Hustler_A Second Chance Romance

by Rye Hart

  “I’m so sorry, Emma. You sure you don’t want any company?” she asked.

  “I’m sure. I just had to fucking vent. I’m gonna have to go back out there and watch her get wasted and make a fool of herself. She’s probably already told them I’m her daughter, which means they’ll now think I’m like her.”

  Maybe you are like her, I thought to myself, remembering being filled by three men at once.

  “You're nothing like your mom, Emma.”

  “It’s just irritating, that’s all,” I sighed into the phone, wishing I could tell my best friend the whole story. I wasn’t sure how she would react though, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Anyway, I gotta get back to work,” I said.

  “Who’s bartending with you tonight?” Emma asked.

  “No one. Just me tonight,” I said.

  “Why the fuck has no one called me?”

  “Because the manager’s an idiot. You know that. It’s fine, anyway. The more money I can make, the quicker I can fix up the loft and get the fuck out of my mother’s house.”

  CHAPTER 7

  I was on my last shift before the weekend, and none of the guys had come in that night. I searched for them the moment we opened at eight, but none of them stepped into the bar. Of course, my mother was there. She was being obnoxious, drinking all our booze for free, and falling all over the young guys she thought she could take home.

  “Another one,” my mother said.

  “You can’t even talk straight. I’m cutting you off,” I said.

  “I said I want another.”

  “No.”

  “Just one more,” she said. “There’s this hot guy in the back who loves tequila. One shot of it on my breath, and he’s mine.”

  “Haven’t slept with all the guys in town yet, I see.”

  When my mother didn't give me a reply, I looked up into her eyes and was shocked to find that she was surprised at my comment. She tilted her head off to the side like she was studying an endangered animal or trying to learn a new concept. Her brow furrowed deeply as her eyes scanned my body, and I braced myself for whatever she was going to say next.

  “What makes you think you can dictate what I do?” my mother asked.

  “The least you could do is conduct yourself like a mother,” I said.

  “I’m more than just your mother, Emma. I’m a woman with wants, needs, kinks, and fetishes.”

  “Take that kind of talk somewhere else, please.”

  “Give me a shot of tequila and I will,” she said.

  “You’ve had enough alcohol. I’m not giving you anymore,” I said.

  “You listen here, you selfish little brat. You don’t get to judge me after everything I gave up to have you. I made a mistake in having unprotected sex, and I paid the price with you. I dropped everything in my life so that I could raise you. Give you what you needed. Feed you and clothe you and school you and shit. And if you think that you get the right to be embarrassed just because I gave up my golden years to raise you, then you’re sorely mistaken. Now. Give me. Another. Shot.”

  I hated my mother. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted to do more than slap her across her face. I was willing to do anything to get her to go away, even if it meant feeding her alcohol she didn't need. I slammed a shot glass down onto the bar, poured our cheapest tequila into it, and watched her throw it back like the drunk she was.

  “Thanks. You're a real peach,” she said sarcastically.

  She threw the shot glass back behind the bar, and it shattered on the floor at my feet.

  I watched my mother leave the bar area and go toward the man she had her eyes on. She went and tugged on his hand, and then the two of them slid into a booth. The young man leaned into her, his nose trailing along her neck, and soon the two of them were all over each other in that smoky little corner as I shook my head behind the bar.

  “Everything okay?” Lindy asked.

  “I was wondering when you would show up here,” I said, sighing.

  “It’s only ten o’clock,” she said, giggling.

  “Fuck.”

  “Your mom’s at it early tonight. She got a bedtime or something?”

  “Nope. But she’s pissed because I tried to call her out for her slutty behavior.”

  “Whoa, yikes. How the hell did she respond to that?” she asked.

  “She went on this tirade about how she wasted her golden years raising me and how she was more than just a mother I could be embarrassed about. Now, she’s probably trying to prove a point,” I said.

  “Yeah. Probably not the best idea to call her out while she’s drunk,” Lindy said.

  “Ya think?”

  Lindy and I continued to serve people who trickled into the bar that night. I kept a watch out for any one of the brothers. The twins, Adam, any one of them. Anyone to help distract me from what was going on with my mother. I had no idea how long she and that guy were going to make out in the booth, but I could tell my mother was intentionally trying to catch my stare. Every once in a while, I could feel her eyes flickering over toward me, trying to see if I was looking at her before she kicked things up a notch.

  I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction no matter how much I wanted to spit in her face.

  “Looks like you’ll get an early reprieve tonight,” Lindy said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your mom. Where’d she go?” she asked.

  I looked over at the booth and didn't see my mother or the guy whose face she had been sucking. I scanned the bar area looking for her, trying to figure out where the fuck she had gone. But then I caught my mother’s stare as she stood at the door, her back pressed against the door frame as the young flavor of the night continued to suck on her neck.

  My mother shot me a wink before she grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bar and into the parking lot.

  “At least she’s gone,” I said.

  “And since she left with someone, she won’t be back,” Lindy said.

  “Why the fuck is she like this?” I asked.

  “I don’t really know. But you know she’s only in here to get free drinks.”

  “Yeah, and if I don’t give them to her, she throws a fucking fit, and they toss her out. Without making her pay,” I said.

  “Maybe we could talk to Booker? Huh? Get him to ban her.”

  “You know he won’t ban anyone. He keeps that policy for a reason. The moment we start banning people, we lose our clientele because we’re no longer unbiased,” I said.

  “But it’s bullshit, and you know it,” she said.

  “And it’s bullshit I’ll have to continue putting up with. Trust me, I know. I’ve already had this conversation with him. But if we keep our heads down and keep working, in a couple of weeks or whatever we’ll be done with this place,” I said.

  “I’m worried about you, Emma.”

  “Well, this nightmare’s almost done.”

  “You can come stay with me tonight if you’d like,” she said.

  “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

  End of Sneak Peek. Would you like to know how this continues?

  Click Here: 5 Bikers for Valentines: A Reverse Harem Romance

  ROCK HARD NEIGHBOR

  PROLOGUE

  His eyes were hungry, and I knew exactly what they were craving.

  He picked me up gently, and I sighed into his neck. He turned his lips to my skin, and I could’ve sworn I felt their warmth. My skin puckered and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I pulled back to take in his eyes once more, giving myself one last chance to revel in their beauty.

  Then, without a word, he kissed me.

  It was hesitant at first. Light and non-committal. His lips were pillow soft, and his beard tickled my cheeks. His hands slid down my back before they cupped my ass, and immediately I found my nipples tightening to sharp peaks. His tongue swiped lightly at my lips, asking for entrance.

  I fisted his shirt and pulled him even clo
ser, and it unleashed the madman inside.

  Picking me up off the floor, he settled me on the counter. Its rickety form creaked underneath my body weight, but he held me steady and close to him. His kisses trickled down my neck, sending shivers up my spine as his mouth cupped my clothed breasts.

  My hands were twirling into the tresses of his hair as he traveled down my body.

  His hands were everywhere. Cupping my tits and running down my side. They made quick work of my pants, pulling the heated material from my body. The cool mountain air streaming in from the open kitchen window hit my soft molds, causing me to shiver as his eyes looked down upon me.

  They were hungry, and I knew exactly what they were craving.

  He grabbed a chair from the other side of the island and sat down. His hands pressed my legs open, folding them back up to me as he eyed my dripping folds. I was exposed to him, shivering on top of the creaking countertop as I looked down at him.

  His eyes hooked on mine one last time before his lips descended to my folds.

  He kissed them repeatedly, making me jump and whimper. His beard tickled the insides of my thighs as I slowly wrapped my legs around his head. My fingers ran through his hair as his tongue pierced my folds, sliding right into my entrance. I arched into him as my nails raked across his scalp, and his hands wrapped around my thighs so he could pull me closer to him.

  His tongue felt like fire as he teased electricity up and down my legs. His tongue licked thick stripes up my slit, then swallowed down my juices as he hummed into me. His voice rattled my ribcage, and his hands held me down, pinning my movements to the countertop as his tongue worked my clit.

  I could feel myself dripping. I could feel my legs trembling against his back. His lips wrapped around my clit and pulled it into his mouth, his tongue flicking at lightning speed. I was breathless and at his mercy as my eyes watered with want. I gripped onto his hair as I tried to buck into him, wanting to chase my high on the tip of his tongue.

  But his hands held me down as he teased me generously, turning me into a moaning mess.

  “Please. Oh, please. I can’t. I can’t wait. You’re driving me crazy.”

  I felt him smile into me as my back arched again. I wanted to be so close to him. I wanted to come at the ministrations of his tongue. If he would let me come, I could give him what he wanted. If he could release me, my name would tumble from his lips.

  If he could just send me over the edge, I would give him something in return.

  Finally, his hands gave way. They slid down my thighs and parted my knees once again. I rocked into him as much as I could as he pinned my knees toward my chest. His entire body was hovering over me as his eyes hooked onto my face. I could feel sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. I could feel my body flushing with orgasmic delight. His tongue flattened out over my clit as juices dripped down my crack.

  I was so close I could taste it.

  CHAPTER 1

  AMANDA

  Shit!

  Get it together Amanda.

  It was a cold winter day in New York and I stood barefoot on the distressed hardwood floors of my apartment. My hands trembled as I held the crisp white letter addressed to me. It was from my grandmother’s estate attorney.

  My grandmother passed away from a long battle with pneumonia and left me her home. Months had passed since her funeral, and I was still dealing with the loss of the one person I’d loved most in the world. I referred to her as my sweet Gigi. While she relentlessly encouraged me to follow my dreams, I still felt guilty for moving hundreds of miles away for art school and the pursuit of an art career.

  No amount of accomplishments compared to her unconditional love, or her famous Sunday morning buttery biscuits. God, those biscuits were pure heaven. Gigi must have packed them with crack or something wicked - they were that good.

  The thought of owning the house I’d grown up in overwhelmed me with nostalgia and a longing to get back to the place I called home – beautiful North Carolina.

  Maybe everything did happen for a reason.

  Maybe my life had hit rock bottom because there was something better waiting for me. Could it be that Gigi wanted me to return to my roots?

  Perhaps I was supposed to have a horrible relationship with the man I once called the one – so I could take a step back and grow into my own skin.

  Or, maybe I was bat shit crazy!

  There was only one way to find out – and I was convinced that North Carolina was that way. I had to at least give it go. I owed Gigi that much.

  When my parents split, my mother relied heavily on her to help care for me. My father cheated on my mother multiple times, and then she fell into drugs and alcohol to cope with her troubles. To say that part of my childhood was a complete shit show would have been an understatement.

  Gigi was my rock, my support, and my sole source of encouragement my entire teenage life. She even supported me through art school in New York City. She fought for my dreams, harder than anyone ever had. She was my guardian angel.

  I missed her so damn much it hurt. Now, I knew she was watching over me from a distance.

  I just prayed I wouldn’t let her down.

  ***

  So, you’re just going to leave without a word?

  Groaning at the text message from my ex, Daryl, I tossed my phone onto the airplane tray in front of me. I was on my flight to North Carolina, and he wouldn’t stop messaging me. Leave without a word? I broke up with him over a month ago.

  Daryl was demeaning and cynical throughout our entire relationship – except of course the honey-moon period that lasted for just a few months after we met. He assumed he knew everything there was to know about the art world. He constantly told me to find something practical to do with my art degree; like teach or give lessons. Not once believing I could showcase my artwork in galleries – even though I proved him wrong a few times.

  Struggling as an artist from the ground up took a great deal of work and mustering of courage and fighting my own self-doubts. Coupling all that with my Daryl’s insults made things a million times worse.

  He didn’t believe in me. And I’d put up with his shit for way too long. After the break up, the man had the balls to accuse me of everything from cheating to using him for his money. He claimed my art was more important to me than him, and I had half a mind to tell him he was right.

  My art never judged me or mocked me.

  It never told me I wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make fun of me whenever I wore the wrong type of dress to a cocktail party, and it sure as hell never told me my dreams were invalid.

  Of course my art was more important than him. Because Daryl was a dick.

  When are you coming back?

  What part of breaking up did he not understand? He was out of his mind if he thought I was going to come back. Not after all the fights and all the digs and jabs I endured just to try and see the good in him. I gave him everything, until I had nothing more to give.

  After everything I gave you, the least you could do is answer me.

  I picked up my phone and opened the messenger. I poised my fingers to fly across the screen as my vision began to turn red. I crafted response after response of hurtful accusations in my head, debating on which one to send him that would shut him up for good.

  But I knew that wasn’t the answer. I didn’t want to bring more pain into an already fucked up situation. The plain fact was we weren’t right for each other. I was going to take the high road now and cut my losses.

  Settling on a message for my ex, my fingers worked. I kept it short and sweet, telling him that we both needed to accept the reality of the situation. We had our chance, and now it was time for us to go our separate ways and that I wished him the best. No grudges. No hard feelings.

  Then I sent the message and turned off my phone so I could enjoy the rest of the flight. I needed time to think.

  While I had some success with my art in New York, I hadn’t reached the potential I knew I had
inside of me. I was told my work wasn’t modern enough or sharp enough for the audience that the city attracted. Some galleries suggested that I should try going to the Midwest or even down south.

  What the hell did that even mean?

  My grandmother’s death chipped away at my soul, but it dropped the one thing I needed in my lap more than anything else. Whenever I was at her cabin, I always felt safe, blanketed from a harsh world that could swallow me whole. I’d fought my entire life to keep two feet on the ground instead of allowing myself to become a victim.

  When my grandmother’s lawyer sent me the letter notifying me the house was mine, it couldn’t have been better timing. Gigi always had a way of saying and doing things that were necessary at the moment they were needed most. I had no idea the adventure I was setting myself on by moving going back to North Carolina, but part of me understood I had no choice. I was excited about this new chapter ahead.

  With that said, I was also scared shitless.

  The plane landed at Asheville Regional, and I had just enough money to pick up a rental car. It was a compact car and would struggle over the mountainous terrain of my home town, but it was all I could afford. I shoved my suitcases into the car, stuffing it to the brim, then reached for my phone to turn it back on. Besides the bombardment of text messages from my ex, I saw I also had a few missed calls from my best friend. I smiled and dialed the phone.

  “Hello beautiful.”

  “Manda! Thank the earth. Have you landed?”

  “Yep. Getting into my rental car now and heading to the cabin.”

  “How was the flight?” she asked.

  “Besides the endless texts from Daryl, it went smoothly.”

  “Daryl? The fuck was he messaging you for?”

  “He was offended that I left without saying anything to him.”

  “You said all you had to a month ago.”

  “I know, but apparently it wasn’t enough. I kept my response short and sweet, and I shut my phone off after I sent the message,” I said.