“Tattooed package of sin.”
That’s how Savannah Ryan would describe Declan Whitmore, the deliciously tatted and pierced fighter who holds the top spot in The Pit, Boston’s newest underground fighting organization. Declan is relentless when he sets his sights on someone, both in and out of the ring, and Savannah’s witty comebacks and tight little body have just landed her on his radar.
There are a couple of teensy problems, though. Declan just happens to be Savannah’s new boss, which normally wouldn’t have stopped her from sleeping with him, but this recently reformed bad girl is trying to go straight after heading down a dangerous path. It’s too bad that Savannah’s new road to salvation doesn’t include pit stops for hard muscles, a beautiful face, and the prettiest damn pair of green eyes she’s ever seen.
Declan’s used to getting any girl he wants, but turning over a new leaf means too much to Savannah. She’s not going to make this easy for him. Her jaded exterior has kept people out and held her secrets in for as long as she can remember, and that’s exactly how she wants it to stay. But as Declan gets glimpses of the real girl inside, vulnerable and afraid, he makes it his mission to tear down those walls and free her.
What if this tattooed package of sin is all the salvation she needs?
*Don’t read this book if you don’t like snarky, dominant, tattooed men who say things like “Open your mouth, and I will,” after you tell them to shove it. And don’t read this book if you don’t like sassy, strong-willed, fiercely independent heroines who use phrases like “bossy asshole” as a term of endearment. You have been warned.*
Chapter One
Declan
“Come on.”
I absently wonder if Jamie’s lips have any feeling left in them as they brush my ear. There’s so much collagen in them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re dead to sensation. They look good, though—all full and pouty—and they feel good enough when they’re wrapped around my cock.
A little firm, but hey, I’m not nitpicky when it comes to blowjobs. As long as they don’t use too much teeth, I’m good.
“Dance with me,” she says. The din of the house party she’s dragged me to is raging all around us. I probably wouldn’t even be able to hear her if she wasn’t straddling my lap on the couch, in a very unladylike manner.
I look past her, at nothing in particular, as I watch people dance in the crowded living room. “You know I don’t dance.”
Her nails scratch my scalp as she runs her fingers through my hair. It makes my already furrowed brows inch closer together. Why do I let her do that? I hate that.
“All right,” she murmurs, trying too hard to sound breathy and sexy. “Then let’s go someplace quiet and talk.”
I snort and take another swig of my beer. Jamie and I don’t talk, not unless it’s grunting stuff like “faster,” “harder,” or “deeper.”
“It’ll be kinda hard to talk with my dick in your mouth, won’t it?”
A normal girl would’ve taken offense, but Jamie just rolls her eyes and gets this look on her face like, “Boys will be boys.” It’s both why this is and isn’t working.
She leans forward, grinding her crotch against mine. “Come on, baby, it’ll be fun.”
Fun. It stopped being fun with her a while ago. She’s starting to get clingy—always wanting to know where I am and who I’m with. It’s getting really old really fast, because it’s none of her business. I’m not her boyfriend, and she damn sure isn’t my girlfriend. “Was it fun with Jesse the other night?”
Pulling back, she smiles. “Aw, baby, are you jealous?”
Laughter bursts out of me and her smile dies. “No. You can blow whoever you want.”
We’re fuck buddies and that’s all we’ll ever be, because Jamie’s a big bag o’crazy and not exactly girlfriend material. Not that I’m looking for one, or even know what girlfriend material is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not someone who’s a manipulative, vindictive, attention-whore.
That blowjob she gave my friend Jesse the other night? Not done out of the goodness of her heart, like all blowies should be. She did it because she knew it’d get back to me. It’s her sick way of trying to make me jealous.
Like I said, not girlfriend material.
And I’m fairly certain a big part of why she’s even hooking up with me to begin with is to get back at her big-shot criminal defense attorney father, who wouldn’t take too kindly to an underground fighter covered in tats banging his little girl, but I digress. . .
I’m not a bad guy. Really, I’m not. Sure, I sleep around, but it’s not because I’m some poor, tortured soul who tries to fill the emptiness in his life with a revolving door of anonymous women.
Don’t get me wrong, I do have a revolving door of anonymous women, but not for reasons that complicated. It’s actually quite simple: I sleep around because I can. Because I’m an attractive guy and there are always girls willing to hop into bed with me, with no promises of the future past a night of great sex.
There’s really no mystery to men, and I’m no exception. I’m just a simple, straightforward guy.
Jamie leans into me again, whispering things in my ear so dirty it’d make a porn star blush. Her enormous fake titties are staring me in the face, but there’s something seriously wrong with this picture, folks, because I’m softer than a ninety-year-old man on his deathbed.
Now why is this? Is it because I’m drunk? Maybe. Although “shitfaced” is probably a more accurate word at this point. But that’s never stopped me before. I once fucked Becky Donovan three times in the backseat of her daddy’s Cadillac after downing a fifth of Jack. Not once that night did I come down with a case of whiskey dick, so . . . what the hell? Why am I not into this? I mean, I know Jamie’s personality might be akin to an ax wound, but her body’s bangin’ so I can usually look past it. Tonight, though, it’s just not working.
Reaching up, I slip my hand inside her insanely low-cut top. She’s not wearing a bra, but then again, why would she be? It’s not like they bounce or jiggle.
People can see me playing with her tit, but I don’t care. Jamie doesn’t either. Hell, I could probably take her right here on this couch and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Knowing her, she’d get off on the attention.
My hand squeezes the firm mound and my thumb runs across her nipple. Her tits might feel like cantaloupe halves stuck under her skin, but damn it if they don’t look pretty.
I sigh, letting my hand fall back. I’ve still got nothin’ doin’ in my pants.
I may be a lot of things, but a quitter isn’t one of them.
Shifting her off me, I stand, ignoring the way the room tilts. “Let’s go.”
Her already indecently short skirt is hiked up around her as she climbs up. She doesn’t stop to pull it back down as she slips her perfectly manicured hand in mine and tugs me through the crowd.
When we’re upstairs, she pulls me into an empty bedroom and I let her push me on the bed. I lift my head, looking around the unfamiliar room in the house I don’t know, and see the partially open door. “You’re not gonna close that?”
She pulls her slinky black top over her head, exposing what God and Dr. Fischer gave her as she puts on her best “do me” face. “I think it’d be hot if someone catches us.” Mischief glints in her eyes as she climbs on the bed and crawls toward me.
My shoulders move in a half-hearted shrug. If she doesn’t care about people watching us screw, then why should I? My head falls back against the bed and I close my eyes as her hands undo my belt buckle.
In the darkness of my mind, I pretend like it’s someone else’s hands touching me, someone else’s mouth wrapped around my cock, and I start to get hard. Part of me realizes how messed up this is, and the other part doesn’t care. A mouth is a mouth, right? As long as it belongs to a female over the age of eighteen, it shouldn’t matter.
Then why am I not into this?
The room tilts and my head spins. I bring my hands up and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes as the wet slopping sound of Jamie’s mouth fills the silence.
I can’t do this.
Sitting up, I pop myself out of her mouth. She wipes spit off her chin and stares at me in confusion. “I, uh, don’t have a condom,” I say.
She grins and pushes back on my shoulders till I’m lying down again. Hovering over me, she straddles my lap. My cock is nestled under her heat and I can feel everything through the flimsy fabric of her thong.
“That’s okay,” she says, bending down to kiss me. Her chest is hard against mine as her tongue pushes into my mouth. I’ve been drinking beer all night and I’m sure I taste like ass, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. “You can just pull out.”
Uh, no. Out of all the faceless women I’ve been with, no matter how drunk or how high, I’ve never gone bareback, not once, not even for a game of “just the tip.” And I’m sure as shit not about to start with Jamie, of all people.
Rolling her hips against me, she says, “Or you can stick it in my ass.”
See? Very unladylike.
“I’ll go downstairs and find us one.” I move her away from me and roll off the bed, swaying as my vision blurs, but I manage to remain upright.
Sam Adams: 0, Declan: 1
“Are you sure—”
I close the door behind me before she can finish, leaving her half-naked on the bed. Somehow, I’m able to put one foot in front of the other without faceplanting in the hallway.
“Hey.” A girl comes up next to me and touches my arm. “You’re Declan Whitmore, right? I saw you fight Harding last month. You were . . . really good.” She’s twirling her hair around her finger and smiling up at me with a look I know all too well. And unless her identical twin’s hitting on me too, then I’m seeing double now.
I think it’s safe to say I’m tore up from the floor up.
She’s cute . . . (I squint, trying to get a clear look at her face.) I think.
I place my hand on the wall next to her head. “You want to go someplace quiet and talk?”
She bites her lip and nods, so I grab her hand and open the door beside her. Once we’re inside, I lock it and pull out the condom I’ve had in my pocket the whole time.
Kelley lives in East Texas, but she swears it’s not all country music and cowboy boots… Okay, some of it is, but not all of it. She’s got an amazing husband, who continues to inspire her every day. Even after twelve years and two ridiculously cute little girls.
Great words!
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