Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  We headed to the nearest table with bottles of alcohol and red plastic cups. I poured myself a conservative amount of rum and filled the rest with a can of Coke.

  Natalie took the rum from my hands and poured in another two shots worth. "That's better."

  "You're trying to get me drunk," I accused.

  "Yup."

  "You happy now?"

  "No. You also need to find a guy and get laid."

  "I get laid plenty."

  Natalie arched an eyebrow. "When's the last time I saw you with a guy?"

  I didn't want to do the math so I said nothing.

  "Finish your drink, undo the top buttons on your shirt, and go find yourself a man."

  "The kind of man I'm looking for wouldn't be at a party like this. You know my rule."

  "No rock stars," Natalie chimed in the same time I did.

  Tucked away in a sketchy alley in the bad part of town, the biker bar I worked at a few days a week had become a sort of safe haven for celebrities, rock stars in particular. Walt, the bar owner, made sure the place stayed a semi-secret. Only those in the know hung out there.

  In the time I'd worked at Walt's, I'd had more than enough of rock stars and their cocky, narcissistic, over the top attitudes to last a lifetime.

  "I doubt every single person here is some sort of celebrity," Natalie said. "Most are probably just friends of friends, or hangers-on. I'm going to go find the guys. Promise me you'll at least talk to someone hot."

  "If you promise to stop nagging me."

  Natalie gave me a small shove in the center of my back. "Go forth and flirt."

  "You're leaving me?" I grumbled but let her shove carry me forward.

  Sipping my drink, I stood alone in the center of the room, feeling awkward and self conscious. I eyed the crowd. There were a couple guys who seemed my type. Clean cut. Jeans and t-shirts. No leather pants or eyeliner to be seen.

  A couple of them eyed me back with interest. I flashed a smile at each, then flicked my eyes away, pretending to survey the room. I could play coy as well as the next girl.

  With my eyes focused elsewhere, I caught sight of a small group lounging on a sofa. One guy was in the middle of a gaggle of women, one perched on each knee and two on either side of him. He was hidden behind their slim, long-legged figures, but he must have been something to attract the attention of four beautiful girls at once. They ran their fingers through his hair and down his chest, caressing him possessively.

  I was about to glance away and maybe try to catch the attention of one of the previous men who'd shown interest when the girl on his right knee shifted sideways, leaving his profile clear.

  He turned his head. Our eyes locked. The bright blue color was captivating even across the room. I couldn't look away. My grip on my plastic cup went loose until it almost spilled out of my hand.

  This guy was hot.

  He seemed to pause, holding my gaze. My heart beat a small thrill. He tilted his head to the side, murmuring words to the other girl on his knee, eyes not leaving mine.

  "But Gael!" she protested.

  He caressed one bare thigh, pacifying her, and nodded his chin toward the drink table. She pouted, but stood so he could lift himself from the sofa.

  He was tall, with broad shoulders and faded jeans that fit snugly around his trim waist. Messy hair fell over his smooth forehead. Tattoos covered most of his left arm, with a fair smattering on his right. I normally avoided guys with tattoos — I'd had enough of them hitting on me at work — but a flutter hit my stomach.

  He strode through the crowd, deftly avoiding drunk, lurching partygoers. He moved purposefully, a determined expression on his face as he came straight at me. My loose grip turned tight, fingers clenching around the plastic cup. A familiar heat settled between my legs.

  Maybe Nat has been right. Maybe I did need to get laid.

  As he got closer, his expression slowly changed. The determination turned sly as he scanned me up and down, taking in my flushed cheeks and shallow breathing. A small smirk slid across his lips.

  This guy had me pegged. He knew exactly the effect he was having on me. It was the exact same effect he'd had on those girls. He thought I was easy pickings.

  As hot as he was, I had to fight back a laugh. I had him pegged, too. That cocky smirk, that confident swagger. He was the kind of guy used to girls falling at his feet.

  Maybe I did need to get laid, but I certainly wasn't going to be falling for anything or anyone. Especially not a guy like this. He had four girls hanging off him and abandoned them without a second thought?

  This guy had asshole written all over him.

  When he was within a few feet of me, he opened his mouth to speak. I held up a hand to interrupt him.

  "If you're getting ready to give me a line, don't bother. I've heard them all."

  He stopped, taken aback. For a moment I thought he might turn belligerent, like so many guys do when they're turned down. Instead, the surprise on his face morphed into a sort of wicked delight as he laughed, low and deep in his chest.

  "I don't do lines," he said. With one smooth motion he slipped an arm around my waist, fingers curling over my hip. "I was just going to say you look like you need a drink."

  That touch sent a flood of heat coursing through me. I could almost feel every swirled ridge of his fingertips through the thin fabric of my blouse. My inner muscles clenched involuntarily. I told myself it was an automatic response. I'd react that way to any hot guy. It had nothing to do with his crystal blue eyes, or the tilt of his full lips or his subtle woodsy scent, somehow rugged and delicious at the same time.

  "Thanks, but I already have a drink," I said, brandishing my cup.

  "A gorgeous girl like you standing by yourself in the middle of a party?" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's just not right. I think you need more liquid courage."

  He guided me to a table full of drinks, his fingers rubbing small circles in the hollow of my hip. It was all I could do to keep myself from whimpering, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

  "I can approach guys without needing a drink first. In fact, I was just about to go talk to that cute guy over there," I said playfully. "You interrupted my plans."

  "If your goal was to seduce a guy tonight, you should have worn something a little more..." He eyed my outfit, taking in my skirt that fell just below the knee and button up blouse. That smirk graced his lips again. "...risqué."

  I raised an eyebrow. "I caught your attention, didn't I?"

  "I like the good girl schoolmarm look." He handed me a drink. As I took it, he made sure to stroke his fingers against my inner wrist. "Makes me wonder what's hiding underneath."

  I was about to make a smart mouthed comment, but the simmering heat in his eyes told me he was serious. That flutter hit my stomach again. My head knew this guy was bad news, but I couldn't make my insides agree.

  "I didn't have time to tart myself up. I came straight from work."

  "And what do you do for work?"

  Meeting my gaze head on, his expression was intense but sincere. An expert flirt. He actually made it seem like he was interested. I wondered which job to tell him about. Neither of my two jobs were particularly glamorous. Neither of them paid very well, either.

  "I work at a youth center for disadvantaged kids."

  The corner of his lips curled upward. "So I was close. You are a schoolmarm."

  "I'm not a teacher. More like a glorified babysitter."

  "Still. Such a noble cause." His hand slipped lower, thumb brushing over the swell of my ass. "You are a good girl, aren't you?"

  My inner muscles clenched, liquid need flooding my system. I fought against it, struggling to keep my mind from clouding over.

  I pulled back a few inches and jerked my chin to the sofa. All four of his girls were staring at us, raging jealousy evident on the faces. "I'm surprised this good girl caught your attention at all, considering all the leggy models fawning over you."

>   "Didn't you know?" he said with a hint of a dark amusement. "All prepubescent boys dream of getting it on with the hot babysitter."

  With a hand on my lower back, he guided me over to a secluded corner. Against my better instincts, I let him.

  "And is that what you are?" I put a teasing note in my voice. "A little boy with raging, uncontrollable hormones?"

  He moved so he could press himself against me. The hardening length against my side made an ache flare up between my legs.

  "Little?" He leaned down, his lips touching my ear. Rough, calloused fingers stroked my neck, continuing downwards until his palm was pressed between my breasts. My nipples peaked. "Let me take you upstairs and show you just how big I am."

  I shivered, a pulse of heat shooting through me. "I thought you didn't do lines."

  "It's not a line." His low voice sounded almost dangerous, in the most delightful of ways. "It's a promise."

  With deft fingers, he undid the top button of my blouse, dipping his fingers inside to stroke the bare skin just above my cleavage. My very core throbbed and ached.

  "That line is even worse than the first one," I told him, now breathless. He undid another two buttons, baring the tops of my breasts. "I bet none of those clean-cut nice young men over there would have tried to pull these moves on me."

  He slipped his thumb and forefinger into my bra and pinched one of my nipples lightly until I gasped.

  "I don't think you want clean-cut," he spoke in my ear, his amused voice rich and husky. He stepped forward, forcing me back against the wall, until our fronts were pressed together. His length nudged my stomach. I nearly whimpered. He leaned down, putting his face so close to mine I thought he might kiss me. His scent surrounded me, woodsy and masculine. "I don't think you want nice."

  "No?" I whispered back, trying to keep my voice steady. His touch was inflaming every part of me, igniting an inferno between my legs. "What exactly do you think I want?"

  He slid his hands up my inner thighs, dragging my skirt up inch by inch until the hem was bunched at my waist. The only things separating us were my thin cotton panties and his rough jeans.

  "I think..." He ground his hips against me and gave me a knowing grin. " ...you want it dirty."

  I did whimper then, my inner muscles clenching and throbbing. I was so tempted to reach out and unzip his jeans, to let his cock spring out so I could feel his heated length against my skin.

  A sharp bark of laughter sounded from across the room, jolting me back to myself. As secluded as this corner was, we were still in the middle of a party. And this guy was a cocky player trying to get me into bed.

  "Sorry, but I'll have to pass." I shifted out from under his arm, pulling my skirt down. I had to put a few feet of distance between us before I melted into a puddle at his feet. I was already feeling damp in certain places. I nodded my chin to the other room. "You better get back to your friends. They're probably lost without you."

  "They'll survive." His eyes narrowed, dark and glinting. "I'd rather spend my time with you. And I know you want the same."

  "You may think you know what I want, but you don't."

  "Sweetness, it's not that I know what you want. I know what you need."

  I licked my lips unconsciously. His eyes zeroed in on my mouth, that simmering heat even more evident than before.

  If I didn't shoot this guy down now, it would only get more difficult to keep my resolve. I was rapidly turning into a ball of raging, uncontrollable hormones myself.

  I wasn't going to let myself fall for some player.

  "Sorry," I said, faking a nonchalant tone. "Not interested. But thanks for the drink."

  As I turned on my heel and walked away he called out.

  "Hey sweetness. I didn't catch your name."

  "I didn't give it to you." When I looked over my shoulder, I saw that heat in his eyes flare up again.

  This guy liked a challenge. Of course he did. When every girl fell at your feet, you'd naturally be interested in the one who turned you away.

  This guy had no idea how challenging I could be.

  Chapter 2

  I walked away as fast as I could, taking a moment to compose myself. I buttoned my blouse, straightened my skirt, and rearranged the messy bun at the back of my neck. Luckily, considering the kind of party this had turned out to be, no one even noticed my disheveled state. I was still aching inside and my panties were damp, but after a few moments I finally felt collected enough to move on.

  I'd just left the room with all the drinks when Natalie appeared at my side, tugging along another girl. With her dark, cherry red hair and all black ensemble, I recognized the girl as Cerise, one of Morris's childhood friends. She was also in a band, but I didn't hold that against her. I had nothing against girl rockers. From the few times we'd met, I'd found Cerise to be pretty cool, if not slightly high strung.

  "Hey Nat. Did you find Morris?" I asked, hoping my cheeks weren't still flushed.

  "He's out back by the pool with the rest of the guys, like I thought. I found Cerise. Now it's her turn to get drunk."

  Cerise looked behind me and wrinkled her nose. "Were you just flirting with my brother?"

  I turned around to find the sexy blue-eyed hottie back with his gaggle of girls. I panicked. Had she seen me practically hump the guy?

  Wait. Brother?

  Natalie hid a laugh behind her hand. "Didn't you recognize him? That's Gael. He plays bass in Cerise's band, Cherry Lips."

  My stomach dropped. Of course I hadn't recognized him. I've never seen Cerise or her band play live before. "He's a rock star?"

  Cerise snorted. "He'd like to think so."

  "Oh." The disappointment in my chest made no sense. He'd been fun to flirt with, and goddamn did his touch hit my every button, but I knew nothing would have happened. At most, we might have had a steamy make out session before I kicked him to the curb.

  "Was he acting like his typical arrogant, attention-whore self?" Cerise asked. "If so, I apologize on his behalf."

  "He was only slightly arrogant," I said. "I think he was surprised when I didn't fall over myself at the sight of him." I certainly wasn't going to tell them how confident he'd been about getting me into bed. I looked over. Three of the girls had dispersed. He was now alone with one.

  "That's most girls' reaction to him," Cerise said. "I guess I should be glad Gael's easily distracted by a pretty face, or I'm sure he'd be getting into trouble."

  "Trouble?" I asked, worried. "What kind of trouble?" Was it drugs? Rock stars did like to party hard.

  Cerise let out a long suffering sigh. "Trouble as in, trashing the place and getting the cops called on us. Trouble as in, getting into fistfights and getting the cops called on us. Trouble as in, getting caught having sex with groupies in public and getting the cops called on us."

  I snuck another glance at Gael. The girl in his lap blushed as he whispered something in her ear, trailing his fingers up her inner thigh. Just as I'd thought, he'd moved on to the next girl with ease. He was definitely a player, but a delinquent hooligan as well? He hadn't seemed like that kind of guy.

  He shifted his attention from the girl in his lap, scanning the room. Our eyes caught again. He stared at me for several long moments. I held his eyes, challenging him. A small, wicked smile played on his lips. I looked away.

  As attractive as he was, as much as his touch made my insides quiver, I knew I'd made the right choice blowing him off. Now that I knew he was the brother of a friend, in her rock band, and apparently a whole world of trouble, I was glad I'd played hard to get. I had to remember my rule.

  No rock stars.

  After getting Cerise a drink — and after Natalie snuck in another few shots of rum — we wandered through the mansion until we reached the backyard patio. Morris's bandmates were there, stripped down to their boxers playing in the pool. They were splashing their shrieking girlfriends, who sat on the edge with their legs in the water.

  Morris hung back, keeping an eye
the group. Natalie immediately ran to him and threw her arms over his broad shoulders. He was so tall she had to stand on tiptoe. I followed, keeping a safe distance from the pool to avoid getting splashed.

  "Jess!"

  I heard my name being called in a familiar voice. I just knew Cameron Thorne, bassist of Morris's rival band Darkest Days, was hopped up on a combination of vodka and Red Bull. I cringed. The last thing that man needed was an energy drink.

  "Jess!" Cameron called again. I ignored him, knowing that he couldn't be up to any good. He never was. "Jessie!" he continued to call out. "Jess! Jessie! Jess Jess Jess!"

  "What?" I finally asked.

  "You get laid yet?" He threw me a carnal grin.

  "Are you offering?" I shot back with an equally saucy look.

  "You know my heart belongs to one girl, and one girl only." He lunged for the side of the pool and grabbed his girlfriend's legs. He rubbed his face against her inner thighs, dangerously close to making an indecent scene. She scooted backward and pretended to kick him in the head. He swam away, laughing, before turning his attention back to me. "You shouldn't have turned me down so many times."

  "You know my rule," I told him.

  "What rule is that?" asked Ren, the bassist in Morris's band, Feral Silence. For all their supposed rivalry, all the members liked to hang with each other.

  "No rock stars," I told him. "I deal with enough of them at work. I don't need egotistical show-offs in my personal life. No offense," I added.

  Ren shook his head and threw an vexed look at Cameron. "None taken."

  "You have a no rock stars rule?" Cerise asked. "What were you doing flirting with my brother?"

  "I didn't know he was in a band. I just thought he was hot." I shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

  Cerise made a face. "I'm surprised he didn't brag about it. That's usually the first thing out of his mouth."

  "That explains all those girls hanging off him. Girls love a bad boy rock star."

  "Speak of the devil," Cerise said with a grunt.