by Holly Renee
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Staci
Chapter 2
Mason
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
The End
Want more from The Good Girls Series?
Acknowledgments
More Books by Holly Renee:
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Where Bad Girls Go To Fall
Holly Renee
Where Bad Girls Go to Fall
Copyright 2018 by Holly Renee. All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.authorhollyrenee.com.
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 information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover Design: Regina Wamba
Editing: Ellie McLove of Gray Ink
Formatting: MadHat Books
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To my favorite bad girl, Casey.
* * *
Baby girl,
There are far too many ordinary people in this world.
Never become one of them.
Contents
Chapter 1
Staci
Chapter 2
Mason
Chapter 3
Staci
Chapter 4
Mason
Chapter 5
Staci
Chapter 6
Mason
Chapter 7
Staci
Chapter 8
Mason
Chapter 9
Staci
Chapter 10
Mason
Chapter 11
Staci
Chapter 12
Mason
Chapter 13
Staci
Chapter 14
Mason
Chapter 15
Staci
Chapter 16
Mason
Chapter 17
Staci
Chapter 18
Mason
Chapter 19
Staci
Chapter 20
Mason
Chapter 21
Staci
Chapter 22
Mason
Chapter 23
Staci
Chapter 24
Mason
Chapter 25
Staci
Chapter 26
Mason
Chapter 27
Staci
Chapter 28
Mason
Chapter 29
Staci
Chapter 30
Mason
Chapter 31
Staci
Chapter 32
Mason
Chapter 33
Staci
Chapter 34
Mason
Chapter 35
Staci
The End
Want more from The Good Girls Series?
Acknowledgments
More Books by Holly Renee:
Follow Holly Renee:
Staci
I never really gave two shits about what anyone thought of me.
Did I cuss too much? Fuck yes.
Did I have too many tattoos? That depended on your preference of skin to ink ratio.
Were my nether regions pierced? Only on days that orgasm ends in an M.
I had always been the rebellious girl whose give a damn busted a long ass time ago. I loved adventure and excitement. I would try just about anything once.
Except settling down.
Just the thought of it was giving me hives.
I was a conundrum really. My favorite thing on this entire planet next to orgasms? Romance novels. One of my least favorite things on this entire planet? The idea of spending the rest of my life with one person.
I blamed it on all the romance novels I had read over the years. The heroes were perfect.
Muscles? Check.
Chiseled jaw? Check.
Smooth talker? Check.
Had a job? Check.
Amazing in the sack? Double check.
I just hadn’t been able to find someone who fit all those categories. I dated a guy once who may have been the hottest guy I had ever seen, bright blue eyes, covered in ink, and a panty-dropping smile, but he had absolutely no clue what to do once my panties fell.
I could probably find Atlantis before he found my clit.
Then there were all the unrealistic ideas of love at first sight and being one hundred percent sure that he would be the one I was meant to spend my life with.
I mean, come on!
It took me a good ten minutes just to decide what toppings I wanted on my pizza.
I couldn’t imagine meeting someone, some magic fucking love dust being sprinkled over my head and thinking “mine.” My vagina had that thought sometimes, but not my heart. Definitely not my heart.
But my heart wasn’t on my brain at the moment, only my vagina, and how that girl was about to go on strike if I didn’t let her visit someone besides my own hand.
I jumped onto my bed and picked up my phone. I ignored the hundred plus emails that were going to remain unchecked, and my finger hovered over my Kindle app before I finally decided to open my contacts.
I scrolled through my phone.
Eric.
Too clingy.
John.
Too small.
Luke.
Too much saliva.
Mark.
Just dirty enough.
I clicked on Mark’s name before hitting the small camera icon on the bottom of the screen. Mark was not my happily ever after, but he could easily make me happy for a few hours or so.
He had accomplished that goal several times before.
Laying back in the bed, I positioned myself just right before holding my phone above me and taking the photo.
I looked at the picture of me from my neck down. My breasts were fully on display, the studs of my nipple rings shining in the flash, and I knew that Mark would absolutely love it.
He would know it was me without even having to read my name.
I hit send before throwing my phone down on my bed and heading toward the shower.
If I knew Mark, he would be on his way over here in about fifteen minutes, and I needed to be ready. God, I was so ready.
It had been four weeks and three days since the last time I got laid, but who was counting.
I was.
I was counting the damn
minutes.
Because I became a total bitch when I didn’t have sex for a long period of time. Even I became annoyed with myself.
I never understood how other women could do it. I had so many friends who felt like they had to be in a relationship to be sexually active with someone, and while I understood their reasoning, I couldn’t understand how they could go without enjoying mindless hot sex with someone who you wanted nothing more from.
It was the best kind of sex in my opinion.
No strings attached.
No expectations.
No false declarations of love as you raced to reach your orgasm.
You both knew the score, you both knew the goal, and I was a firm believer in no false promises.
I scrubbed myself down with my loofa before stepping out of the shower and spreading lotion across my skin.
Relationships made you too complacent. They made you too worried about the other person.
I didn’t have time to worry about someone else. I had too much going on, on my own. No way did I need to add someone else’s shit to the mix.
I just needed them for a few hours, tops.
I wrapped my towel around me and picked up my phone.
Damn, Staci.
Exactly the reaction I was looking for.
You coming over?
I watched as those three little dots danced across my screen.
Where do you live?
What was he talking about? Mark had been to my house a dozen times. He knew his way to my house and around my body.
Stop playing games. I’m wearing nothing but a towel. ;)
Those three little dots only appeared for a second before I got a response.
I’m not playing. Send me your address, and I’ll be right there.
I huffed in frustration and ran my hand through my wet hair.
I was about to reply back and tell him to forget it when my eyes caught the name at the top of the screen, and my heart stopped.
I read it over and over. Praying that my eyes were playing tricks on me.
Mason. Not Mark.
Mason fucking Connor.
I sent a nude photo of myself to Mason fucking Connor.
I sat down on the edge of my bed and tried to breathe through my panic. My fingers gripped my soft sheets so hard that I thought they might rip as I thought about what to do.
I could count on one hand the things I knew about Mason.
He was my best friend’s brother. Strike one.
He was my boss’s best friend. Strike two.
He was a manwhore. Strike three.
But he was also super fucking hot.
It wasn’t that I would have minded his overall manwhorieness in a normal
situation especially with his hotness, but combined with the others, he was one hundred percent off limits.
My finger bounced over the screen of my phone, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. How did I explain that my sexting was meant for someone else?
OMG, Mason. I’m so sorry. That was meant for someone else. Please delete that photo.
There. That should take care of it. No harm, no foul.
I’m not.
You’re not what?
My heart drummed to the beat of those three fucking dots.
I’m not sorry, and I’m not deleting the photo.
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
Mason!
I was going to kill him.
Staci!
I screamed out in frustration.
Please just delete the photo.
Please just send me your address.
I held the phone in my hand but didn’t respond.
I’ve been hard since the moment you sent it to me. The things I want to do to that body of yours.
I felt my body start to tingle as I read his words and told that bitch to calm the fuck down. We did not want Mason Connor.
There is no way in hell that I am sending you my address.
Nope. It definitely wasn’t happening. I may not have been the most wholesome girl around, but I did have standards. And fucking my best friend’s brother was one of them.
He just needed to delete the damn photo, and we could forget the whole thing ever happened.
But I should have known that Mason Connor would mess up my plan.
Well, sweetheart. There is no way in hell I’m deleting this photo.
Shit.
I only had two options. I could break into his house, steal his phone, and delete the photo myself, or I could pretend it never happened.
I had a feeling that I was going to regret my opposition to burglary.
Mason
I smiled down at my phone before tucking it into my pocket.
Staci fucking Johnson.
I knew she was hot, but I had no idea she had a body like that beneath her clothes. She really wasn’t my type either. She was covered in tattoos, her hair was jet black, and her eyes looked like they held more secrets than any one girl should.
But fuck, she was beautiful.
And my dick had been hard as a rock ever since she sent me that picture.
“What are you smiling at?”
I looked up at my best friend, Parker, who I had practically forgotten was sitting across from me before I adjusted my jeans. He took a sip of his beer and narrowed his eyes at me.
“Are you in love?” The words sounded so weird coming out of his mouth.
“What?” I practically choked on my beer. “Hell no. I’m not pussy whipped like you.”
It was a low blow, but he was in fact pussy whipped. There was no denying it.
“I’m not ashamed of it.” He grinned. “Livy does this thing…”
I held my hand in the air to cut him off. “I swear to God, dude. I know I told you that I was okay with you dating my sister, but I do not want to hear about it.” I shuddered and threw back my beer.
“So, you don’t want to hear about what she did while I was driving last night?”
“Do you want to die?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I was being safe. Ten and two.” He held his hands out in front of him to show me his safe driving techniques, and I threw a chip at his head.
“What was that for?” He rubbed his forehead with a shit eating grin on his face.
“Stop talking about my sister like that. Talk to Brandon if you need someone to share with.” I looked around the sports bar as I usually would, but not one woman caught my eye. Because Staci had put some sort of voodoo over me. Titty voodoo.
“I’m just busting your balls. Who was the girl on the phone?”
“How do you know it was a girl?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“It’s always a girl.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyone I know?”
I could have been honest. I mean that man was fucking my sister, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to know about Staci. She was his employee and his girlfriend’s best friend. My sister’s best friend.
It wasn’t that he would care. He would be completely fucked in the head if he did, but there was just something about having this little secret with Staci that felt exciting.
She was crazy if she actually thought I would delete that photo. Just thinking about it now made my dick stir in my pants.
I had been with a lot of women, too many to count really, but I had never seen a woman as sexy as Staci. How had I not realized it until now?
I had been thinking about her ever since she accidentally sent me that photo. At least she claimed it was an accident. All I knew was that it was hot as hell, and I couldn’t stop replaying the image over and over in my head.
I thought about it when I was in the shower with my dick in my hand. I thought about it when I was on a date with that chick the other night. What was her name? Fuck. I don’t know.
I kept wanting to call her Staci.
I couldn’t even bring myself to get laid because all I could think about was Staci.
It was fucking pathetic.
And it was th
e only thing I could think about as she walked into the bar with my sister. A pair of skintight jeans wrapped around her, but they barely covered any skin through all the rips and tears. Hell, her skin looked so soft underneath.
I wanted to taste every inch of it with my tongue.
It was the thought that was probably running through every guy in the bar’s mind as their eyes tracked her as she walked by.
I had the irrational urge to slam their heads into the tables in front of them.
But Staci wasn’t my type. She gave off a “Don’t fuck with me” vibe with her full sleeves of tattoos, the glimmer of mischief in her eyes, and the sassy attitude she had in spades. I was usually into girls who were much more open in the fuck with me category. I didn’t enjoy the chase, and I sure as hell didn’t have time to work for it.
Easy, no strings attached fucking.
Staci wasn’t easy. She was a wildfire. Fierce and destructive.
