Wicked Me
Page 1
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Title Page
Copyright Page
1 | Sam
2 | Paige
3 | Sam
4 | Paige
5 | Sam
6 | Paige
7 | Sam
8 | Sam
9 | Sam
10 | Paige
11 | Sam
12 | Paige
13 | Sam
14 | Paige
15 | Sam
16 | Paige
17 | Paige
18 | Sam
19 | Paige
20 | Paige
21 | Sam
22 | Paige
23 | Sam
24 | Sam
25 | Paige
26 | Sam
27 | Paige
28 | Sam
29 | Paige
30 | Paige
31 | Sam | Six Months Later
32 | Paige
33 | Sam
Epilogue | Sam
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Wicked Me
Wicked in the Stacks Book 1
by
Lindsey R. Loucks
Copyright
Wicked Me (Wicked in the Stacks Book 1) © January 2018 Lindsey R. Loucks
Cover design: Cover By Combs
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1 | Sam
2 | Paige
3 | Sam
4 | Paige
5 | Sam
6 | Paige
7 | Sam
8 | Sam
9 | Sam
10 | Paige
11 | Sam
12 | Paige
13 | Sam
14 | Paige
15 | Sam
16 | Paige
17 | Paige
18 | Sam
19 | Paige
20 | Paige
21 | Sam
22 | Paige
23 | Sam
24 | Sam
25 | Paige
26 | Sam
27 | Paige
28 | Sam
29 | Paige
30 | Paige
31 | Sam | Six Months Later
32 | Paige
33 | Sam
Epilogue | Sam
Acknowledgements
About the Author
1
Sam
DELIVER TO ABANDONED warehouse
4 miles E of city
5 pm sharp
Bring shovel.
It was the last line of Hill’s text that’d made sweat drip down to my balls, not the roasting D.C. heat made worse by asphalt and rush-hour car exhaust. My Chevy Impala had barely crawled forward six inches in the last ten minutes. A glance at the dashboard clock showed 4:53. Yeah, I wasn’t going to make it.
But none of that mattered as much as his weird request. Why the hell would he need a shovel? Unless the shovel wasn’t meant for him, but for me to dig my own grave. But I already did that when I was “recruited” to work for him.
Recruited, blackmailed—same difference.
The light ahead finally turned green. Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to creep along a whole seven inches this time.
4:54.
Shit. I cranked the dial on the radio, the speakers blaring a before-my-time Metallica song, and glanced in the rearview mirror. A crowbar and Hill’s small, brown-paper-wrapped package sat on the backseat. A crowbar, not a shovel, because my day job didn’t have one.
Probably should’ve put everything in a slightly less obvious spot. But since I was such a dutiful blackmail-ee, I’d really tried to be on time. In my rush to get out of work early, I hadn’t exactly thought things through. If Hill had a problem with it, maybe he should’ve sent me the text this morning instead of late afternoon.
The car ahead pulled forward. As I touched the gas, a perky ass to my right made me do a double take. It stuck up in the air like some kind of supernaturally rounded homing beacon. The woman the ass belonged to stood in the middle of a crowded sidewalk with three bags of luggage surrounding her. She bent over each one, fiddling with the zippers, while her white shorts rode higher on tan, shapely legs.
Damn.
There was no chance I was the only guy checking her out. Or female. Hell, the shrubbery probably wanted to bang her. She clearly had no idea she was putting on a show for the length of Virginia Avenue since her hands moved in a panicked rush. She must’ve been looking for something. Hopefully not a longer pair of shorts.
She straightened, ran a quick hand through her long, dark hair, and turned slightly to gather all her luggage. Brown eyes crashed into mine for an instant, but it was long enough to wreck me from the inside out.
I knew her, had known her since I was a kid. Paige Sullivan. Paige fucking Sullivan, the star of my childhood fantasies, the girl who’d given me my first boner just by hugging me when I was eleven. The girl. I would know those intelligent eyes, those pouty lips, and that half-Latina honey gold skin anywhere.
So was she coming or going? My mind took a wicked left turn. I imagined myself standing behind her, her ass in the air while I screwed her thoroughly, minus the soccer moms pushing baby strollers past and all the other spectators. She was definitely coming.
The thought made my cock twitch. I winced on a groan. Not only did my dick hurt, but putting any kind of expression on my face did, too. Before I’d left work, Barnaby, or Barn for short because he’s built like one, decided to smash his fist into my eye because he thought it would be a good way to warn me against checking out his girlfriend. The girl had more five o’clock shadow than I did, but because hitting on the opposite sex felt more natural than faking sick to get out of work early, I’d flirted and Barn had attacked with both arms swinging. Not my best idea ever, but my boss had sent us both home early from the car shop.
Paige leaned one bag against the bars of her rolling luggage, shouldered the other, and with a frustrated swing of her hair, she stomped down the sidewalk toward the front door of the public library.
I suddenly had the urge to read a book.
4:56.
Two minutes just to talk to her. That was all I needed. Besides, what if this was my only chance to see her? I could show up to the warehouse two minutes later and use traffic as an excuse since it was the truth. Mostly. But knowing Hill, he would probably string me up by my balls even if I did make it by five. And if I didn’t...well, I was dead either way. Might as well have some fun beforehand.
But should I go after her? I tapped the steering wheel, my car still moving at a crawl, and stared in the direction Paige had disappeared. The light ahead turned yellow. I wasn’t even close to the intersection.
Fuck it.
I swerved into the right turning lane to the tune of several honking horns and pulled into the library’s parking lot. After a quick check of the bruises and cuts on my face in the rearvi
ew mirror, I decided to hide most of the damage behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses so I wouldn’t freak Paige out.
I left the crowbar where it was, but deposited Hill’s package in the glove compartment before heading toward the large building. Hill would probably make me regret this whole thinking with my dick thing, but it wouldn’t be the first time it had gotten me in trouble.
The library’s air conditioner blasted over my skin. I breathed in the slightly musty smell of paper and sweat. Several yards ahead, Paige rounded the corner past the security officer who eyed me warily. I gave the guy a tip of my chin in acknowledgement, then followed Paige past the busy front desk. She acted like she knew exactly where she was headed, and knowing Paige, it was probably some book-related emergency.
When she wasn’t starring in my childhood wet dreams or palling around with my older brother, all she did was read. Constantly. That’s how I’d first found her, sitting on our front porch steps, her full lips tilted into a frown, a book glued to her hand. I’d been speechless then, a total goner. When she was sixteen, she moved out of D.C. to Kansas, of all places, and my favorite sexy book girl was gone for good. Until now, seven years later. And I had no idea what to say to her.
Hi. Remember me? I’m Sam Cleary.
Hey, it’s SamRam Cleary from back in the day. Thank you for never calling me by that annoying nickname, by the way.
Hey, baby. I’ve got your hardcover right here.
No, no, and hell no.
The wheels of her luggage rolled silently behind a shelf of books near the back wall, but I kept my stroll at a leisurely pace. And then there she was, standing in the middle of the aisle in front of a section of battered paperbacks, her mouth slanting into that same adorable frown while she scanned them.
I jerked to a stop and pretended fascination with the books at the end of the aisle, suddenly feeling like a creeper sneaking after her like this. Anything that fell out of my mouth would sound too wannabe-stalker, but if I acted like just some guy in the library, a stranger with a book fetish, then maybe our “mutual interest” would put her at ease. I’d share my real identity like some kind of superhero when I was sure I wouldn’t send her screaming out of the...
Wait a second. I tipped several books out of their spaces. An awful lot of these books had half-naked men on their covers. Fuck, was I in the romance section?
A throaty laugh to my right snapped me out of my horror.
“You don’t look like a men-in-kilts type of guy,” she said. “No offense.”
“Yeah. None taken. I think I’m in the wrong section.” I nodded and slid her a grin I knew from experience would liquefy women’s panties. Judging from the blush brightening her cheeks, mission accomplished. What I wouldn’t give to slide my fingers over her heated skin, feel the give of those plump lips, then track lower to see just how wet I’d made her. Right here in the romance section. Fuck those men in kilts.
“Um, so what are you looking for?” she asked, her gaze directed everywhere but me.
You, I wanted to say since it was the truth. Instead, I said, “Automotive. I’m a mechanic.” Also the truth.
She nodded. “Instead of taking a left after the circulation desk, you should have taken a right. Automotive is in the 600s.”
“Thanks,” I said, and didn’t even pretend to move in that direction.
She seemed to notice I was perfectly comfy right there, taking all of her in, and her eyebrows drew together as if I’d just given her an uncrackable riddle. “You’re a reader?”
“God, no.”
She went back to scanning the paperbacks, as if she was dismissing me for more important things.
Okay, no more truth, since that wasn’t exactly what a hot book addict wanted to hear. All I usually needed to do was eye-fuck a girl until she was begging to ride me, which was hard to do behind sunglasses. But Paige wasn’t the type of girl I normally hung out with. She was smarter, better. Always had been.
Maybe it was the heat outside or the library’s arctic air conditioning, but my mouth felt like I’d just swallowed the desert. I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. My whole body clenched while Paige’s eyes tracked the movement.
She traced a slow finger over several books on a shelf, her gaze never leaving my mouth, and there was something so sexual about the way she caressed them, I nearly choked.
“I mean, sometimes I read.” Wow. Not much better at all, asshole.
Her dark eyes searched my face, a playful glint inside them. “You just like to look?” she asked. Her voice held a note of playfulness that cracked a grin across my face.
She was playing with me like some kind of sparkly toy. And I liked it.
“I do like to look.”
“I can see that,” she said with a lifted eyebrow.
What was I supposed to look at? The books?
I waved an arm at her luggage. “Do you always bring your luggage to the library?”
She glanced at me coolly. “Not always.”
“I see,” I said, leaning against the shelves with my arms crossed. I let my gaze roam over her while she stretched on tiptoe for a book. God forbid I offer to help since the view was just fine from here. “Let me guess, your house burned down, and the suitcases and their contents are what’s left.”
“Not even close,” she said, shaking her head. “And how would I have time to pack if my house burned down?”
“Fair point.” I didn’t care how stupid my theories were. As long as Paige was acknowledging my existence, I would say whatever jumped into my head first. Well, almost whatever. “You have insider information that the zombie apocalypse starts today and you wanted to be prepared.”
There was that sexy, throaty laugh again, so different from the giggly girls I knew.
“The only zombie apocalypse preparedness I know is to collect bubble wrap,” she said.
I frowned. “What?”
“It’s a natural alarm. If you put sheets of it around you while you’re sleeping, the popping noise will wake you if all the moaning doesn’t.” She looked at me again with a smile that completely disarmed me.
I thought I’d committed that smile to memory, but it was so much better in person. Now it came from a woman instead of the girl I used to know. A curvier woman with a reddish color painted on her plump lips that didn’t used to be there. Makeup, but that was the only sign of it I saw, which was another difference between her and my usual fuck buddies. She was so damn gorgeous, made even more so since it didn’t seem to matter to her.
“Well, goddamn. That’s a great idea.” I knew a thing or two about zombie apocalypse preparedness, and I never once considered bubble wrap. It made me want to lick her brain, as well as every other part of her, in a completely sexual, non-zombie way.
She went back to scanning the shelves. “Not every idea I have is a great one,” she said.
I had no clue what she meant by that. I moved closer but not too close, careful not to scare her away. It had been so long since I’d had to give chase. I had to admit I was a bit rusty at it. “You’re not homeless, are you?”
“Graduate student, so almost,” she said. “I’m here for an internship, and I’m on my way to my friend’s house.”
“An internship, huh?”
“At another library.” Her whole face brightened with excitement. “I’m kind of a fan of books.” She lovingly stroked the books’ spines, her gaze locked on mine, and then grinned. “I’m probably boring you to death, aren’t I?”
“Not really, no.” In fact, she was the exact opposite of boring. I would gladly plant my feet right here to listen to her talk about books just to be near her.
She nodded, her mouth twisted to the side, like she was considering if she believed me or not. “Do you always come to libraries to hit on women?”
I held up my hands, faking innocence. “Hey, I’m just looking for an automotive book.”
“In the romance section.”
“Because you keep talking about internships and
books. If I wasn’t here, you’d be talking to yourself,” I said, then leaned in and lowered my voice, “and then people would really start to wonder about you. See? I’m doing you a favor.”
She threw her head back with a laugh, then shushed herself with a palm over her mouth. The overhead lights sparkled her eyes. Warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time filled my insides. Damn. Her laughter could be completely addicting.
“Well, I guess I should say thanks for making me not look like a crazy person,” she said.
“Any time.”
“Do you think you could do me one more favor and help me get a book from the top shelf?” she asked. “Height deficiency is a book nerd’s worst nightmare.”
With slow, deliberate steps, I stalked toward her. Hunger darkened her eyes as she watched me draw closer. She parted her full lips to dart her tongue over them. My jeans tightened almost painfully around my crotch. She wanted me, and I wanted to take her right here with paperbacks falling all around us. Maybe that was one of her sexual fantasies, to have someone fuck her senseless in a library, because she backed into the shelf instead of moving out of the way.
She stared up at me, her lips glistening, her chest pressing against mine with every inhale. She stood so close, she had to feel the heat radiating from my cock.
“Which one?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Have Your Way With Me,” she said and swallowed. Red burned across her cheeks to the tips of her ears.
I closed my eyes as her breaths, which grew faster, harder, brushed past my chin. God, she smelled amazing, like spicy candy.
Wait. What? Her words suddenly unscrambled themselves inside my brain. Was that an order? She wanted me to have my way with her? Well, if she insisted...
“By Lisa Montgomery,” she finished with a naughty little grin.
Sweet Jesus, she was playing with me again.
“Have Your Way With Me,” I repeated into her ear and felt her shudder against me. I could play her game, too.
I scanned the titles, barely able to register anything but her, and plucked what I thought was the right book from the shelf. When my gaze met hers again, the small distance between our lips made both my heads pound with need.
Her tongue shot out to lick her lips while she stared straight ahead at my chest.