you about.” I hate the way her voice dips with gravity when she says that.

  Shit—am I in trouble or something? Did I find a way to fuck up the cupcake shop already? “Oh…”

  She waves a hand dismissively as Clinton’s impatient arms come around her waist and yank her back into his lap. “It can wait. We’ll set up a meeting for next week. Sound good?”

  Sounds terrifying.