Deviant Bahavior (The Wild Ones Book 1)

by K. Renee

  Deviant behavior

  The Wild Ones

  Book One

  K. Renee

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Deviant Behavior

  © 2018 K. Renee

  Published by K. Renee

  1st Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: K. Renee - 2018

  k.renee.author@gmail.com

  Cover Design: KLa Boutique

  Formatting: K. Renee

  Cover: © Wander Aguiar

  Cover Model: Brook Dede

  Editor: Ellie McLove @ My Brother’s Editor

  Dedication

  To those who have loved and loss, but found their way back.

  Chapter 1

  Jericho

  Prude.

  It’s typically what I’m called when I don’t tell people about the crazy thoughts that run through my head at all hours of the day or night.

  Do I like good sex?

  Hell yeah! But I also don’t flaunt it everywhere.

  I keep my private affairs, well, private. I don’t like people thinking differently about me in my profession for one, and two I don’t care if people don’t like my natural shyness. It’s who I am, and I’ve learned to embrace it over the years.

  Logging on to my computer, I post a Facebook status that is super vague, but catches the attention of a bunch of my friends. Half of these people I’ve never met in real life, while the other half I’ve spent months talking and hanging out with. Some are even lifelong friends that I don’t get to see nearly enough.

  That’s one of the downfalls to moving to a different state. I feel like I’m all alone in this big world until I log on to my computer. My computer is the only place that I can remember what it’s like to be surrounded by people I know and used to care about. I may not care about them anymore, but it’s not like they know that. The veil can be pulled over my eyes for a few minutes and I can be just like everyone else.

  I work at a club that I was lucky to get a job at when I moved here. It’s the city that never sleeps and has thousands of people and tourists every day, but I still feel alone. I sound like I’m just a whiner when I listen to myself, but it’s the truth. No one here knows my past or the real me.

  When I first moved to Las Vegas, I was hoping that I would find the one. Who am I kidding? I’m not the girl to find love and have the white picket fence. I have secrets just like everyone else, secrets that if they come out, they will ruin friendships and relationships. I’ll be judged for the mistakes of my past and the sins of my parents.

  I’ve spent more time than not, running away from my past. Where I was always demure, my parents were the complete opposite of me. Most of the time they were too busy fighting and fucking to even care about the type of example they were setting for me.

  The only thing they ever really cared about was how to out mind fuck each other, and who could do the most damage to the other one.

  I grew up thinking that love was what I saw from them every day, so I swore to myself that I would never let myself go through that.

  Never wanting another person to treat me like that, I became someone I wasn’t. I lied, I cheated, and I stole. Nothing ever hurt me, but I left a trail of broken hearts and upset friends behind while I never looked back.

  That is until Darious.

  Sighing, I lean back on the couch and close my laptop before pushing it over to the couch cushion beside me. Closing my eyes, I think about the last time someone knew the real me.

  The sex was fantastic, him, not so much. At twenty-eight, I don’t think anyone has ever made me come like he did. He was a royal dick in every other category, but that didn’t stop me from fucking him at every turn.

  We were somewhat exclusive, or so I thought, until I walked into my best friend’s place after she told me to come over ASAP. He had her bent over her kitchen table as he was ramming her from behind with his cock.

  Instead of even trying to figure out what I had just walked into, I cut all ties with both of them. They weren’t worth my time. To say I was disappointed is an understatement. She knew exactly what was going on between me and him and she still pursued him.

  I wanted to hate them, but I couldn’t. Instead, I moved to another state and continued to live my life without the both of them.

  Every few months I get a call from the asshole and I continue to tell him that I want nothing to do with him. He ruined any chance of ever getting me back into his bed the day I caught them fucking. That whole ‘once a cheater’ shit. Yeah, I know… pot meet kettle and all this shit.

  My phone alerts me with a ding and when I look at the screen, I see that I have a new notification on the dating site I belong to. I know it sounds pretty freaking lame. I shouldn’t be looking for love on a website. There are how many available single men out here in Vegas and I can’t get one to even look at me twice unless he’s drunk and I’m still serving him drinks.

  For one, I’m short. Most men want long legged brunettes that are stick thin and that just isn’t me. I’ve got short legs and thunder thighs, as my ex-best friend used to call them. She’s a bitch. Fuck her.

  My five-foot-five-inch frame includes dark hair that falls in waves down my back and it is one of my favorite features about myself. Luckily, I was blessed with an hourglass shape that most would kill for. My breasts are on the larger side and sometimes I hate them. Back pain is a serious issue some days. Any girl who adds to their tits is crazy. They have no idea what they are getting into with the back pain, but I guess beauty is pain and what the fuck ever.

  To the outside world, I am prim and proper, or as my co-workers say a teac
her type. I wear cardigans and pencil skirts. I keep a lot of things hidden under my teacher-y clothes and I’m sure that it would make a nun blush.

  SxyFireman: You can sit on my cock any day.

  Sometimes I don’t even know why I am part of this dating site. All I seem to get are messages from douche bags that want to fuck and that’s it. Maybe I’m fooling myself thinking that I am going to be able to find love in this city. They call it Sin City for a reason. Most men come here to party and dip their dicks into any willing bimbo they find on the Strip. That isn’t really my style, but I can’t knock them for getting their rocks off. Sometimes you just need to get laid.

  I click delete on the message and scroll to the next one that I missed last night.

  Hunk4U: I’d love to have your thighs wrapped around my face.

  Please… Do these guys really think a cheesy ass pick up line is going to get them laid? I delete that message too and close out of the app. I’m done trying to find a man. I guess I’m just going to have to be okay with being one of those cat ladies. On second thought, maybe not. I’m not a fan of cats. Or cat litter. Plus they smell really bad sometimes.

  Instead of worrying about my dating life anymore, I get up and make my way to take a shower and get ready for the night.

  When I finally get to work at one of the busiest clubs on the Strip, I’m greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweat. It’s still something that I will never get used to. No matter how long I’ve worked here, the smell never gets easier.

  Walking toward the bar, I ask the bartender for a glass of water, the same thing I ask for every night. He grabs a cup and puts ice in it before filling it to the top and putting a straw in it. “Here you go Jericho.” He gives me the sly grin he gives me every night before going back to work, prepping for the night.

  I thank him before making my way into the back toward my office. Opening the door, I sigh and shut it, loving the silence it brings. Walking over to the chair, I take a seat and lean back. Taking a sip from my straw, I think about how hectic it’s going to be in a few short hours. Running this club has its drawbacks, but I love the atmosphere. It’s probably why after all this time, I’m still here doing it.

  I’ve threatened to quit on more than one occasion, but Elias keeps me here by either giving me a raise or refusing to take my resignation. He had been great when I showed up here one night begging for a job. I think he took pity on me, or maybe he just wanted me to sleep with him. Either way, he gave me a job as a bartender four years ago and I’ve been busting my ass every day to get to become the club manager. Sure some times I still run drinks, but I don’t have to do as much as the other girls.

  The door to my small office opens and I see Elias come strolling in. I raise an eyebrow at him and he just grins at me. Most of the time, I think he is a creeper. He seems to have a way with the ladies and he bangs pretty much anything with a skirt. Lucky for me, he has a steady stream of pussy and he doesn’t make any moves on me. Well, except for one of his drunken nights. I had to push him off of me when he got too handsy.

  “I have a few special guests coming in tonight. I want to make sure they get everything they want, on the house.”

  I slowly nod my head and watch him. Sitting up, I set my glass on the desk and lean forward.

  “Are these guests of yours, women wearing barely-there dresses?” I smirk at him and that creepy grin spreads even farther across his face.

  “Well, maybe one or two, but the majority of them are some friends of mine from out of town. Now, I know you play the shy librarian to your advantage, but these guys eat that shit up. You may want to be a little feistier.”

  I ignore his comment. I’m not changing my personality just because his friends are horny assholes.

  “I can handle myself,” I scoff.

  His expression changes as he takes me in. His eyes scan over my outfit slowly before coming back up to my face.

  “Trust me, my dear, these men don’t take no for an answer. If they like what they see, they will pursue.”

  I shrug off his statement. I handle men in this club every night. Not once has things gone across the line. I’m not worried about a little flirting or grab ass. I’ve learned over the years that it comes with the territory and as long as they don’t do anything too major, I can deal.

  “Ass grabs and dirty jokes don’t scare me. If anything, I’ll unleash my pent up aggression on them if they try to get fresh with me.” I grin at him. He shakes his head at me before he gets up and starts to walk toward the door.

  “I swear, sometimes I don’t know why I force you to stay.”

  With those parting words, he walks out of my office, shutting the door loudly behind him. I sigh and sink back down into my chair. This night is going to be hell.

  -

  By the time the night is in full swing, I’ve had to call security twice for fights that broke out on the dance floor. I swear drunken people are some of the most childish people I’ve ever met. Walking back through the club, my eye catches a guy standing off to the side of the bar watching the dance floor.

  I keep walking as I continue watching him. His long hair makes me slightly jealous, but it’s his tattoos that have me practically drooling. Before I know it, I’m running smack dab into someone. My face hits his hard chest and I breathe in the most fabulous scent ever. My hands go to his stomach and I push my body away from his. When I look up, I’m staring at the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

  The first thing I notice is the piercing that he has across the bridge of his nose. Typically face piercings aren’t my thing, but he makes it sexy as hell. The three piercings in his lip make me swoon and I swear if he still weren’t holding on to me, I’d probably melt to the ground in a puddle at his feet.

  “S… sorry,” I stutter out.

  He looks down at me and grins. He has to be over six foot with the way he towers over my shorter frame.

  When my legs finally don’t feel like jelly, I take a couple steps back and stare into his beautiful face. His dark hair is short on the sides and longer on top. It’s slicked back in a sexy way that almost looks like someone ran their hands through it.

  The rose tattoo on his neck is peeking out from under the collar of his button-up shirt. They span from one side of his neck to the other. A red rose at his throat and a black rose on each side of his neck. What I would do to see how far that tattoo goes…. When my eyes reach his face again, he has a smirk plastered to it.

  “Are you enjoying the view?” His deep raspy voice is like music to my ears.

  All the loudness of the club seems to dim and the only thing I can focus on is him. As soon as I finally snap back from my lust filled imagination, I turn and stalk off toward the back room. I can feel his eyes on me as I make my escape. God, I’m pretty sure I sounded like an idiot and drooled on him.

  I hear Elias call out my name and I turn to look at him with a scowl on my face.

  “Jericho, my friends have arrived. I need you to ensure that they are taken care of.”

  I nod my head in agreement before I turn to walk toward my office. I need to cool off for a second, that man has my body doing all sorts of things just by his looks.

  “Don’t forget what I said,” he says before I slip into the comfort of my office, slamming the door shut.

  Hopefully tall, pierced, and tattooed isn’t out there when I go back out. I don’t think my sex deprived body will be able to survive a whole night of trying to check his fine ass out.

  Chapter 2

  Wren

  Arriving at an old buddy’s club with a handful of our friends is surreal. Back in school, Elias was always saying how he was going to be the most successful out of us. He thinks that he is hot shit when in reality he isn’t doing better than half of us. He thinks that we have all settled down, but the headlines tell a different story for the guys and me, even if America doesn’t know our real names.

  Half of the crew tonight isn’t part of the band, but we all go way back. A few
are married with kids and I’m surprised they even came out for a night with us. They probably got drug here just like I did. I didn’t want to come, but Elias finally wore me down after a few dozen calls to Enver and me. Enver is the nice one of the group and gives in way too damn easy sometimes.

  I did it mainly so I could get a few days of freedom from the road. Our manager gave us the time off after Enver asked for it and now I have plans of getting laid and hanging by the pool without worrying about someone bitching about me not writing any new music.

  Elias has always thought that he was some Mac Daddy and that the rest of us couldn’t get laid if we tried. Me and the rest of the guys from Arduous Murder have spent many days and nights on the road while Elias has pretty much just fucked any woman that would give him a second glance for years. Me, I’ve spent many nights with randoms more times than I can count. Now, I’m sure he’s fucking the bitches that come in the club looking for a handout, or even his employees.

  As I’m standing there waiting for Elias to get us a VIP table that he insisted on us taking, I’m scanning the crowd. I find a short brunette with the perfect hourglass figure. Every inch of her is screaming that she’s a kinky bitch from her tight little skirt to the little librarian sweater she’s wearing. She is wearing a pair of heels that would look great behind my back as I pounded into her sweet wet cunt.

  The good girls are always the kinkiest.

  I watch the way she moves across the large room, ordering a couple of bouncers around. They look to be breaking a fight up or something. She starts to make her way toward me and I can’t help but grin as she checks out Enver over at the bar. She isn’t paying attention as she continues to walk right at me. Instead of waiting for her to come to me, I start to make my way toward her and cut the distance in half.

  The moment her body hits mine, I know I’m doomed. Her soft body presses into my hard one. Her hands go to my stomach and she gasps, her body tensing as I steady her with my hands. When she looks up at me, I can see her eyes scanning over every inch of my face. She isn’t shy about checking me out, but as soon as she speaks, she becomes like a little mouse.