BARE SKIN: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Callie Pierce

  “Anyway,” I finally said when I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry, but I probably won’t be able to stop by this weekend. The shifts are going to be during visiting hours. But if there’s an emergency, I’ll have my cell. My customers can wait long enough that I can take a damn phone call, at least.”

  “Okay. Just… try not to work yourself into the ground, okay?”

  I winced, once more feeling incredibly guilty. But I didn’t come clean. Instead, I said, “Okay kiddo. I’ll do my best. You get some rest and I’ll give you a call when I can.”

  “Love you,” she told me softly.

  My heart twinged as it always did. I wasn’t a mother, but sometimes I felt like one. I’d helped raise my little sister and it left me feeling not just responsible, but like she was the most important thing in my world. I imagined that was what parenthood was like.

  “Love you, too.”

  We hung up and I took a moment to remind myself that lying to her was necessary. It was okay, this one time, because I was protecting her and doing it to save her. That was just enough to make my feet move toward the door. I reached for the knob and jerked it open, then let out a cry. I jumped back, heart pounding in my chest and eyes wide.

  Oh, shit.

  Brandon stood in the doorway. He was about six feet tall with dull brown hair and muddy eyes that often seemed angry. He spent time at the gym, so there were muscles there, but they never seemed to be quite enough to make him large. Instead, they made him seem average. In fact, everything about him seemed average.

  When we first met, I had liked that. It had appealed to me because it made me feel like we were equals. Because I was average, too. But now… Now, I disliked that average-ness. It made him seem too much like wallpaper or background noise. Yeah, it was there, but you never really noticed it. Not until it started peeling or the sound began to grate on your ears.

  “Brandon, w-what are you doing here?”

  The urge to slam the door in his face was strong and I would have tried it if I thought I could get it closed before he caught it. He was stronger than I was – I didn’t know if he was faster – so I tried to play it cool.

  Brandon smiled at me, almost sweetly, except his eyes still looked mad. He had looked mad since I had refused to have sex with him the first time, and it just seemed to escalate from there.

  “I came to see you, baby.” He smiled, showing white teeth that were just slightly crooked. “You’re not returning my calls and I just wanted to talk.”

  “No.” Be firm, be firm. “We don’t need to talk about anything, Brandon. We’re done, over, remember?”

  His smile dropped and he took a step forward. He wasn’t across the threshold yet, but it was close. If he took another step inside, he would be, and I wouldn’t have a shot at getting the door closed. “Don’t be that way, Alyssa.”

  I swallowed nervously. “Just go, Brandon. Please.”

  I shouldn’t have tacked on that please, because it sounded timid and weak. Not the image I wanted to present right now.

  His eyes darted to the bag slung over my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”

  I opened my mouth to lie through my teeth, but then stopped. This was the perfect opportunity, wasn’t it? I could tell him I was meeting someone. That I was spending the weekend with another man. That would tell him it was really over, that I’d moved on.

  Almost shaking with nerves, I lifted my chin a little and tried to appear confident. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m meeting someone. We’re… We’re spending the weekend together.”

  Instantly, his face flushed a blotchy red in hot anger. He looked ready to kill and I was likely the target. My hand went to the door. As he asked, “Who? Who are you fucking? You won’t sleep with me, but—” I slammed the door in his face. He tried to step into it, but I put all my weight behind it. I just barely moved fast enough. He started to turn the knob, but I locked it before he could.

  “Alyssa!” he screamed, pounding on the door. “Open up, you fucking whore!”

  I flinched at his tone, his words, and the angry pounding. But I didn’t open the door and finding a shred of bravery somewhere inside, I yelled at him, “You’d better leave now! I’m calling the cops!”

  I heard, “Bitch!” and one last pound at my door, then silence. I risked a glance through the peephole and saw that the space on the other side of my door was empty. No one.

  Relief mixed with lingering fear. My body shook with the aftermath of that encounter, but at least he was gone. And maybe this time, he wouldn’t come back. I didn’t really believe it, but I hoped.

  After this, I’m moving. A new place, a new start, and no more Brandon.

  I hoped it would be enough.

  # # #

  I waited another hour before leaving. I had to text Jude and let him know I would be late. My excuse was lame – finishing up at work – but I didn’t feel like telling him the truth. This was a business transaction, not a relationship, so I knew he didn’t want to hear it. I’d deal with Brandon myself; it was all I could do.

  When I finally arrived at the coffee shop, I realized that I didn’t have a very good idea of who I was looking for. Yes, I knew he had great abs and tattoos, but that was about it.

  Biting my lip, I pulled out my phone and sent him a quick text.

  Here. Where are you?

  It took only a second to get a reply. Sitting outside. Very last table on the left.

  I went inside the shop and out the back, searching for the last table and—

  I froze. There were a half a dozen tables, some of them occupied, some empty, but there was no question about which one he’d meant. At the very end on the left was a small table with only two chairs and a small blue umbrella. Sitting in one of those chairs was possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  He sat slouched in the chair slightly so that his long legs could extend beneath the table. They were encased in black leather and heavy boots that might have been steel-toed. His torso was long with hard lines that were outlined perfectly by a dark gray t-shirt. A black leather jacket was slung over the back of his chair, for which I was grateful. It meant I got to see his well-defined arms and the snaking tattoo that crawled out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

  By the time I made it to his face, I must have already been drooling, but if I hadn’t I’d have started then. His face was strong with a square jaw and light blonde stubble lining it. His mouth was slanted in impatience with two lines on either side that suggested he either smiled or frowned a lot, and maybe dimples. His hair was blonde and just a little shaggy. Not unkempt, but deliberately longish, like maybe he enjoyed fingers running through it.

  And finally, his eyes: Blue. Bright. Bold. Framed in dark lashes, longer than any man had any right to have.

  And then I finally noticed those eyes were focused on me.

  Chapter Six

  Jude

  I caught her staring. There were plenty of women who did that to me. They’d check me out like I was a meal, eyes raking over my body and lingering on parts they particularly liked or were wondering about. My package was of particular interest for a number of women and their eyes would linger on my crotch, imagining what might be there.

  Which was why I might have dismissed the woman who’d just come out to the patio. Women stopped and stared; it wasn’t unusual. But her gaze didn’t linger on my crotch or on my muscles. Instead, she took in the whole of me and when her eyes met mine, they lingered. She was captured and it wasn’t just my body that had done it.

  I took my own stock of her quickly.

  Tight black jeans that encased long, shapely legs. I hoped they looked as good out of the jeans as they did in them. If the picture was any indication, they did, but I knew that clothes could do a woman a lot of help and pictures could be manipulated with something as little as lighting.

  She wore a blue blouse that was a pretty color, if maybe not the one I would have chosen for her. It was loose, but shim
mery, and did a good job of hinting at curves without outright broadcasting them. It actually made me want her more than a woman who simply wore some painted-on fabric to expose her goods to the whole damn world.

  I’d rather have my women tigers in the sack and demure little kittens in the outside world. Because I wanted them to belong to me, not to every jackass that had eyes.

  She was a beautiful little thing and while I couldn’t be one hundred percent that her body was the same, my cock didn’t seem to care. It wanted her even if that wasn’t the same woman from the photo.

  Embarrassed at being caught staring at me, she reached up and tucked her long brown hair behind her ears and smiled nervously. She looked young, innocent with huge eyes that reminded me of a hopeful, too trusting doe.

  It was cute. Sweet even. Not something I specifically sought out in a woman, but that look held promise.

  Maybe she was a natural submissive.

  A man can hope.

  After our staring contest and personal assessments of one another were over, she made her way over to me. I noticed she was wearing converse instead of heels; smart girl. Tennis shoes would be easier to run in if she had to.

  By the time she thinks to run, it’ll be too late, a wicked little voice in my head said.

  She smiled awkwardly at me and waved a little. “Um, Jude?”

  I smiled hungrily at her. “Yes. Please, sit.”

  She did so instantly. It was stupid to look at it this way, but I liked the way she followed my order so quickly, so easily. Some women would have fought me on that from the very get-go. They would have bitched about being given orders or commented on my take charge attitude or whatever the fuck they wanted to say. Some would just be too chatty or distracted to even bother listening.

  But she was quick and quiet about it, taking a seat and even sitting with her hands in her lap. Hell, her eyes were even slightly downcast.

  I didn’t even have to teach her to do that.

  My cock was responding to her quickly. It had been a long time since I had such a quick reaction to a woman when she wasn’t even flashing her tits at me.

  She stayed quiet, like she was waiting for me to make the first move. I liked that, too. Adjusting myself as discretely as possible, I considered the woman in front of me. She was beautiful. There were curves in the right places and even though her shirt wasn’t skin tight, I could tell by the slope of her breasts that they were large. Her waist was likely small, though that might have just been my mind supplying the missing information with the picture she’d sent me. Her hips flared nicely, too.

  Everything about her was just the right mixture of delicate and sexual.

  It made me frown.

  “So, Alyssa. We should talk about a few things.”

  She nodded, but remained silent.

  “You mentioned you were twenty-three?”

  “Yes.”

  There, the first strike against her. I’d have to teach her to say Sir or Master when answering me. But that was small and I had a feeling she’d learn it easily enough. “That’s a little old to be a virgin, isn’t it?”

  I noticed her swallow. She moved only a little, probably fiddling with her hands in her lap. She glanced up at me, blushed, then looked away again. “Um, yeah, I guess it is. I just… it just never seemed to be the right time.”

  My body settled at her reaction to my question. She didn’t flare up at me in anger or lash out, challenging me for questioning her legitimacy. Instead, she looked down and spoke in a soft, sweet voice.

  Naturally submissive, I thought again.

  I decided to push. “Not the right time?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. “How long does it take to get fucked?”

  Her head jerked up and her wide eyes found mine. Her sweet little mouth was parted slightly in an ‘o’ like she was almost scandalized by my boldness. I found I liked that look and would try to bring it out again. I watched the smooth column of her neck as she swallowed and pictured how it would look with a leather collar on it.

  Maybe a more delicate one. Something with lace, maybe? Or diamonds. She’d look nice with diamonds choking her a little now and again.

  “I…” She seemed at a loss for words.

  “Well? Answer me. How was it never the right time to spread your legs and let a man slide in?” I was being deliberately crass now, just to see her reaction.

  Her face was bright red now, but she still didn’t get mad. She didn’t fight back or lash out or do much of anything. Except bite her lower lip. Her white teeth worried at the flesh there a little, making it redder. Making it look more plump, more like something I wanted to play with.

  My cock grew harder. God, I wanted her already.

  She let out a little breath that practically trembled. “Um. I… I was in a bad relationship. He wasn’t—I just didn’t feel right sleeping with him.”

  I considered that. Didn’t feel right? Bad relationship? I wondered what sort of relationship she’d been in at twenty-three that left her feeling disinterested in having sex. I’d been fucking since fifteen and hadn’t been interested in stopping since. And while my tastes were a little on the kinky side, I’d never had much problem finding willing participants.

  I had a hard time thinking that she did. Not with a body like that.

  “How long had you been dating?”

  She dropped her eyes again. Submissive. “About three years.”

  She didn’t offer up much more information, but quick math told me that they’d either been separated for a bit of time, or she’d met him when he was twenty. Still old to be a virgin, but more realistic than twenty-three. I thought about continuing the line of questioning, but I was pretty convinced that she was being truthful. The woman didn’t look like she could lie if her life depended on it, poor little thing.

  I finally let it go. “We agreed to half up front.” I pulled out some paperwork. “I have things set up with my bank and decided it would be easiest to set it up as an automatic transfer instead of fussing with withdrawals, checks, or cash. It’ll be listed as a business transaction and our little contract here will ensure that it goes through smoothly. No questions asked.”

  I slid the paperwork across the table to her. It was a relatively short document. I wasn’t sure what kind of woman she was, intelligence-wise, so I wanted to make sure it was as plain and simple as possible. The legal jargon was obnoxious to people who knew how to read it, so I didn’t want to make her suffer. Especially since I doubted she could afford a lawyer to look it over.

  “Additionally, I have my tests at the bottom there.”

  She looked at me quizzically. “Tests?”

  “To prove that I’m clean.”

  Her eyes widened, then she blushed again. “Oh! Of course, thank you. I haven’t… I mean, I’ve obviously never been with anyone before, but I did get tested as you asked. I, um, have them in my bag.”

  I nodded once. “I’ll take a look at them.” And I would, but I’d already decided she was telling the truth. She was a virgin.

  She took up the documents and began to quietly read over them. They talked about the transaction in business terms. They were vague enough that neither of us could get in trouble for prostitution – I was paying for “services rendered” – but it was specified that she would spend a “weekend at my discretion” with me. It was worded so that, while it could be construed as sexual in nature, it could also be considered a business retreat. Should she at any point leave the weekend early, she would forfeit the other half of the payment.

  In addition to the monetary arrangement, it also did something else specifically for me. It served as a type of prenuptial, though we weren’t getting married. It stated that she understood that should we, as consenting adults, decide to engage in sexual activities which were deemed “separate and agreed upon outside the monetary agreement of this contract” she accepted that there would be no grounds for further engagements.

  Meaning, I wouldn’t be liable if something happ
ened. Like she got pregnant. I wasn’t too worried about it, but I’d met enough gold diggers to know to cover my ass. If she somehow got pregnant, she wouldn’t be able to come back to me and request any further involvement from me in regards to her or the child. And she wouldn’t be able to come after me for whatever money I currently had as compensation.

  It was kind of a shitty thing to do, in all honesty, but it was necessary. I made it pretty clear that this was all a business transaction and that meant I wasn’t interested in having a baby. If that happened and if she chose to keep said baby, that was all entirely her choice.

  But I wouldn’t be held accountable for it.