by Jessie Cooke
Jake
Best of the Bad Boys (Book 1)
Jessie Cooke
J. S. Cooke
Redline Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by Jessie Cooke
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
License
This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated and you have likely obtained the book through an unapproved distribution channel.
Contents
Free Books, Gift Cards, Kindle Readers & More!
Jake
1. Jacob
2. Cassie
3. Jacob
4. Cassie
5. Cassie
6. Cassie
7. Cassie
8. Jacob
9. Cassie
10. Jacob
11. Cassie
12. Jacob
13. Cassie
14. Jacob
15. Cassie
16. Jacob
17. Cassie
18. Jacob
19. Cassie
20. Cassie
21. Jacob
22. Cassie
23. Jacob
24. Cassie
25. Jacob
26. Cassie
Excerpt from Brock
Bonus Book - Conan
1. Conan
2. Catalina
3. Conan
4. Catalina
5. Conan
6. Catalina
7. Conan
8. Catalina
9. Conan
10. Catalina
11. Conan
12. Catalina
13. Conan
14. Catalina
15. Conan
16. Catalina
17. Conan
18. Conan
Acknowledgments
Latest Updates
Also by Jessie Cooke
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Jake
1
Jacob
My head was pulsing to the rhythm of the crappy music playing way too loudly in the club. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bottle of pills. I shook four Advil out into my palm and popped them into my mouth and chased them down with big gulp of Crown Royal. I’d already taken four before I left the gym…they weren’t working. The throbbing just wouldn’t quit. It was like having a toothache in your brain. I signaled the bartender Tom that I needed another drink. He was quick on the refill and as I was sliding a twenty across the bar I heard,
“Hey there gorgeous,” the voice was like a well-practiced purr.
I glanced over and saw that the voice belonged to a woman probably close to thirty years old with big hair and obnoxiously large tits that were reaching beyond the confines of the tiny red vest she was wearing. The outline of her nipples was obvious and they appeared to be as oversized as her hair and tits. She was looking at me with what I supposed she thought was a sexy look. In her defense, it may have been earlier in the evening. Just now though it was hidden behind the false eyelash dangling precariously off the right eyelid and the dark cherry lipstick streaked across her too white veneers as she smiled. I could have stopped there and called it a night…but even in my beleaguered state, I can smell an opportunity to get laid a mile away and it’s rare that I’m able to resist. I let my eyes run across the rest of her body. She had long, shapely legs held up by a pair of black hooker heels that could have doubled as stilts. The skirt she was wearing covered almost literally nothing. It barely skimmed across the very tops of her thighs where it ended and it had only begun just below her hipbones. It couldn’t have been more than two inches long from top to bottom. It was a black strip of material and the vest she had trapped those helpless mammary glands into was at least a size too small. It ended above her navel, leaving more space between her shirt and skirt than the skirt itself was covering. When my eyes made it back up to her face I gave her the simple chin tilt and returned my attention to the cool, amber liquid in my glass. I should leave this one alone and go home and take care of this headache.
The purr of the voice was suddenly in my ear and she was standing so close that her nipples were practically molesting the tattoos on my upper arm.
“I know who you are, sexy.”
“Who am I?” I asked. Sometimes I’d like a simple answer to that question myself.
She giggled and the sound of it sent a ripple of pain to my head. Do thirty-year-old women still giggle? “You’re Jacob Wright.”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” I said, sarcastically, before draining my glass and signaling to Tom again.
She giggled a second time. I wondered if choking her would be considered involuntary manslaughter since she was causing me so much pain. “You’re a lot hotter in person,” she said. Then I felt a long fingernail began to trace its way from my shoulder, down across my upper arm and over my bicep. It came to rest on top of my hand, which was on top of my thigh and it stayed there, still for now. “You’re famous,” she added. This girl was the queen of stating the obvious.
I rubbed my temples again. My head was seriously killing me. I downed most of the next drink and as I sat the glass down on the smooth wood of the bar, I swiveled my stool in her direction. I was going to go home and nurse this fucking headache before it completely exploded.
“Where are you going?” She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “You’re not leaving already, are you?” She let that long red fingernail find the skin just underneath my neck. She let it draw a line down to the top of my chest. That caused my cock to jump in my pants. Headache or not, he was always paying attention.
“I’m afraid so, darlin’. I’ll have to catch up with you another time.”
She pouted harder, “But I’m only here for the weekend.” She let the rest of her fingernails on that hand join the other one and she swiped them across the front of my shirt. Shit, a willing chick that would be kind of hot without all the make-up and she’s not a local. It was too much opportunity to walk away from, even with a headache.
“Where are you staying at darlin’?”
She looked hopeful. “Here,” she said, “In room 302.”
“You got any roommates?”
She giggled. “Two, but they look busy.” I followed her eyes over to a table in the corner where my friends and sparring partners Lance and Brock sat. They each had a girl on their lap and she was right, they looked busy.
“Okay then, I’ll meet you up there?”
“I can wait for you,” she said. Yeah, and then twelve reporters can snap our picture as we stroll through the casino. I don’t think so.
“It’s okay. I have to settle up here and say goodnight to my friends. I’ll be right up.”
“Okay,” she said, suddenly seeming not as sure of herself. “I’m Brooke,” she said as an afterthought.
“Jacob.”
She giggled and then practically squealed as
she said, “I know! Jacob Wright! I can’t believe it.” I smiled, trying to look humble as she hesitated for a few seconds and then said, “You’ll be there for sure?” And there comes the neediness. Damn I’m glad she’s not local.
“I’ll be there for sure, darlin’.” She giggled and headed for the door. I left another twenty on the bar for Tom and picked up my glass and fished out the last drops of the whiskey. Maybe I could get so drunk that I’d forget about the headache.
“Jacob, you need a cab?” Tom was looking at me with that concerned big brother look he had mastered. He did it a hell of a lot better than my own big brother. But then again, my brother was much too busy kissing our father’s ass to remember me.
“Nah, I’m just going upstairs Tom…but thanks.”
I signaled to Brock that I was leaving. He gave me a jerk of his head. Lance had his face buried underneath the masses of black hair on the girl in his lap. I made my way out of the bar and through the casino. I was oblivious to the looks of the people as I passed the tables and slot machines. I was used to it. I couldn’t drive down the strip without having to look at my face or my body on the side of a hotel or a city bus…or even on top of a cab. Four years ago, when I won my first title and started getting so many endorsements that I could barely keep up with them I thought it was really cool. Now, it was just a pain in the ass most of the time.
I stepped on the elevator and pushed “3”. I hope Brittany…Bethany? I hope she said 302 and not 203. There was no doubt when I stepped off. There was…. Belinda…Bonnie? She was standing in the doorway of room 302. She had changed into a short pink nightie that left less to the imagination than her former outfit had. She’d taken off the floppy eyelash and wiped the war paint off her lips, thank God.
“You came,” she said like it hadn’t taken me less than five minutes to get up here.
“Told you I would,” I walked over and took her by the waist and stepped her back into the hotel room. Kicking the door closed behind me, I leaned down and covered her mouth with mine. Her tongue was ready and willing and I felt my body responding as she kissed me back and my hands roamed her body. I squeezed her ass. There was no give to it. Definitely implants. I brought my hands up and got a handful of the massive tits…lots of silicone there too. I walked her back towards the bed as we kissed and reached out and flipped the switch for the lights off before we got there.
She pulled back from the kiss and in a breathless voice she said, “You don’t want a drink?”
“Nope,” I said, lifting the little nightie up and off her. The lights from the strip were shining in through the window and silicone or not, her body was hot. I nudged her back onto the bed and her hands went to my belt. I grabbed her wrists. “I’ll do it,” I told her.
There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but when I let go of her hands, she let them drop to her lap. I pulled off my shirt and she reached back up. She ran her red fingernails across the tattoos on my forearm and said, “Do they all mean something?”
Shit. This is not a date. We’re not here to talk. I don’t want to get to know you. Bertha…Billie?
“Lay back,” I told her. Again, she looked disappointed, but she didn’t argue. She used her arms
to push herself back on the bed and then she laid back. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a condom, and then as I undid the buttons on my jeans, my phone started ringing.
She ran a hand seductively down across her chest and belly, letting her fingers land between her legs. “Ignore it, baby…”
I pulled the phone out of my pocket and looked at it. It was Ian. Shit! “What day is this?” I asked Brenda…Belinda?
She looked at me questioningly and said, “It’s Sunday.”
“Shit!” I pressed accept and put the phone to my ear. “I’m on my way,” I told my brother.
“Dad’s not happy.”
“He never is,” I said, honestly. I hung up and looked at Becky. “I’m sorry, babe. I have to run.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I have a family commitment I forgot about. I’ll catch you next time you’re in town.” I had my pants buttoned and my belt hooked and was turning to leave.
“Wait! How will I find you next time I’m in town?”
I had a sudden and uncharacteristic attack of conscience when I looked at her face. Fuck! I took my phone back out and handed it to her. “Just put your first name in there and your number. I’ll find you.” She smiled and I watched her enter it. When she handed the phone back I looked at it and then back at her. “Thanks…” I had to look down a second time… “Brooke”.
2
Cassie
“Are you sure you won’t come out with us tonight?” I was on the phone with Lizzie, my friend since grade school.
“Not tonight, Lizzie. I have homework and Dad’s making dinner…”
“You have to do something besides study and hang out with your dad. You’re twenty-three years old for crying out loud, not forty.”
I smiled and shook my head. Lizzie has always been a party girl. I have not. God only knows how we’ve managed to stay friends all these years. Maybe our differences are what make it work, who knows?
“I do things,” I told her.
“What things?”
“I went to the fight Friday night.” I hated every second of it…okay, not every second. There was that one fighter that I just can’t get out of my head.
“That doesn’t count.”
Laughing, I asked her, “And why not?”
“Because, you left as soon as it was over. The after party at the MGM was the best. You could have hooked up with a muscled up, tattooed God!” That was exactly what the one in my head was. According to the announcer he was six foot four…he weighed in at 230 pounds and since I got to see him in nothing but his little fight shorts, it was clear that it was all muscle. He has tattoos across the top of his muscular back and shoulders and down one arm to his wrist. His hair is dark…
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“Oh, sorry Lizzie. What were we talking about?”
“How you need a man. I can hook you up with one of the fighters.”
“Um…No…thanks,” I said.
“Why not? You haven’t even had a date since you broke up with Scott, and he barely counted as a man, much less a boyfriend.”
I laughed again. Lizzie was not a Scott fan. “I’m aware, Lizzie. I don’t have time for all of those dating games right now. This is my last semester before law school. I need to do well enough to keep my scholarship. I’m also going to have to find a job. Dad hasn’t been getting much work lately. I don’t know if it’s the economy or the fickle weather. Anyways, I need to help out more around here.”
“That’s it!”
“What?”
“Micah is looking for another octagon girl.”
“Octagon girl? I don’t know…”
“I made over forty grand last year, Cassie.”
That shut me up. Forty grand? Lizzie only has to work a couple of times a week and go do appearances every so often. I could do that and school and by the time I finished my Bachelor’s degree and started law school…I’d be set.
“Did you leave me again?”
“No…actually, I was thinking about what you said. Should I just call Micah?” Lizzie squealed and said,
“Yay! It’s going to be so much fun working together and going to all the events. If you take this job though you have to go to the parties and dinners…”
“As long as they’re paying me,” I said. “Give me Micah’s number.” She gave it to me and I said, “Thanks, Lizzie. I love you…be safe.”
“I will, I have a purse full of condoms!”
I laughed. “Let’s hope you won’t need them all.”
“Love you!”
“Love you too.” I hung up still shaking my head at my outgoing friend. She’d had a reputation in high school for being loose and easy, but she wasn’t really like that. My poor Lizzi
e is one of those girls who feel like she’s some kind of failure if she’s not in a relationship. It makes her come off a little overzealous at times. Some people label her as desperate but if they know what’s good for them, they don’t do it in front of me. I looked at the number on the paper in front of me and thought about walking around an octagon in front of tens of thousands of people in a bathing suit. I thought about the kinds of people who went to these fights. They weren’t really the kind of people I chose to spend time with. Then there was the mafia involvement that anyone who’d lived in Vegas for any amount of time knew about. Then there was forty thousand dollars…easy work…hot, sweaty tattoo guy…I punched the numbers in my phone and called Micah.
“This is Micah! Speak!”
“Hi Micah, this is Cassie Driver. I’m Lizzie’s friend.”
“Hot girl with light brown hair, blue eyes and a killer body?”
“Um…yeah, I guess.”
“What’s up, doll?”
“Lizzie said you were looking to hire a ring card girl…”
“Do you look as good in a bikini as you do in a pair of jeans?”
