by Lane Hart
ALL IN
Double or Nothing
By Lane Hart
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
© 2014 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Cover by vocaldesign
https://www.fiverr.com/vocaldesign
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES AND ADULT LANGUAGE!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Chapter One
Lauren Jefferson
I’d never really been superstitious before today. It was Friday, June thirteenth, and I was starting to think that luck was definitely not on my side. The morning had started off great, with me oversleeping and running ten minutes late for my anatomy class. It only got better when Joe, my mom’s new Prince Charming, refused to let me leave the apartment until he got to grab my ass. And now here I was, sitting on the side of the road after some asshole t-boned me when he ran a red light. I was regretting even getting out of bed in the first place.
I heaved a sigh, wondering how much longer I was going to have to wait for the police officer to show up and do the freaking report. I knew the accident could've been a hell of a lot worse. Thankfully my car was the only thing damaged, and I hadn’t been hurt. Dancing with a cast on any of your limbs is not sexy.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Using my hand to shade the blinding morning sun, I turned and looked up at the lady that had appeared at my side.
“Oh I’m fine, thanks,” I told her.
“Well, I was behind you and saw that jackass run the light. Don’t worry, I’ll tell the police exactly what happened, so he can’t try and blame you,” she said, referring to the middle-aged man in the business suit stomping around a few feet away from us. His face was bright red and he was yelling at someone on his cell phone.
Relief pushed the air out of my lungs. The day was looking up, since I now had an unbiased witness on my side.
"Thank you, I'd really appreciate that. I’ve already heard him say I ran the light and his was green.”
“Oh heck no. Our light was green as grass. He probably wasn’t paying attention because he was on his damn phone,” she said. She sounded more upset about him hitting me than I was about being hit.
I smiled up at her, appreciating her support, while she continued to give him the evil eye. She was a nice lady, probably in her early fifties. With her short greying hair, she looked so sweet and motherly. I wished I could’ve had a mother like her growing up.
“Do you have any children?” I asked.
She looked down at me for a few seconds, momentarily surprised at my question, before she responded.
“Well yes, two actually. My son’s thirty-five, and just married. Brandon's a physical therapist here in town. And my daughter, Sara, is twenty-nine and just finished her graduate degree in English from Chapel Hill.”
Just as I expected. She’d probably always supported them, had food on the table or in the fridge, and given them everything they could ever need. Maybe even the occasional unnecessary things they had just wanted frivolously, while they were growing up. Both turning out to be successful, and likely happy with their own lives. I had to swallow back a stab of jealousy before I could respond.
“Wow, I bet you’re really proud of them.”
“Their father and I couldn’t be prouder. Now we just have to wait for them to give us a few grandkids, and we’ll be ecstatic!
Of course she had a good husband, and he was a great father. Not that I would know what that was like. My father was one of the great mysteries of the world. When I was little, my mom had accused three men of being the culprit, but the DNA tests said otherwise. She finally gave up, not having a freaking clue.
Over the years my mother has gone through more guys than the men's room at a football stadium. Each was usually worse than the one before, and just as much of a crack addict as she was. Her bad decisions were why I’ve flaunted my naked body in front of horny men since I was sixteen, just to keep a roof over our heads.
“Oh, finally!” the kind lady exclaimed, pulling me back to the present shitty situation.
I turned around and saw the police cruiser coming to a stop out of the way at the business center, directly behind the intersection. Our two wrecked cars still sat in the middle of the road with engines steaming, morning rush hour traffic having to brake and swerve to avoid them. I knew mine wouldn’t crank, so there it would sit until the tow truck arrived to haul it away.
I stood up from the concrete curb, wiped the dirt from the back of my dress, and started heading toward the officer's cruiser. The business man was at his window before the officer even had a chance to climb out. I could hear his bullshit commentary from where I was standing, which made me want to choke him with his own necktie. He’d hit me, made me miss my class, destroyed my car, and he was now trying to play the victim. Oh, hell no.
I tried counting to ten before I rushed over and stooped to his level. That would only make me sound like an equally looney asshole. Before I got to three the air was knocked out of my lungs. My anger and frustration vanished, quickly replaced with greedy lust.
Damn if the police officer wasn’t fine. He was straight out of every woman’s naughtiest frisk-me-officer-then-cuff-me-and-show-me-how-you-use-your-baton fantasy. Or maybe that was just my own personal one. The man was massive, his biceps bulging from underneath the bottom of his blue uniform sleeves. He stood with his arms crossed, and a pair of aviator glasses hid his eyes. Between the sheer size of the man and his tight lipped expression as he listened to the ranting business man, he looked pissed off and cocky as all get out. In other words, he was seriously sexy, and smoking hot.
My sweet and defensive witness had also approached the officer, trying to interrupt the annoying business man. When she gestured over to me, the officer turned in my direction, then reached up to lower his sunglasses and look at me over the top of them. Before I could close my gaping mouth he walked away from the two people trying to talk to him and headed towards me.
Thanks to my mother's criminal history, I’d always had a fear of men in blue uniforms. Even as a child, I saw
her arrested more than once, and always wondered when they'd put her away for good. Somehow she always lucked up and one of her boyfriends would bail her out, and pay for a lawyer. But this man striding toward me with his don’t-fuck-with-me attitude was intimidating for a completely different reason. My body, well, my lady parts, went on high alert as I looked him over from the top of his short blonde hair, down the uniform covering his hard body, all the way to his shiny black shoes.
“Ma’am are you injured? Do you need an ambulance?” he asked, his voice deep and authoritative.
The only thing I needed was some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, performed by him of course.
“Ma’am?” he inquired again, when he came to stop a few inches from me. His strong hands reached for the sides of my face to gently raise my eyes to his. Eyes that I couldn't see because they were still shielded by his reflective lenses.
“I’m fine. I-I don’t need an ambulance,” I stuttered.
He exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed like he’d been genuinely concerned for me. Standing here all open-mouthed, silently gawking at him, he'd probably thought I had some sort of traumatic brain injury.
“So can you tell me what happened?” he asked, removing his hands from me to pull out his tiny spiral notepad and pen from his front shirt pocket.
“Uh, sure. My light turned green, and I was in the middle of the intersection when he ran his light," I said nodding to the business man. "I didn’t even see him until after he hit me.”
“That’s what the witness said as well, although he swears you ran the light.”
“I did not! He’s a lying son of a bitch!” So much for staying calm.
The officer peered up at me from his note taking and smirked, showing his dimples and catapulting him from hot-as-hell to hot-as-fuck.
“I believe you. But I need your license, registration and insurance information to get started on the accident report.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. I've just got to grab it from my car,” I told him, then turned towards my silver Honda that looked more like a recycled aluminum can.
Before I could take two steps a big warm hand grasped me around my bicep, bringing me to a sudden halt. “What the-” I started.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m not going to let you walk out into the road and get run over. Tell me where everything is, and I’ll go get it.”
The officer was worried about me, and it was really freaking sweet. I smiled, then shivered when his hand caressed down my bare arm, causing cold chills in the sweltering heat. Was he flirting with me?
“Um, thanks. My purse is in the front passenger seat, and my registration and insurance papers are in the glove box.”
“Okay, stay put and I’ll be right back,” he ordered before striding off into the road, his presence alone stopping traffic. Women would brake to take in every inch of him, and men would stop for fear that he'd whoop their asses if they didn't. His confidence was an impressive thing to witness.
A minute later he was back, handing me my things. He had even retrieved my bookbag, which I would have been seriously screwed without.
“Is that everything you need from your car? Sorry, but since it won't crank we’re going to have to have it towed.”
“Y-yes. Thank you Officer,” I murmured. With shaking hands I removed my license from the wallet in my purse and handed it to him to go with the documents he was still holding.
“It’s Officer Evans, or just Tyler," he replied with another small smile. "Sit tight while I get this report finished up.”
I couldn't help my own goofy-ass grin as I watched him walk back to his cruiser. Good lord I hope he asks for my number. The man was a walking, talking guaranteed orgasm.
The business man screamed and practically jumped up and down in agitation until Officer Evans said something to him, then he shut up and cowered like a scared dog.
Chapter Two
Tyler Evans
Jesus, she was beautiful. A heart stopping, pin-up centerfold, kind of beautiful. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from where she was standing several yards back from my cruiser. I knew with the sunlight reflecting on the car she couldn’t see inside, but I could see her just fine.
Her name was Lauren Jefferson, based on the driver’s license I held in my hand. Twenty-years-old, blonde hair, green eyes, five-six, one hundred fifteen pounds, and an organ donor. The only thing wrong with this sweet sexy girl was her address. She lived in an apartment in the absolute worst part of town. The idea of this gorgeous woman stepping foot in that neighborhood made me want to shoot someone. Like maybe the fucker that was so self-absorbed that he ran the light and totaled her car. She said she wasn’t hurt, but I'd bet she'd wake up in the morning sore.
Looking over the rest of her body she looked fine, hell, more than fine. I'd have to sit here in my car and wait for my cock to settle down before I could climb out again.
The tow trucks had been called and were on the way, so I’d be forced to get out soon. Poor girl, maybe she’d let me give her a lift somewhere, or better yet ... I pulled out my department issued cell phone and called the jackass’s insurance company to try and pull some strings.
“Yes, this is Officer Tyler Evans with the Greensboro Police Department. I’m calling to verify the insurance for a Mr. James Allen, policy number 105598.”
When the agent confirmed he did in fact have up to date insurance with them, I informed them of the accident and inquired whether or not his policy included a car rental. The asshole's did, so I requested that they set it up for the victim, which they kindly agreed to have ready within the hour. I knew the gesture wasn't from the goodness of their hearts, but an attempt to ward off an injured motorist claim. Either way, it worked out great for her.
For some reason I couldn't help but worry about this girl. She just looked so innocent and … damaged. Not sure where that random opinion came from. Maybe it was her address. She put her life in danger every time she stepped foot in that fucking zip code.
The first tow truck finally arrived, and started hooking up the asshole’s luxury car. Guess it was time for me to leave the comfort of the cruiser and stop surreptitiously ogling the girl.
After the asshole and his car pulled away, and the concerned witness finally left, it was just Lauren and I waiting for the second tow truck. I’d never been nervous talking to a woman before. Usually just flashing a smile was all it took to get a woman to jump into my bed and beg me to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. But this girl made me feel like a middle school nerd with a hard-on, trying to ask her to some dorky school dance. I really wanted to ask her out, but hell, a girl like her would probably turn me down. I needed to seriously get a grip, and quit acting like such a fucking chick.
“So, I’d be glad to give you a lift to the rental place. They’ll have you a car ready to go by the time we get there,” I informed her as we waited, leaned against the side of my cruiser.
She looked up at me from the curtain of her long blonde hair.
“A rental car? Really?” she smiled, relief and surprise showing on her beautiful face.
“Really. It's all taken care of.”
Which had me thinking of the ways I could take care of her, in my bed, against my car, or a wall, on the dining room table, anywhere, everywhere.
“Great, thanks. I could definitely use a ride if you don’t mind.”
“It won’t be any trouble at all.” I’d take the longest route possible to spend more time with her.
Finally, unfortunately, the last tow truck arrived, and took her demolished Honda away. I opened the passenger door of my cruiser and held it for her to get in, then climbed into the driver seat and started the car.
“Whew, it’s already so freaking humid, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like by this afternoon,” she remarked as she fanned herself.
I cranked up the AC and shifted the vents toward her.
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a quick smile.
I couldn't pull my eyes away from her. Her long, st
raight blonde hair was blowing away from her face, a bead of sweat running a path down her cleavage that strained against the top of her white spaghetti strap dress. A dress that, now that she was sitting, was sliding significantly above her knees, showing plenty of skin on her slender and beautifully tanned thighs.
Sweat broke out on my forehead and my cock swelled as I gawked at the sex personified woman sitting beside me. I clenched the steering wheel tighter to prevent my itching hands from wandering over and slipping under the hem of her dress, like they wanted to do.
When she lifted all of her hair up off her neck, her eyes closed and her lips parted in the bliss of the cool air. I nearly fucking lost it.
“Jesus,” the groan escaped before I could catch it. Her eyes opened and she looked over at me, a knowing but shy smile curving her lovely lips. Lips I wanted to see around my ... Fuck. This had sexual harassment lawsuit written all over it.
“What’s the matter Officer Evans?”
“You. You’re making it hard to concentrate, and I'm going to feel really bad if you end up in two wrecks today.”
She laughed and let her hair fall back down around her shoulders, then pulled on the hem of her dress, jerking it toward her knees to try and cover more of her thighs. The shift only resulted in jerking the top of the dress down, flashing the front of her white lacy bra, and the abundant mounds of flesh overfilling the cups.
“I’m sorry. I’m being really inappropriate,” I admitted, then finally stopped staring at her rack to put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot.
“I don’t mind,” she replied, and my cock twitched, encouraged by those three words. At least until she threw me for a hell of a loop when she added, “I’m used to it since I’ve been dancing for four years.”
I barely refrained from slamming on the brakes, giving us both whiplash.
“Dancing?” I repeated, afraid I already knew the fucked up answer.
