Pretty Broken Bastard: A Standalone Novel

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Jo?” Bronte asked.

  “What?” I tore my gaze from Carter and back to her. She arched an eyebrow. I frowned, trying to ignore the heat of embarrassment traveling up my neck. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Are you guys fucking?” Her voice lifted in an excited squeal.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “But you want to, right?” She clapped her hands together. “Yes! I told Rhett you guys were perfect for each other.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I rolled my eyes and pretended to study the wall.

  “Come on. It’s true. He likes casual sex. You hate relationships. It’s a match made in heaven.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.” I took a sip of beer then pressed the cold can to my heated cheek. Carter passed in front of me. The scent of leather and beer mingled with male sweat and his cologne, acting like an aphrodisiac, making my muscles clench deep in my center. I followed him with my gaze, taking in the long lines of his legs, the tight stretch of his jeans over his hard ass.

  “Am I?” Bronte shook her head. “You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me. You guys look at each other like the world is on fire.”

  “Right.” I snorted, but her words gave me pause. At Rhett’s request, Carter pulled a wrench from his back pocket and tossed it across the room. Rhett caught it with one hand then all three men reconvened beneath the hood. “Rhett made Carter promise not to sleep with me.”

  She scoffed and lowered her voice. “I’ll take care of Rhett. I think you should go for it. Just don’t fall in love, okay?”

  We ordered pizza and ate in the garage, gathered around a fold-up table, the way we had when Mom had been alive. Back then, Dad had spent his free time in the garage, working on her car. There had been laughter and arguments and stolen kisses between them. After she’d passed, Dad had locked up the garage and had never gone back. It was good to see the place alive again, to see his smiles and hear his gruff voice.

  Every time I looked in Carter’s direction, he was staring back, sometimes smiling, sometimes not. The weight of his gaze made butterflies twirl in my stomach. What if Bronte was right? What if he was my perfect match? I shook my head at the crazy idea. Even though we’d become friends, he was still a pig, and I still hated men. Then again, what was the harm in a little flirtation, some guilt-free fooling around? Carter didn’t want commitment or love or promises. He liked sex, and from what I’d seen of his body, he had to be pretty good at it.

  When Rhett and Bronte left, my sister hugged me tightly and gave me a knowing smile. I squeezed her back, understanding passing between us. Once they were gone, Dad excused himself to the house.

  “I’m going to bed,” he said. “You kids have worn me out.”

  “Okay. Goodnight.” I brushed away a smudge of grease from his chin with my thumb.

  “Goodnight,” Carter said. The two men shook hands.

  “Thanks for the help,” Dad said and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be back, right?”

  “Yes. Rhett’s going to order the parts, and we’ll put them in.” Carter spoke to Dad, but his gaze locked with mine.

  I hopped onto the hood of the Oldsmobile and pressed my thighs together against the infinite ache of need.

  “Excellent. Well, I’m heading to the house.” Dad passed a meaningful glance between me and Carter. “I’m going straight to sleep, and I’ll turn on the TV in my room. You’re welcome to stay over, Carter. You kids make as much noise as you like.”

  “Dad.” I rolled my eyes. Embarrassment scalded my cheeks.

  With a wink to me, he closed the door behind him.

  Carter laughed. “I love your old man. I hope I’m half as cool when I’m his age.”

  “I could die.” I fanned my face with a pizza napkin. “He’s usually not like that. I mean, he doesn’t pimp me out to strangers.”

  “But I’m not a stranger anymore, am I?” He took the napkin from my hand and tossed it into the trash can.

  My mouth went dry. “No,” I croaked.

  He placed one large hand on each of my knees, spread them wide, and stepped between them. With deliberate slowness, he brushed my hair over my shoulders and bared my neck. How many nights had I dreamed of him touching me in just this way? Our eyes met as he lowered his lips to my throat. His breath burned my skin. I moaned, wanting more.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you today?” he asked.

  “Not really.” I clutched the car cover. The cool smoothness of the canvas contrasted with the roughness of his jeans between my thighs. “You’ve been hiding it pretty well.”

  “Such a smart ass.” Soft lips pressed into mine. His tongue dipped inside my mouth, tasting of beer and pizza and spices. He drifted his hands over my shoulders and down my chest to cup both my breasts. The heat of his palms burned through the thin cotton of my shirt. I wanted to spontaneously combust.

  “You’ve got the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen.” He squeezed gently. My pussy responded by clenching. “I got off in the shower this morning thinking about them.”

  “I wish I could have seen that.” I closed my eyes, picturing him naked beneath a stream of steaming water, his dick in his hand, grunting my name. The thought turned my knees to jelly.

  “I think about fucking them.” He pushed my breasts together and ran his tongue along the line of my cleavage. I nearly fainted from the combination of wetness and heat. He placed a kiss on the hollow above my clavicle. I tilted my head, allowing his lips to travel higher, up to my jaw.

  “Is that the only thing you want to fuck?” My voice returned, along with my courage. I pulled the elastic from his hair. The thick locks spilled over his shoulders. The movement released the citrusy scent of his shampoo.

  We stared at each other. His nostrils flared. I wrapped his hair around my left fist and tugged hard. His growl snapped my self-control in half. If I was going to do this, it had to be now, before I lost my nerve.

  With both hands, I lifted the hem of my shirt over my head. Carter’s gaze ran over my body. My skin burned everywhere his eyes landed. Together we pulled his shirt off. The skin of his chest was smooth, his nipples small and flat. I drank in every inch of his bare flesh down to the star tattoo below his left hipbone. “You’re perfect,” I said.

  “Far from it,” he replied. “But you—you’re better than perfect, better than my dreams.” With a fingertip, he explored the swells of my breasts, along the lacy edge of my bra. “Take this off. Let me see you.”

  I reached behind my back and unclasped the bra with a flick of my fingers. He lowered the straps down over my shoulders. My breasts fell free. Cool air breezed over my naked flesh. With one hand, he cupped the left breast, lifting it, testing the weight in his hand. The pad of his thumb brushed over the nipple. I hissed at the sting of arousal.

  “I need to taste this.” He bent and drew one pale pink nipple into his mouth. I smoothed my hands down his back and arched into him. “Mmmm…sweet,” he murmured, his breath scalding the sensitive skin. He began to suck. Each flick of his tongue over the tip sent a pang of need deep into my center. I cupped the nape of his neck to keep him near, and gave myself over to the pleasure of being touched.

  “What about Rhett? Your promise?”

  “Screw that. Deal’s off. I told him today.”

  Our harsh breathing filled the silence. Carter yanked down my pants. I fumbled with his zipper, freeing the length of his long, hard cock. It sprang forward into my hand. “Condom?” I asked.

  “Wallet. Back pocket.”

  Of course he’d be prepared. I tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d been with a lot of women before me and there would be many more to follow. My focus remained on the present, on the feel of his calloused hands on my body, the strength of his thighs as he spread mine wider, the scrape of his beard over my bare skin. This was about sex, not feelings. I needed this release. I felt wild, wanton. We pulled apart long enough for him to
slide the condom over his shaft, and then we snapped back together.

  “I’m going to let you fuck me,” I said, meaning every word of it. “And you’d better make it good, because it’s never going to happen again.”

  Chapter 11

  Carter

  “Carter.” She said my name, desperate and needy, drawing my attention back to her face. Then she pulled my hair, hard enough to make me grunt. God, I loved a woman who took charge during sex. “Do it now.”

  With both hands on her ass, I lifted her onto my cock. She was so wet; I slid inside easily. We moaned in tandem. The tight, hot walls of her pussy clenched around me. I wanted to hammer into her, but I forced myself to pause for a second and gather my sensibilities.

  She tugged on my hair again, harder. I hissed at the pleasure-pain. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

  “Easy, baby.” I murmured the words against the tiny shell of her ear. Her breasts rose and fell, her breathing ragged. She was wound up tight for me. I pushed further inside, giving her all of me, and held there. Her nails dug into my shoulders. “God, you feel unbelievable.”

  “So do you.” The tip of her tongue slid across her trembling lower lip.

  “One of these days, I’m going to fuck that smart mouth.” I ran the tip of my nose along the column of her neck, drinking in her delicious scent, nibbling the galloping pulse at the base of her jaw.

  “Yes.” Her pupils dilated until her eyes looked black. “What else will you do?”

  “I’ll taste you here.” I placed my thumb on her clit and rubbed a small circle. Her head tipped back, eyelids lowering. “Would you like that?”

  “Yes. Oh, God yes.” She undulated her hips, moving when I wouldn’t, taking control. I followed her lead, rotating my pelvis to match her pace. We fit together perfectly. I pulled out all the way then slid home again with a sharp thrust. She yelped in surprise then smiled. “Yes. That. Again.”

  We fucked like animals on the hood of the car. Our skin slapped together. Our grunts and the smell of sex filled the air. I hammered into her over and over and over until I forgot to worry about anything but her. She clung to me, raked my skin with her nails, called out my name like I was a god. The muscles in my legs strained from the effort. It was perfect and raw and unnerving.

  “I’m going to come,” I said when the white-hot flash of pre-release licked up my legs. My words sent her pussy into spasms. She clutched and fluttered around my cock. I picked her up, pushing into her until I thought she might split in two. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her cries breaking the night silence. “Give me your mouth, Jo. Now.” Our mouths came together for the first time tonight. I silenced her whimpers with my lips and tongue. My balls tightened, and I lost all sense of time and space.

  When I finally started to come down from the euphoria, I realized she was completely naked, my pants were around my ankles, and we were standing in the center of the garage. My body trembled like I’d run a marathon, muscles spent and aching. I set her gently onto the hood of the car, afraid I might drop her. Her legs slipped from my waist. We stared at each other.

  She broke the silence first, tearing her eyes from me and scanning the floor for her clothes. “Well, I guess I’d better get inside. I’ve got to get to work early.”

  And that was it. We both got dressed. I walked her to the house. She went inside, and I went home. It should have ended there. One night. One fuck. No expectations. It should have, but it didn’t, not for me.

  The next morning, I wanted to call her. God knew why. It went against all my rules. No phone calls. No sleeping over. No dates. The list went on and on. During my adult life, I’d stuck to those guidelines like they were written in stone. A dozen times throughout the day, I brought up her number on my phone, and a dozen times I cancelled it. God, what was wrong with me?

  I never intended to let things go so far with Jo, but my attraction had morphed into an obsession. That night, I fell asleep with my dick in my hand, dreamed of her pretty tits, and awoke with a raging erection. I thought one encounter would be enough, that the fantasies would melt away like they had with every other girl I’d been with. I didn’t expect her skin to smell and taste like cotton candy. I didn’t think the reality of her would far exceed the fantasy. Instead of cleansing her from my system, I’d added fuel to the fire, making it burn brighter and more intensely.

  I trudged through work, processing bonds, following up on clients, and sifting through leads on bail jumpers. Later that night, I headed to my favorite watering hole. Maybe I could find a pretty face to erase the picture of Jo in my head and the feel of her on my cock. No one compared, however. Not the pretty bartender or the group of college girls sending flirtatious smiles in my direction or the businesswoman in the corner who sent me a drink. After a couple of beers, I headed home, more restless than when I began, and stared at the TV.

  My phone taunted me. What was she doing? It was close to ten o’clock. She was probably in bed, since she went to work so early in the morning. My thumb hovered over her name in my contact list. Before I could second guess my actions, I typed out a quick text. Texting wasn’t calling, so technically, I wasn’t breaking my rules.

  Me: Are you awake?

  I stared at the phone, wishing I could take it back. What if she thought I was an idiot? Hell, I was an idiot, acting like a teenager, obsessing over our one-off. Eager for a distraction, I headed to my bedroom and placed the phone on the nightstand. Following a cold shower, I climbed into bed. The phone buzzed just as I snapped off the light.

  Jo: What’s up?

  My heart raced and my mouth went dry. Aside from the occasional drunk text the only women I texted were my mom, Darcy, and Reagan. Now that I had Jo’s attention, I had no idea what to say. Moisture gathered on my palms. I waited a few seconds, not wanting to appear overeager.

  Me: Are you in bed?

  Jo: Yes, are you?

  Me: Yes.

  Jo: Alone?

  I read and reread her message, trying to deduce her mood, her motives. The minds of women had always eluded me, and I’d never stuck around long enough to learn anything about them other than how to get them off. Had I opened a Pandora’s box by screwing her in the garage, by contacting her again? The Jo I knew didn’t give a flying fuck about having a relationship. So what if she had an unhealthy obsession with her ex? It had nothing to do with me. If anything, it let me off the hook. This thought eased my misgivings. By her own admission, she was out for a good time and nothing else. Maybe I should call her bluff, as a test.

  Me: I’ve got a hot brunette in my bed and she’s begging me to fuck her.

  Her reply came immediately, and it wasn’t at all what I expected.

  Jo: What are you going to do to her? Tell me.

  Something tightened low in my gut. I sat up, interest flaring. I typed out an answer, erased it, and started again.

  Me: I’ve got her stripped naked and I’m sucking on her tits.

  Jo: What a coincidence. I’m naked too.

  I dropped the phone. Damn. A flash of her stretched out on the bed lit up my imagination, perky tits in the air, nipples straining skyward, and the sexy V of her pussy staring back at me. Blood rushed into my cock, leaving my thoughts clouded, making the room spin.

  Me: Calling.

  She answered before the first ring ended. Fuck my stupid rules.

  “Are you really naked?” I asked.

  “Yes. And I’m touching myself.” On the phone, her voice sounded lower, huskier, seductive. “I’m so horny, Carter.”

  My reservations withered and died. “Where?” My voice broke. “Where are you touching yourself?”

  “I’m tugging on my nipples.” A tiny moan followed the hitch of her breath.

  “Are you wet?” My cock stiffened to the point of pain. I shifted to ease some of the pressure, leaning forward, wishing I could see her. The joints of my fingers ached from gripping the phone.

  “No fair. It’s your turn. I want to know if you
’re hard.”

  “God, yes.” The outline of my erection strained against the cotton of my boxer briefs. I dragged my palm along the length of it.

  “Are you touching it?” Her voice was soft, intimate. “Is she touching it?”

  So, that was her game. Little Jo Hollander wanted it dirty. This was her lucky day, because I did too. “Yeah. She’s sucking me, running her tongue up and down my shaft.” I shoved my hand inside my underwear and stroked my cock. The vein on the underside pulsed.

  “Do you like it?” The lazy purr of her words made my balls tighten. “Does her mouth feel good?”

  “I’d enjoy it more if it was your mouth.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No.” The sharp refusal brought my hand to a standstill. “You can’t. It’s late. Dad’s asleep, and you’d wake him up.”

  “I want to see you,” I said. “I’m so fucking hard I can’t stand it. Let me come over, Jo.” I’d never begged a woman for sex before, but I had no problems doing it now. If she asked, I’d crawl on my knees for it.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” The promise in her words eased my anxiety while stoking my orgasm. “Listen to my voice. Are you listening, Carter?”

  “Yes.” Every word, every breath, drew me deeper into a new kind of hell, one where only Jo and I existed.

  “I’ve got my fingers in my pussy. I’m rubbing my thumb over my clit, and it feels so good. I wish it was your tongue.”

  “You’re killing me,” I growled and thrust into my fist, the need to come unbearable. “I bet you taste great.”

  “Do you think about me, Carter? Do you think about putting your mouth on me? Tasting me?” Her harsh breathing carried across the air waves. She was hovering at the brink and so was I.

  “Yes. I want to put my tongue inside you, lick you until you squirm.” My balls tightened, and a warning tingle jolted down my legs. “God, I’m so close.”