The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

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The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 92

by Janine Infante Bosco


  I grinned at my president.

  One step closer.

  Chapter Six

  I threw back the shot of Fireball, sliding the empty glass across the bar to the hot bartender who bought one for me and one for Mia. She took the bus into the city and we’ve been bar hopping since happy hour, five bars, and two hours later…we were bombed.

  “I think we should move to another bar, there’s no hot guys here,” Mia complained.

  “The bartender’s not bad,” I said, squinting my eyes to get a better look, but I was blind as a bat without my glasses.

  Mia giggled beside me.

  “What?” I asked, turning to her. At least I could see up close.

  “Where are your glasses?”

  “I forgot them at my brother’s house,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, that reminds me! Why haven’t you mentioned that your brother’s friends are fucking lickable?”

  “Lickable? Really?” was that even a word? I picked the olive out of my martini and popped it into my mouth. “For the record, Anthony’s friends usually aren’t anything to write home about. They’re usually twice his age and full of graying hair.”

  “That man who showed up with your mother was sex on a stick,” she countered.

  I brought my drink to my lips. Riggs was definitely sex on a stick and well…indeed lickable.

  “Have you seen him since?”

  “A couple of times. He works at the gym,” I said, trying not to think of that smile or the way his eyes gleamed with mischief. He was trouble with a capital T, and not for the obvious reasons either. Anyone who ran in the same circle as my brother had criminal tendencies, but Riggs was trouble because he was hard to resist.

  “You should get on that, or under it, whichever you prefer, but do something. It’s your duty as a member of the female population,” she declared.

  “I couldn’t,” I said weakly.

  “Oh yeah? Why the hell not?” she questioned, nudging me with her elbow. “I thought you were turning over a new leaf? What was it you said? Oh, yes, you would live for yourself and not everyone else. Seems the best way to start is by giving into your needs,” she reasoned.

  “Funny, I remember having this same conversation before I quit nursing school. I thought that was the start of the new me,” I said sarcastically.

  “Okay, fine, so this is the sequel,” she laughed. “Stop worrying about everything so much. You’re twenty-one, you’re supposed to fuck up your life and do stupid things.”

  Words to live by.

  She was an idiot sometimes.

  “He gave me his number,” I said, biting my lip.

  “And I’ll bet the next round you haven’t used it,” she surmised, treating me to an eye roll. “I love you, Lauren, but sometimes you’re such a pussy,” she added, climbing off the stool and pulling down her mini-skirt. “Seriously, you need to grow a pair.” She downed the rest of her cosmopolitan, placing the empty glass on top of the bar. “Order me another, I have to go to the bathroom.”

  I sighed as she walked away and tried to make eye contact with the bartender, but for all I knew I wasn’t even looking at the right guy. I’d just wait until he came closer to order the drinks.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, bored, I browsed my contacts until I came to his name.

  Tiger.

  I smiled instantly.

  Fucking Riggs.

  Fucking life.

  And then I did what every normal twenty-one-year old with no direction in life would do…I texted him.

  Me: Meow.

  I hit send, immediately dropping my phone and covering my face with my hands.

  I did not just do that.

  I picked up my phone, wincing when I confirmed my stupidity.

  Me: Delete that.

  Tiger: Roar. LOL

  Me: I said delete it. I meant to text it to someone else.

  Tiger: Are your pants on fire, Kitten?

  He should only know. I clenched my legs together and chose to ignore his question.

  Me: What are you doing?

  Tiger: What are you doing?

  Me: You first.

  Tiger: Watching the game with the guys.

  Me: Out with Mia.

  Tiger: You went back home already?

  Me: Tomorrow. She came into the city for the night and we’re going back home together tomorrow afternoon.

  Tiger: Are you on the prowl?

  Me: Maybe.

  Tiger: Stay safe.

  Huh? Okay, not exactly the answer I was hoping for from him. I decided to put my phone away before I did any more damage. Mia found her way back to me and instead of ordering another round, we took off to another bar.

  The night was young.

  And this “Kitten” was on the prowl.

  “The Jets don’t have a chance, not after Decker blew that touchdown,” Bones said, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

  “It’s only the third quarter,” I retorted, popping open my beer and glancing down at my phone. An hour and a half had passed since I texted Lauren back. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing and what version of herself she was when she went out with her friend. Whether it be the good girl bit or the good girl gone bad. I’m sure she had guys dropping to their knees.

  I leaned over, placing my beer on the table and texted her again.

  Me: I should’ve brought my library card because I’m definitely checking you out.

  Kitten: You got more game than half the men here.

  Me: Where are you?

  Kitten: Salty Dog.

  Me: Bay Ridge? I thought you were in Manhattan.

  Kitten: Bar hopping and borough hopping. I get around.

  Me: As long as you’re not bed hopping.

  Kitten: Even if I hopped into your bed?

  I froze, staring down at my phone as the images flooded my brain. I could picture her naked in my bed wearing nothing but her glasses. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that. Not one fucking bit. My dick agreed, hardening against my jeans.

  Me: You can hop into my bed anytime, Kitten.

  Kitten: You shouldn’t say things like that to a drunk girl who needs a good duck.

  What? She wanted a pet? Odd thing to say to a guy when he invited you to fuck.

  Kitten: Duck! I meant duck!

  Me: You want a duck?

  Kitten: Yes.

  Kitten: No! Ducking auto correct!

  “Get off your phone, ass wipe! You’re missing the game,” Bones said, throwing a bag of pretzels at my head. “Who are you texting anyway?”

  “What does ducking mean?” I asked.

  “Ducking? Like you duck,” he said, bending his head. “Like that, you get the fuck out of the way. You dodge the bullet. You duck and hide. Man, are we seriously having this discussion right now?

  “No, that’s not it,” I said, scratching the top of my head.

  Kitten: Let’s try this again. You shouldn’t say that to a girl who needs a good lay.

  “Fuck, she needs to fuck!” I cheered, typing my response.

  Me: Happy to oblige, babe.

  And this night just got a whole lot better.

  Kitten: Oh yeah? You think you can make me purr?

  Me: I’ll make you fucking roar, baby.

  Me: You still at the dog?

  I was familiar with the Salty Dog, it was a popular bar mostly where firemen hung out. Lauren wasn’t taking a ride on a fucking fire truck tonight, not if I had a say in it. I lifted my eyes to Bones who was staring at me like I had lost my mind.

  “What?” I asked innocently. “I might need a wingman you game?”

  “Depends what she looks like. I’m not taking one for the team, not tonight, when I can go riding and grab any piece of ass I want,” he stated.

  “Mia’s pretty, killer bod, nice rack,” I tried to entice.

  “Mia?” he raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you know their names, impressive. That’s a first for you,” he teased.

  “Stop bei
ng a dick, are you in or what?”

  “When have I ever turned down pussy?” he said, taking another pull of his beer. “But then we’re even, not giving you the fifty I owe you.”

  Me: Hello?

  “Fine, fine, whatever,” I replied. I’d eat the fifty bucks for a chance of having Bianci’s sister in my bed. Oh, how sweet was that? I mean sure she was hot, but the fact she was off limits definitely sweetened the deal.

  Kitten: Sorry. I was fighting with Mia. I could kill her right now.

  Me: What happened?

  Kitten: She left me! So much for girl code.

  Me: I’ll come get you.

  “Well, are we going or not?” Bones asked annoyed.

  “Change in plans, bro. One-man job,” I said, grabbing my shit off the table. “You still owe me that fifty.”

  Kitten: No I’m going to take the train back to Ant’s.

  No. No. No.

  I stalked toward the door, dialing her number instead of texting and listened as it rang.

  “Can you believe that bitch?” she answered, slurring her words. “Leaving with the first guy that winks at her and buys her a damn drink.”

  “Hussy!” I replied, as I climbed onto my bike. “Listen, stay there I’m on my way.

  “What? No!” she yelled into the phone.

  “Why not?” I said, ripping the engine.

  “Because if you come and get me there’s no telling what will happen,” she said.

  “Oh, I know exactly what will happen babe, and you do too,” I replied, loud enough so she could hear me.

  “Riggs?”

  “Yeah, Kitten,” I said, kicking up the kickstand of my bike.

  “I’m waiting outside,” she whispered sexily into the phone, so low I barely heard her over the noise of my engine.

  “Give me ten,” I ground out, ending the call and slipping my phone into my jacket pocket.

  Hang on Kitten, your Tiger is coming.

  I almost crashed three times on the way there just picturing her naked. That round ass bent over as I pounded her first from behind. God, I hope she wore those shoes she had on at the bar. The second time I’d make her ride me and I’d bury my face in between those tits. Then I’d eat her pussy until she came all over my tongue. After a blowjob, I’d fuck her again nice and hard until she screamed my name.

  I parked my bike in front of the bar and spotted Lauren leaning up against the brick wall talking to some guy. I threw my leg over my bike and readjusted my throbbing cock, then stalked toward her.

  She laughed at something the schmuck she was talking to said, turning her head slightly her eyes locked with mine.

  “Making friends?” I questioned, peeling my eyes away from her to the man leaning way to close to her.

  “You know how it goes man,” he laughed, running his hand down Lauren’s arm. What the fuck was she wearing? My eyes traveled the length of her, taking in the jeans that molded to her legs like a second skin, ripped and shredded at the knees showing just a hint of her olive skin. The top she wore was see through and fell off her shoulder sexily. And then, there was the shoes, the ones that haunted my dreams. Thank you, God.

  She smiled at me and that’s when I noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses.

  Wow. She was fucking gorgeous.

  Her bright, blue eyes darkened making them appear navy as they stared back at me.

  “Say goodbye, Kitten,” I ordered.

  “But,” she started, turning to her new admirer. “We were just going to go back inside and have a drink,” she squinted, snapping her fingers as she tried to remember his name. “What’s your name again?”

  “Tony,” he said with a grin.

  “Tony? Are you sure? I thought you said it was Tommy,” she said, swaying on her heels. I reached out and wrapped my arm around her waist to steady her.

  “Time to go, say goodbye Tommy,” I said, glaring at the man looking at Lauren like she was a piece of meat, daring him to argue with me.

  She spun around in my arms, her chest pressed against me, her mouth a breath away from mine, forcing me to glance down at her.

  “I got bored waiting for you,” she admitted, reaching up to touch my hat.

  “Don’t let it happen again,” I said, liking the way she leaned up against me, and loving the way she felt. Even with heels she only came up to my shoulder. “You ready to get the hell out of here?”

  Her perfect teeth sank into her lip as she nodded.

  “Can I get your number?” Tommy/Tony asked.

  “718-FUCK-OFF,” I snapped, pulling my eyes away from hers to glance over her shoulder at the asshole who had the balls to just ask that.

  Lauren giggled, dropping her head against my chest and gripping the ends of my jacket.

  “That was so rude,” she said, laughing into my chest. I took her hand in mine and led her toward my bike.

  “Didn’t that mother of yours teach you not to talk to strangers?” I hissed, as I strapped my helmet onto her head. “Get on,” I ordered, patting the seat.

  She grabbed onto my arm for leverage and straddled my bike. I shook my head as my hand automatically shot down to my pants to re-arrange my dick. How the fuck was I going to get on my bike like this? I’d fucking break my cock.

  “Problem?” she asked innocently.

  “You’re a tease,” I said, leaning close to her. “Gonna make you beg for it now,” I promised, grunting as I maneuvered myself in front of her. Her arms wrapped around me, holding on tight as she leaned her chin on my shoulder.

  “You just want to see me on my knees,” she whispered against my ear.

  “Lots of ways I want to see you, Kitten,” I said, taking off quickly, hoping the ride sobered her up. Not completely though. Something tells me tipsy Lauren is a lot more fun than sober Lauren, and the odds of me getting laid are slimmer without the drunken fog.

  I was such an asshole.

  Don’t be an asshole, a voice inside of me taunted.

  Look at that, I didn’t think I had a conscience.

  That was new.

  I never questioned myself when I was with a woman. I took what I wanted, respectfully, and let my partner take what they needed from me. It was obvious what she wanted, and I argued with myself that if it wasn’t me it would be Tommy or Tony, whatever his name was, giving it to her. Still, something inside of me nagged to do the right thing, to think before I did something reckless.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I chalked it up to Jack getting in my head with all his shit about heart and not being reckless. Then there was this little thorn in my side called Bianci. He’d fucking kill me, send me off to sleep with the fishes, if he found out I took advantage of his sister.

  So, I decided I’d take her back to my room at the compound and we wouldn’t go all the way. Christ, I sounded like a pussy. I was back to being a fifteen-year-old kid who settled for a friendly game of “just the tip.”

  I was fucked.

  And not literally.

  I could be the good guy, the one who did the right thing. I would. I’d be that guy tonight.

  Tomorrow?

  I’d fuck anything that walked and make no apologies about it.

  Yep, that was my plan.

  I turned off my bike and glanced over my shoulder.

  “Where are we?” Lauren hiccupped.

  “The clubhouse,” I said, taking her hands and pulling her onto her feet. She freed her hands from mine and walked ahead of me, sashaying her hips and wiggling that ass with every step. God damn!

  “Taking me home to meet your motorcycle buddies? Isn’t that moving fast?” she laughed, tripping over her own feet and nearly falling flat on her face.

  “Easy,” I ground out, wrapping my arm around her waist. “What the hell did you drink?”

  She lifted her finger in the air to begin listing her drinks but frowned and dropped her hand.

  “Everything,” she admitted, turning to face me. “You have alcohol in the playhouse?


  “Clubhouse,” I said unable to hold back the chuckle. “And…I think you’ve had enough,” I added, ushering her into the clubhouse. Thankfully, the common room was empty except for Blackie who was still sitting in the same spot at the bar.

  “Oh, look! You do have alcohol,” she said, motioning to the bar. Blackie lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes stared at Lauren for a minute before turning back to me.

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Blackie stated.

  “It’s not like that,” I said, waving him off. “Look at her, she needed a ride.”

  “I am looking at her,” he replied, emptying the rest of the bottle of patron into his glass. “You better know what the fuck you’re doing. This club don’t need any bullshit with Bianci,” he added, before throwing back the tequila.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I insisted.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it!” Lauren agreed, pointing a finger at Blackie. “But don’t tell my brother I was here or you’ll have bullshit with this Bianci,” she warned, wagging her finger in the air.

  Blackie’s eyebrows shot up to his hair line as he stared at my ferocious little kitten, then turned back to me.

  “Oh you’re so fucked,” he said smiling. My misery would be the one thing that makes the beast smile.

  “Thanks, bro, love you too,” I said, rolling my eyes, taking Lauren’s hand and dragging her toward the stairs.

  “Riggs! I can’t run in these shoes,” she complained.

  I blew out an exasperated breath turned around and lifted her over my shoulder.

  “Better?” I asked, as she yelped and I climbed the stairs.

  “You have a perfect ass,” she commented, slapping my ass.

  I peered at hers out of the corner of my eye.

  “Yours isn’t so bad either, Kitten,” I said, fighting back the temptation to sink my teeth into her cheek. I kicked open the door to my room and dropped her onto my bed, watching as she bounced against the mattress.

 

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