This arrangement isn’t going to last, but I push the thoughts away and force myself to live in the moment.
For now, I belong to the inked-up bad boy next door.
Chapter 1
Madeline - One Month Ago…
“I’ve never seen so many hot guys in my life!” cries Katie Butler, my partner in crime and childhood friend. We’re standing in line outside of Club Dusk, the hottest nightclub in this town. As new residents to Grim Lake, a bustling town nestled in the lush Midwest, we’ve come to check out the nightlife scene on our last night of freedom. Not that the party scene is my scene.
Katie has been adamant all week that we go out and have a good time before we spend the next several years with our noses stuck in a book and stressing about exams. While I agree wholeheartedly with her, I’m just not sure if I want to spend the night with horny guys breathing down my neck.
I make a sour face as I survey the sea of young men standing in line in front of us. “Are you sure we’re looking at the same people?” I say loudly over the bass of the music coming from within the club.
Honestly, I don’t know what Katie’s smoking. I wouldn’t give a second glance to any of these dudes even if I was walking down the street, desperate to find a man. And the few that are good-looking, already have a chick on their arms.
Not to mention I’m not here to find a boyfriend, I think to myself. I’m just here to have a couple of drinks and unload some stress. That’s it.
Despite being the goal of maybe eighty percent of the women in attendance, I have no intention of getting sloppy-ass drunk and winding up in some strange asshole’s bed the next morning, not knowing how or why I wound up in it.
Besides, after the way my last relationship ended, a boyfriend is the last thing on my mind.
Just thinking about my ex, Zachery Haynes, makes my stomach tense with a mixture of anger and anxiety. We’d been high school sweethearts who thought we’d be spending the rest of our lives together. Our endgame goals were even aligned. College degrees. High-powered jobs. White picket fence. A full-sized family. The whole nine yards.
That dream shattered when I walked in on Zach getting a blowjob from my high school nemesis, Jenna Stout. Seeing her there on her knees, slurping my boyfriend’s dick felt like a spear piercing my heart.
Of course, being the egotistical, narcissistic asshole he was, Zachery tried to make it seem like HE was the victim. It was an accident, he claimed. He didn’t mean to do it. It was all Jenna’s fault for showing up on his doorstep looking hot as fuck in her cheerleader uniform.
She'd seduced him he said, she’d made his dick hard and made him take it out so she could slurp on it like a fucking cherry popsicle. The ridiculous explanation was more than I could take. I left him and Jenna right then and there to continue their oral session, and I never spoke to the bastard ever again.
I did suffer for it, though.
The whole trauma from Zach’s betrayal put me in a deep depression, causing my GPA to fall. And by mid-semester, I was close to failing several of my classes. Luckily, with the help of Katie and my father, I was able to pull myself out of my rut in time enough to get my grades back on track to allow me to qualify to go to one of the best universities in the nation.
It’s funny how things turn out.
There was one valuable lesson I learned from Zach’s betrayal, and that was you could never trust a man.
Fuck a boyfriend, I think to myself. I’ll only enter a relationship when I’m good and ready. And that won’t be for a very long time.
I don’t intend on dating until I’ve graduated and landed my dream job. Then, and only then, will I give the male species a second chance at regaining my trust. Besides, I certainly won’t find Mr. Right in a club full of horny guys just looking for the next girl to fuck.
“I must be blind then,” I say. “Or just plain stupid.”
Katie tears her eyes away from the object of her affection and scowls at me. I must say Miss Katie’s makeup is on point tonight, with false eyelashes that would make a drag queen jealous, rosy blush, glossy pink lipstick and dramatic eye shadow. Her hair isn’t too shabby, either, styled into a trendy shoulder-length side bob that shimmers under the street light. A tight red dress that hugs her pear-shaped frame completes her look. “You really need to lighten up, Maddy. We came here to have fun, remember?”
I hold Katie’s scowl for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “I know, I know, I’m just not looking forward to having a line of horny guys buying me drinks and reading me their lame pick-up lines in hopes that I’ll sleep with them.”
Katie looks at me like I’m crazy. “If you don’t want that, then why the hell did you agree to come in the first place?”
It’s a good question. If my goal is to relieve stress, there are a lot more relaxing things I could do rather than come to a rowdy nightclub… like enjoy a bubble bath with a chilled glass of wine, or cuddle up on the couch with a good romance book. I love wine now.
Last year, my twenty first, was all about hard liquor and beer. Simply because that’s was the go-to for everyone else. Katie got me hooked on wine. First a White Zin and then a smooth Cabernet. It’s easy to just have a glass and let the stress slip away. Especially when you’re in the habit of avoiding the things that upset you. That’s simply what I do, I steer clear of anything that could hurt me.
The truth is I’ve been avoiding the opposite sex since Zach’s betrayal. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to see what it feels like to be desired again, even if it's by a horny guy looking to land his next lay. Yeah, that had to be it. I wanted a boost of confidence.
At five foot four, with green eyes, long blonde hair and a voluptuous figure, I’ve gotten enough compliments to know that I'm not bad-looking, maybe even pretty. But Zach’s cheating had been a blow to my self-esteem. I mean, if I was so beautiful, why did he feel the need to cheat on me?
Stop it, I tell myself, something I do every time I find myself falling into the trap of internalizing my ex’s actions. Zach cheated because he was a narcissistic asshole that only cared about himself. It had nothing to do with my looks.
It's a mantra I repeat frequently to keep myself from getting depressed. Lately though, I've been having trouble believing it.
“Are you kidding me?” I demand. “You’re really going to act like you weren’t bugging me all damn week to come out and have some fun?” I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “I think your exact words were, ‘Your face is starting to look like cracked asphalt because of the perpetual scowl you’ve had on your mug for the past month.’”
“You still didn’t have to come,” says Katie defensively. “And your face was starting to look like cracked asphalt.”
I roll my eyes. “Get real. If I hadn't come I would’ve never heard the end of it.” I put my finger to my lips and make a thoughtful expression. “Hmm, what was one of the arguments you were using to blackmail me to be your partner in crime? Oh yeah, that’s right, 'I’m going to be so pissed off at you Maddy, if you don’t come get shitfaced with me before we move into our new condo together.'”
“I did not say that.”
I glower. “Yes, you did.”
Placing her hands on her hips, Katie scowls back at me and admits, “Okay, maybe I did. Now what?”
“Nothing. Just letting it be known that I had no choice in the matter if I didn’t want to deal with a pissed off diva for the next couple of weeks.”
“I am not a diva!” she wails.
“Tell that to Vanessa! She's the prissiest person I know, and even she knows you’re a diva!”
“Vanessa is a cat!” Katie protests.
“That’s my point exactly.”
“Ugh, whatever. I just don’t know why you’re giving me so much grief over this. What’s so bad about me wanting you to come out and interact with the opposite sex for just one night, huh?”
I fall silent for a moment as the line moves up. We’re only a couple of feet from being let
inside the club, and I have to admit I’m feeling a little excited. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “I guess I’m still not over Zach.”
Katie shakes her head, her bob swishing to the side. “You’re crazy. Why wouldn't you be over that ego-inflated douchebag?”
“I don’t mean him per se, I mean what he did.”
Katie frowns. “Oh. I understand... but we talked about that, remember? We agreed that Zach was an asshole who never cared about you, you were better off without him, and that you wouldn’t let what he’d done bother you anymore.”
“I know, Katie, and for a while I didn’t let it get to me... but... I… lately I’ve been feeling like I’ll never be able to trust guys again,” I confess reluctantly.
“Who says you have to trust a guy to fuck him?” she replies with a shrug.
“Katie!” I object in horror.
Katie makes an innocent face. “Wha?”
“I’m not here for that!”
“Why not? Your muffin has cobwebs.”
I cross my arms over my chest and threaten, “I’m going to leave.”
Katie lets out a wild laugh at my exasperation. “I’m just playing! Sort of. You know, just because Zach cheated on you, doesn’t mean you can’t have a sexual relationship with someone.”
“It does in my book. Besides, I’m not one to sleep around.”
Katie snorts. “Why sell yourself short? There’s nothing wrong with having sex with someone, no strings attached. Then you don't have to deal with all the bullshit that comes with a relationship, like what happened between you and Zach.”
Katie has a point. Since Zach, I’d sworn off sex and probably would remain celibate for years to come. Why deny myself the simple pleasures in life because of the actions of one heartless bastard? What harm could come from fulfilling a primal need from time to time?
Because I want it to be special, I tell myself. If I sleep with a guy just to satisfy an itch, it won’t mean anything.
“If anything,” Katie continues while I’m lost in thought, “Zach’s betrayal should make you want to use guys and leave them.”
“No thanks,” I say. “I won’t stoop to his level.”
“That’s not stooping to his level; it’s called empowering yourself.”
“How is becoming the village slut empowering?”
Katie laughs. “Hey, guys do it all the time, and they're rewarded for it. We do it, and we’re sluts. How is that fair?”
“You know I know it’s not, but it just doesn’t interest me.”
“Won’t you even consider the possibility?”
“Nope. I’m only here because you made me come… and because I want free cosmopolitans.”
Katie giggles. “Don’t we all? But seriously, if a smoking hot guy comes up to you and wants to have a little fun, are you really going to turn him down?”
“Yep.”
“Liar.”
“Just watch me.”
I have every intention of keeping my word. I don’t care if some guy buys me a dozen free drinks or is a clone of Charlie Hunnam and Channing Tatum put together, I am not going home with anyone.
We get through the line and into the club and the whole time I’m thinking, a few drinks, a flirt here and there, and then I’m going home.
No screwing whatsoever.
And then I see him.
Chapter 2
Zane
I down the third shot of whiskey and relish the burn. It feels good to unwind after a long, hard day of work. Not that I didn’t love it. I slam the glass down and lean back, cracking my neck.
I had a great day at the shop. Time flew by, and I loved every minute of it. I only had one client all day, but he was so fucking grateful and happy for the portrait piece I gave him. I used to love the challenge of tattooing portraits, but it got old real quick. It's so draining. Not physically, but emotionally.
When someone comes in to get a portrait tattooed, more times than not it’s because they lost someone close to them. They cry when they come in, and then I have to hear all about it. I don’t mind being a shoulder to cry on, but damn. Fucking sucks.
Some days I feel more like a therapist than a tattoo artist.
If it’s not a person who’s passed away, it’s their boyfriend or girlfriend.
A few times I’ve even turned down requests. Yeah, I lose out on money when that happens, but I’m not going to tattoo a portrait of some chick’s ex on her. Not gonna happen. Once a girl came in, only eighteen years old, wanting to get a profile of her “soulmate” on her shoulder. I asked her how long they'd been together. One month. Yeah, I’m not fucking doing that.
I know where to draw the line.
Not today though. A proud pop wanted his son on his bicep, and I was fucking thrilled to make it happen.
I smile to myself and wave at Tony, the bartender closest to me, for another beer.
Jackson’s sitting next to me enjoying the club atmosphere. This is a normal night for the two of us. Usually we’re surrounded by more of the guys, but tonight the club's packed, and they’re on the prowl. He’s had a cocky grin on his face ever since we got here, and for good reason.
Jackson’s a playboy and every chick knows it, yet they fall right into his lap every night. He’s got a classically handsome thing going for him, and he knows how to let charm and alcohol convince any woman to spread her legs for him. He’s young and stupid, and going to knock up one of these broads one day.
He likes his reputation though. I don’t get it. He’s had more than one woman come up and slap him for fucking her in the back room and then leaving to go make out with someone else. He’s a fucking asshole. Every time, he just takes the hit and smiles. Like I said. Playboy. Asshole.
I’d prefer it if Needles were sitting next to me, but he had shit to do tonight. So I’m left with Jackson.
He drums his fingers on the bartop and looks at me as he asks, “Hard day?” He’s asking 'cause of the shots I’m knocking back, I'm sure. I’m not usually a heavy drinker. And if I’m being honest with myself, these shots aren’t because of the pride I have from today’s work. But I’d rather not think about the shit that’s eating at me. It’s not like I can change it.
Today's been a hard day, but not because of work. And no one here needs to know why. I school my expression and decide to focus on all the good shit going on in my life.
“Nah, fucking fabulous.” He snorts a laugh like he doesn’t believe me. “Not joking. Great day at the shop.”
He nods his head as Tony pushes our beers toward us. Cindy, the other bartender, looks pissed that Tony was the one to give us the beers. I’m not sure if she’s after Jackson’s dick or mine. I couldn’t really give two shits if she’s after me though. I just wanna drink and be distracted enough to forget. I’m not interested in women tonight. I make a mental note to avoid her for the rest of the night.
If it’s Jackson she’s after, she can have him. She knows what she’s getting into.
Jackson turns his back to the bar and faces the dance floor. The lights are dim, but the strobe and spotlights in the center of the room are enough to see all the women shaking their asses and putting on a show.
He stretches out and takes in the view. He does this shit all the time. Like it’s a fucking buffet. He does get all the pussy he wants, but he could at least be modest about it. Shit, I’m way better looking than that motherfucker, and even I don’t brag about tail as much as him. Being a playboy isn’t my thing though. Maybe I’m just pickier.
“Which one tonight?” he says with his typical cocky grin.
The bass drowns out the sounds of all the chatter and clinking of the glasses behind the bar.
And that’s when I see her. She’s fucking stunning.
I notice the pretty little blonde the moment she walks in. She’s curvy in all the right ways, and just my type.
I wasn’t in the mood for a lay tonight, but seeing that gorgeous body, fuck yeah I am now. She could be the distraction I need
. I know her body can take a punishing fuck. Thick thighs, and an even thicker ass. Her hips sway a little as she walks.
I find myself mesmerized as she takes a seat at the far end of the bar. I watch her for a minute, waiting for her to look my way. She looks everywhere but at me, and it’s starting to piss me off.
My brow furrows, hating that I can’t get this broad’s attention.
She’s fucking gorgeous and I already know I want her. Tonight. In my bed. I’m definitely taking this sweet little thing home with me. I watch as her clutch slips off the bar top and she lets out a little yelp, nervously looking around to see if anyone noticed.
A short brunette sitting next to her says something I can’t hear, and then belts out a loud laugh and nearly twirls in her seat like the barstool is gonna spin for her.
I hadn’t noticed her friend before; too busy eyeing up that ass. My girl looks embarrassed by her friend but smiles anyway, shaking her head.
I can see the two of them being friends. A sassy over-the-top chick with a trendy bob and a more traditional beauty who’d keep her in line. I bet between the two of 'em, the brunette will be the first on the dance floor. I can only hope her friend lets loose and I can squeeze in to take her spot on the barstool.
Her gorgeous green eyes finally catch mine but she’s quick to look away with an innocent blush. I let a smirk kick up the corner of my lips. She’s fucking cute. And she’s got a pouty mouth and a heart-shaped face that add to the innocent look. I’d love to see those lips wrapped around my cock.
I stifle a groan as my dick hardens in my pants at that last thought. It’s been a while, a long while since I buried myself in some hot pussy.
She looks like a good girl though, and I don’t think it’s an act. That could be a problem. Or maybe it could add to the fun.
I’ve seen girls come in here acting all cute and innocent, but what they really want is some thick gangster cock. Just so they can say they got dirty with a bad boy. A few shots and they’re taking off their tops, letting anyone in here play with their tits.