Hard SEAL: A Dark Bad Boy Next Door Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  Sadie doesn’t have to wait long to get noticed by the smelly stranger. She stands so close that he ends up brushing against her. He turns around to face Sadie and initially looks like he wants a fight. When he sees it’s a woman he looks her up and down like she’s a piece of meat.

  “Damn, girl, you’re looking good tonight.”

  She ignores him. After going to all that effort, she just ignores him. He doesn’t give up, and I realize she’s just playing hard to get.

  “I’m going to buy you a drink?”

  “If you must,” Sadie says with a sigh.

  The guy looks up and realizes there’s no bartender.

  “Oy, Tanner,” he yells, in the direction of a closed door at the side of the bar. “Unless you’re balls deep in something back there, how about you come out here and serve some drinks?” There’s a long pause, but the door doesn’t open. “I love that guy, but he spends more time fucking pussy than he does serving drinks.”

  I need to get out of here. It’s bad enough being in the same place as idiots like this, I don’t want my drinks to be served by someone who probably hasn’t washed his hands after his last conquest.

  I’ll have one drink and then leave. Sadie can’t complain if I have a drink. She doesn’t need me here anyway. Sadie’s perfectly capable of getting laid by herself, as she’s proving right now by letting this guy rub up against her at the bar.

  How does she stand the smell?

  I’m still not ready for all that. I haven’t been with anyone since Fuckface. Sadie is right about one thing; tonight is the perfect night to let my hair down and have a one night stand. It’s a great idea in theory, but in practice I know I’m not ready.

  No, I’ve made up my mind. No way am I going home with one of these muscular meatheads, nor one of the geeky law students. I’m going back to my hotel room alone and with any luck I’ll get an early night.

  Sadie will have enough sex for the both of us, because there’s no way I’m putting out.

  Then the bartender comes out to serve the drinks.

  Holy shit.

  Chapter Two

  Tanner

  We need to get better whiskey in this place.

  I pour myself another measure, tiny remnants of ice cubes floating around on top of the drink.

  I hate this night. Twice a year we get completely fucking invaded by law students. That’s what they are—students. They’re not lawyers—not yet—but you wouldn’t know it from the way they act. Fuck me, they walk around like they own the place. I’ll give them a tiny bit of credit—they do tip well. Better than the regulars do, anyway.

  I last twenty minutes behind the bar before having to duck into the office for a strong drink. I get that they want to celebrate after a big exam, but why do they want to talk about the fucking thing so much? You’d think they’d want to forget about it, but all they do is go on about the questions and whether they got them right or wrong.

  It’s such bullshit. They’re trying to make themselves feel better and make others feel worse at the same time.

  What did you conclude for question three? I came down in favor of the plaintiff because although the defendant’s motion was strong, he filed the amendment too late.

  Oh, I decided he filed the amendment on time because I didn’t count public holidays.

  Shit, you must’ve got the right answer, I completely missed that.

  No, you got the right answer. I’m going to fail.

  Blah, blah blah.

  Eventually, I either had to duck into the office for a strong drink, or smash a bottle over the head of the next guy to ask me if I serve ‘whiskey with orange juice’, which is apparently some in-joke judging by the way they all start laughing. I don’t get it. I don’t want to.

  I’d rather smash a bottle over my own head than go back out there to be honest.

  Then I hear Jackson scream my name.

  “Unless you’re balls deep in something back there, how about you come out here and serve some drinks?”

  The fucking nerves on that guy. He must be showing off to a woman, because that’s the only explanation for why he’d be so brave as to yell at me like that. If he thinks I’m going to come running like a fucking dog then he’s got another thing coming.

  Jackson’s taken a few steps up in the pecking order with some of the smaller gangs, but he’s still so far down the food chain that I can make him clean the bar with his tongue just by looking at him funny. I’m not scared of anyone in these local crews, but there are a few that I begrudgingly stay clear of.

  I finish off the whiskey and head back out to the bar. I guess I’ll have to work at some point tonight. There’s only one other server on this shift and she wasn’t hired for her ability to pull a good pint. The locals love her though.

  I manage Hard Times, but I don’t own it. So long as the place stays standing, I’m generally good to go. It’s a good gig, but tonight… well, some nights test my patience.

  Sure enough, Jackson is fawning over some poor girl who is in for a whole night of disappointment if she’s not careful. The girls have told me about Jackson. I always knew he was all mouth and no pants, but by all accounts he’s not that great with his mouth either.

  Jackson’s girl looks like an imitation of the regulars in here. She’s clearly one of the law students who’s just taken the bar exam, but she’s making a vague effort to fit in. I know the type. This girl wants some bad boy cock. I’m not sure whether I should be annoyed or impressed by her. She’s clearly a posh floozie trying to slum it for the night, but credit where it’s due, at least she’s not dressed like the rest of these stuck up little princesses. I’ve seen blouses with so many buttons fastened I’m amazed they can breathe.

  “What do you want, Jackson?” I ask gruffly. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to order another drink? You’ve been nursing that one for an hour.”

  I see a flash of annoyance across his face, but he’s not drunk enough to say anything to me directly. Good for him—I guess he wants to go home with all his teeth tonight.

  “Just want to buy the ladies a drink,” Jackson replies politely.

  Ladies?

  I’d only noticed the one next to Jackson, but then a woman steps out from behind the two of them.

  She’d been hiding, although God only knows why. No one who looks that good should hide. Unlike her friend, she’s nervous and dressed sensibly, although there’s a little bit of skin on display. Enough that I’m having trouble keeping my eyes above chest height.

  She’s come dressed for a cocktail bar, not a dive bar like Hard Times. Her tight black dress is far too formal for this place, but I’ll kick everyone out and turn it into a wine bar if it means she’ll stay.

  Damn, she’s beautiful. Long wavy brown hair hangs down her back, as she brushes some nervously away from her face.

  She’s curvier than her friend, although that’s not saying a lot. She has those ‘child-bearing hips’ that always make my blood boil, but it’s her breasts I can’t take my eyes off. They’re much bigger than they have any right to be on a girl of her size; they’re firm and succulent, desperate for a man’s attention.

  I double-check her chest for signs of padding, but I don’t see anything. I’ve always had an eye for unnatural boosting, but these are real. Her friend on the other hand—let’s just say Jackson might be disappointed when he sees the goods.

  It’s not often I’m glad to be behind the bar, but right now I’m thankful my cock is hidden away out of line of sight. It’s twitching like crazy at the thought of unzipping her dress later tonight and going to town on those titties.

  How do I play this one? Let’s see, what do we have here? The friend has gone full slut and clearly wants a night of wild abandon with the type of guy she’ll never see again once she’s a lawyer. But this girl isn’t giving off that vibe. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

  I can deal with stuck up girls. She wouldn’t be the first posh girl I’ve fuc
ked in the alley out back, however I get the distinct impression she’s going to leave here as soon as possible.

  She’s only here because of her friend, and that means if her friend hooks up with Jackson she’ll bail immediately. In that case….

  “You get those test results back, Jackson?” I ask loudly.

  “Dude, what the fuck?”

  “I’m rooting for you man. Can’t say I’ve dealt with anything like that myself—I play it safe—but at least if you identify the problem they can cure it. Frankly, I’m fed up with you scratching your crotch all day at my bar.”

  Success.

  The friend grabs Jackson’s hand with her thumb and forefinger and pulls it off her thigh before quickly moving over to the far end of the bar with the girl. The girl smiles briefly, but when I smile back she reverts to neutral mode.

  I hear Jackson moaning at me in the background, but I ignore him and walk over to the girls.

  “What can I get you ladies to drink?”

  “I’ll just have a bottle of Budweiser Light,” the friend says.

  Budweiser Light? Who says that? And she was fitting in so well.

  “One Bud Light,” I say. “And what about you, gorgeous?”

  My cock isn’t so much twitching anymore as full on throbbing. Fuck, I really need to hit that piece of ass tonight. She hasn’t had any in a while. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. She can’t be short of offers, and must be used to turning men away. I might need to pull out all the stops tonight.

  Or maybe not; it’s hard to tell in the dim light and with the black dress, but I’m sure I can see her nipples peaking through the thin fabric. They’ve hardened. Oh fuck, she wants me.

  My cock throbs in response, practically bursting through the denim in its eagerness to get in that tight pussy.

  “Do you have a wine list?” the girl asks.

  “A wine list?”

  “Yeah, you know, a list of your wines. I don’t know many other ways to phrase it.”

  Sassy. I’m going to enjoy shoving my dick in this one, no doubt about it.

  “Just drink beer,” her friend says, looking slightly embarrassed.

  “I don’t like beer. I want wine.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll get the wine list.”

  I grab a pen and a napkin and write out all the various vintages we have on offer tonight.

  “White Wine and Red Wine,” the girl reads from the napkin.

  “You know what, I just remembered….” I take the napkin back and cross out ‘red wine.’ “We’re out of the red.”

  “I guess I’ll go for the white wine,” the girl says. “It sounds delightful.”

  The girl rests her arm on the bar and then immediately regrets it. I swear, the bar is cleaned every day, but it takes barely an hour before it’s a sticky, disgusting mess again. I have the worst fucking customers.

  “I’ll get you a table,” I offer. “On one condition.”

  “And what might that be?” the friend asks. I get the distinct impression I can say pretty much anything and she would go along with it right now.

  “I want your name.” I’m talking to the girl, but it’s the friend who answers.

  “My name is Sadie, and this is Elena.”

  “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Elena.” She gives the tiniest of smiles, before looking down at the floor. “Since you asked, my name is Tanner.”

  “Hi,” she mutters in reply.

  Come on, Elena, I’m not wrong about those erect nipples, and it ain’t cold in here. Don’t play so hard to get.

  “I’ll go work out a table for you.”

  I head over to where Daron and a couple of his buddies are hanging out.

  “Daron, I need this table.”

  “What for?” He looks over to Elena and Sadie at the bar and laughs. “Never mind. Think I’ve figured it out.”

  Daron makes his buddies stand up and vacate the table, so I wave the girls over.

  “Here you go, ladies. No need to come back to the bar. If my waitress ever comes back from her break, I’ll make sure you get table service.”

  “We’d rather get service from you,” Sadie says.

  “That okay with you, Elena?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she replies. She couldn’t sound more disinterested if she tried.

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart, just let me know. Anything you want at all from me and it’s yours. Anything at all.”

  Sadie is staring at Elena open-mouthed and not at all subtly poking her in the leg, but Elena only responds with the smallest of nods in my direction.

  I head back to the bar and leave the two of them alone for a bit. My best option is to let Sadie do the work for me. Right now, Sadie is encouraging Elena to loosen up and have fun. By the time I go back, hopefully she’ll be on board with that. If not, well, I’m still not giving up. I have at least nine other ways I can get her into bed tonight. Nine’s kind of a magic number with me, come to think about it.

  “Which one are you after?” Daron asks.

  “Black dress,” I reply.

  Daron nods in approval. “You might have some competition. Some of my lads are quite keen on her, too.”

  “Okay. You mentioned something about competition?”

  Daron laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “I’ve got to admire your confidence.”

  “I’d be insane to ignore a decade of success. The history books show that if I want to fuck a girl, I usually end up fucking her. I don’t see why tonight will be any different.”

  “Well, I’m glad one of us is getting some. I doubt I’ll have time tonight.”

  “You got a job?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry, nothing particularly dangerous. Just need to have a word with some people, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too. You never know, she might be a real live wire once you get her in bed. It’s always the quiet ones.”

  I look over and see Elena staring in my direction. She immediately looks away, but I spot her hand lightly brushing the top of her breasts. She’s flustered. Sadie is egging her on, and she’s running out of reasons not to.

  Her legs are crossed under the table, her little black dress riding up her thighs. I can’t see any of the goods, but they’re tantalizingly within reach. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. I expect there’s a modest amount of hair just above a tight, wet slit that is begging for action.

  I doubt she’s a virgin, but most girls usually feel like one when I start sliding inside them. Like I said, nine’s a magic number. I imagine her groaning deeply from pleasure and pain as I push myself deep into her core. It’s too much for some girls, but I think Daron’s right—this one could be a real live wire.

  I spot my waitress coming back from her break and make her take over the bar.

  I’ve got work to do, and it might be more challenging than opening bottles of beer.

  Sadie, I hope you put in a good word for me, because something tells me I’m going to need it.

  Chapter Three

  Elena

  I don’t know whether I’m scared or excited.

  My heart is racing, and I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Tanner looks like someone I should be scared of. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and jeans, but the tattoo on his arm is ringing warning bells in my head.

  No good, sensible man has a tattoo like that. He’s trouble, and he wants people to know it. I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding men like him. I don’t want anything to do with them, much to the delight of my father. When you grow up with a cop for a dad, you tend to stay clear of criminals. If Tanner doesn’t have a criminal record, then it’s only because he hasn’t been caught yet.

  There’s a tightness in my stomach that could be fear or excitement, but there’s no mistaking the arousal between my thighs. The warmth is spreading from my core, and my breath catches whenever I look over at him. I’m doing that a lot.

>   He’s a thug. That’s what my brain tells me. He’s tall, with a rugged but pleasant face. He could easily be a star in an action movie with that mature yet sexy look about him. But then there’s his body. You don’t get muscles like that without spending ridiculous amounts of time in a gym. I’m more used to guys who treat the gym as a chore to be ticked off three times a week maximum.

  And then there’s the tattoos. I hate tattoos. I think it’s a dragon, but it’s hard to tell. A tail is winding down his forearm, and I’m sure I can see the hind legs around the bicep. I wonder where it ends. His chest? His abs? Perhaps it goes even further down. Maybe the mouth breathing fire is his… yeah, wouldn’t surprise me if he’s done something like that.

  His tattoo is a work of art. I will admit that much. The color and detail is visible even from halfway across the bar. It’s much nicer than the flaming skulls and motorbikes I see on most of the other morons in here.

  He keeps looking over at me. I don’t think I’m imagining that. Usually I assume guys are checking out Sadie, but we keep making eye contact. Why is he obsessed with me? If he likes the slutty, obvious type, then he should be all over Sadie, or one of the other barely dressed women in here. If he’s into the nerdy type then he can take his pick from at least twenty law students who are more attractive than me.

  I’m not unattractive, but I know my limits. I’ve been with nice-looking guys before, but never the eights or nines out of ten. Certainly not the tens out of tens. Maybe he has his beer goggles on? But he’s working, so presumably he isn’t drinking?

  This is confusing.

  I force myself to look away from him and sip my wine. It’s as disgusting as you’d expect from a place that only serves a generic white or red wine. Oh no, sorry I forgot, they’re out of red wine. I don’t think Sadie is enjoying her ‘Budweiser Light’ all that much either judging by the face she makes as she sips at it.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” I suggest. “The drinks are disgusting, this bar smells bad, and the only guy you’ve shown an interest in is riddled with diseases. Maybe we can get a decent cocktail at the hotel.”